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mojogojocasahouse · 9 months

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Home With You

Satoru Gojo x f!reader

Summary: After a long mission away, Satoru returns home forgetting he doesn’t have to face the darkness alone.

Word Count: 4.8k

Rating: E

Content: hurt comfort, Gojo has a headache and his past trauma is rearing its head, established relationship, smut (p-in-v sex, Gojo’s filthy mouth, multiple orgasms for both parties, it’s so desperate, I don’t know it’s Gojo, man has nasty sex. Enjoy)

It’s not dark enough tonight. He could still see too far in front of him, even through the curtain of rain pouring down from the skies. But that was the thing. He could see everything, all the fucking time.

He’d taken the long way home from Jujutsu High where he’d spent the night arguing with the higher-ups once again, rage and murderous intent boiling beneath his skin. They were going to tear down the Jujutsu world, there was no debating it, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it either. Besides killing them all, a task he was more than capable of.

The radio is humming in the background but he isn’t listening, not to that. He’s too busy focusing on the steady pattering of the downpour on the roof of the car, cursing the street lamp to the right as it blinds him even through the black fabric he’s wearing over his eyes. His head is throbbing, his nails digging into the flesh of his palm, jaw tense—he could do it so quickly they wouldn’t feel a thing. It was almost a mercy. Curses would tear them apart, as would any of the enemies that seemed to be racking up faster than he could keep count, but Satoru Gojo could end them painlessly…

Knock knock knock

The tapping is gentle, his head lolling to find a sight he was both craving and avoiding distorted by the droplets rolling down the glass.

“Baby?” Your voice was so sweet even muffled through the window and the rain. “What are you doing? You’ve been out here for twenty minutes.”

Had it been that long? News to him. Actually, it felt like an eternity now that he thought about it. It had been three weeks since he’d been home, the one mission that was supposed to be three days turned into four that had kept him away from home far longer than he’d been intending to. He’d finally put his foot down just this morning—hence the verbal lashing he’d taken for “abandoning his duties when they needed him most”—telling those good-for-nothing pieces of shit that he was going the fuck home whether they liked it or not.

But now that he was home, he was hiding.

“Come inside,” you urge again, and my God he wants nothing more than to just collapse into your arms, “Dinner is almost done.”

He’s not fucking hungry. Not for food, anyway.

“I got your kikufuku,” you tack on, and it should make him happy. But it doesn’t.

It makes him fucking hate himself.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, and he can hear the tremor in your voice, or maybe you’re shivering. His selfish, self-loathing ass is making you stand in the pouring rain while you try and coax him out of his car.

Emotion is still foreign to him. Well, not entirely, but you'd come at a time he'd sworn attachment off, he'd meander the world surrounded by people but always alone. It was easier that way, he'd thought. He hadn’t wanted to allow this, but he’d never stood a chance. Not after you kissed him for the first time outside the ice cream place, or when you listened to him tell a story about curses and infinity that would have sent anyone with sense running for the hills and never looking back. And you’d shrugged. Shrugged.

“You’re still just Toru to me,” you’d said, and at that moment everything and nothing at all made sense.

And still to this day years later, as he steps out of the car and threads his fingers with yours, hunching down to squeeze beneath your clear umbrella, everything and nothing at all makes sense.

The house smells like curry, your music still playing in the kitchen, and the bag of the sweet treats you’d traveled to get just for him sat on the dining table with a new set of sunglasses. He’d broken his favorite ones before the trip, and as he stares at the oblong lenses and golden frames he realizes he'd never told you he’d sat on them, snapping them right in two. You must have just known when he’d opted to wear his older circular ones. Or maybe you found the broken pair in the pocket of his pants when you did the wash. Either way, the gesture makes him squeeze your hand a little tighter as his teeth gnash together. He doesn’t deserve you.

“Oh,” he finally grunts, pulling a small box from the top of his travel bag, “This is for you.”

He’d found it in one of the towns he’d been cursed to investigate, the tiny pendant you were admiring with wide eyes and parted lips.

“Do you like it?” He can see the answer plain as day on your face, but he still feels the need to ask. He needs the god damn reassurance, the ego stroke. He needs to know that he matters for more than the curses bestowed on him at birth.

“Can you put it on me?” you ask with a grin, turning after setting the box in his palm.

The clasp is too small for his fingers to work properly, but he gets it done, laying the pink-jeweled charm against your throat and securing it before watching the way it settles onto your chest from above. Your fingers toy with the gold, so dainty and gentle, you treat everything as if it were the most precious, fragile thing. Even him. His arms practically ache to wrap around your middle, his body freezing despite the comfortable temperature in the house because the only thing that could keep him warm enough was your body pressed against his, every conceivable inch of it.

But he needs a shower. And if he starts now he won’t stop. He intends to stay glued to you, serpentining around your limbs and torso like a parasitic vine, pulling the very will to live from the heat of your skin and the steady beat of your heart. He wonders if you know how much he depends on you.

The strongest in the world. Until he isn’t. Right now he feels like a chump.

It’s not because he lost, because he sure as hell didn’t. He made quick work of each and every foe, it was almost boring. He’d pay someone at this point if they sent something his way that made him break a sweat. No. It’s because he’s tired. He’s tired of being the strongest. He’s tired of trying to change things, to save people he’s still not sure he gives a shit about, and he’s buckling beneath the weight of a name and abilities he never asked for.

There’s no denying it’s fun to be the best. He gets away with more than he should, he toys with people’s minds and worth, destruction sits at his fingertips. But it’s lonely. It’s vapid. And being Satoru Gojo leaves him at the mercy of people he shouldn’t be forced to obey.

He’s never lived.

All he’s done is train, fight, bargain, argue, defend, lose everyone he’s ever allowed himself to care about. And that fear sits heavy in his gut as he watches you skitter off to the kitchen when a timer blares shrill in the air. He has to escape now because if he sees that silly smile that settles on your face when you look at him he’ll fall to his knees.

In the time he takes to debate if he can pull the roots that had grown from his feet up from the floor, you were back, and now the predator was turned prey.

“What’s wrong?” you ask again, reading everything from the shape of his mouth to the slump of his shoulders like a book you’d memorized. Answering is far down his list of desires.

“Nothing,” he lies, plastering a smile on his face, the mask he wore so well snapping back into place, “Hungry.” Another lie. “Tired.” That one was true.

“It’s funny that you think you can lie to me.”

It wasn’t venomous, your tone playful as you ascend onto the tips of your toes and reach behind his head, the cloth masking half of his face falling away. Through all the wondrous things his eyes have seen, you are his favorite thing to gaze upon. Despite your lack of cursed energy, there’s still an enchanting hue to you, he could pick it out of a crowd of thousands in an instant, but when the blindfold is pulled away and the sights of the world come crashing in from every angle, your face is like an oasis. Always so sweet, always so happy, so fucking pure his hands that have killed and killed and killed shouldn’t be allowed to fucking touch you.

“There he is,” you coo, your fingers brushing the hair falling into his eyes that see too much, “I just wanted to see you.”

You feel bad. You feel bad for wanting to see his face. What is he doing here? What is he doing to you?

“Glasses now, yeah?” A request he couldn’t deny if he wanted to.

“Shower,” he replies, finally undoing the buttons of the high collar that suddenly feels suffocating, ripping open the top few buttons of the white shirt he wore beneath it, “Then whatever you want.”

A content little hum agrees to his offer, “Dinner is done in ten.”

“Then I’ll be done in five.”

Yet fifteen minutes later he’s still crouching beneath the steady stream of now-tepid water, the veins in his temples pulsing, pain shooting from behind his eyes to the tips of his fingers and toes. He doesn’t want to move, think, nothing, he just wants to curl up in a ball and sleep.

“Toru?”

Before you, had anyone even attempted to call him by that wretched nickname they’d have found themselves beneath the sole of his boot. And they had tried. Shoko and Mei Mei had both tested the waters, Suguru had been smart enough to read Satoru’s reaction to the first two. At first, he thought he'd allowed it because it started as a choked whine, his cock buried in you to the hilt when you sputtered it from swollen lips, in that moment he didn’t care what you called him, nor had he any other time after that. Then it just stuck.

Or maybe it was because he’d never been the Satoru Gojo with you. He had always been something else. Someone else. You didn’t care how many curses he could exorcise, to you he was the guy who delivered extra sweet boba tea and preferred sodas to sake. While others expected him to risk his life while they sat comfortable behind screens demanding too much from people who were running out of things to give, you just wanted flowers and nights in on the couch where he’d carry you to bed after you fell asleep watching a movie. He wasn’t Satoru Gojo, the prodigy. He was…Toru.

When the door creaks open as a result of his silence, he wonders how much you know, what you assume. There’s no point in trying to maintain the ruse that he’s fine, the opportunity for that had passed before he’d even stepped foot in the house.

“Stop avoiding me.” Well, that answers that. You were exceptionally well aware. “Your trip was shit. I got it. But you’ll be on another one in two days and I’ll—“

You know you’re guilting him, and you stop. It doesn’t matter, it already worked. You’d be alone again. And he was wasting this time moping over things he couldn’t change. Not yet. Not quickly enough.

With a towel in your lap you’re perched up on the bathroom counter, a scowl he could easily wipe away with a kiss set on your face. The residual steam floats around you in thick clouds, you’re ethereal, practically glowing, and long strides close the distance before he’s cupping your jaw with palms that swallow you whole and kissing you harder than he intended to.

It’s like the first breath of air after being trapped underwater. The sun of a warm spring day after a cold winter. The first scent of cherry blossoms and the briny breeze of the ocean. You breathe new life into him so effortlessly. He’d considered the day when you’d wisen up and kick him to the curb, taking solace in the fact that as long as he knew you were still alive, it would be enough. His sanity hinges on your existence and nothing else, because once you were gone there would be nothing left keeping him from losing his mind. He wouldn’t need it anymore.

Uncaring of your long sleeves and his soaked body, you press in closer, tangling fingers into his sopping hair as his tongue swipes along the seam of your lips. It’s been weeks. Painful, lonely, tiresome weeks since he’s felt you, tasted you, smelled you. He’d suppressed his longing, but it’s pouring out now like a river battering through a dam, there was no stopping it until the pressure is released. Lifting you requires little to no strength, and if he’s going to have you, it’s going to be in bed where we can do it properly in the way you deserve. He can have control over this, excel even, if he wasn’t getting back into the shower before the clock struck midnight he would consider it a failure. A man needs goals.

Silver lace was covering your curves beneath your sweater and pants, a sly smirk on your face as you watch his reaction to the real reason you’d gone to Sendai. It’s sheer, his mouth watering at the way your nipples pebble beneath the fabric, the battle between whether to marvel at the sight before him or begin his evening’s activities waging while your nails rake over his forearms extending on either side of you. He’s nestled between your thighs, the damp spot that’s already soaked through your panties pressing against his inner thigh, and all he can think about is fucking you into the mattress until you can’t form a coherent thought. He's forgotten about his headache when he pulls your bra down to bunch beneath your breasts, greedily pulling one of your hardened buds between his lips and whimpering at the taste of your skin on his tongue. You’re scratching his scalp soothingly to disguise the way you’re holding him on your tit, your thighs squeezing around him as he rolled and lapped at your sensitive peak all the evidence he needed to justify the fact he didn’t want to stop; you didn't want him to either. With some resistance, you allow him to switch sides, giving him the chance to lavish the other with as much attention, your back arching into him in relief when he latched.

For a man who walks amongst the clouds, he is still well aware this was as close to heaven that he’ll ever get. This was perhaps the only one that existed. It was definitely the only one he wants to ever see. The smell of your perfume still faintly clings to your skin and he chuckles remembering all the times he’d spritzed it on the bottom of his blindfold, your scent wafting through his nose all day as he’d tried to focus on teaching the students. And with that reminder he craves your lips again, meeting you in a kiss you take a moment to reciprocate, shaking off the haze he’d already put you in.

While your reflexes are still slow to keep up, he slips down the mattress and nestles between your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders as he presses his nose to your core and inhales. It’s lewd and had you been anyone else he’d have refrained, but you push down onto his face, and he can taste the tease of what’s to come on the lace. He debates tearing them straight in half—he’ll replace them—but opts to slowly drag them up your legs, kissing along your inner thigh, knee, calf, and ankle on his way up, flicking the thin garment onto the floor behind him before reversing his path on your opposite leg and finding himself face to face with what he craved above all else.

