#to exorcise those good for nothing spirits

[1dont-really-know]

Now that I've got time to cool down, I just realized that the Senate fits exactly in the description as to what drove Malva to mostly abandon her role as a princess in favor of life as a healer: the lack of genuine connection between individuals (the Senate treating the Draconia's as symbols more than people) and the lack of freedom in the castle walls (the Senate being overcontrolling as heck)

#harus mempersiapkan ruqyah untuk mengusir roh roh jahat seperti Senate itu #perhaps ayatul kursi will do the trick #to exorcise those good for nothing spirits #twst #twst oc #malva draconia

[coconutdays]

drunk pt. 2

s. this is part two to this original post! my attempt at a mutual pining ??? slowburn??? with the Honored One, Gojo. Y'all fuck after one of those intense movie confession scenes yada yada.

w.c. 7.2k

w. fem! reader , gojo! x reader , fluff! , angst! , slowburn! , smut! ( I think the slowburn is lowk angsty in my opinion) y/n’s cursed technique is basically like Wanda from marvels abilities, I didn't proofread much srry, btw this is my first time executing a fully fledged fuck so bare with me I tried.

You had only minutely interacted with Satoru ever since that day you went cursed spirit hunting with him. It was normal, nothing was weird or out of the ordinary after, but everything seemed so dull in comparison to that day. Although you could say there was less of a chance to speak when he did go overseas for a couple of days. And you were partially grateful that it was like that. You couldn't fret over your feelings for him if he wasn't feeding you anything to reminisce on.

On one of your minuscule interactions with the famed sorcerer, he asked you to take his newbie first years to a cursed mansion while he would be busy scouring Spain for a key that did who knows what.

Which leads to the current situation at hand.

"What happened here?" Yuuji asks, kicking a stray pebble a few feet away and into the bushes

"The owner of this place slit the throats of everyone in the mansion at night, then shot himself in the head." You squinted at one of the far off windows of the mansion, spotting something that would have most likely been a cursed spirit.

"Gross." Nobara's face turns into one of disgust.

"What level cursed spirit does it have?" It's Megumi asking now

You turn to look at all of them, a glint in your eyes.

"Grade 1"

"WHAT?" Nobara stomps her foot, "Why is Gojo sending us out here on sui-"

"I'm here." You laugh, a red flame swirls around your irises, "I'm the second strongest after Gojo. Give me some credit."

"Gojo gives her most of his missions if he suddenly can't do them." Megumi points out, "We're safe."

"Not entirely." You shift your weight onto one of your hips and cross your arms, "I'm here to intervene if things start going south, which I hope they don't, but under the situation it does then I step in."

That was twenty minutes ago, and things had gone south.

You were ambushed by more than one Special grade in the mansion and left the three first-years to deal with a cursed spirit much akin to the one described in the correction facility that lead to Yuuji's death. The others were almost alike to it, but they were starting to speak, forming words more coherently by the minute.

"What the fuck."

There were four surrounding you, and the only reason they weren't going for the first-years was because you sealed them into the top floor with you. You would have rather dealt with this by yourself, considering you had to hold back because the first years were in the floor beneath you, but you'd have to make do with your seal.

Much to your surprise, halfway through your fight, you could hear the sounds of relief from the first-years and one less screeching curse.

Good, they exorcised it.

Both of your hands were busy repelling your opponents away from you as you neared the staircase so they could hear you.

"GO OUTSIDE! NOW!"

"But you're dealing with four of them!" Nobara started, "If you-"

"JUST WAIT FOR ME OUTSIDE! AND CALL IJICHI!"

You could hear Nobara starting to protest, but you could make out the grumbles of Megumi to place trust in you.

When you got a peek through the window of Yuuji's pink hair, you let out a sigh of relief. You didn't have to hold back anymore, but you weren't going to be able to be the one to take the first-years back to Jujutsu Tech after this.

What you considered the cursed energy equivalent of an atomic bomb was what you released within the enclosed top floor. You concentrated on it breaking apart the curses and squeezing them out of existence--much like a bomb would.

However, the aftermath would be something you'd leave the first years up to. You didn't have to hold back within the confines of the mansion, none of the students were in there, but they were directly outside, waiting for you in a position where contact with the explosion would hurt them. The moment you release your technique, the confines the mansion burst, pulverizing the curses out of existence and subjecting you to the sheer force of your cursed energy being concentrated into one subjectively small enclosed space.

Your cursed energy treated you like shrapnel and launched you headfirst into the concrete ground near the first-years. It was the last thing you remembered before everything after started fading in and out.

You were in the back of Ijichi's car, at the center with Megumi and Yuuji on either side, grabbing at your body. Why were they--

Oh, there's gaping wounds on your stomach and legs.

Nobara is frantically turning to look back from the front passenger seat again and again.

"Drive faster Ijichi!"

Maybe you could start using your cursed technique to heal-

"Oh fuck!" Yuuji starts

You start coughing violently into your lap

Was that blood from your wounds or-

"Ow."

It's the first thing you utter when you wake up, feeling an intense soreness all over your body. They're mere action of lifting up a finger sending shock bolts through your body.

"Finally someone's awake." Shoko sighs carelessly, she's on her phone looking through who knows what.

"How long have I been out?" You groan, closing your eyes to mentally prepare for her to say 3 days or something along those lines.

"Two weeks." She gets up and walks to serve you some water as your eyes shoot open, "Constricting a nuclear explosion to only the confines of a mansion was not a smart decision."

You lean up against your pillows and start to rub your sore neck, "The first-years were right outside of the mansion. I had no other choice."

"Still not your best moment." She blinks tiredly, her careless look on her face.

"How are they anyway?"

"Fine. Small cuts and bruises. They were fine by the end of the day. Gojo's got them in the classroom right now."

"He's back from Spain already?"

"He came back the day after the mansion incident. Thought you would've remembered him poking your head to see if you could hear him this morning." She started to write on a chart, probably yours.

"I don't." You start to look through your faint memories to see if it held onto anything like that.

Nothing.

"Well, you should be fine to go home already." Shoko starts to walk out of your room, raising the chart she was just scribbling on moments ago, "You check out just fine. Get some rest before they probably send you on another mission by tomorrow."

By the time you put on some clothes, provided by Shoko, and take a shower at your place to soothe your muscles, it's been a few hours, leaving Gojo to stare at an empty infirmary bed, your scent lingering in the room.

"She woke up a couple hours ago, must be home already." Shoko mindlessly says as she walks back to her office with a stack of folders in her arms.

After your shower, you're on your couch watching a comfort show of yours while you snack on some ice cream to wallow your feelings in. The reason for your being upset quite obvious.

He should've known you were awake by now. Why wasn't he checking on you.

It annoyed you, both the fact that for someone who had been at your bedside this morning, he hadn't shown up to receive you in your awake state, and that you cared so much you started thinking like his girlfriend.

Satoru didn't owe it to you to come see you. He wasn't yours to be obliged and neither were you his to expect it.

But fuck if you couldn't help checking your phone every five minutes to see if he'd text or call you. Hell, you'd love for him to show up announced any moment.

He didn't though.

You went to sleep upset that night--mostly at him--it wasn't his fault for not showing up, but your heart couldn't help but be disappointed by his lack of presence.

You got called in by Jujutsu High to help train the second-years the following day. A mission with five special grades seemed more appealing when you considered the fact that you'd more than likely see Satoru once there.

"Look who's awake."

Gojo is suddenly walking next to you as you lead the second-years to the sparring grounds. He doesn't look in your direction, merely facing ahead, but he has that same unbothered smile on his face--it bugs you.

He releases a handsome chuckle before starting again, "You drool a little when you're knocked out. Did ya know that?"

"No, I didn't, Satoru." You exhale, distracting yourself by looking for a nice spot to have the students duel.

"It's quite--"

"Shut up Gojo, we have to spar."

Both of you turn to see Makki scowling at the object of most people's irritation, including yours. She's ready to fight, earnestly tugging at the straps of her bag of weapons.

"You pain me, Makki," He grins, fixing his posture to walk away, "Alright, then. Learn well from y/n, she's the second best after all."

He walks in the opposite direction from you guys, trying to taste the last breath he inhaled when he was next to you before he had to let it go. It was his own pitiful attempt at basking in your presence rather than letting his inhibitions crumble and grabbing you by the shoulders to ask if you were okay? what the hell were you thinking? he shouldn't have sent you on that mission, he'd apologize if he let that part of himself come through. If. But he won't do that.

The second-years did learn from you. Makki the most, almost coming close to handing you your ass in hand to hand combat after taking in a bit of advice from you. Her semblance in physical fortitude was getting closer and closer to Toji Zenin every day. Nonetheless, the keyword was almost. She almost won and probably could have been closer to that if you weren't so ticked off by Satoru Gojo. You were in such a zone, honed in on the negativity he procured for you by not giving you the attention you wanted, that you barely spoke while focusing on Makki's every move besides giving advice, your usual praise and teasing gone.

You showered after, the heat of the sun and physical exertion making you uncomfortable in your own sweat and forcing you to take the quickest train to your place instead of getting a ride. And you didn't want to come across him again.

The feelings were too much.

It was why you found yourself halfway through a bottle of whiskey, snacking on a charcuterie board you ordered for the fucks of it. You're wearing another set of those "skimpy pjs" as Gojo had put it and staring out your balcony to gaze at the city's night lights.

You just want him so bad.