Your slit is glistening, arousal dripping onto the satin sheets as you mewl in anticipation, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your palm as you try to hold back your eagerness for the first swipe of his tongue. He sears it into his memory, this scene of being so shamelessly desired for nothing more than how good he can make you feel. He’s a greedy man, and you’re a giving woman, nothing demonstrates that more than the way you’re willingly splayed for him to have his way with. He never leaves you dissatisfied, he’s too proud for that, but he takes what he wants.

“I’ve had to only dream about this,” his voice is low and menacing, “for too long.”

“You’re being awfully slow to enjoy it then.”

The taunt strikes a chord.

“Did you think about me while I was away?” He can tease, too. “Fingering this tight little cunt wishing it was me instead?”

“Yes…”

“Hmm. And no videos. That’s awfully selfish of you.”

His thumbs graze over your skin in every place except where he knows you want him. He wants you writhing, so desperate for his touch you’ll unconsciously seek it out all for him to deny you until you’re ready to snap.

“My fist gets the job done,” he continues, grazing his teeth over the curve of your ass, “If I imagine you on your knees in front of me.” He kisses your mound, hooking his tongue into the top of your slit and flicking. “Mouth open. Tongue out.” He gets closer to where you need him this time, but still leaves you waiting and wanting. “What do you want? Tell me.”

“Anything.” You’re fucking wrecked and he’s barely done a thing.

“Anything? Anything? You should know by now that’s a dangerous word.”

Clearly, it’s a risk you’re willing to take because you don’t have a rebuttal. So the choice is up to him. He’s so pent up he considers if he commits to opting for dessert before dinner, the main course might be ruined. But that wasn’t always a bad thing. It was however not ideal if it ruins his appetite entirely, and he had no intention of cutting this evening short.

“I need to fuck you,” he decides, “Damnit.”

He doesn’t love the decision, but he hates the thought of coming on the sheet while he takes his fill of the feast between your legs. That would impact his focus, and little else deserved his undivided attention. You’re unbothered by his choice entirely, in fact you’re eager, your fists tangled in his hair as you pull him back to your mouth and grab his throbbing cock from where it sits heavy on your stomach.

“I want videos too, you know,” you sigh, nipping at his bottom lip and dragging it between your teeth, “You look so pretty when you come.”

“Oh yeah?” You’re so wet he finds no resistance when he fills you in one hard thrust, the air being pushed from your lungs hot on his throat, "Careful what you wish for."

Memory never did the way your velvet walls swaddle him any justice. Every roll of his hips has you clenching around him, your nails piercing half-moons into his porcelain skin while he made no attempt at rhythm or tact. He needs to be buried in you—the only refuge he’s ever found—but he needs the friction, the result making his movements frantic and desperate. It’s too hard, too fast, your whines choked by the punctuated slamming of his hips into yours, all you can do is hold on and enjoy the ride.

You let him fuck you like this because you know he needs it. There’s a piece of himself he leaves with you for safekeeping every time he walks out the door that he reclaims here in the symphony of your breathy moans between sweat-soaked sheets. He tries to kiss you, but you’re both too overcome to focus, lips just grazing and dragging with each jolt of your body upward. His eyes are wide when he clamps a hand down over your throat, the lack of oxygen sending a rush to your core as he squeezes just enough to make breathing hard. You don’t need oxygen right now, all you require is him.

“You’re a mess,” he compliments into your agape mouth, swallowing down your little sounds as he batters into you harder still, “I’m gonna slip right out.”

“N-no,” you protest, your thighs squeezing around him tighter.

It makes him laugh. “Always so needy,” he touts, pulling all the way out and staring at your gaping hole until your hand grips his length soaked in your juices once again in an attempt to guide him back. “Tsk tsk, behave yourself. Have some control.”

The frustrated groan that rips from your chest sends a shockwave coursing through him. Your eyes are pinched shut so tightly your brow is creasing in the center, your wrist so dainty in his massive grip. He pulls your fingers to his mouth, licking the taste of you clean before placing your spit-soaked fingers over your clit and sitting upright. Without him needing to voice his desire, you begin circling your swollen bundle of nerves, your aggravated tension melting away at your own blissful touch, and when you’ve finally forgotten your annoyance at him, he claims you once again.

Sinking his teeth into the flesh of your calf, he ruts into you ruthlessly with his newly established leverage, his eyes locked on the way you drift your touch down every so often to feel where your bodies meet.

“I missed you,” he whines against your ankle, pressing his lips to the bone as he throws it over his shoulder, looping his arms around your thighs and picking up his pace, “Missed your fucking pussy.”

He’s well aware you’re past the point of coherent responses, but he likes the pathetic way you try to form a sentence. It’s all gibberish, even if you could think straight the force he’s thrusting his cock into the deepest parts of you cuts you off, your entire body shuddering, and he can’t help but marvel at the way your breasts shake or how your free hand seeks him out for something to grip on to.

“You need to come,” he commands, feeling the coil in his stomach ready to snap, “Lemme feel you, baby.”

It’s immediate. Your orgasm wracks over your body, every muscle going rigid and then shattering like glass, leaving you boneless and spent beneath him. His crescendo begins as yours subsides, but he feels no relief as he spurts hot and thick into your fluttering channel. He still aches, his cock is still rock hard, so he continues as if he’d never stopped. Your cunt squelches loudly as he fucks through your combined releases, and it feels so fucking good he knows he won’t last much longer in this unexpected second wind.

“Can you take it?” he asks, and it’s not so much his filthy mouth as it is a check in, you’re still silent as he seeks relief once again.

“Y-yes,” you sputter, and deep down he knows you’re too sensitive, too swollen.

“Good girl. Move your hand.”

With caution he presses his thumb to your undoubtedly overstimulated bud, your body jumping at the contact but immediately relaxing as he rubs slow circles. Your cunt is sopping wet, your thighs and his soaked with fluids, and the stench of sex is so heavy in the room he swears it’ll linger for days. Your body is glowing in the moonlight trickling in, a thin shin of sweat making you almost iridescent, and he can’t believe you’re his. He’ll get to sleep in this bed with you tonight, a privilege only awarded to him.

“Toru, please!” you beg, and he realizes he’s so caught up comparing you to the memory he has stored away that you’re painfully close to release once again.

“Gonna come again for me?” he purrs, and when your hole constricts he collapses down, shoving his tongue in your mouth as he joins you in the steep ascent to bliss. He moans into your open mouth as fire blazes in his belly, your chin and jaw firmly in his grip as he stares into the eyes he dreams up before he falls asleep every night before collapsing onto your damp chest.

What he thinks is the calm after the storm turns out to only be its eye, the latter half much less enjoyable than the first. Pain sears across his head, the throbbing behind his eyes pulsing with a newfound rage, and he whimpers in agony. He’s found some sort of safe haven in the curve of your neck, and that will have to do.

Even though he protests with all the energy he has left, you flip him onto his back, the loss of your arms a heavy burden as you leave him on the bed alone. He wants to scream your name, he wants to yell, to be angry at you for abandoning him in this state, but he doesn’t have it in him. He hears a closet door, the faucet, clinking of glass, the scratching of fabric, but he doesn’t dare open his eyes. Not right now.

The dip of the mattress signifies your return after what felt like an eternity, a hot towel wiping from his thighs to his stomach, the familiar scent of the laundry soap hitting his nose. You’d gotten dressed into something, and he reaches up to where you’re perched in the spot his pillow usually sits and recognizes the fabric of one of his t-shirts; if you have to wear clothes at least they’re his.

Gently, you lift the dead weight of his head and place it in your lap, the soft heat of your bare thighs easing the tightness in his neck as a cool cloth is pressed to his aching eyes.

The air is kissed with the smell of orange blossoms, and he sighs in relief when you begin to massage his temples, the oil on your fingers helping them glide across his skin. You work beneath the cold fabric shrouding him from the overwhelming world, running along his brow and cheeks, stopping to release the tension in his jaw he doesn’t realize he’s holding. Traveling over his ears you move to his neck, kneading at the base of his skull where the muscles are so tight they’re hard as stone, your movements so methodical from years of practice.

“You need to sleep,” you demand in a soft, hushed tone, “you’re too tired.”

Well, he hasn’t slept in days. He’d been too busy, it had been too risky, and an empty bed wasn’t conducive to pleasant dreams. There had been enough nightmares watching you be devoured by curses as he stood idly by unable to help, he likes to avoid them by any means necessary now. So, he nods. Sleep does sound nice.

“I’m staying home tomorrow,” he decides, “Turn my phone off.”

Your hum in response has the hint of a giggle, your nails now scratching against his scalp and through his snowy strands. The deafening roar of pain has subsided to an annoying buzz, and the more you work your hands over his head the quieter it becomes. You’re waiting for him to tell you he’s comfortable enough to fall asleep, and although he is, he’s enjoying this too much. A tender touch feels so good after weeks of combat and surging adrenaline, he can’t be blamed for wanting to bask in it for a few moments longer than needed.

“I’m gonna owe you for this, aren’t I?” he finally jokes, threading his fingers with yours and bringing them to his lips where he pecks across your knuckles.

“Oh yeah,” you confirm, tipping his chin up to press a chaste kiss to his pouty lips, “Big time.”

After a quick sweep of the house, including both turning off his phone and hiding it in a kitchen drawer, and a change of the sheets much to Satoru’s dismay over having to move, you slip back into bed. Immediately, his arms circle you, and although you're facing away from him comfortably nestled on your side, he buries his face into your spine, falling asleep almost immediately as your heat washes over him like a security blanket.

He dreams of home. Of you. A flower behind your ear and a smile lighting up your face. He has the courage to say he loves you here, something he has yet to utter in waking hours. It’s been too long to matter now, you read it in his actions and his intent, but one day he hopes to not fear the consequences of saying the words aloud. Because he does love you, more than anyone, anything. More than himself. And one day he’ll admit it.

One day.

***Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated***

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fanfic #gojo satoru fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk smut

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tabbyxcatt · 8 months

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DEMON SLAYER HEADCANONS (RANDOM)

I was debating whether I should just make it NSFW for all the characters and write all fluff separately but couldn't decide so... Giyuu and Gyomei's is NSFW and Sanemi and Kyojuro's is Fluff. It's titled headcannons but.. is it really? idk Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Characters: Tomioka Giyuu, Shinazugawa Sanemi, Rengoku Kyojuro, Himejima Gyomei x AFAB!Reader

Genre: NSFW, Fluff

Content Warning: fem!reader, (self)degradation, curse words (excuse my language 𓏗-𓏗), slight dub con if you squint really hard, alcohol, size kink. I think that's about it.

p.s I got a little carried away writing Gyomei's (nsfw) my bad lol.

GIYUU (FREAK IN THE SHEETS) HES LOWKEY A PERVERT

Giyuu doesn’t really initiate any physical affection at first. Truth be told, he doesn’t really initiate ANYTHING in the beginning besides confessing to you.

Tbh he didn’t expect to get this far after confessing. He never imagined you would accept and return his confession. So he’s not exactly sure what to do next since he didn't plan for this.

In the beginning of the relationship you have to lead. In all aspects. It's definitely a slow burn and he's awkward as hell about it all but don’t patronize him! He’s trying. He likes you and he knows you like him, he doesn’t want to hold back with you but he’s just… so. clueless.

He’s touch starved af, he’s not used to affection, compliments or attention but goddamn does he EAT. THAT. SHIT. UP. He loves it. You make him feel like no one has ever made him feel before. But take it easy with him, he's quick to get overwhelmed. It's all new to him and it scares tf out of him. But thrills him all the same.

Gaining Giyuu's trust is a difficult feat in itself, but making him fall in love? Girl you must have magical powers or something because it would take A LOT for Giyuu to allow himself to ever get as close as he has with you. Giyuu is definitely the type to wait until marriage or until he's more than sure that he can trust you.

It would take him some warming up to and getting used to (even though he craves it every second of the day). He's deprived himself of emotions for so long it takes him a while to relax and let himself go, let himself feel and experience.

But when he finally does, buckle up buckaroo because it's going to be an absolutely exhilarating ride.

Giyuu is one hundred percent pussy drunk after his first time with you. He never had a high sex drive, really only masturbating because he needed to every once in a while and out of fear that he wouldn't be able to use it at all. But even when he did he never got that sense of "relief", much less any satisfaction and the thought of masturbating to someone that he'd never and would never be intimate with just turned him off all the more.