You want to kiss him. You want to be in his embrace and tell him he the prettiest eyes ever. And he's a womanizer, it chisels away at your heart. God, he's probably tongue deep in a pretty blonde right now. There's tears raining down on your cheeks and you don't bother to wipe them away, choosing to take another swig of whiskey and accompanying it with a slice of prosciutto to tug some of the sharp aftertaste away.

It hurts, wanting him. He just needs to get from you. You need to get away from him. Fuck the friendship, fuck everything.

ding!

There's someone at your door and you're up to check who the hell is at your apartment on a Friday at 1 a.m. like a lunatic. Your guard slightly goes up the closer you get to your door, the idea of someone dangerous being behind the door coming across your mind. There's a patch of goosebumps raising at the back of your neck, suddenly growing alert at your own thoughts as you tip toe to your peep hole.

And of course it's someone dangerous.

"What do you want Gojo." You don't bother to be much curious about it. You want him out of your face.

He's standing in front of you with his stupid handsomeness. That same bottle of whatever he ordered the other night in his left hand and his irritating smirk on his face along with those blacked out glasses. He's wearing black pants and a tight black shirt too, you can even see a sliver of a silver chain on his neck.

You don't see, hear, or even notice it when it happens, but his breath hitches in the quick fire second between your deadpan question of his whereabouts at your apartment and his teasing question at your teary face.

"Aw, you cryin'?" He tilts his head, canines bearing as his lips curve further up.

It makes you want to use his own red, purple, blue, or whatever fucking color of the rainbow on him. He's a complete ass. Satoru Gojo is a waste of your time. He should forget your address, your number, your favorite croissant filling, everything.

You just want him away from you, where he won't hurt you.

"Yes. Insensitive piece of shit asshole!" You shout, grabbing at your door handle.

"Get out of my face!"

You shut your door forcefully and carelessly, paying no mind to your surroundings or neighbors in your drunken haze.

When you turn around, he's already behind you.

The wine bottle is already on your kitchen island and Gojo's towering over you, his eyebrows scrunched just a bit and his eyes continuously trying to analyze you as his irises move back and forth. He had taken his glasses off, they were hanging off the collar of his shirt now.

Your nose twitches a bit, cursing his ability to teleport. The hate you hold for it becoming a heavy pit in your stomach.

"Get out." The twitch in your nose goes off again.

The panic of the situation is startling to Gojo. You look beautiful, the skimpy pink romper you're wearing is all consuming to him, he wants to rip it off and take you to your room. The crying fit you were just having had softened your features and god the little twitch you keep doing with your nose–

And you're angry at him for some reason.

No, he's stupid. It's his fault, you were crying and instead of letting himself worry about you like a normal person, he teased you about it. His own realization makes him scramble to fix his previous statement.

"No–look I'm sorry for asking like a jerk. Why are you crying?" He takes another step closer to you, pressuring you into answering his question.

Gojo was trying to get a physical tell out of you. You had healed from the mission, right? And sparring with the second-years couldn't have left you pummeled. He couldn't see any wounds on you.

He felt the rise of his hand to cup your cheek, to force you to look at him and tell him what was wrong.

No, he can't.

You look up at him defiantly, biting your cheek and beginning to grow angrier, angry at him, angry at your heart, angry at the tears that still manage to flow down your cheeks.

You take a step back and reiterate yourself.

"Get out, Gojo."

There's a linger of hurt in his eyes, along with confusion when his eyebrows scrunch even more. You can see he's at a loss for words when his mouth keeps slightly opening and closing and his eyes look like they're psychoanalyzing you.

You roll your eyes in a teary frustration and stomp your foot like a two year old throwing a fit when he doesn't move even in the slightest to leave.

"Please, Gojo! Just leave!" You cry, voice cracking, "Get out of my apartment, leave me alone, I don't–"

You almost yelp at the sudden intrusion of your personal space. He's got an iron grip on your hands all of a sudden, forcing them out of the way in case you try to push him away physically this time. And he's staring only dead into your eyes now, an overall concerned look on his face that overpowers his slight irritation at your stubbornness.

"Tell me why you're crying."

You try to loosen out of his grip, only for it to do nothing like you knew it would. It forces you to scrunch your nose in distaste and turn your cheek to him.

"I don't want to see you." You mutter, your voice audibly nasally and battered from the crying fit you were having.

Gojo brings you closer to him with a simple tug of his hands, he leans closer to your face.

"Why." His breathing starts to pick up and it sounds less like a question and more like a sound of offense.

"Let go of me."

"Not until you answer me." He tightens his grip on you just a little for emphasis, to show you that he really won't let go until you fulfill his request.

You still don't want to look at him. You can feel his laser like stare at you, pinning you down and pressuring you into giving him what he wants. It's all too much, his touch is searing to your skin and the fact that his body is so close to yours in hazing your mind. It's so much that you have no choice but to turn to finally look at him and it sends you back to the state you were previously in before he rung your doorbell.

You feel the hot wads of tears start to tumble off your waterline as you vomit a singular word.

"You."

He reels his head back a bit in confusion, "What, I–"

"You! I'm crying because of you!" You babble through your hiccups and tears, "And you show up like a jerk! You didn't even care that I was crying! And–"

"What makes you think I don't care about you?" He jeers you closer, his tone obviously offended now.

"Are you getting early dementia or something! You did that stupid aw you crying bullshit!" The situation growing worse as your eyes go completely bloodshot and there's hiccups continuously interrupting your speech.

"You didn't even care that I woke up! Today, you just came by to be a dick about me drooling! Yesterday, you didn't even show up to see me after I left the infirmary!"

His grip loosens a bit at your declaration of mistrust in his care for you.

He cares. He really cares. You can't keep saying he doesn't, he thinks. He left Spain the moment he got an angry text from Nobara that the mission he entrusted to you left you on death's door. He spent every free moment of his walking by or into your recovery room. He walked by your apartment last night to see if you were okay, his eyes had seen you sleeping safe and sound and it was enough to soothe his heart.

None of which you knew about, he realizes.

By now, you've broken free from his grasp, taking advantage at his loss of words, and fleeing to your bedroom. A loud bang followed the small pit pats of your bare feet on the floor, and it brought him back to reality.

Gojo now stares at the front door of your apartment, eyes still glued to where you were previously standing. He feels like his heart is stuck in his throat, unable to come out and run towards you like it wants to out of fear. He can hear his heartbeat pulsating in the cold silence of your apartment and it makes him confront himself instead of you.

You thought he didn't care and it made you upset.

And the mere fact is gut-wrenching for him.

It's so devastating to him, that his feet are suddenly driving him towards your room and his hands are opening the door.

He noticed the half empty bottle of whiskey and glass on your kitchen island as he passed by too. It makes him even more wary as he stands underneath the doorframe and sees you sat at the edge of your bed, head in your hands and violently crying.

"I care about you."

You hear him, but you don't have the energy to beg him to leave anymore or even notice him. You're spent and too embarrassed of your outburst to look at him.

Gojo wishes you could look at him. He wants the security of your eyes being there for him to bask in and it has him walking to kneel on the ground in front of you.

You feel his hands, soft and tough at the same time, pulling yours down, away from your face. It forces you to look down at him. You see the breath he lets out in relief the moment you make eye contact with him.

You're so weak, you can't help but melt into the feeling of his hands on yours now. A salty tear makes its last run on your face and you're nothing but a sniffling and hiccuping mess as you stare back at him.

He speaks again, "I am so sorry."

"Can you please stop touching me." You rasp out, suddenly becoming aware of how much more painful this is for you when he's feeding into youre delusions.

You can feel his blood stop pulsing for some reason. His hands are suddenly dead weight and his eyes widen.

"I can't do this anymore." You breathe out nasally, readying yourself to ruin your friendship with him.

"I love you Satoru."

It comes out heavy, like a massive paper weight on the air both of you were breathing.

And suddenly, he starts to feel his blood pumping again, the hands holding yours beginning to grow firm in their grip. His chest moves up and down even faster as he stares at you because his brain just short-circuited. He thought the inner works of his domain and technique were all he ever had to worry about handling, but this is taking the cake. Infinity and the knowledge it covers is nothing compared to what you just said.

"And–" You have to take a pause to stop the tears brimming on your waterline again, "it really hurts pining after you. I shouldn't be upset at you for not showing up at my doorstep yesterday like a boyfriend would. I wouldn't be if I weren't such a fool for you."

You're harshly wiping a tear off your cheek out frustration before you continue. You try to settle the now free hand away from him, on your lap, but he takes it back, still looking up at you without a trace of a word making an appearance on his mouth.

"I need you out of my life. I want to move on." You plead, "I can't be in the same room as you or else ill think about how bad I want to be next to you. I can't be this close to you and not kiss you. I want to wake up after getting hurt from a mission and not drown myself in whiskey because you didn't show up at my door to check on me."

"No."

Gojo is looking at you like you're an idiot. His face is twisted in a mix of offense and disgust, part of his nose is wrinkled and his eyebrows are twisted.

"Gojo–"

"Stop calling me by my last name." He cuts, eyes now harsh on you.

You're confused now, bleary eyes trying to understand him and how negative he seems right now. You want to say something, but everything you can think of is at the tip of your tongue and you're opening and closing your mouth like a fish on dry land.

Gojo looks like he wants to say something too, and like he knows what he wants to say, but he's struggling to just spit it out as he minimally glares at you. If you squint hard enough though, you might have just been able to see the slight gloss of sadness color over his eyes.