That was, until he met you. You and your presence that completely overloaded his senses, your loving eyes that seemed to drown him whenever he made eye contact, your melodious voice calling his name almost sensually, your lingering touch so soft on his skin, all drawing him in like a siren luring a sailor into the waters with her. And now he finally understood what it was all about. And that sex drive that was nearly non existent before now came back with a full force almost too much for him to handle.

Once you guys get past his firsts and get more comfortable with each other, he’d change but only behind closed doors for the most part.

I'm not saying Giyuu has a complete 180 personality change, but you definitely have the privilege of seeing a side to Giyuu no has has ever seen before. One Giyuu himself didn't even know existed.

In the comfort of his place, or yours, or wherever he can get you alone, he’d do and say the most perverse things that leave you with your mouth wide open and eyes nearly bulging because your quiet little dewdrop really just said that to you.

He can be bold when he wants but he does it in a way that’s just so..??? Endearing? Charming? I can’t find the right word, but he could be telling you his most perverse fantasies with a blush on his face and a hitch in his voice and it would have you absolutely putty in his beautiful hands. (also headcanon I believe Giyuu would have the prettiest hands -long slender fingers, hands the size of your face, prominent veins, clean, trimmed nails- EVERYTHING. all the works)

Getting home from a stressful mission? Need a long, warm bath to relax? No problem, your sweet bf is already setting it up for you.

As he helps you strip- lemme clarify- as HE strips you down, this man will slide your panties down, slowly, kneeling down before you as he caresses the soft flesh of your thighs glancing up at you with a small appreciative smile. Rising up steadily while holding eye contact with you, he goes from looking up to looking down as he towers over you after successfully removing your panties. Never once breaking eye contact, he’d raise the fist that had your pantie bunched up to his face and sniff much to your horror.

Homeboy would sniff deeply, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head at your scent, choking on a groan, before staring you down with dilated pupils, hard as a rock. He’d stuff them into his pocket “for later” he’d mumble before walking over to you, planting a sweet kiss on your slightly agape mouth before saying “enjoy your bath love” with a devious smirk ghosting on his lips.

He’d simply walk out of the bathroom after that -leaving you slightly horrified but more turned on that he just did that- to your shared bedroom while you bathed, to soil your panties even more. A process he’s done more than once (some without your knowledge, but what you don't know won't hurt.. Right? He can't help it, he’s addicted to you. But you know. You always find them. You do most of the laundry after all, always finding them absolutely wrecked and crusty. Thanks Giyuu.)

Giyuu gets so wrapped up in you and the way you feel that if you initiate anything with him, as long as you're behind closed doors and shielded away from the outside world, he's on you in seconds, completely ignoring anything that's not you.

Giyuu doesn't fully realize how far gone he is with you until the sound of his own self deprecating voice, growling in the distance rings in his ears, "what is it? can't handle it? huh? is the loners dick too big?" "tell me, pretty girl, is my dick game as lame as they said it would be?" "scream my name baby, let everyone know how good this loser is fucking you."

He doesn't even recognize himself, he's embarrassed by his own actions/words so believe that he's going to be blushing the entire time he's dicking you down.

He needs reassurance, craves it so much that in moments like those he doesn't even realize what he's saying, brain turned to mush as he's lost in the way you feel, all the insults he's been called combined with the fact that he never imagined he'd be as close to someone as he is with you, have him spewing such self degrading dirty talk. Honestly his brain short circuits whenever you guys get freaky~ because one he never knew it could feel this good, two he can't even begin to comprehend that he is the one that has you whining, sobbing, cumming as hard as you are and three he's getting to experience this with an absolute knockout like you.

(i saw someone briefly mention pervert giyuu stealing panties and just ran with the idea. give me more closetedpervert!giyuu pls, completely obsessed!giyuu, desperate!giyuu who will take (literally) anything you give him. i love him sm)

(btw im sorry i wrote his so messily)

SANEMI (A SIMP) UNAPOLOGETICALLY SO, HE’D BE LIKE ‘SAY SOMETHIN I DARE U’

Sanemi knows he comes off as unhinged sometimes, it’s on purpose, an act (MOSTLY) to keep people from getting close to him.

So when he realizes he has a crush on you, he doesn’t want to acknowledge it at first, refuses to. He can’t and he won't. It's stupid, reckless and selfish and he knows it’s just going to end in heartbreak. And that’s something he doesn’t want to live through again.

It’s fairly easy to ignore you. There isn't much reason for you guys to run into each other, like none…he is not close to anyone you know.

Even if he was, he throws himself in mission after mission, so he doesn’t really get much rest time to hang out with anyone. The man doesn’t even hang out with his brother. The closest person he has to a friend is Obanai and that’s because of their shared hatred for Giyuu.

So the idea of even developing a crush is ridiculous and childish to him. But he’s noticed you. And now that he has, he can’t stop. You and your sparkly eyes, bouncy hair and time-freezing smile. All in passing of course, he'd never actually go up to you and you've never made any effort in talking to him. You’ve never noticed or paid him any mind until you had to.

Sent on a mission to assist the Wind Hashira, order delivered by your crow, since you were the closest demon slayer in the vicinity to him. The universe was on his side that day, but also fuck you universe cause why tf would you do this to him.

His mission would require a female to go undercover, but he knew of no one who could help, and anyone who could (Shinobu or Mitsuri) couldn’t. Until you showed up, like a saving grace, an angel. Eyes too sparkly and wide, hair framing your face too perfectly - did you cut it? - and that sickeningly sweet smile of yours that caused all of these unwanted feelings to bubble up in his guts, all directed to him this time. Who sent you? Where was your crow? He would make sure your crow could never give you another order.. Ever again.

And boy did you help him. You went into this mission and kicked. ass. It was great- he never knew you could fight so well- sweaty and disheveled but nowhere near battered (he took the stronger attacks to spare you, a junior, he was a Hashira after all… they had the duty to protect the subordinates… right? Oh whatever-). And not once did you stop looking so flawless.

As you both headed towards the closest Wisteria House (he needed proper rest after having taken on non-stop missions for a few weeks straight. And you had a sprained ankle he insisted you’d get checked.) He couldn’t help the burn of his ears as he heard you talk. Your voice was much prettier than he expected. He rolled his eyes at the thought. Of course it fucking was.

He couldn't stop his glances over at your form, you were breathtaking, captivating in the sun rise. He wanted nothing more than to sprint out of there and get away from you and his stupid feelings as fast as possible, but every wince and grimace as you stepped caused his own to falter. Fingers itching with the need to reach out to you, words choked in his throat as he tried (poorly) to stop himself from offering to carry you all the way back.

Next thing he knew, he was dropping you off in front of the all too familiar doors of the Wisteria House, gently moving you off his back, even though you reassured him multiple times that you were fine and he didn’t need to go through all the trouble. The blush on his face never settled down.

You both grew close to one another during your stay at the Wisteria House, your room was located down the hall from his, but every morning he waited by your door, ready for the routine morning walk you would take. You helped train with him as he recovered, every meal was eaten together, you'd gotten closer to Sanemi in those days than anyone had been able to in years.

He blinked. (More like time skipped, courtesy of me 😀) And somehow he was courting you. Yes. You heard that right, courting. You were a catch and he would never let that up. Especially when you were reciprocating his attention. He was a bug eyed, crazy motherfucker and you- you were perfect. He was crazy, not stupid!

He treats you like royalty. Offering to do just about anything for you, buying and getting you anything you liked, even if you never asked him to out loud, he's hyper aware of you and your surroundings. He’d notice if your eyes lingered on an item a few seconds too long. Next thing you knew, he’d be presenting it to you proudly, a satisfied smirk on his face as your eyes lit up.

He’s a proud man.

You’re his pride. Having a doll such as yourself on his arm, his ego shoots through the roof and he’s unashamed about it. He wants EVERYONE to know you’re his. And he’s yours. Mind, body and soul. And he’d protect you from anything and anyone.

Tired? Don't exert yourself anymore and let him carry you. Sleepy? Just rest your pretty head on his shoulder and rest your eyes. Hungry? Should he cook for you or do you want him to go get something to eat. He’s even more protective when you have to go on missions. Most of which he isn’t allowed to join because he wouldn’t let you do anything if he did.

Sanemi knows that the future isn't promised so long you both remain in your line of work, so he lives his life with you with no regrets, he's going to do everything he can for you.

With how unashamed he is he doesn’t care who sees him spoil you. No one is going to get in his way and stop him. No one is going to mention it or else he’d see to it that they’re never able to say another word again (and never be able to enjoy solid food ever again either).

You’re his baby doll, his princess, and he’s not ashamed to show the world, why should he be?

(sanemi you fucking simp ily)

KYOJURO (TICKLISH) HIS BOOMING ASS LAUGH JUST MAKES IT FUNNIER

HE IS NOT DEAD. RENGOKU WILL LIVE ON FOREVER.

He knows he likes you after taking a very serious moment to assess his feelings. He naturally runs hot, but he feels extra warm and uncharacteristically clammy whenever you’re around. It flusters him to no end. He’s not so bold around you (at least he tries not to be) since you seem to flinch and giggle every time he speaks which only causes his blush to spread like wildfire.

His stare is uncomfortably ardent. He doesn’t mean to, really, in his defense he's not completely aware of how it looks. But you captivate him in a way no one has ever before. (Another inexperienced bean.) And he finds it really difficult to keep his eyes off you. He's completely awed by your swordsmanship and beauty.

In other words, he’s a little off putting at first, especially with his mannerisms. Like his inability to use an inside voice even when eating, his hair that you swear he dye's on the regular and his two toned eyes, whether he’s staring off into the distance or straight into your soul, overall he’s a bit odd and intense.

But after you have a conversation to get to know each other, you find yourself endeared by him and all false assumptions you had of him before cease to exist. Being near him was like being comforted by the warmth of a fire after being out in the cold all day. A smile so bright and dazzling, you wanted to be bathed in it constantly.

And a beautiful friendship blooms after that. A friendship you both cherish and nurture, both eager to close that chapter called 'friendship' and move onto the next. But you’re hesitant because how could Kyojuro, the Flame Hashira, ever pursue any other passion aside from his work? And Kyojuro just has no idea how to break it to you, what if you didn’t like him that way? What if he was too much? He knew he could be sometimes and he doesn't expect you to willingly want to put up with it. You had blessed him with a friendship nonetheless, and that was something he would forever cherish.

Kyojuro fairly quickly becomes your best friend, and it's true that he's gotten unbelievably close to you because of his feelings for you but that is not the only reason. Kyojuro admires you for the demon slayer that you are and the person underneath the title. And even if he can't have you the way he wants, he will be by your side, supporting you in all the ways that he can.

So it’s just like any other day as he heads over to your estate, but this time he walks with a much wider stride, his chest puffed out a little more than usual and an unmistakable glint to his eyes. A confident look, one of absolute, like he knows that by the end of it he’s going to have the privilege of calling you his.

And then he gets there… and just… can’t. He can’t bring himself to say anything in that regard. To confess how his heart yearns for you.

So he’s listening to you ramble about the latest mission you were on, busying yourself (and him) in the kitchen and he just kinda waits for the opportune moment.

He ends up giving himself excuses as to why it’s not the right time, but to be honest he’s just scared of rejection, he’s never confessed to anyone before. And it’s nerve wracking.

Until night falls.

And both of you are sitting in your living space, empty bottles of well aged sake he had brought from his home, laid strewn across the floor and both of you had been reduced to a pile of giggling, bumbling red-face messes. He had relaid to you a joke Tengen had told him, well tried to at least but he had completely butchered it in his drunken state which only caused you to laugh harder as you witnessed his buffering.

“I-... wait! How did it go… Oh! No wait- that's not right- stop laughing! Y/N! Give me a second to recall-!”

He said all this in between his laughing and blubbering, constantly squirming as he couldn’t stay in one place, beside you, whose head was spinning in light headedness as the drinks were catching up, hard. In your hysteric, you leaned over to slap him in the shoulder but missed it completely which caused your hand to brush down against the side of his stomach a bit harshly.

It caught him completely off guard. The action sent a jolt through his body, jumping far away from your touch staring at you with wide, terrified eyes. You quirked an eyebrow at his reaction, the light bulb seemed to go off in your head, as he watched worriedly as your eyes lit up and an evil grin pulled across your face.

He should have seen it coming. He was a Hashira after all. He should have been able to dodge such an uncoordinated lunge but he was matching you in the inebriated department since he didn’t drink often, well, at all really. And you guys just downed two bottles. Next thing he knew he was thrown to ground with you playfully straddling his thighs, unable to contain the boisterous laughter that tore through him at your merciless fingers.

He doesn't recall the last time he’s let go like this. If ever. Or the last time he laughed this hard. He can’t and he doesn’t want to, since this moment, he was experiencing it with you and he was going to relish in it. Even if he wanted to squirm out of your ministrations, even as tears sprung into both your eyes from how hard you had been laughing. Even if it was getting painful.

“Stop! Please!” he laughed, a loud boyish laugh tearing through him, his voice turning high pitched. It causes your heart to swell. You hop off him, ending your torture, curling into yourself in pain as you tried controlling your laughter, maybe it was the alcohol, but you felt so high in happiness. His laugh boomed throughout your house and you seared this moment into your brain, practically engraving it into your memories.

“Shut up!” you cried in happy tears, “I’m gonna pee!” This caused more illogical laughter to go on for a few more minutes. By the end of it, you both were left panting and hiccuping, wiping the tears that streamed from your faces. Basking in the moment.

Something overcame him and he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to, this was it, this was his chance, so turning to you, the look in his eyes so raw and vulnerable, but with a fire burning behind them as he said, “I love you.” You smiled gratefully, eyes crinkling so much it nearly obscured your vision, “I love you too Kyojuro.”

(my sweet baby angel, i love him so much, the loml <3, he deserves nothing but good things, i will never forgive you akaza.)

GYOMEI HIMEJIMA (A SOFT DOM) WITH AN UNDENIABLE SIZE KINK

There’s really no other way around it.

Gyomei knows he looks intimidating to a degree. His stature alone has people unwilling to approach him, the whites of his eyes often have people feeling a bit uncomfortable, and the fact that he’s so emotional throws people for a spin. Have you seen the weapon he wields? Yeah, most people second guess even looking at him.

But how can they not? He’s big. His simple presence demands attention. Gyomei is a dom without a doubt, not only is he the oldest of the Hashira, he’s the biggest and the strongest, and it's one of things that first caught your attention about him. Because not only is his personality nurturing, that man could protect you without breaking a sweat and that is so ridiculously attractive.

You love his size. It’s impossible not to when he lifts you up so effortlessly with one arm, the way his large hand cradles your face so gently, his build practically shields you away from the world as you walk side by side. Your small hand gripping his finger tightly, too small to actually hold hands with him comfortably.

But it took you guys some time to get to this point, where he is no longer self conscious about his size -a small insecurity he developed after getting with you- where it no longer eats away at him whenever he tries to do anything with you. Gyomei never really thought of finding love, it was never something he saw in his future so he didn’t think much of his size, until he met you.

Both you and Gyomei have a size kink. Yours has always been present but Gyomei's was one he developed after getting past the fear of hurting you. I mean, he's always going to be bigger than any other human and with his lack of romance, he's never really thought about it any other way besides gaining strength. But with you, Gyomei can appreciate his body even more, because not only can he save others with his superior strength, now he has the honor of protecting you and pleasing you.

You love how massive he is and how gently he treats you. Gyomei could, quite literally, tear you in half and rearrange your guts, but he doesn't and the thrill alone is enough to get your body ready enough to take him. He of course ignores your pleading, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you until he deems you ready enough.

By that time you’re completely boneless, unable to think of anything else besides Gyomei. Consumed by thoughts of Gyomei. He’s everywhere. His towering frame above you, his large hands covering your body, his lips engulfing your own. His smell is everywhere, covering your senses. He’s everywhere. And yet you can’t get enough.

He loves how needy you get, he loves fucking you dumb to put it simply. He loves that he’s absolutely ruined you for anyone else (not that you would ever even imagine being with anyone else). The size of his finger inside you reaches a spot that even your largest partner before him could never reach. HIS FINGER. When you told him this he felt a primal satisfaction he had never felt before.

He loves how small you are. Doesn’t matter what size you are, you will always be small compared to him. He loves how soft you are, how squishy and plump. Gyomei is definitely into body worship, he's the type to view the body as a temple and the fact that you're sharing it with him??? He's weak in the knees. He can't see but he doesn't have to, to know that you're absolutely gorgeous.

He loves how he’s too big for him to fit in your mouth but goddamn do you try. You try your hardest for him. Until there’s tears streaming down your face in frustration, he only knows because he can hear your sniffling, he’ll put out of your mouth gently with a “What’s wrong baby?” And you’d whine at him, voice hoarse as you tell him “Just wanna please you.” It would swell his heart to hear. You’re so cute. Tears would well up in his eyes undoubtedly.

He’d have you trembling with his finger alone, by the time he actually gets to slide into your warm, juicy walls, you’d be shuddering and gasping underneath him. Gripping onto his arms tightly as you’d be reduced to nothing but tears and incoherent sentences at the over stimulation. Something neither one of you will ever get used to. You're sure you'd be drooling as well but thanks to whatever shred of rational thought you have, you save yourself the embarrassment from doing it.

“One… two…” He’d count out loud with each push of his hips, counting down the number of inches you’d take before tapping out. Sometimes you can take his full size, on those days, Gyomei has to restrain himself so much he’s literally shaking above you as he tries not to pound into you relentlessly, dreaming of using you as a cock-sleeve.

He can feel the bulge as he settles inside you, a large hand traveling from your hip to your soft tummy. He’s groaning at the touch, biting his lips harshly to stop himself from spilling filthy praises, unable to believe you can take him.

Instead he opts to roll his hips deeper into you, hardly pulling out, as he can feel a particularly hard part inside you that lets him know he’s reached your limit. He presses himself deeper into your womb, your walls constricting and fluttering around him endlessly, your body stuck between trying to push him out and suck him back in, all too much for Gyomei who unloads inside you with something short of a roar. You'd cry out, following soon after him, as you feel his seed deep inside you, warm and gushing, leaving you feeling absolutely swollen and satisfied.

He’ll get off you and take a moment to just sit and bask in the ambiance, admiring his work. Both of you are drenched in a combination of juices (he could feel how drenched he is, you're no better, he can only imagine), he could hear you both panting and breathing heavily, both have tears of pleasure streaming down your faces. He loves it. He can’t get enough of it. Which is a bit of a problem because his stamina is insane and he could do it all over again.. it's a good thing you enjoy the challenge. And it's even better that he's so merciful, he knows your limits and will never push you past them without your permission.

He loves cradling you afterwards, you’re unable to move much without whining tiredly. Your shared bed is on the floor, even if you wanted something more western style, there’s no bed frame that could accommodate to the weight and height of Gyomei. He would pull you onto his chest, nestling you safely into his arms. Whispering and murmuring heart warming praises to one another, he silently prays for your relationship and for your safety before he falls asleep.

(i love this big teddy bear, he needs more love!)

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE GIFS OR CHARACTERS

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this :D Please do let me know if I should make these longer or shorter. I am open to suggestions and feedback (as long as you're nice, I got a tender heart pls be nice to me).

That's it cuties, I hope I was able to make some of your hearts flutter and add a bit more to yours guys spank-bank collection lol.

If you wanna send any requests please make sure they adhere to these rules, these are the fandom's I write for as well, don't be shy!

/) /) ( ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ) / づづ ~ ♡

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #giyuu tomioka #rengoku kyojuro #sanemi shinazugawa #gyomei himejima #giyuu x reader #giyuu smut #kyojuro x reader #sanemi x reader #gyomei x reader #gyomei smut #tabbyxcatt #kny kyojuro #kny rengoku #kny giyuu #kny sanemi #kny gyomei #kny

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creadigol · 8 months

Text

*This contains heavy mentions of domestic violence/abuse. Please be safe my darlings! I love you all!

I apologize for the delay, but this one ended up turning into a long one, so it took me a bit of time. Hope y’all enjoy!

In hindsight Hero knew they should not have gone out.

In their frantic state, after everything that had happened, going out on patrol seemed like the only option. It was normal…it was routine…it was safe…

At least until now.

Hero slid down the rough brick wall which lined the roof of the building. Their side ached, their head pounded, the bruising on their neck was probably a sight to behold and overall they could feel the panicked sadness which they had suppressed for the past two years threaten to overflow.

It had never been this bad.

When did it get this bad?

Maybe….Maybe it was just the job…that’s it….the job. The villains have been out in droves lately and Hero’s Spouse has clocked more than one overnight. Little sleep and high emotions was all it was…right?

Hero felt the tears slip past their mask as they repeated that in their head.

It was just the job and little sleep.

Just the job and little sleep.

They could go on a vacation and start again…like they did last year.

Oh god, like they did last year…

With shaking hands, Hero brought their knees to their chest. They knew it was undignified and childish, but they didn’t care. Right now all they wanted to do was be as small and protected as possible.

It was all a cycle wasn’t it? Spouse would be good for a while, and when they were they were so good it was perfect…but then they would start to get stressed…stressed at the job…stressed at Hero…at everything…then it would degrade into months of terror and walking on eggshells…only for them to take a vacation to the lake and start again…start the cycle again.

Before they knew it, Hero was sobbing. They clung to their suit, the symbol of justice and power, and let their tears fall and stain it. They felt so stupid. They felt so trapped. Part of Hero knew they needed to figure out how to leave…but another part, the scared part, also didn’t know how to live without Spouse or what would happen to the city if Hero ever left them.

“Hero?”

Hero abruptly choked on the sob and froze. Oh god, someone saw them curled up, crying like an idiot in the middle of the night. This must look terrible for the city’s symbol of justice. Hero’s were meant to be strong all the time, not sobbing on the rooftop.

“Hero? Are you…is every…what’s wrong?”

They knew that voice…but from where?

Taking a deep breath to hopefully decrease how red and blotchy their face was, Hero summoned the courage to lift their head and look up.

Looking over at them from only a couple feet away was Villain’s Henchman. They had a hand outstretched as if debating whether or not to touch Hero and a look of confusion/concern on their face. As Hero made eye contact, that look only intensified.

“Geez Hero, I know my boss got the best of you last week, but there’s no need to cry about it…” Henchman chuckled in an attempt at levity.

Hero gave no response and continued to watch Henchmen with weary eyes. In all honesty, Hero couldn’t afford a fight right now. In their current state, Hero doubted they’d win against a common mugger, let alone a highly trained Henchman.

“Come on, what’s the deal? Villain hasn’t even planned anything for tonight…don’t have to be nervous.”

Like Hero was ever nervous about fighting Villain. As much as their pride wanted them to voice that outloud, Hero found themselves unable to answer…something stuck in their throat when they moved their tongue to try. Instead Hero just laid their head back down on their knees. Henchman wasn’t attacking, so Hero didn’t have to waste energy on conversing with them.

“Hero?” This time Hero did feel a hand on their shoulder. They tried to ignore it, but their body betrayed them as their entire frame seized up and their shoulders hunched in a flinch.

Henchmen abruptly let go.

“Ah, okay…Hero? Seriously, what’s wrong? It’s weird seeing you like this.”

Isn’t it? Thought Hero. Spouse was always so careful that Hero never acted like this in public…they were probably losing their mind now that Hero had gone out before calming down.

Still Hero did not acknowledge Henchman.

“Okay…alright…” Said Henchman, more to themselves than to Hero. “I’ll just…be over here then.”

Hero heard them walk over a few feet ahead of them. Then Hero heard the light ringing over the speaker of a phone. Henchman was calling someone.

After a moment, that someone picked up.

“Hey, it’s me…yeah, I think you should come to my location…no, I’m fine but Hero’s not…I don’t know…Well, they’re just in a fetal position…They were crying, but now their not doing anything…No, I tried they’re not talking…I think they might be hurt, but I don’t know…I’m sorry, I just wasn’t sure what to do. I don’t want to leave them here…Thanks Villain.”

Oh no…oh god…Villain was coming?! Of course they were! Hero tried to get up, leave, find another place to hole up until Spouse was calm enough for them to go home…but then they realized the reason for their current situation in the first place. Their side had hurt so much during patrol that they had just collapsed here. Now they were stuck. Stuck and waiting for Villain and come and do whatever it is villains do when a hero was down for the count. Kidnap? Murder? Experient? Who knows.

They didn’t have to wait long, them staying curled up and Henchman watching from afar, as Villain was there within minutes.

“They’ve been like that the whole time?” Hero heard them ask.