"I don't want you out of my life." He shakes his head, eyebrows still furrowed.

You sniffle, "But I just said that–"

You're pulled down by your hands and your face lands right smack on his, followed by a kiss ensued by him.

The kiss is enough to send you to sleep, it's soothing and everything you need to forget all your worries. And it's a little salty, a byproduct of your fit, but it doesn't seem to matter when Gojo reaches a hand up to your cheek and deepens his reach a little, a low grunt of affection coming from his throat when you let out a sigh.

It was short-lived, but it said enough.

When Satoru pulls back, he's still concentrated on looking for tells on your face, trying to make he got his point across.

"I've been putting you at the back of my mind for the past two years." He confesses sternly meanwhile he caresses both of your hands with his thumbs, rubbing soothing circles in the wake of his words. "I care about you so much I force myself not to." The last few words giving him the inclination to hang his head in shame.

"And I am so sorry it made you cry." He sighs in defeat, raising up both of your hands to kiss them as an apology. He's looking up at you with his big blue eyes, pleading for your mercy and you want to move, you want to act. It's why you lean down and give him a small peck on the lips to wake him up a little then dive back in again to kiss him.

It doesn't last long in that position–merely five seconds–until Satoru starts rising and pushing you back onto the bed softly. He pushes you forward onto the bed to make room for his legs before one of his hands is perched right next to your head and the other is guiding your thigh to wrap your leg around his waist.

Your hands run and grasp at his hair and neck, making sure to appreciate the feeling of his skin beneath your hands.

You begin to moan when he starts using tongue on you and it gets a rise out of him in the form of him grinding his bulge against your crotch.

"Satoru."

"Fuck." He groans, breathing hard as he kisses you. He can't just leave after this. He can't go back to his apartment. Hell he doesn't even know if he could pull himself away from you right now if there were a sudden emergency.

He feels you moving underneath him and he opens his eyes mid kiss to see you moving down the straps of your romper. The action causes him to pull back so he can see what you're trying to do.

"What are you doing?" He breathes, lips rosy and glossy from both of you guys' spit.

You free your arms from the thin pink straps right as he says that and look him in the eyes when you pull the spandex like material below your breasts.

"What I just did." You nod down innocently towards your boobs.

"Fuck. Fuck." He groans, reaching to palm both of them. It only lasts for a second before he starts to pinch at them, rubbing them between his fingers and eliciting whimpers from you.

"Yeah, just like that baby."

It makes move your hips up in search of him and it has him leaning back down to kiss you, needier this time. Satoru includes more tongue than anything, wanting to just be in you, in your skin, everywhere, as close as he can get.

You start to yank at the bottom his shirt soon enough.

"Take this off." You whine

Easily and quickly, he complies to your request, grabbing his shirt by the collar and taking it off of his body. He throws it behind him and is about to lean back down when his eyes go astray towards your crotch.

There's a wet patch very obviously soaking through and he can see the mold of your pussy sticking to the damp material. It makes his cock jump at the sight and he can't help but run a finger across your slit.

It makes a shiver run up your spine and a moan leave your mouth.

"You like that?" He's staring you down when you look back at him after having shut your eyes in pleasure.

"Mhm." You nod, eyebrows furrowed and eyes blown wide with lust as you take both of his hands and make him grab the material of your romper. "Take it off of me."

Satoru doesn't need to say anything as he obeys your request. He pulls at your pajamas and helps you slide it off your legs, too overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation to make any witty or teasing comments.

What wasn't part of your request was when he held both of your legs up in the air by squishing your thighs together and dove straight for your pussy.

You almost scream at the sudden intrusion of him initiating a makeout session with your pussy. The squishing of your legs making the sensation more intense for some reason. You can hear Satoru groaning into you while he sucks on your clit. He shifts his weight so that his arm is wrapped around your legs to keep them together and you wonder why he switches to only one until you feel a singular digit of his sliding into your walls.

" 'Toru." You moan, legs twitching a bit when you feel him hook a finger up and apply pressure to that one spot that has you begging for more.

"Gimme another one, please." You urge, fisting at the sheets next to you for some sort of relief.

"I got on the first flight back the second I heard what happened." He confesses, breath raggedy as he peers over from the side of your legs and gives you the other finger you asked for. His entire lower side of his is glistening, you almost feel embarrassed that it's your juices.

He continues confessing and pumping his fingers in and out of you, the squelching noises accompanying his words.

"I was scared shitless." He almost grieves, a messy confusion of his own sexual energy and his pleading for your forgiveness. Satoru starts to plant a flutter of kisses along your thigh while he keeps his eyes on you. "I love you so much." He groans, extremely turned on by the increasing pulsing of your walls and the faces you keep making.

"Yea? Oh fuck–" The last five words he uttered were adding even more ecstasy to your euphoria and had started to plummet you into your orgasm when coupled with the deeper and faster pace Satoru introduced.

"Come on, pretty. Cum for me." Satoru almost sounds like he's begging, mouth opening in awe in sync with yours at the overwhelming sense of pleasure crashing over you.

It comes out in a long mix between a moan and a whine, along with the wriggle of your hips and legs as Satoru keeps moving his fingers in and out while you ride out your high.

You're heaving when it washes over and you're about to flinch at the overstimulation of Satoru's fingers when he pulls them out and puts them in his mouth. You can see him slightly roll his eyes back when he hollows his cheeks a bit to fully clean his fingers off and get your taste out of them.

Satoru lets go of the grip he had keeping your legs up, and he gets up to quickly take his pants off, followed by his boxers, and–

"You're big." You marvel, sitting up now and admiring the view, also trying to wrap your head around the fact that he's going to hurt. He's pretty and long, reaching a bit past his belly button when it slaps against his stomach, and his girth is scream worthy.

When Satoru looks down, you look so innocent, peering at him through your lashes before focusing your gaze back on his length. He sees your thighs shift against each other–a boost to his ego and his horniness–but he can also tell you're a little freaked out by the sheer size.

"We don't have to." He heaves earnestly, chest rising and falling a bit faster than usual out of pent up sexual aggression from fingering you and watching you cum, and the need to be inside of you right now, which he'd be more than capable of stowing away for now if you didn't feel comfortable taking him.

"We can make it fit." You reassure softly and lean up to tug one of his hands to you in the bed while his eyes widen.

Satoru is in between your legs now, eyeing you down with lust blown pupils, an animal like stare that has you shrinking into the bed the more it lingers. Truth be told, he doesn't know how to act now that he's got you underneath him, legs spread, and your pretty little face waiting for him to do something.

His first move is to kiss you again, he missed your lips in the brief few minutes he was eating you out and fingering you. The kiss makes your skin crawl and pull him closer to you by the shoulders you have your arms wrapped around.

His cock lands right between your lips after that and it makes both of you suck in a breath the contact, a needy grind of both of yours' hips following.

"I want you inside of me 'Toru." You sigh against his ear as he dips his head down into your neck, mouthing and biting.

You feel his grip in the sheets right next to your head tighten and manage to get a view of his large and broad back contorting at the sentence.

"How bad do you want it?" He almost snarls, moving his hips so his cock keeps sliding between your folds, gathering your slick on his shaft and stimulating your clit in the process. His head leans down even further and he's sucking on your nipple, nipping a bit to get squeals out of you for not answering him as fast he wanted you to.

"I want it really bad." You can't stand the pulsating between your legs anymore, your hips can only move towards him for so long before you feel like you'll die. You needily scratch at his back when his other hand pinches your nipple particularly hard. "I feel like I'm gonna die if you don't fuck my pussy right now." It comes out whiny and high-pitched, the overall want for him making you pathetic.

He comes back up with a crazed stare more intense than the last one and dives for your mouth again, aggressive and overwhelming, like he wants to swallow you whole. There's teeth and tongue everywhere, you wouldn't be surprised if your lips were bleeding by the end of this.

When you're caught up in the feeling of his chest on yours and his heavy breathing against yours while you kiss, he starts lining himself up to your entrance. The intrusion of his fat tip in your hole interrupting your ability to kiss and making your jaw go slack.

You start to lift your hips off the bed without thinking and Satoru wraps his arm around your waist to keep you in place. He hasn't moved any further, basking in the invitation of your warmth and giving you time to adjust.

"It's so big." You mutter, hand in his hair and the other holding onto his back for dear life while you look at the rest you have to take.

It's the first time he even so much as smiles a little when he looks up at you and you see a glint of his canines and a glossed over look in his eyes. "Yea?"

"Mhm." You nod, eyebrows knitting when he pulls back and inches in a little further with a shallow thrust.

He drops his head into your neck, trying to keep himself from biting the bullet and completely pushing into you in one go. "Fuck." He moans when he thrusts back in again

He picks up the pace a little with every shallow thrust that gets him an inch deeper in you and by the time he's fully in, he's giving you hard and punctual thrusts. You're close to screaming every time he bottoms out, mouth open while you whine and moan. It makes him take advantage and he swallows your noises by shoving his tongue down your throat. He licks at your tongue, almost as if he's trying to wrap around it like you're doing to him.

"Love –hearin' –that –pretty fuckin –pussy –take me." He grunts against your lips, punctuating between almost every word with a sharp thrust into you. The soft squelching sounds reminding him that he's very much inside of you and making a mess of you.

"I–" You struggle to speak, the sex taking away your ability to speak.