“Yeah, won’t move and not a peep…you think it’s like Past Hero?” Henchman responded uneasily.

“Nah,” said Villain. “They were way different than this. Couldn’t handle the job…never as good as Hero.”

Hero heard Villain approach, but didn't move. Their side was on fire now and their neck felt so full that speaking was out of the question.

“You dead or do I still need to kill you?” That was Villain’s idea of an opening line?

Hero knew how this was going to go. First Villain would demand Hero stand, Villain would then see the damage and finish off the job that Spouse started. Seeing as how Hero felt they couldn't move and their throat was killing them, Villain would just have to lead this conversation on their own.

Instead, Hero felt Villain kneel down next to them. Strange.

“Are you hurt?” Villain asked softly and Hero did pick their head up for that. It was so strange hearing Villain this soft…Hero had never thought them capable.

Looking over their knees and making eye contact, Hero saw Villain take a sharp breath and their face pinch. Hero was sure they looked a mess. Tear stains coming from under their mask, the dark bruise on their cheek, their high collar covered most of the damage to their neck…at least they thought so.

Villain reached over, bringing their fingers towards Hero’s collar. Of course, Villain never missed anything.

Like with Henchman, Hero flinched violently, but Villain was undeterred. They gently nudged Hero’s chin out of the way and tugged the collar down.

Villain let out a low growl.

“I can see why you’re not talking,” Villain gently pulled the collar back in place. “Well, I wasn’t operating tonight and these look fairly recent. Who?”

Hero gave them an exasperated look.

“Yeah, I know, but you have a phone don’t you?” Before Hero could stop them, Villain reached over and snatched the phone from their pocket, “Just type it for god’s…”

Villain had trailed off and Hero could guess why.

Hero had put their phone on silent the moment they went out on patrol and hadn’t looked at any of the texts Spouse was sure to have sent. Now Hero could only crumple more as they saw Villain looking at them through the lit up phone screen.

Shit, this was so humiliating. God only knows what Spouse had sent.

After a moment Villain looked up from the screen, a new somber look was on their face, one hero had never seen before in all the years they had fought Villain for this city. It was a strange mix of sadness, anger, and stone.

“Would you give me your hand, Hero?” Villain whispered. Henchman inched forward at this new tone from their boss, curious as to what had caused it.

Hero lifted their right hand only to have Villain push it back down. “The other hand, Hero.”

Hero didn’t look away from Villain as they gently took Hero’s left hand and removed the glove, focusing on the small gold band around the ring finger.

Henchman gasped in surprise.

“How long have you been married, Hero?” Villain asked, still in that soft dangerous tone, but attempting to sound conversational.

Taking their hand back, Hero lifted four fingers.

“Four months?” Henchman asked.

“No,” Said Villain, still looking at Hero, “four years.” They said it as a fact.

“Wait,” Henchman’s eyebrows knitted together, “So you’ve been married this whole time? Like even before coming to the city?”

Hero looked down in confirmation.

Villain looked down at the phone once more before asking, “And they’re the one who did this aren't they?”

At those words Hero broke out into new sobs, curling into themselves once more.

“Oh my god,” said Henchman. “But Hero’s so…nice. How could…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Villain cut them off. “What does matter is where Hero’s going tonight. Which is with us.”

Hero looked up sharply, tears still falling. What were they playing at?

“We’re going to get you looked at and when you’re able you’re going to tell me everything,” Villain held up a hand at Hero’s confused expression. “No, this isn’t a kidnapping and no, this is not a trap. I might be a villain, Hero, but I know where the line is.”

Their voice took a softer tone, lowering so only Hero could hear.

“Dammit, Hero, you’re the best this city’s had in decades, I’m not about to let a piece of shit Spouse ruin that…or you.”

Hero couldn’t explain it, but they believed Villain. For the first time in years they felt a weight that had always been present, lift a bit.

They nodded their affirmation and took Villain’s outstretched hand.

Hero didn’t look at the messages still lit up on the screen.

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/creadigol/738205290309287936/iff-you-want-could-you-maybe-continue-this-this

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angsthology · 2 months

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𖤓 intro to camellia ayudisha (ft. the commentary by yours truly)

-> series masterlist

Camellia, oh, Camellia.

She is as pretty as her namesake and as delicate as its petals.

If Jupiter was a hail-storm disrupting one’s lives (the so-called journalists are very dramatic, they should try writing a screenplay instead), Camellia was the gentle breeze in the early morning greeting your skin. If Jupiter has the sky and storm in her control, Camellia was the wind god that has control over whether or not your hair is going to stick to your lip gloss.

Not everyone can understand her beauty but anyone who does has been blessed with the right retinas.

Her presence is one that people debate whether she should be driving at all when she feels like royalty (and let’s be honest, a passenger princess), someone in deserving to the throne under that crown.

She is the person you think of when you hear the phrase ‘pretty girl’. Fitting to her name, she looked like she was hand-picked in the prettiest flower field; sweet dark chocolate-colored eyes under her long lashes (everyone, me included, very jealous of those) — her dark, once black hair turned brown from her continuous sun exposure (especially the one that is in her hometown), her skin that warm-toned tan color. And you could never miss her delicate face, cheekbones high and visible on her round face—(something everyone goes crazy for? Post-race glistens where all of her light makeup is either gone or has become one with her skin giving her face that glow).

When people throw around the term ‘Grid Princess’ it only truly sticks to her and only truly serious with her.

Everyone knows the story, the ‘myth’ of Camellia Ayudisha; had her father not meet her mother, had he not marry her, had he not created Camellia, she would be a princess—well, she’d also be nonexistent but if she did exist—she does, but under different circumstances—she would be.

You get what I mean.

She is how one might say… perfect.

The perfect role model, perfect ‘intro’ of sorts, the perfect woman.

She was, the firs and foremost of ‘her kind’, she set the path for women in motorsports, and there was no one better to do it than her. She is perfect.

Perfect Camellia is the media angel, perfect Camellia would never go against the rules, perfect Camellia would never out-do her teammate in equal machinery. (well, she still did.)

The perfect male fantasy as to what a female Formula One driver should be.

Well, she was perfect to them. For the first three years of her career, she was as well-behaved as everyone expected her to be, she didn’t fail anyone’s expectations. The perfect fantasy.

“WHAT IS THIS? Camellia Ayudisha’s Toro Rosso has overtaken Nico Rosberg in the Mercedes! If she keeps this up for a few more seconds she will be making history as the first ever woman to win a Formula One Grand Prix… Oh my Goodness! SHE CROSSES THE FINISH LINE! THE CHECKERED FLAG HAS WAVED FOR THE FIRST TIME THIS WEEKEND! CAMELLIA AYUDISHA HAS WON THE TWO-THOUSAND-SIXTEEN JAPANESE GRAND PRIX!” the commentator yells into his mic, cheers following in the background at what just happened.

The crowd was loud with their gasps and cheers, even those who weren’t her supporters managed to had the jaws slack.

Her radio was much worse,

“THAT IS P1! MEL, YOU JUST WON A GRAND PRIX! YOU’RE THE FIRST WOMAN IN HISTORY TO WIN A GRAND PRIX! CONGRATULATIONS! P1 oh I can’t take this, take it in Mel… you’ve just made history.” Her engineer and entire team celebrated in her ears, prompting tears to form in her eyes.

When they heard her voice again, her emotions were contagious, “Demi apa… Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God… I did that…” her voice giving away her tears. “I can’t believe it…”

“Oh, you best believe it, this is your day! A day for women and girls everywhere, we all thank you.”

“Okay, Ray, I mean this in the nicest way possible… please shut up.”

And when they thought she was done talking to cry by herself, they were wrong.

“THIS IS FOR YOU MALIQ!” she cried into the radio, saying the words with her Indonesian accent heavy on her tongue.

They’ve just witnessed history live in front of their eyes.

Then there are the luckiest interviewers to have been blessed to get her first few words minutes by the history-maker herself.

Right after she was done getting weighed, Camellia walked over to her post-race interview. Her mouth in a permanent smile, one might mistake her for having just inhaled glue with her entire face.

“Look at you!” the interviewer greeted happily, “You’re glowing!”

She laughed lightly, “First time I’m hearing that. Thankfully not in a different circumstance…” her comment making the reporter and herself crack another laugh.

“No, seriously, you’re beautiful!” she can only smile at the compliment, “I guess winning does that to one, huh?”

She chuckled again, “I guess so…”

All-the-while she didn’t realize the visible tears that had ran down her cheeks, the tears that were still running down.

“Are you crying?” he asked with a light-hearted laugh.

When it came to her attention, Camellia immediately wiped it away and looked at the tear on her knuckle, “I can’t stop it, I swear…” she replied with the same light-hearted laugh.

“You just made history! I wouldn’t be able to stop crying too if I were you!”

It was known from then on, Camellia was not afraid to show emotion, her vulnerability. She took it all with great pride.

Many says she was ‘weak’ but more stated that she was unafraid, she was fearless.

“Wow, look at that, only nineteen-years-old and had just marked her spot in history by winning her first Grand Prix.” The commentator narrated as the dark-haired girl was seen walking towards the podium with the 1st cap in one hand and the other pushing her hair back.

“Even the way she walks, just look at her! So elegant.” As she stepped on the top podium, teeth shining with her smile. So sweet, so beautiful.

“Now let’s hear it for the Indonesian national anthem.”

The smile on her face was the smile no one has seen before — which was saying a lot cause Camellia smiles for ninety percent of her life.

As her anthem plays, she removes her winner’s crown only for it to be replaced with the sun as if she wore a halo as her crown.

To the world, she could’ve done no wrong.

Until,

Ugh, until…

Jupiter Nightshade once again ‘ruined something that was once great’. — the media claimed.

Maybe there was always a flame inside of Camellia that the world had yet to see before ever in her Formula One career, a flame that was only set the season she met the rookie in Renault.

When the rookie won the driver’s championship in a Renault—it triggered something in her.

A rookie… had won… a championship before her. —In a Renault of all things! The first Renault driver with a championship since 2006! That was three histories she made in her first year.

In the early days of 2019, after months-long silence from the driver and her team, emotions and tension bubbled over the internet over their radio silence.

Until eventually, it broke out:

BREAKING: Camellia Ayudisha to leave Red Bull.

BREAKING: Camellia Ayudisha to join Mercedes in 2019.

That’s when all hell broke loose.

The reactions to her move grew opinions from the internet.

One spoke, ‘I need to lie down.’ (me too, and I did kinda) — another yelled, ‘her and Lewis as teammates… SIR LEWIS HAMILTON AND THE PRINCESS, I won.’ (they do look beautiful together, who doesn’t love colonizer and colonizee royals as teammates) — unfortunately another man spat; ‘who does she think she is? Red Bull quite literally boosted her career.’ (she is Camellia and she did everything she has achieved herself, thank you very much and shut the fuck up.) — but when a man speaks (again, unfortunately) another person (as delusionally great they are) says; ‘CAMELLIA AYUDISHA 2019 WDC!’ (I like the spirit and enthusiasm, keep it up, you’re going to need it.) — ‘damn, no more Indonesian colonial times teammates [broken heart emoji]’ (I mean, well. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say to that.) — and you obviously cannot forget the ones who is always going to be there for her; ‘I’m glad she left, I did not like the way they treated her there. To hell with that rocket ship, as long as she’s happy and okay that’s all I’m going to need for now.’ (she appreciates that a lot).

I mean, it’s not like any of that will matter, Camellia was known to be chronically offline. A grass-toucher, if you will. But by her profession, you could say gravel-toucher… enough.

Her name eventually became the equivalent to ‘surprise’. ‘Cause somehow, just somehow… she shocked the world again the time 2021 came around.

BREAKING: Audi to join Formula One for the 2021 season.

Carlos Sainz Jr. to drive alongside Camellia Ayudisha in Audi for the 2021 season.

The Royalty, the Flower, L’Angelo; Dewa Ayu Camellia Anisha Primaningtyas.

not proofread | taglist; @disneyprincemuke @eugene-emt-roe @nikfigueiredo @treehouse-mouse @sadieurlady @trouble-sistar @almostjollypizza + ask to be added (crossed out means i cant tag you)

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one x oc #formula one #formula 1 #formula 1 x original character #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x female character #f1 smau #formula 1 smau #formula one smau #formula 1 x oc #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x you #tine’s the big three #f1 x original character

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constantfragmentation · 2 months

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Would you mind dropping some thoughts about yandere!Silco?