And Satoru doesn't care, reaching a hand up to your chin to make you look at him as he keeps pummeling into you. "You what baby?"

The petname only adds to your euphoria, making it even more difficult to respond to him. But he's still got your chin in his hand, and he's not showing any signs of looking away or stopping his pace.

"I–I mmmmm–I love–love you."

His eyes soften a little, still as ravenous considering he's pummeling your pussy for the first time, but they soften just a smidge nonetheless. And he moves the hand holding your chin to cup your cheek, running a soothing thumb as he returns the affection to you.

"I love you too. Fuck you're clamping down so tight. Shit. I love you so much y/n. Don't want anybody else to have you. Oh, god. You make me so fucking crazy."

The hand previously on your cheek is now snaking its way down, stopping until his thumb is rubbing your clit and eliciting porn worthy moans from you at the added stimulation.

"You're gonna make me cum Satoru." You breathe out, high pitched and almost moaning loud enough to wake up anyone within the vicinity of your building

The warning is an incentive for Satoru to lift one of your legs up, letting him reach deeper and keep the same pace that has your pussy doing that familiar chasing spasm around his cock now instead of his fingers.

"Cum for baby." He gasps out, abs flexing as he struggles with his own pleasure. "I know you fuckin can. Please. Please. Please. Need to feel it on my dick."

By the fourth thrust in the new position your stomach drops and your legs are spasming trying to close and fidget, but Satoru's iron grip on you stops it from happening. He keeps fucking you through it, staring at you as he does, making sure to frame the picture of you coming on his cock for the first time in his head for all of eternity.

There's less resistance from you when you fall limp after and just take it. Your legs feel like jelly and fall even more moldable to Satoru's physical requests, letting him push your leg farther back and dig even deeper into you how he wants. You know it hurts, that you're supposed to at least try to push away his cock from molding into you again and again even after you've reached your peak, but it just feels so damn good to hurt this way. All you can do is squeal after every thrust of his. And when you feel his pace grow sloppier and faster, it makes you reach for his neck and hair, roping him into you.

"I'm gonna cum." Satoru's cheeks are rosy and his eyes are glazed over as he looks at you, desperation for his release written all over them.

"Cum for me 'Toru." You whine, eyes almost rolling back from a particular jolt of his hips and leaning up as much as you can to plant a chaste kiss on his bottom lip. "Want your cum to fill me up. I need it so bad."

"Please, 'Toru. Cum in me, please."

It drives him over the edge. He drops his weight on you to kiss you through the stuttering of his hips and jolts of his cum into you. You feel his warmth pooling inside of you and can hear both of you guys' labored breathing after the whirlwind sex you just had.

Satoru's rough and passionate kisses from seconds ago turned into chaste quick ones that he kept stealing from you until he shifted his weight from his palm to his forearm and cupped the side of your face, affectionally moving a stray hair from your forehead.

His sky blue eyes peered down at you, taking in the sight intensely, as if any moment you could try to push him away from your life again.

"You're so beautiful." He breathes in awe, gaze turned soft.

"So are you." You replicate his tone, cupping his face in return and appreciating the fact that he looks so pretty and handsome in the moonlight seeping through your floor to ceiling windows right now.

He grabs at one of the hands on his face and brings it to his lips, placing a warm kiss atop of it.

"I was here last night." He confesses, "I passed by your apartment to see if you were fine while you were sleeping." He wants to look away in shame. "I didn't think– There was–"

Satoru closes his eyes in frustration for a second at himself before finding his footing again.

"I've been doing everything I can to be there for you without you knowing, without me knowing, I didn't even know I was going to spend the entire day with you that other day until my mouth found a reason to make it about work."

He sighs at himself before he continues, "I care."

"I spent every moment I could waiting for you to wake up. I checked on your apartment to clean it. I looked for your cursed energy anytime I was within a vicinity of the school to see if you were recovering. I care."

You're close to speechless at his confession, resisting the urge to pull him down and litter his entire face in kisses, instead forcing yourself to speak.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you." You return sheepishly, feeling bad for the tantrum you threw at him.

"It's fine." Satoru reassures, planting a kiss on your forehead before looking down at where the two of you are connected. "How are you feeling?"

"Good." You bite your lip sweetly, letting a little bit of your love fueled smile come through while you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer in your embrace. "I could never cum like that by myself."

Satoru leers over you like a predator now, a full smile showing through and distinctly premiering his canines, his ego was stroked, "Good thing I'm here now then."

"Mhm" You nod eagerly, matching the upturn of his lips too.

"Oh. Come here." He groans and laughs a little, a hand on your back when he flips the both of you over and litters your face with kisses. Your giggles fuel him and he pulls you closer to him.

Neither of you are going to let go again.

#I did not know this would only be two parts LOL #also did not know this would turn into a smut but then I got to a point where I was like bro who wouldn't start fucking here #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen satoru #satoru gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo smut

[scribefindegil]

The thing that really gets me about Separation Arc is how utterly mundane it is. One exorcism at the beginning, a call Reigen shouldn't have made leading into all those words he shouldn't have said, and then nothing until the cameras at the press conference start floating like some kind of miracle.

Which makes sense, of course. The arc follows Reigen instead of Mob and he doesn't have powers so there aren't powers. But there's more to it than that. It's a deliberate choice; it would have been easy to show that Reigen needs Mob for practical reasons, for him to come up against an actual spirit and end up scared or hurt because he couldn't exorcise it on his own. But the show doesn't do this. His business is fine. He's savvy enough to stick to jobs that he can actually do, and he gets enough of them that he's busy (and contrary to the fanfictions, truly dangerous jobs are a rarity to begin with). Practically, Reigen is doing perfectly fine. It's the mundanity that breaks him.

I've made a million posts about how Mob Psycho being a story about connection means it's also a story about loneliness, and I don't ever feel that more deeply than I do here. When there's a metaphor or a layer of fantasy obscuring things, no matter how awful they get, it feels safer. You don't actually have to worry about an evil ghost trapping you in a nightmare dimension. You don't actually have to worry about a giant vegetable brainwashing all your friends. The emotional impact hits, and it hits hard, but there's a layer of distance to it.

But there's no distance to Separation Arc. There's just the awful crushing inescapable everyday loneliness, the kind that it's so easy to fall into. The feeling of being in your late twenties, at the point of your life where you've finally had a few years of making your own decisions--and feeling like every decision you've made with that agency has been wrong. The feeling of having drifted away from the friends you used to have and not knowing how to make new ones. The feeling of getting emails from your parents and not answering them because you don't have anything to say that wouldn't make them even more disappointed and worried. The feeling that you've thrown away anything good or important in your life and not knowing how to fix it. That you're stuck. And not having anything or anyone else to blame. Only yourself. It's all so real and so overwhelming.

And the arc shows you all of this, unvarnished and unblinking, and then says It's okay. It can still get better. This isn't the end. No matter how lonely you've been, no matter what you've done, you can find people who will love you. You can make better choices. And no one has to stick around if you've pushed them away, no one has to forgive you if you've hurt them. But maybe they'll choose to anyway, and it will feel like a miracle.

#mp100 #mob meta #hello i was also extremely lonely in my late 20s so now i have to cry about Reigen Arataka forever. sorry.

[meloriri]

thinking about ren. thinking about how he's not the self principled, righteous person others think he is. thinking of how he adores his mask of anonymity, because he doesnt care for himself as a person. as a person, he's whatever other people want him to be. to use as a punching bag, to use a shoulder to cry on, to use as someone to rant to, to use as a friend. he doesnt oppose to it unless its directly affecting other people negatively. but joker; joker is everything about him that he's not, in a sense. a strong backbone, a leader, a strategically sound, skillful person uncaring of outside opinions. someone that follows their heart with perseverance regardless of the consequences. ren IS that person, he wants to be that person, but he cant fathom that being him as a person. he is glad he can live himself as a second person as joker, but glad to be able to stay in his safe, conforming box as ren.

thinking of how he hates society's norm of "minding your own business" and not interfering with other people's upsetting scenarios. he lived his life feeling that way but keeping it in and just keeping to himself, not complaining, not saying a thing. despite that, he knows he hates it, and because of the way others put him down for it, they both tell him he needs to fix his pickiness on morals, and he also repeats it to himself

the love he's recieving; the love he gets from being a people-pleaser---sometimes it humiliates him, it degrades and defiles him. it disgusts him--But not disgust at the person sending love, at himself. For tricking people, for acting how they want him to despite not believing a word he says. despite him actually being rebellious. he is disgusted by his own act of pretending to conform, but he cant defy it.

And once the world is bright, when the world is good; He'll only be left behind as an afterthought. Someone erased from society's memory.

he only yearns for the ideals of other; he wishes to see the way they do, to conform, but he is unable. He wants to fit in, but never can. he burnt his individuality, his opinions, his feelings and his rebellion to an ash, an ash that takes the form of Arsene. the very spirit of his heart, from the ashes of the identity he left behind.

he is unable to understand what love really is, if it's real, if it's honest; if he even actually feels it. this is why he's so monotone even when confessing to his love interests; he still doesnt quite understand. what love is supposed to be, the different kinds of love, how one experiences falling in love. Such a complex is explained by lack of love presented towards him. a lack of attention, of praise, and most of all, of any care. family, friends, anything.

one of the most inspiring parts of his story is how he learns to experience love, from familial to platonic, and understands it; how he uses it and lives by it.