Oh dear, Silco the Conundrum.

I honestly think this fits Silco perfectly.

Silco has always been loved starved. Orphan. He's had to claw his way through shit for everything. He doesn't trust easily if at all.

I think he might have become obsessed with Vander in a way. I can see him as being bisexual. Now, whether he's fully acted on his desires, that can be debated.

In one way, I think Silco saw Vander as the kind of man he wanted to be. Big, braun, respected, lethal, etc. They become brothers and while Vander kept the top spot, everything was okay in this relationship. But, sooner or later, Silco gets tired of playing second fiddle OR start questioning the man he looked up to. You put someone on a pedestal so high, they're going to fall.

Silco was willing to sacrifice himself for the cause and expected others around him to be the same. Willing to do anything to attain that goal.

Post drowning, Silco still loves his friend and maybe hopes he'll see the light but he will sacrifice Vander or anyone else if he as to. He still loves Vander in a way that he believes he can still 'change' him. If not, he'll use him because he can't let it go.

Letting shit go, in not in Silco's wheelhouse. Even though he tells Jinx to do that, he obviously has never gotten over his own betrayal. Everything he's become has stemmed from that.

On the romantic partner side of things, he can be very much the same.

Silco is the opitome of possessive and jealous over someone he cares about.

He's more than happy to kill Jinx's only sister to keep his daughter.

If he cares about you? Yup, same.

It will have taken some time and effort on your part to get close to him. If you managed that, then you should know him by now and that if you're still game, you must know how he operates.

He doesn't show affection often. It might be something very little like a glance or a touch. A super soft drag of his finger along your arm.

Praising a job well done (chances are you work for him or in league with him in some way). He appreciates hardwork, dedication and honesty. However, your honesty better be in line with his views. He can accept your opinion as long as it's not in contrast to who and what he is.

He won't say "I love you", rather saying "I need or want you" instead. But don't mistake those words for lacking emotion. He means it.

Will he kill everyone and everything to keep you? Yes. Will he sacrifice himself to save you? Yes, but he will do everything in his power to not have to do that if possible. He will also let you know that if you do anything stupid to put him at risk, you're in big trouble. Plus, he will remind you constantly that he saved your sorry ass.

You're in debted to him forever. He doesn't take that shit lightly.

Silco has a great capacity to love but it is toxic. He is broken emotionally and pyschologically. He can go from one extreme to the other.

He might surprise you when he's very tender. Then he can be straight up violent in his passion and own needs. He has so much built up stress and emotion and unfortunately it comes out when it feels like it and it could be you or any other poor soul on the receiving end.

That could be in the form of an argument over something very trivial or seriously rough sex that he won't apologize for afterwards, even if he feels he went too far.

He could softly caress you while you're sleeping, letting his tender and vulnerable side open up when no one is watching. He cares but he tries so hard not to show it. If he cares, that could be seen as a weakness.

God forbid someone tries to hurt you. They are dead. No one touches someone he cares about. He won't leave it to Sevika or someone else to carry out. Nope. He will be very hands on and not with a gun. He will take his damn time.

You go after him or something/one he cares about, he will take out everything in return. He will burn you, your family, business, everything to the ground.

Very posssessive and jealous. Silco has always felt inferior in some way. He was always in Vander's shadow and in some ways he covers it up by being ice cold.

So, if you are tender with him he might reject it at first. He's not used to it, can't comprehend someone would be like that with him, could love him for him. Touched starved is an understatement.

Don't be flippant or coy with him. He doesn't want to play those games. Don't flirt with others. Once he decides you're his, you belong to him whether you know it or not.

Don't give him any reason to mistrust you. Once you've earned his trust and respect, it's even harder to keep.

He might hurt you first to prevent from him being hurt (ever again). Don't give him reason to suspect anything.

He might lock you in your room for your own protection/good...and who knows what that might mean and why.

Ultimately, he is in control at all times. He might lose it in a moment of lust or tenderness but it is only for a moment.

#frags answers #silco #silco headcanon #yandere silco

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thatgirl4815 · 8 months

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Friendship & Emotional Awareness

There seems to be an ongoing debate on Twitter about whether or not Mew is a good friend, specifically to Ray. And to begin with, I want to laugh at the notion of “good” here, because I don’t think anyone in this friend group is a “good” friend in the typical sense.

They’re all college kids, so it’s difficult to judge anyone too harshly. So far, friendship is the area of Mew’s character where we see his flaws come through most.

Looking at all the friendgroup characters, we see some distinct flaws. Boston is a liar and manipulator, so selfish that he would ruin his friend’s relationship for his own personal gains. Ray chases after Mew and initiates an unwanted kiss with him (which he apologizes for later, but it was still wrong of him in the first place); Ray is also pushy and demanding. Cheum is a bit harder to read, but she seems content pushing her friends in the direction she thinks is best for them, regardless if they truly want it (I’m thinking of her insistence that Mew hookup with Top in Ep1…it’s not inherently wrong of her to encourage him, but she doesn’t seem to be considering Mew’s hesitancy much).

So where does this leave Mew? Mew is arguably the most morally upright character in the group. He’s intelligent, but he also has strong emotional awareness. He knows how he feels and believes he is good at pinpointing how others feel too. We also know he does not bend easily or feign his emotions; he does not pretend to feel anything more than friendship for Ray, even after his breakdown.

We can see that Mew cares for Ray, but where his flaws come in is in the aftermath of Ray’s breakdown. This is a slippery slope to begin with because, as I mentioned, these are all college kids; it would be hard for anyone to know how to approach someone with suicidal intent.

While Mew appears to have high emotional intelligence, he also neglects Ray’s emotions by allowing their other friends to call Ray a “burden” again and again, even when he knows that Ray struggles with feeling loved by the people in his life. When Ray stomps out of the bar in Ep1, upset about being labeled a “burden” yet again, Mew doesn’t act any less confused than the rest of them. I have a hard time believing Mew forgot what Ray told him on the phone two years ago—whether or not he believes Ray has moved passed it doesn’t erase the very clear negative reaction Ray exhibits here. (It’s also very precise language between the scene from two years ago and the one in the bar.)

Mew is also the only character other than Ray who has addressed Ray’s mother’s death. Regardless of whether the rest of the group know about her alcoholism, Mew knows Ray’s fear of and addiction to alcohol. And yet a few passing comments is the extent of their conversation about it (granted, they likely have discussed it more during the two year gap, but who knows). While Mew does tell Ray to lay off the flask, he ultimately joins in with the others when they joke/complain about Ray’s behaviors while drunk.

None of this to say that Mew should feel obligated to walk on egg shells around Ray all the time. There’s an argument to be made that it isn’t Mew’s responsibility to check up on Ray’s drinking problem or censure his friends about their treatment of him either. At the same time, being a good friend means acknowledging some behaviors as inappropriate and potentially damaging. Ray is evidently lonely, self-loathing, and depressed. Two years does not necessarily erase all of the pain Ray is feeling. Even if it’s true that Ray is a burden while drunk, the emotional implications of this label are clearly weighing on Ray’s mind day after day. Mew is emotionally cognizant enough to recognize these cues.

I don’t mean to come off as solely a Ray defender here, because I think Ray has his own flaws. I actually like that Mew isn’t the perfect guy he’s been made out to be. It’s also nice because until this episode, we haven’t gotten to see much of Mew’s character. I hope the show continues to flesh him out, because he has the potential to be very interesting if his layers are examined in more detail. In summation—I don’t think Mew is a bad friend. He was there for Ray when he needed him most. But I also don’t think he’s nearly as “aware” as he claims to be.

#this was difficult for me to write because I don’t want to blame Mew or paint him as a villainous character #I think he does care for Ray and all of his friends but that doesn’t mean he is not ignorant of some things when it comes to Ray especially #only friends #only friends the series #ofts #only friends meta #RayMew #ray pakorn #only friends mew #only friends ray #khaotung thanawat #book kasidet

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dannnnnny666 · 21 hours

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Day 3: Invisible

I made it a personal challenge to get one of these out everyday on the right day, so to do that I had to cut it a little short. I'll continue it at a later date when I have time but for now this all I got. Anyway here's the story:

Tw: Depressive thoughts

Sometimes being able to go invisible had its perks. Shocking, I know.

It wasn’t something Danny used often, though. He didn’t know why, but being invisible for too long made him feel worried that if he stayed like that for too long, he would be able to become visible again.

But right now, he doesn’t care about that. Right now, disappearing forever doesn’t feel like such a bad idea. Right now, he doesn’t care that people will miss him. Right now, he wouldn’t mind disappearing.

That’s why Danny was currently invisible on the roof of Casper High at 4 in the morning. It was exhausting staying awake from dusk to dawn with only 10ish minute naps during class as he watched his grades drop further and further. Not to mention, he still had to deal with bullies and detention.

And what did he get out of this? Maybe a little bit of praise? A break? A feeling that he was actually doing good for the place he called home?

Nothing.

He got nothing.

It was infuriating. He worked his ass off for a place that didn’t appreciate him. Why was he even still here if this is how he would be treated-

Skulker landed on the roof behind him. He stared at the space where Danny was with a concerned look, as if he could see him there.

“Welp… are you there?” He said cautiously, taking a hesitant step forward.

After a short mental debate on whether he should reveal himself, Danny let the invisibility fade before turning around and stepping toward him.

“How could you tell where I was? I thought even ghosts couldn't see other ghosts when they were invisible, or does your suit give you special vision or something?” He joked, trying to hide his emotions.

“Ghosts can feel other ghosts emotions.”

“What?”

“Some ghosts aren’t powerful enough to speak, even Ghost Speak,” Skulker explained, “so to communicate, they surround themselves with an aura of their emotions.”

“…”

“It is a very common form of communication in the Ghost Zone, as it helps signify intent and decreases miscommunication.”

“How come I haven’t been able to sense other ghost emotions?”

“Air doesn’t conduct emotions as well as ectoplasm does; however, when a ghost feels a large amount of emotion, it causes them to produce more ambient ectoplasm, which allows them to express their emotions better.”

“Oh,” the floor started looking very interesting to Danny.

“Come sit with me,” Skulker said as he sat down on the ledge of the roof.

Danny weighed his options: should he run or sit? If he sat, then he’d have to talk about his emotions with a person who'd said he wasn’t to skin Danny and use him as a rug. But if he ran, Skulker might chase after him to talk, or maybe he would escape, but what about the next time they’d meet?

Danny decided the path of least resistance was probably the best option, so he plopped down right next to Skulker and stared out at the town he knew so well as they began to talk.

#dannymay2024 #skulker #danny fenton #dan phantom #dannymay #dannymay 2024 #day 3 #Day3: invisible #Invisible #casper high #spiraling

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kanguin · 2 months

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On my way to work today, I spent some time reflecting on my experience with autism growing up after listening to a video talking about neurodivergence in general. And it really hit me just how frustrated I am with the limitations that are placed upon me with autism. While my stunted social capabilities is frustrating in its own right, the thing that makes me feel the most helpless and aimless is my flat affect and muted emotional spectrum. I used to think that I'm just not really very emotionally impacted by things that happen to me, but in reality I feel the feelings, but just, cannot express them in a way that I or others understand. And because some feelings like fear, anger, sadness, and joy, are self-feeding emotions that react to your own expression of them, the fact that I often don't express an emotion or am even aware it is affecting me until I assess the symptoms afterwards, means that my emotional reactions rarely "bloom" for lack of a better word. This also means that a lot of my emotional reactions to things that happen to me go completely unnoticed by myself and others around me, meaning my emotional needs often go by the wayside and get buried as more things happen. I should point out this does apply to all emotions; I've been questioned on my level of interest in the past when the idea of going to Disney World was discussed as a kid, despite the fact that heck yeah I was excited! But it came out as "Yeah I'd love to!" in a flat pleasant voice that reads to allistics as meager enthusiasm.