A lynch mob is a group of people to lynch others. The religious society is the self righteous, conforming society. The phantom thieves are the lynch mob; despite not actually HANGING people obviously, it stands as a metaphor for them actively punishing the poor actions of others while the rest of society is against the meddling, seeing nothing wrong with the corruption. in a religious world, joker is portrayed as SATAN. he actively KILLS GOD. to society, he is an absolute evil; someone only there for the joy of destroying others. to himself, its only righteous punishment. stopping corrupted actions of others. like how satan is seen to be truly evil for his betrayal to god (think about some of things god did for a min. like tell ppl to kill their first born sons for him, hitting people with a huge tsunami......) and for being the ruler of hell, without realizing that satan stands for the PUNISHMENT of those who go to hell. hes not there to ruin others life, ren is there to save them by exorcising the evil. despite the way society treats him as person, despite them going directly against his attempt at helping them, he doesn't let it break him. he keeps fighting for people even when they hate him for doing it.

He's putting his ego, his self acceptance in conformity, the mask he's perfectly crafted as someone that anyone can like to the ground. he's putting his greed, his greed to have the ideals of all others, to understand society, along with it. He's finally himself, and he can announce that to his family, to those who wanted him to conform proudly and unafraid, uncaring of their opinion on who he is.

with a newly, fully solid grasp on rebellion, he will stand with his hell, as satan, punishing the evil until the bitter end of it. So he pleads that just for this time, until this end, that the world will go along with him, with their feelings; their own desires to conform, to please others, ripped out of them. To have their original feelings; their values, opinions and lifestyles revealed from the depths of within themselves and shown to the world. These feelings that they were once unashamed of, before being taught to conform, the feelings from childhood.

and at last, with the person he now is, he will finally be remembered. noted by others, and seen. But now seen as who he is instead of who he acted as. Not someone serious, not someone only there to please others; someone entirely unrecognizable. Someone who has come to complete terms with their own rebellion.

could u tell all of this was from bitter choco decoration by syudou?

#im aware that the neglectful parents is just for players to project whatever they want for the character #but i feel this just makes. so much sense. #this was actually a shortened version of me ranting in dms abt how this song is literally him. #and wait till i tell u abt the song jama by syudou..... and a certain detective.... #if u actually read all of this i love you bmf #persona 5 #p5r #p5r spoilers #ren amamiya #akira kurusu #p5 joker #riri ranting #also i WILL be making animatics for these rampant thoughts. just give me some time..... #p5 arsene

[sharkjana]

Hi ♡ my name is rin :) I just found your blog and was wondering if I could ask you to write a silly little thing for the angst prompt: "There's... there's so much blood..." for nanamin and a female reader pls (#>_<#) And english is also not my first or even second language so I feel you so much ×.× your english is very clean though ♡ thank you so much if you're doing this but no pressure^^ you don't have to write this ♡ thanks again and gave a great day (^.^)/

🖤"There's... there's so much blood..."🖤

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting Angst. T.T I live for it, really. The angstier the better! I hope you like what I'm going to do with this Prompt! And thank you once more for saying that my English is quite clean. I try my best and absolutely love the language. I also see we have the same tastes in men ;D But without any further ado, let's begin, hehe...

Warnings: Blood, gore and pure angst! Is there going to be a happy ending? Who knows! >:D

"Don't you worry your pretty little head over it, Ken! I'll be home before you know it!"

You didn't. In fact, this little mission took a lot longer than anyone had ever anticipated. It was supposed to take you a week at most, maybe two. You were now nearing the end of the third week. And there was no end in sight...

Rushed footsteps echoed through the darkness of Tsushima's thick and tall forest. A small island city hidden away in the middle of the sea between the borders of South Korea and Japan. 

The moon stood as high as ever. Full and ripe and dunking everything in its tranquil approach. Casting eery and long shadows of different shapes and sizes onto the dirty soil below, as though thin and long, scarred arms were trying to burry you into their suffocating hold. Forever hanging on to a poor soul that had wandered off a little bit too far from the right path.  

But you weren't just any poor soul. No. You were (Y/N) (L/N), a damn good second grade sorcerer who was on a mission to find some rumoured, cursed tool that might relate to Sukuna, the King of Curses, in some way. In any way, really.  

But it wasn't the fact that no one really knew anything about this supposed cursed tool, what it did or where it was, that grinded at your nerves. No. It was the fact that, apparently, it seemed to be more than just important to Sukuna, seeing that it wasn't just hidden from plain sight. It was also sealed, protected and guarded by five fucked up cursed spirits.  

(The type that were far too dangerous to take on alone.)  

And you were running away from them because that was the only thing left to do.  

(Anything else wasn't an option for you anymore.)  

You tried to engage in a fight, to exorcise them one by one. Or all at once. It didn't work. They were far to strong and seemed far too smart for just some mere cursed spirits.  

(Your first mistake. Underestimation.)  

You didn't even know what that cursed tool looked like because of those fuckers hindering you from catching even the slightest of glimpses.  

(You could have called for back-up. But you lost your phone somewhere along the way. Your second mistake.) 

And so, you chose to retreat. Re-collect yourself and your thoughts, find a way to contact headquarters, waiting for further orders or ask for back-up. Hide and plan your next steps to hopefully come out of this alive and in one piece.  

That was days ago. 

You were still running. As were they. You might think that being inside such a big and vast forest, there must be at least one place where you could hide away.  

(There wasn't. The trees never stopped. The darkness never receded.)

You didn't even know how you survived until now. Your mind was scrambled into nothing more but bits and pieces. Your clothes tattered and ripped by the massive orbs of scarlet cursed energy they were throwing your way. Burning everything down in their treacherous paths of destruction.  

Were you even alive anymore? Were you dreaming? Was this even real? You didn't know. Your eyes were bloodshot. Your lungs were aching, and your limbs felt just as numb as they did hot.  

(When was the last time you saw any light? The sun never shone once after you entered this forsaken forest.)  

(Another mistake.)  

The only thing that was running through your mind was how to get the hell away from them. Those things. Those nightmarish creatures that were trying to catch you into their venomous grasps. Their manic screeches reaching the deepest parts of yourself. Your bones rattled with the sound of their laughter all the way down to your very core. 

What were you? Why were you here in the first place? What happened? Why is everything so dark?!  

(It was as if you were running around in circles. Never ending. Lost and never to be found.)  

But wasn't someone waiting for you to come back? Wasn't there at least someone looking for you? Were you really all alone? Wasn't there-  

"Promise me you will come back to me, (Y/N)."  

"Don't you worry your pretty little head over it, Ken! I'll be home before you know it!"  

It was those words, the memory of them leaving your lips, an exchange of worry and love for one another that made you falter in your steps.  

(Your fourth and last mistake.)  

You tripped. The wet and soggy ground below drenched you in its dirty juices as you lay there. Everything seemed to have caught up to you at once. Breathing became difficult. Your vision turned hazy. Your limbs, numb. Your body, rigid and frozen in time.  

And as your glassy gaze met the sparkles high above, you stared. Because it was the only thing you were able to do. You couldn't move.

(But did you even want to?)  

All sound around you grew fuzzy. Blurred.  

Until there was nothing but silence.  

(Is it done now?)  

Finally, even your eyelids grew heavy.  

And all at once, there they were again. Their screeches. Their laughter. Their bloodthirsty wails of pure malice. Nearer. Far nearer than they ever were.  

(Please...)  

And finally, they fell upon you with nothing but vicious hunger that seeped through the cracks of their decaying skin.  

(T- Tasukete...) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LiNe BrEaK ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three and a half weeks. Twenty-four and a half days went by where Gojo had tried to find you, and he finally did. 

(He cursed the higher-ups the moment his brilliant, all-seeing eyes landed on you.)  

(And for once, he wished he didn’t see.) 

Thirty-five-thousand and two-hundred-eighty minutes where Nanami did nothing but worry. He didn't sleep. He couldn't eat. The only thing that he cared about was finding you. You were already gone for much longer than he had anticipated. Than anyone, really.  

Did something happen? Were you kidnapped? Were you hurt? Why didn't you call for back up? For him? Did you fight? Did you make it? Where were you? Why weren't you home yet?!  

You promised, (Y/N)! You fucking promised!  

(He stood frozen in place as Gojo tried to talk to him, stopping him from taking any further steps towards your body. But Nanami didn't listen. He couldn't. The voice of his long-time friend nothing more but some background noise.)  

The first thing that he took notice of was the soggy ground below him as he arrived by Gojo's side. Why was it wet? It didn't rain. The second thing he noticed was Gojo's rigid and pale face. Confused, Nanami let his eyes roam over the dark clearing, trying to make out anything that might have looked like you.  

"I though you said you foun-"  

It was when the wind picked up, softly, and the clouds above that concealed the night-sky made room for the rays of the moon to shine down upon them. It was when the stench of pure iron, burned flesh and scorched hair that creeped up his nose and overwhelmed his senses. It was when his eyes moved from bush to bush, from tree to tree and from branch to branch. It was when pieces of dark fabric glistened with the moon, hanging in shredded nothings beside what looked like to be-  

"Kento-" tried Gojo. 

It was when the moon had finally cleared Nanami from his confusion that it dawned on him.  

"There's- there's so much blood..." 

And you. A lot of you. Pieces of you. Broken. Burned. Ripped apart. Gaping holes that showed the unpleasant insides of your body.  

It was when the blood of the one he held dear to him the most seeped into his clothes, the moment he fell to his knees, that Nanami knew.  

You weren't coming home.  

Not this time.  

Not ever. 

#jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #angst prompt #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami angst #nanami kento x reader #nanamin #jjk fanfic #anime angst #anime angst x reader

[normal-person-i-promise]

»— yandere reigen headcanons —>

tw for obsessive tendencies, possessive tendencies, manipulation (guilt tripping, gaslighting, etc.) sort of. forced isolation? like cutting off ties to friends and family

★ ★ ★

× It had started out normal. Just another client. Just another forgettable face. But the more Reigen talked to you, the more he felt your skin beneath his fingertips...

× He gets a little... Interested, in you, and manages to convince you that you'll need to come again — that the spirit weighing down your shoulders has not yet left, regardless of how you feel. He'd even charge less!

× So you come again. And again. And again. He'd always greet you with a smile, offering you a cup of "purifying coffee" whilst his hands worked away at your shoulders, making pleasant conversation as he does so.

× After a few weeks of him "getting rid of that god forsaken spirit", Reigen brings you to a ramen shop. He'd said that spirits despise this place — the food exorcises your body from the inside, however that works — and that the ramen here is "blessed". He'd brought you here to do just that; an exorcism, nothing more. The food is good and the staff are polite, so you agree to go with him again.

× And so it becomes normal for him to invite you out to eat — you'd even consider him a friend. He's polite enough; he makes pleasant conversation, he always walks you home... He's nice to be around.

× Whenever you'd tell Reigen that you weren't free to get dinner together, that you weren't free to see him, his tone would be one of hurt and his voice would be one of pain. He's done so much for you, after all. He's done nothing but help you, done nothing but heal you, even charging you less for those pesky spirits! What's one little cancelled plan just to see him?

× The more you talk to him, though, the more you realize that... Your friends, your family — or so you call them — aren't as good as you perceive them to be. "I'm a psychic!" He says, flashing you a charming grin. "I'm knowledgeable in these aspects."

× And so, one by one, you begin to cut them off. It's a slow process, one that hurts a lot more than it should, but you know that this is for the best. "You deserve better than them," he'd say over takoyaki. "You deserve someone who appreciates you."

× He'd message you often ever since he got your number. He'd call you late at night to rant about how this certain customer was just being such a jerk, and how he wished every client he served was just like you. Perfect, perfect you...

× Eventually, it had become a sort of... Nightly routine. You'd text him during the day whenever you were free, then call him at night to listen to him go on about a particularly nasty spirit, or a wonderfully polite customer. You'd... Consider Reigen a good friend now. The familiar ringing of your phone was like a comfort to you in the cold of loneliness, and his warm voice always brought a smile to your face.

× Sometimes, he'd... Say that he's too tired. He'd ask to come over, and you'd always say yes. It's so... Lonely, having cut off all your friends and family, so you always enjoyed what company he brought.

× He'd stay over at your place at least once a week, cooking for you and taking care of your home — acting as though he lives there, welcoming himself inside and helping himself to anything he needed. He's always polite, and seems to leave your house cleaner than when he entered.

× ...So you begin to invite him into your home almost every day. Reigen would almost never refuse your offer, saying that it's safer to have a powerful psychic around, especially since the spirits haunting you are so great and terrible. You absolutely love when he stays over for the night; it means you won't be plagued by a silent phone, it means you'll finally have someone to talk to.

× You grow... Attached, to Reigen, trying to see him more on the streets and getting almost every meal together. He's so... Sweet, so charming, and every time you'd strike up a conversation with him, he always seems so happy to talk to you. He seems so... Wise, so knowledgeable, whenever you'd ask him questions; it's like he always knows the right thing to say, and how to say it.

× He begins to get you gifts. Nothing special, usually just a bag of salt or a few handpicked "purifying" flowers. You'd always accept them with gratitude, smiling at him as you take the gift from his hands. He always seems to... Brush his hands against yours whenever you take the gift from his hands. Not that you mind, though.

× Your mental state... You can feel it getting worse. Turns out cutting off all ties to friends and family does things to you, so you find yourself going to Spirits & Such a lot more often to just have someone to talk to, someone you trust. "They're only with you to get something out of you," he'd said. "They don't want you. Just your services."

× You begin to spend almost all your time with Reigen, almost never being seen without him. Isn't it so lonely to be in your empty, quiet house, with no one to talk to? Isn't it so painful to be without him, to not be around him? There's no one else to be around, after all. Everyone will hurt you, everyone will use you. It hurts, it hurts, so you never leave his side. You always go over to Reigen's house, or he'd go over to yours.

× There's this one day when he's staying at your house for the night that he... He gets this debilitating headache — we're talking clutching his head, writhing in pain down on the floor — and he chokes out a few words, barely audible over his noises of pain. "Don't... Go out... Spirits... Will attack..."

× ...So you don't. You stay, most of the time, in your house. Reigen's always there to bring you whatever you need from outside your door — takeout? Got it! Groceries? On the way!

× Slowly, slowly, you find yourself falling for the charming psychic. He just seems so... Perfect, so much better than everyone else. "Everyone's out to get you except me," he'd said, giving you a soft smile. "I don't know what would've happened if I hadn't found you that day."

× ...Oh, and Reigen? God, he's obsessed with you. Your voice, your eyes, your hair... You're... Perfect. And what's more, everything he's been doing to you has been working wonderfully! You've cut off all your ties, you've put him on this high pedestal in your mind — you're falling in love with him, for God's sake! Finally, he has someone to be with! Finally, he won't be alone!

× When you'd confessed to him, he had been overjoyed. This is all he could have ever wanted, to be with you, to be yours, for you to be his! The transition from being friends to dating him is smooth — you've been doing everything a couple would do already: he'd bring you gifts, he'd stay over at your place, you'd have long phone calls that lasted until morning...

...

× ...There's this one day when Reigen goes out for a company trip, and you... You break. God, it's so quiet, it's so empty, it's so lonely...

...That's... Weird. Reigen has been acting like he's been dating you, even before you began to fall in love with him...

...

...Wait.

You've never felt this way before meeting him, have you?

× You reflect a bit. Okay, so... You meet him for a spiritual consultation, he gives you an exorcism, he tells you to come by more, he brings you out to eat... Okay, now it's a little fuzzy. You think he... You remember what he'd said, that... That your friends and family are inferior to him, that they only want to use you.

...Okay, that's a little... Weird. The jump between him exorcising your spirits and knowing about your friends and family...

× Come to think of it, he... Knows a lot more than he should. He knows what food you like, he knows what size clothes you wear, he knows your schedule, he knows where you work...

× Then he... He begins to treat you like his... His lover, even prior to you confessing him and the both of you starting to date, and then he... He discouraged you from going out, saying that there's "harmful spirits"...

...You're starting to doubt whether Reigen is even a psychic.

× ...Okay, okay! So, you try to get back into contact with your family and friends, and... Okay, yeah, they just shut you out, but that's fine! You'll be fine, you're sure. But you can't just... Live without friends, right? You can't just live without seeing your family every now and then, right?

× "You can," Reigen had reassured you when he'd come back. "I'm here. I'm more than enough for you, right?"

× ...You're smarter now. You push him away, kick him out of your house, told him that he'd cut off all your friends and family. "It's not my fault they're all toxic," he'd shot back, angrily. "It's not my fault that I'm the only one who can treat you right."

× ...Okay, that... That makes a lot of sense, actually. You welcome him back in, apologising profusely for your mistake. Reigen knows better than you, after all. You're bound not to see mistakes, not to see the flaws; that's why he's here. He's here to protect you from those horrid people.

× "I love you," he'd repeated over and over. "You can't leave. It's not safe out there."

× ...So you don't.

#unfortunately yes. i am no longer interested in sans #feel free to unfollow if you wanted more if him because. haha. i dont think youre going to get it #my apologies #self indulgent #VERY sulf indulgent #this is more like an outline to a fic with chapters than it is a list of headcanons but whatever. you can be what you can be #i love writing like this. like im talking to you #reigen arataka x reader #reigen x reader #arataka reigen x reader #yandere #yandere reigen #yandere reigen x reader #god this feels so short like... i could add on to this #i dont think i will though. i dont think I will #god i feel so guilty for posting something so short #im so sorry

[wutheringskies]

Dare Act Like a God

Wen Chao threw Wei Ying into the Burial Mounds three months ago. Surely, by now, nothing would remain of the boy. He had been frail when they caught him, had been beaten to a pulp and thrown from a great height. Surely, he was dead; his spirit one amongst the many in the pits of that cursed mountain, wailing for revenge, for rest. He must have forgotten his name by now.

He must have forgotten Wen Chao's name by now.

Even if he came as a fierce corpse, Wen Chao reasoned, weren't there so many Wen soldiers capable of exorcising him? The direct Wen line was short, yes. But there were innumerable descendants, branches upon branches of cousins, and second cousins, and thirds and so on. Fierce corpses were stupid stinky pieces of flesh anyway. It would chase after every one of those many hundreds of their bloodline. Wen Zhuliu would have eliminated that Wei dog's corpse before it ever came to him.

If it ever came to him.

Which it won't! If Wei Wuxian ever makes it out, he'd throw him right back in. Burn him without a whole corpse and eliminate his soul. Of course.

There was nothing to fear. The Wens were talented cultivators. Wei Wuxian was but a man who wasn't even 20 yet. Wen Zhuliu was twice his senior. Wen Chao himself was much older.