My emotions do get loud and pronounced sometimes, but I've found usually only when overwhelmed, or when the circumstances are JUST right for me to express Big Joy (genuine excitement). Hell I still to this day have trouble relating to people defined by big emotions. Anger is one I definitely struggle to relate to, because it's a lot easier to keep a cap on your anger when you don't always notice frustration at first, so things rarely have a chance to boil because the fire isn't fed. Even for things I really SHOULD get angry about, I get mildly indignant or frustrated, and I sometimes feel like voicing my frustrations then make me sound impotent and pathetic. Probably because I was bullied in a way where people tried getting a rise out of me to see my reaction, but yeah. People who explode with righteous fury scare the living daylights out of me, even though I know they're right. It's just so alien, to me. I honestly feel weak-willed sometimes, and get frustrated with the fact that I don't pursue my interests or dreams with any more than moderate passion. I'm pretty sure if I put my mind to it I could gather my finances, find the right, well paying job, and move out within a year, but because my mental disress at being confined to my mother's home simmers barely above lukewarm until it errupts so big that I can't think clearly, before going back to tepid… I just make no progress.

The fact that it took me so long to realize that I'm not cis, and then when I realized that, it took me so many years to accept that I wasn't just "neutral" but wanted to start HRT and wanted to be outwardly perceived as a girl, is all entirely due to how muted my experience of my emotions is. I've debated for a while on whether or not I experience dysphoria about my appearance, and I've come to the conclusion "yeah, I do and I have for a long time going back to early high school". It's kind of obvious in retrospect that not wanting to dress out around boys and starting to prefer to wear a swim shirt with the convenient excuse of being pale/fat, were forms of not wanting to be perceived by others for how my body was. It's so painfully obvious now that the disress that my voice dropping brought me was not just because it was sudden, but because it was dysphoric, not me. But it took so long to even realize that because my emotions are so muted that extreme discomfort is hard to tell apart from mild discomfort unless analyzed in retrospect.

The school psychologist for the early college entrance program I attended my junior year of high school once told me that the thing that sets me apart from my peers is that while most of them had strong dissatisfactions with their life as it was, I was just extraordinarily content with whatever life gave me. And for years, I believed that, becasue yeah, I generally just accept whatever happens to me without much fuss, I don't fight for anything, even if I want it. But hindsight has proven her so, so very wrong about that. And I don't really blame her, she was making the best of what I presented with her and the accounts I gave. I didn't have an official diagnosis of Autism or anything so there was nothing really signalling that my mild, placid demeanor was the combined effort of severely stunted emotional expression and complexity and the early signs of depression. So now I just have to look back, and wonder how differently I would have developed as a kid were my convictions just a little stronger, were my emotions just a little louder. It's not much use looking back and wondering, but it's hard not to when you feel that a defect in your brain has basically held you back from achieving what you want for most of your life.

I'm extremely thankful to the friends I have in my life today. I've learned so much about recognizing my own emotions and my emotional needs from people around me that care so deeply for me. I don't talk to my friends as much as I should, but the past week I've been putting in a concerted effort to talk more, about anything. Just more time with these people who mean so much to me but I give so little of myself to. And I haven't gotten to prioritizing all of the people I consider the most important to me just yet; I have about two or three friends I still want to make sure I set aside time and energy for, but I'll get there in time. My mental health hasn't been great for a long while, for a combined number of reasons, but I want so badly to have quality time with my favorite people, and I think it's finally spurring me into doing something about it. I can only hope that from here on I get better at recognizing the things I want, need, and feel on a daily basis, and not just write everything off as being mildly interested.

#kanguin original #autism #neurodivergent #autism spectrum disorder #trans

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satanandsoul · 1 year

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♑︎ Timothée Chalamet Birth Chart Analysis ♑︎

Disclaimer: This is for entertainment purposes only. DO take my words with a grain of salt.

Asteroid and astrological body that will be discussed in depth in this post are Juno and Black Moon Lilith (BML) as they show up prominent in my research.

First of all, the 5th house stellium in Capricorn. Timothée has the creative juice and work ethic to succeed in the acting industry. Big time. Just wait for it. He can be the next Leonardo DiCaprio, minus the serial dating with those who are under 25. His Venus-Pluto aspect won't allow it. I will elaborate later.

Timothée's Sun in 5th house Capricorn squares Moon in 8th house Pisces: We know that Capricorn's pragmatism and Pisces' dissolving tendency into the collective subconsciousness does not mesh well. There is a conflict between Timothée's daily sensible way of going through things like romance, hobbies, creativity etc. and his emotional yearning to lose himself in deep bonding. Imagine a person with a realistic list in hand of how his romantic partner should be like (see Anthony from Bridgerton at the beginning of season 2 for reference), like how much money his romantic partner should be earning each year, if his romantic can cook etc. but secretly yearns for a passionate love that makes him defy his own rational being. That is the feeling of this particular placement and aspect, and apply it to every aspect of life, not just love. This aspect is definitely not easy. Timothée's Sun also conjuncts Jupiter from the 4th house. That explains his jovial disposition and thirst for knowledge and wisdom. Also a great sense of humour. Sun opposite BML: There is an inner debate of whether or not to join the elitist system that is represented by the Sun. Timothée is aware of the flaws of a certain elitist system (in this case I would say it is the Hollywood) for suppressing the femininity but at the same time he craves the admiration and applause that comes with conforming into such a system and playing by the "rules".

Moon conjuncts Saturn in 7th house: Timothée needs to be around mature people in order to feel nurtured. Saturn here soothes the usually hypersensitive Pisces Moon, giving his emotions a bit of a structure. It can help Timothée better handle his natal Sun square Moon aspect. Moon squares Jupiter: Emotionally insatiable and extravagant. May go to extreme length in order to "feel" things. Again, this points to him being bubbly and outgoing. Moon Trines Pluto in 4th house Sagittarius: This is a blessing. Pluto gives his Pisces Moon the emotional resilience to bounce back after failures. Moon sextiles Mercury, Neptune and Uranus in 5th house: There is easiness to communicate his emotions, to tap into the public subconsciousness (excellent for creative endeavours), and to accept forward-thinking ideologies.

Mercury conjuncts Mars, Neptune, Uranus, and Juno in the 5th house: Gosh, there is a lot to unpack here. Mercury conjuncts Mars: A busy mind. Can use his words as weapon (but I doubt that he will actually do that given his Sun-Jupiter and Moon-Jupiter aspects, but he is fully capable of that). Speaks quite fast. Mercury conjuncts Neptune: The Poet. Spurs out words that make sense to the heart but not to the mind. Mercury conjuncts Uranus: Erratic thinking style. All over the place thinking. Traces of thought hard to catch. Mercury conjuncts Juno: This points to the high possibility that the future spouse is younger than him, extremely smart and talkative. Basically a person who embodies Gemini energy. Likely very youthful looking as well, petite, lightweight, almost looks like a fairy.

Venus in 6th house conjuncts Uranus: The 6th house being the house of daily work, this man is easy to fall in love with co-workers. Plus, he likes someone who takes good care of one's hygiene. He has romantic relationships that comes and goes or ends faster than it starts. Most of his relationship will be long distance. (I didn't write this because he is an actor. But Venus-Uranus aspects indicates so.) Venus sextiles Pluto in 4th house: There are some Plutonic themes in his household. It can be that he witnessed a certain member of his family experiencing a very transformative relationship (for example, a strong love that goes on forever for a deceased partner, something like that) and he knows how strong love can be and wants that in his dating life (I don't know why he wants that, but he wants that no less). That is why I say he won't serial date women who are under 25.

Mars conjuncts Neptune: Again, a perfect aspect for people in creative industry. Whatever he does fits what the public subconsciously wants. This explains his popularity. Most likely to have an idealistic vision of this world and is willing to take actions to make the world into a better place. Mars sextiles Saturn: Discipline comes naturally to this guy. He does have what it takes to succeed in any chosen industry.

Ascendant trines Sun-Jupiter conjunction: This is a great aspect. This helps people get a clear sense of who he is like as a person upon first meeting him. Ascendant square Pluto: Hypnotic. Intriguing. He can naturally pull people in. Can appear a bit standoff-ish if he is not smiling.

And not gonna lie here, most of Timothée's planets makes an easy aspect with the Midheaven. All these planetary energies are helping him with his career. Pluto opposite Midheaven though: This man is obsessed with his career and reputation. There can be pressure from the family. But this can be a good thing. No need to worry too much about it.

#timothee chalamet #timothee #timothee chalamet astrology #timothee chalamet birth chart #timothee chalamet natal chart #astrology #birth chart analysis #birth chart readings #natal chart #divination #natal chart reading

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mariacallous · 2 years

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In March, 2021, Kari Lake, who for twenty-two years had been the co-anchor of the 5 P.M. and 9 P.M. local news at Fox 10 Phoenix, recorded a two-and-a-half-minute goodbye of sorts, and posted it to social media. Lake had been off the set recently, having taken a personal leave, and she said that she wouldn’t be coming back. “Sadly, journalism has changed a lot since I first stepped into a newsroom,” Lake said. “And I’ll be honest—I don’t like the direction it’s going.” She went on, “It is scary walking away from a good job and a successful career, especially in difficult times. I know God has my back and will guide me to work that aligns with my values.”

Lake is now the Republican nominee in the race for governor of Arizona, and a very quickly rising figure within the national Party. The National Review editor Rich Lowry wrote in a column on Thursday that, if Lake wins her race, she “would have to be considered the favorite to become Donald Trump’s vice presidential pick should he win the Republican nomination again in 2024.” She has done this without much of a traditional campaign operation. She has not commissioned a single poll, and according to Politico’s Alex Isenstadt, when a supporter asked Lake whether she had hired certain high-priced consultants, the candidate said, “I don’t know who those people are.” She then called over a young aide and told him to “show off his ‘MAGA’ tattoo,” which he did by pulling back his lower lip. Lake’s rise has been unsettling for reporters in particular, since she is bluntly antagonistic toward many of them. The Washington Post’s Ruby Cramer, interviewing the candidate for a recent profile, found that Lake and her husband, an independent producer named Jeff Halperin, record their press encounters. (If it all “goes great,” Lake told Cramer, it needn’t be cause for concern.) She taunts reporters about their audience size; the clips go viral.

When Lake upended the Republican gubernatorial primary this year, she was seen largely as a MAGA candidate who had outflanked the field by insisting that Donald Trump was the true winner of the 2020 Presidential election. But, in the general election, that political strength on the far-right has been compounded by another: perhaps unsurprisingly, Lake is exceptionally good at TV. She speaks concisely and evocatively, and maintains emotional control even while saying very aggressive things. During a televised primary debate, she denounced Joe Biden’s border policies for yielding control “to a criminal element, to dangerous drugs that are killing our young people, and he’s taken away our ability to protect our own state.” When Mark Phillips, a political reporter at the Phoenix ABC affiliate, played a clip of the retired general and Trump political associate Michael Flynn saying that states have the right to declare war and worriedly asked Lake if that’s what she had in mind when she called for militarizing the border, Lake said, “We’re declaring an invasion and we’re protecting our border. That’s what we’re gonna do. You can call it whatever you want.” After the Dobbs decision, a legal battle in Arizona will either leave the state with its current fifteen-week ban or revert it to an 1864 law that banned all abortions in the state except when a mother’s life is at risk. Lake has expressed support for both laws. “I’m pro-woman,” she told Phillips. “And I want to make sure that women have health care. I want to make sure women have access to birth control. And I want to make sure that women are treated with respect.” She went on, “My stance is that I’m pro-life and I want to save as many babies as possible.”

Journalists and liberals have often been alarmed at the growth of right-wing media, which has been a fertile ground for conspiracy theories alleging that the 2020 election was stolen, or that the media is suppressing the truth about the harms of COVID vaccines, or (in the case of QAnon) that the country’s élites belong to a cabal. As Trump’s Presidency has receded, the attention on far-right media has only sharpened, both because Republican political candidates have increasingly used fringe outlets to reach an audience and because reporters and liberals have learned to pay attention to what might be circulating there.

But that isn’t what this election is about. The Republican momentum—and, as I write, it looks very real—is built on a small group of much simpler and less exotic stories: rising crime, chaos at the border, and pain at the pump, each of which has been a standby of local news for a generation. Lake is a talented politician, but less deft campaigners have leaned effectively on these themes, too. The Long Island congressman Lee Zeldin, a staunch Trump supporter who once nominated Jared Kushner for the Nobel Peace Prize, has in recent weeks mounted a serious challenge to Kathy Hochul in the New York governor’s race—one poll last week had him down just four points—in part by following local crime stories with the assiduousness of a small-market TV reporter making an audition tape. On October 18th, Zeldin tweeted an ABC 7 segment of a small event he held outside of a Queens subway station, writing, “I was in Jackson Heights in Queens earlier today outside another subway station where someone was pushed onto the subway tracks and killed.”