What could a child do?

He goes through his day but he doesn't wish to work. He doesn't wish to hear the reports of evil spirits, hauntings and the Sunshot campaign. All are beneath him.

Wei Wuxian is dead.

He drinks his water, downs his alcohol, screams at those useless, good for nothing subordinates. He barks at Wen Zhuliu. He slaps Wang Lingjiao who keeps muttering about that damn Wei.

Wei Wuxian is dead.

He blows the candle out and goes to sleep. Moments later, he shoots up, sweat beading down his face. It's so sticky, so hot, and so disgusting.

- and his mouth finally parted, blood dripping down his pale, gaunt chin as the black tendrils wrap around him again and again; there was pure horror in those black eyes and they seemed to look at him with a promise and he screamed -

"AHHHHHHHHH!"

He stands up, legs shaking, mouth quivering. He turns around, here and then there. It's dark. It's so dark. It's as dark as the look in his eyes. He lights up a candle.

There is a head on his chair.

It smiles at him, bloody and disgusting. The eyes - those eyes - a promise of revenge.

Wen Chao stutters, "W-Wen Zhuliu! Wen Zhuliu!!"

There are steps, heavy steps. He can't look away from the head. Then, the steps outside turn light. As light as feet that had danced upon the Xuanwu's shell. His breath hitches. What if it's not Wen Zhuliu?

But fierce corpses don't walk gracefully. They don't. The door opens. It's so dark outside. It's...

"Second Young Master Wen?" It's Wen Zhuliu. Wen Chao looks at him.

"Great. How quick you are," he says, pointing at the chair, "Look at that."

Wen Zhuliu looks at the chair. Then back at him. Inclines his head.

Wen Chao's eyebrow twitches. He looks back at the chair... but it's just a paper head. One of those they keep to scare the devils away. The lips are read; the eyes are painted well.

But it's not a real head. It's obviously not.

"W-Who was screaming?" He asks instead. Feeling like he's underwater.

"Your lady Wang." He says, "She had a dream about Wei Ying again."

Wen Chao snaps back as if shocked. How dare. How imprudent. Saying his name in the open? What if he appears?

"Don't say that servant's name." He says, "His name shall never dirty the mouths that reside in this house."

The candle flickers. A melody rises in his head, a chorus of ghosts that used to once be people, chanting:

Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei Ying.

You dare act like a god.

Not even gods can stop souls from returning to the earth.

You dare mess with the natural order of things.

You should have just killed him.

#mo dao zu shi #mdzs #wei wuxian #prompt #drabble #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #wen chao #wang lingjiao #wen zhuliu #my writing #you should have just killed him #mdzs prompt

[antelopunny]

no one tagged me i simply enjoy talking about myself in the absence of actually writing

5 Songs

(opens spotify wrapped)

Slow Bloom - The Home Team

Dancing Demons - Space Weather

Gunners in the Rain - Mili

萬千花蕊慈母悲哀 - 珂拉琪

The Mad Stone - Everything Everything

Questions

1. Three ships you like:

about to self-report on my taste so hard rn

Idira Tlass / Jae Heydari (Warhammer 40k: Rogue Trader) - OKAY LOOK. I know people are here because I write that Yrliet fic but listen up. At first I thought of them as perfect besties, which is ALSO a great flavour, but then I began rotating Idira in my mind on full blast like a 900W microwave and I went CRAZY. Like, just, okay, let me try to summarize my thoughts... so Idira, she's brash, she's loud-mouthed, she's talented as FUCK and despite being an unsanctioned psyker has beaten all the millions of odds stacked against her, but pretty soon after meeting her, you can brush past her tough facade and realise she's just aching for someone she can Be Real with. You go deeper and you realise she was raised to be a weapon for warlords to use but then one day a knight in shining armour named Theodora von Valancius busted her out, swept her off her feet and spirited her away into the stars. She wants that back, in the end: someone she can lean on, hug her when shit is rough, stay with her until the inevitability of her gruelling end at the hands of the warp. AND THEN ENTER JAE HEYDARI, a supposed 'princess' of a faraway kingdom who seemingly wants a handsome (and very rich) prince to save her, but pretty quickly you can see past the act and know that Jae is a total freebird who knows that the only person she can count on is herself. But even so, she's fiercely loyal and would happily march into a cold death if that meant saving those she cared for (as many unfortunately found out because of Jae's Act 4 quest bugging). So it's Idira, the 'witch-diviner of fates' with seemingly unbreakable will, a valiant 'dark knight'-type figure holding back horrors unseen all while quietly yearning to be saved, + Jae, the 'runaway princess of Efreet' with unyielding charm and luxurious airs, a beautiful 'blooming rose waiting to be plucked'-type of girl that under the surface is chasing after her destiny all on her own two feet, because who the hell needs a Prince Charming when your name is Jae fucking Heydari? LISTEN. LISTEN OKAY THE ROLE REVERSAL. THE UNEXPECTED INTERTWINING OF THEIR FATES IN OPPOSITE SIDES OF A DANCE. GUYS DO YOU KNOW WHAT I'M SAYI

Trahearne / Pact Commander (Guild Wars 2) - Most people haven't played GW2 at all. But a lot of people have played FFXIV. So imagine a Haurchefant-type figure that, if you choose to start as a Sylvari, has been with you having your back the whole tile, sets up the whole We Gonna Save The World organization and trusts in you to be one of his top commanders, takes the lead but in truth is always looking upon you to be his sunlight and shining spear, you are the only one that sees through the brave face he has put up this whole time for the sake of fighting the good fight, you are the one he trusts with who he is, and then the first expansion of the game comes out and he FUCKIGNGEWOI HOGESWHIIO EGIJJiaewhioewh JHAHAhsahifEGHIWHW EIEWGi NOOoOoOO anyway you should play critically acclaimed MMO Guild Wars 2 it's got a free trial all the way up to the first expansion Heart of Thorns, is a 'buy once play forever' type of MMO so you don't have to pay a sub, and is constantly updating with new story PLEASE PLAY IT WITH ME PLEASE

Zheng Chenggong / Zhou Yu (Fate/Samurai Remnant) - Yes, that Ming loyalist guy who exorcised the Dutch from Taiwan + that Romance of the Three Kingdoms twink who dabbed on Cao Cao. I have no excuse for this one. They got that twin souls separated over 1300 years shit with a heavy heaping of 'time is a flat circle and nothing we ever do will matter in the end' on top of it. Zheng Chenggong is also, uh... it gets worse the more I talk about it so I'll just stop here. If you know you know.

2. First ship ever: ...probably N Harmonia / the Pokemon B/W player character. What was it? FerrisWheelShipping??????? I was like 12 years old okay you gotta leave me alone

3. Last song you heard: Persephone in the Garden - Aidoneus. I've had it on loop while writing. It, uh... it's a mood.

4. Favorite Childhood Book: My dad made me read The Little Prince when I was a kid and I regarded it with the blind childlike wonder an idiot 7 year old would, without understanding all the underlying whispers of tragedy. I reread it along with footnotes detailing the author's shit life and the backdrop of the Vichy Regime and I was like. What the fuck father why did you give this to me

5. Currently Reading: The Sea of Fertility tetralogy. Again. Yukio Mishima's ghost constantly possesses me and forces me to reread his 800 page long suicide note

6. Currently Watching: DUNGEON MESHI! OooOooH DUNGEON MESHI (narrator voice)

7. Currently Craving: Sleep. Good fucking night

simply do this if you wish, tag games are simply a tumblr dot com psy-op to make you anxious about bothering people

#rogue trader spoilers #antelposting #tw: suicide mention

[talenlee]

MTG: Hating Lord Of The Rings

I can’t seem to put words on paper that aren’t about this, so here. Let me exorcise this foul spirit that haunts me. I am deeply, abidingly sick of everything to do with Lord of the Rings, and actively hateful towards the Lord Of The Rings magic set that I want to see fail. Again.

In 2023, Magic: The Gathering released a new Universes Beyond product into Modern, with the set Something Something Lord Of The Rings. It’s a totally new kind of product, in that it’s the first time a universes beyond product of this scale was made and put into the Modern format. It’s also not a totally new kind of product, because it is once again, a thing where the official Magic: The Gathering game system of systems is used to instead show off the aesthetics, lore and concepts of another universe, a tradition that started off with Secret Lair Drop Series: The Walking Dead a 2020 release that introduced five cards to vintage and legacy and was largely decided, at the time, to be something of a bad idea.

Not by me, I like Universes Beyond, especially when it brings Universes Within.

I was pretty heartless about this printing because it was printing cards that probably weren’t a big deal into a format already priced so preposterously there’s no point complaining about the onramp into it. Yeah Legacy is a fun looking format, I love looking at it on Magic: The Gathering Online, but it’s also a format where Volcanic Island, a land you need four of in the #1 deck for the past forever, runs at around $700 for the cheapest version and you need four of them and that’s where the deck’s price starts and by the time this article goes out it will be more. Legacy is history’s sewer of Magic: The Gathering and if you like it, and you want to play it, it’s great, I love it too, but arguments about its health are fundamentally meaningless.

And also, it’s five cards, and the best of them have almost nothing to do with the game at large. One of them is a pretty strong Human Lord, one of them is a pretty interesting piece of equipment, but both of those things have been outmoded and neither is that big a deal in the first place in a world where people can attack with Emrakul, The Aeon’s Turn on turn two.