There is a reason that the Republicans have seemed to dominate the news ever since Biden took office. These themes are vivid and naturally suited to television news, and they have evoked in their supporters a visceral reaction that Democrats have managed to achieve only on abortion. Otherwise, the Democrats have often relied on statistical information (of the underlying strength of the economy, of the efficacy of the COVID vaccine) to make their case, while Republicans have turned to televisual information to demonstrate the violence in the streets, the migrants running across the border, the soaring prices at the local gas station. (In the education wars that heated up in 2021, images of outraged conservative parents at school-board meetings were up against quotes from tenured academics thoughtfully explaining what critical race theory was and wasn’t.) One of these information types is more powerful than the other. If it bleeds, it leads, in campaigns such as the 9 P.M. news.

At the beginning of these midterm elections, everyone in politics wanted to know whether Republicans were turning back toward Trump or away from him. This question overshadowed what turned out to be a more interesting development—and, for Democrats, a more ominous one. Certain rising Republican politicians—especially Lake and Florida’s Governor Ron DeSantis (whose wife, Casey, is herself a former local TV-news anchor)—have managed to fuse a New Right pugnacity with a hyper-attention to the news cycle and their own media presentation. It is a potent political mix, and in the past two years it has meant that Republicans no longer look quite so frumpy, quite so clueless, or quite so chaotic as they usually seemed during the Trump years. They are onto something, and if it sometimes feels like the political news has spent the Biden Administration stuck in one long local television-news cycle, well, it probably will feel that way for a while longer. During Lake’s emergence, she has sometimes been described as “Donald Trump in heels.” But that underrates how much Lake and her generation of Republicans have learned from their predecessors, and how intelligently they are operating right now. ♦

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funkymbtifiction · 2 years

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Hey Charity I hope your well, I have a couple questions I hope you don't mind answering:

1) Is our attitude to adapting to a different culture (whether geographically speaking or a new job environment or group) dictated by type? Like I have this strong belief that "When in Rome do as Romans do", both because it's just the smart thing to do practically (this is how things work around here and I wanna do well), but also because if I decided to join something then it's arrogant to expect what's/who's already there to change for me. But I know many people disagree and I got into heated debates over it, so I'm curious why that is;

It can indicate the presence of Fe somewhere in the stack, since Fe's adapt readily to their environment and alter their behavior to suit it, both to get along and put others at ease; it is relatively effortless for them to do this.

As for those who argue against it -- there are a variety of reasons why people would feel this way, ranging from legitimate to narcissistic ones (why should I change; they need to cater to me, because I am important!). Sometimes people go to foreign countries and are shocked that the culture is so different -- and instead of admitting they didn't research the region and find out what's considered polite in that culture, "they should be more like me/us!"

2) Is it consistent with low Ni to have a specific end in mind (or way you believe things will pan out), but have difficulty in committing to a necessary regime to make it happen? Like "I wanna be x in the future!" but on a daily basis the person seems content in just enjoying life as if they have all the time int he world? Also taking it in stride when things don't end like you predicted they would? I think I have Ni because I strongly relate to some aspects of it (going by probability vs possibility like Ne does), but I don't think it's high since I have a fear of commitment and struggle with disciplining myself;

Yes, that is common for SP types. They know what they want for their future but it seems like a long way off and so I can enjoy today! Nor are they particularly invested in the outcome, since there's always another opportunity in front of them to take advantage of.

3) Could it be that having a tough-love give it to you straight 'cuz I don't believe in sugarcoating approach but at the same time, care a lot about people not mistreating each other or being unfair or ruining the moment for others a sign of lower Fe?

Yeah, this would fit an ESTP type.

I'm asking these because it's been suggested to me by a couple people I know who are into typology that I should consider ESTP for my type, but I really don't relate to most of what I've seen online about the type so far. Like I'm no no snake oil seller who likes to exploit people or an unti-intellectualism jock who's proud to be an asshole, so I wanna clarify my ideas about the functions and go by that.

Being an ESTP means you are a hands-on learner who reacts fast and lives in the present, who is highly opportunistic and objective, and who can connect to people on an emotional level to some extent, but who struggles to commit themselves to a singular goal or vision. For every snake oil salesman, there is a Teddy Roosevelt.

Here's my take on them:

#question #estp #mbti

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residents-of-the-darkforest · 1 year

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Nine Reluctant Lives (short story, part 2)

Previous part: https://at.tumblr.com/residents-of-the-darkforest/nine-reluctant-lives-short-story-part-1/glto3sr4xg9s

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Fallendust stood tall, her chin raised just high enough to be proud, but not too high to not stare cutting stones into his eyes and through his still aching skull. Her tail flicked stiffley around them. “Do you remember this place?” Every word felt strained. Aldereyes wondered fleetingly how hard this was for her, to return to the place where her own Clanmate had taken her life.

Even now, guilt failed to creep in. Aldereyes looked at his paws, pretending it had, and answered under his breath, “this is where you died. This is where I killed you.”

“This is where it started,” she added. From the corners of his eyes, Aldereyes could see her fur stand on end. Was it of fury, or was she terrified? “When you decided that your friendship–or whatever it is you have with the medicine cat–was more important than the lives of your Clanmates.”

Moons ago, Aldereyes had been on a patrol with the she-cat when the scent of blood caught their attention and they stumbled into the sight of Myrtlewing over Waspheart’s body. All Aldereyes could hear was the ringing of blood in his ears, growing and growing like crashing waves until Fallendust’s snarl had broken through. She had stated through her shock that they would bring Myrtlewing before Stormstar, that he would be punished, would be hurt, and the next thing Aldereyes knew, she was hanging from his jaws and it was Myrtlewing’s turn to stare in disbelief.

Back then, he thought it was a one-and-done thing, but, well, things change.

“I’m so–” he began, but Fallendust cut him off by poking her nose roughly against his head. “With this life, I give you regret. Maybe someday you will use it.” This time, the life skipped its battering of Aldereye’s bones, aiming instead for his heart, twisting and pulling at it, choking him in grief and dispare. Had this been how Fallendust felt when she awoke in Starclan?

He watched her pad away, joining the second cat in the ranks. He licked behind her ear and she leaned into him, suddenly looking weak, and Aldereyes noticed how similar their pelts were. Was he her kin? That would explain his anger with him. Not that it really needed explaining.

Shimmerstone was next, the mother of Aldereyes’s half-sister, Hollyclaw. She had always been kind to him, even through her mate’s disloyalty. Now, she lived up to her name, sorrow shimmering in her green gaze. She shook her head slowly, brows furrowing as if she was in pain.

When she put her nose against his head, he felt dizzy before she could utter a word, making him sway on his paws and dig his claws into the ground to steady himself. “With this life, I give you empathy. I used it for you when you were alone in the nursery. I could have taken my anger from Stormstar’s cheating out on you, but I didn’t, because you were an innocent kit. Now use this life to see your Clanmates beyond the blank slates you know them as.”

When she withdrew, Aldereyes had half a mind to reach out to her, then quickly told himself that it was only because he was still dizzy and she had been propping him up.

The pain never eased with the next four lives, only differed in how they hurt him. Blazing pain, stinging, crushing, choking, or emotions that made him terrified or feel like he would drown in sorrow. He lost count of what life he was even on, and began to wonder if they really were trying to kill him, just wanted to play it out like he had done to so many, had watched Myrtlewing do to so many.

It was all blurry, everything whirled together, specked with black.

“Aldereyes?”

Everything cleared.

Aldereyes’s head that he hadn’t realized had fallen snapped up, and before he knew it he was blinking into the eyes of his mother.

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Debating on whether or not I should leave it here or add one more part.

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vulturevanity · 2 years

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Could you please tell us about Tales of Terin.

Oh my gosh. Yes I can. This will get long so bear with me.

Tales of Terin is my project for a fantasy series set in the world of Terin, which is populated by anthropomorphic animals in a magical society inspired partly by the culture of the region where I live, partly by Iberian Europe and South America from around the 17th century -- more specifically, Colonial Brazil (which at the time was under Portugal). I just got tired of fantasy settings based almost exclusively on Central and East European cultures and wanted something closer to myself.

I'll keep this post to a sparknotes version of the lore up until the inciting incident, because it will get long enough without me trying to summarize the world at large AND the entire story AND all the characters, and also I've posted extensively about some of those aspects in previous posts (I may make a masterpost with links to all the relevant stuff because the tag is a mess of character memes, inspiration pictures and some outdated art shfkfjdk)

Anyway lore

Magic in this world comes from five extremely Sacred Stones whose existence in-universe is somewhere between rumour and myth. There are two known gods, Telgaros and Haedin. It's widely believed Telgaros "died", because people were being shitty and he allegedly wanted to wipe them out, so Haedin went "nah" and turned him into the stars, then became the sun herself.

Pretty story, there are even holidays about it, but it's very much not true.

The gods are alive, and they lied. There is a third god no one knows about who's imprisoned Somewhere due to Reasons, they're Pissed About It, and Haedin and Telgaros are currently having a pretty heated debate on whether or not they should free them. And since this somehow concerns the mortals, they're bringing the fight to Terin.

So. Terin. There's this continent called Guaraitá (Gwah-rah-ee-TAH). If you're a merchant or noble living there, things are pretty nice. If you look like you might be trouble, though, get ready to have a bad time. It's what happened to Ani, the jailbird, one of our main characters. He used to be a high-grade thief along with his childhood friend and partner in crime Agatha. They scammed nobles out of a pretty penny for years, until Agatha fell in love with one of their targets and betrayed him. Just like that: sentenced to 25 years in the dungeons. The justice system is pretty nasty to people who mess with nobles.

But then something funny happened. A decade before the end of his sentence, the rich guy who threw him under comes up and offers to pardon him if he manages to track down Agatha and bring to him their child, whom he'd never got to meet, as his health is deteriorating and he needs an heir. Huh. That's one hell of a way to find out she'd ditched her noble lover while pregnant. Ani's feeling pretty bitter about... everything right now so he takes the offer out of spite, pretty certain he knows her enough to find her even after 15 years.

So he gets Parole Bracelets put on him (more on that here) and sets off to the very quaint Sun Village, a rural town at the edge of a beautiful forest. The fertile ground is great for farming, the DuBach family (renowned for their grade-A dewcattle*) is even established here, but mostly it's small commerce and a tight-knit community. And there, on that morning, in their old hometown, as Ani predicted, he sees Agatha. He finds her at the farmer's market, a smaller, lighter-furred version of her clinging to the hem of her dress.

He feels approximately 37 different emotions when their eyes meet, and after a minute of looking at him like he's a ghost, she manages to reluctantly invite him for coffee and cake later at her house. Which he accepts, partly because he really, really missed Agatha, partly because he's planning to be extremely petty and vengeful and abduct the little pup -- Jade, he learns -- and bring her to his patron against her will because fuck Agatha, he hates Agatha, and he has a job to do.

But he never gets the chance to, because at noon the town is gone, engulfed in flames, as are the entire forest and the crops and most of the dewcattle. The terinians who survived the giant wave of magical fire are desperately running around trying to save themselves, their friends and their valuables. Ani knows he won't get pardoned if he brings back a corpse, so he bolts to Agatha's house and finds her crushed under rubble, having shielded little Jade from it (Jade herself got hit while trying to grab her little accordion and fell unconscious). With her dying breath, she begs for forgiveness and for him to take care of Jade. He uh. He takes Jade and leaves without a word.

After the chaos dies down and grief sets in, the fraction of the village's population that survived congregates at the edge of town, where Malvina DuBach is organizing the people so her friend Rusty can use his healing magic to help everyone he can. As Ani approaches, Rusty recognizes the little Jade and immediately tells him to jump the line so he can heal her. They introduce themselves, Ani tells them he's taking her to the Capital, and they offer to take him there in their wagon, since they're coincidentally also going there. He reluctantly takes the offer, since the journey back on foot would take too long.

Not two days after, they're intercepted by a stranger who introduces himself as Theo, says the world is starting to end and he needs help stopping that. Shenanigans ensue, they end up embarking on a worldwide journey for the Sacred Stones.

Any follow-up questions?

Oh, also Magnolia caused the fire.

Edit: oh, forgot to clarify: Dewcattle is what they call the equivalent of cows in this world, because non-sapient animals are fusions between normal animals and bugs. In this case they're cows who are also aphids. Pretty fluffy and produce honeydew instead of milk.

#tales of terin #i am vibrating #thanks for the ask!#padeko

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