Point is, I didn’t care about The Walking Dead cards being introduced. I did not care. Bear in mind: I did not like The Walking Dead as a franchise. I think it’s quite stupid. I think everything that’s been communicated about the kind of media it is is tiresome and boring and only interesting if you’ve never read anything of its type before. Antipathy towards the source material already existed for me, but I did not care about the introduction of the cards and certainly not enough to hate them.

Okay.

It isn’t enough to just dislike the source material though. I already disliked Forgotten Realmsing: Gathering Magics, where the Magic tools were brought to bear on twenty year old memes of Go For The Eyes, Boo. I didn’t like the way that it turned the story space of the Forgotten Realms — a world that I hate — into a flattened band of things that could interact like Owlbears killing Dragons, and I didn’t like that it forced the characters of the Forgotten Realms into prominence — because a lot of them are cat-piss men, with all the charm of the OCs of wannabe date rapists.

And they did it again!

It’s hard to grapple with this feeling, because the thing is, I know I’ve been unhappy with Magic: The Gathering for years, but at no point does that unhappiness translate to a disinterest in following the product. I don’t like Urza. I think that Urza, a eugenecist who relies on being the smartest person in the room and whose edgy solutions against omnicidal threats, presents a sort of worst kind of Edgy Nerdboy archetype, and I think he needs to be left in Magic’s history, in the past, where we can stop acting as if he was a good or engaging character. Give us distance, let us forget him, let him stop fucking mattering.

In May 2022, Magic The Gathering released Streets of New Capenna, a set I liked, which took us to somewhere new. Okay, yes, the plot wound up being tied into the Phyrexians, but okay, fine, whatever, the set was still able to present as a foreground element something new that wasn’t tied, endlessly, back to Magic’s inability to stop huffing its own farts. The next release was Commander Legends: Battle for Baldur’s Gate (hated it), then Dominaria United: This Time It’s More Fucking Dominaria (hated it), The Brother’s War: Remember Urza, Everyone? (hated it), Phyrexia: All Will Be One (hated it), and Phyrexia: March of the Machine (hated it). This means it’s been a non-stop content churn from a system that promises endless novelty and regularly refreshing content so that you always have something fun and cool to engage with, and it has been a year of non-stop release of things I hate.

But my reaction to all of those things was: Oh well, something better is coming along, something else will happen, something that interests me might come up next. Who knows, I’ll look at the next thing.

The next thing was Lord of The Ringering.

There are too many axes for me to hate Lord Of The Gathering.

First, there’s the core text it venerates. Lord of The Rings just isn’t a very good book and it’s just not a very good movie. I read it in high school and never read it again because I didn’t like it. It was partly poisoned by dint of my having already read all the Narnia books, I guess, because it meant turgid self-important traumatised Anglicanism glanced off me. I’d also played videogames and read books with fantasy cultures like elves and dwarves in them, cultures which had interesting ideas and varied cultural outlooks. Particularly, I’d read Discworld books, and when you have these vibrant explored cultures with different mythical connections to them, Lord of The Rings is a lot like licking Catholic prayerbooks looking for personality. Like, one of the big gags in the first part of The Hobbit is about how interchangeable the personalities of a bunch of dwarves are!

And okay, yes, it’s very important that without Tolkein, we would never have had anyone to codify the myth of the Dwarf as a stubby Jewish jerk who loves money and can’t go to heaven, or an elf as the whitest people in the world who get extra special heaven and isn’t it sad that the culture of the world is fading. It’s some people’s first discovery of an outcast prince roaming the land under a secret identity, but Narnia had one of them, and his name was Corin and he punched a bear.

Simply put, Lord of the Rings is classic literature, and much like classic medicine, has a lot of bad to go with whatever respect you want to put on its name.

It doesn’t mesh well with Magic: The Gathering, of course; there’s a message in Lord of the Rings about how power will corrupt and ruin you (unless you’re a good king, which means you’ll do a good job and everything will be fine, so good job we have a good king in reserve), which means it’s a great fit for Magic: The Gathering where one of the five philosophical outlooks is about how yes, it’s worth it to do that and there’s a fundamental nobility in recognising your own independence and gathering power to support that is a reasonable way to live your life.

Also, and not to sound like a big blousy feminist boy here, but this is a set with 120 legendary cards, which between all of them depict ten women. Those ten women, by the way, include one of Samwise Gamgee’s children mentioned in a postscript, a bit part healer who shares an anecdote with Gandalf, Aragon’s dead mom, Tom Bombadil’s wife, the mean aunt in Bag End and Shelob, a fucking spider, so I’m giving partial credit there. Oh and I guess you can count the Watcher in The Water as the single nonbinary character in the story.

Also, y’know, the movie Arwen who did the tiny bit of stuff she did in that movie was controversial at the time, because she doesn’t do much in the books. She was fighting for a pittance! And I get it, it’s hard to present women characters because there just aren’t many in this book and that’s probably a problem and a reason to do something different.

But nope, you gotta care about the book and the text! Because a bunch of the flavour in this set is just ‘here is a quote from this book’ and if you don’t recognise it from the time and place it shows up, then what the fuck does it communicate? It’s all just saying Hey, remember this thing you like?

This is Family Guy The Gathering.

But then there’s just little pet peeves. Like white got remand in this set. I wanted that. Why’s it fucking here? It would have been a perfect simple, approachable core set card! We got an inevitable appearance of Do White Thing, Draw A Card, The Card, in The Gaffer. We have another example of a Extra Game System introduced in the form of the Ring Tempting You, which encourages you to keep getting tempted and nothing bad ever happens to you. The rules change to Amass are fine I guess, but now they’re colour-locked, and a second change to them is less likely! Oh oh and Orcish Bowmasters, who are absolutely absurdly powerful and now mean that I’ll probably never not be dealing with this set in casual games because why wouldn’t you run that card if you want any of what it’s offering.

Oh well, we’re getting Wilds of Eldraine. I like Eldraine. It’s a world with some interesting potential that was overshadowed by shitheads. It’s got cool fairy story vibes and it got us our first round of Food token mechanics. That’s cool.

Then after that, we’re getting Universes Beyond: Doctor Fucking Who.

Christ, the nerds that pay for this game have shit taste.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Games #Magic:TheGathering

#Games #Magic: The Gathering

[bricommissions]

Hii there!! *slides in* I also wanna join the matchmaking soo here I am!! I am a 17(soon 18 in a few weeks) yr old who uses they/them, I don't really have a preference,, and uh I'm one of those losers with no friends who have nothing to do in life and is an anti-social, just too scared to make friends yk... like what if they find me creepy/weird, but sometimes I have random people to do book recommendations with!! I think I'm used on being alone but I kinda want a friend tbh, and online I don't have that much friends too, but it's (not) fine since I use playing videogames + any of my hobbies as a distraction, I guess I tutor some of my classmates/people online sometimes since I'm bored and they probably have better chances on actually moving forward in life, but if possible could I get paired with book enstars and genshin? Thank you in advance aaa

hello hello, thank you for sending something in and a happy early birthday to you :D

DRUM ROLL, PLEASE . . .

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

FOR ENSEMBLE STARS : HIIRO AMAGI !!

hiiro is a very kind & open-minded young man who would have no problem becoming your friend right off the bat. he wouldn't find you weird at all !! he likes to learn, so i imagine you both meet when tutoring some other idols your age with their schoolwork. he's eager to learn, & he's easy to work with since he understands your method of tutoring. you don't realize he considers you a friend until he tells you as much after a study session. hiiro tells you that he enjoys spending time with you & receving book reccomendations. he tell you that not a single book you've reccomended has been boring to him & that he's lucky to have a friend like you.

the alkaloid leader picks up on your boredness when running into you outside of a tutoring session one evening. he remembers that you told him you enjoy video games, so you introduce him to several games you like per his request. you both develop this habit of playing video games together after working on schoolwork if he doesn't have plans with alkaloid. those moments together allow the both of you to grow much closer !! it wasn't too present before, but the more time you spend together, the more you grow nervous in a good way to be in hiiro's presence. i'm talkin' butterflies. you think he feels the same way because of the redness that matches the hair on his cheeks whenever you tell him that you're grateful for the time you spend together.

it's hard to hold hands while playing video games, so hiiro starts placing his hand on top of yours during tutoring sessions whenever you're comfortable with it. he may or may not have received advice on romantic crushes from aira shiratori. through various hobbies, you become nearly inseperable because of how enamored hiiro is with you; he doesn't think a single negative thought about you. when you two start dating out of the blue because of a heartfelt confession from hiiro, everyone is happy for the both of you. your relationship is comfortable & full of pure love !!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

FOR GENSHIN IMPACT : CHONGYUN !!

i think the both of you would be able to connect deeply on the front of not wanting others to perceive you in a weird way. you both don't want to come across as creepy for different reasons. as for chongyun, it's mostly because he's associated with the act of exorcising evil spirits.

for the purpose of story, let's say you live in liyue. you made unlikely friends with xiangling a while ago & she notices the two of you had quite a few similarities over time. the chef figured you two would get along swimmingly, & that you did !! you were able to connect about several things since you both fear that people find you creepy. because of that, you will both reassure one another since you Understand that struggle. chongyun grows quite attached to you since you are the one who understands him best besides his best friend & aunt. he spends a lot of time with you.

you've offered him book reccomendations on books about spirits & he always thanks you profusely, reading them from cover to cover rather quickly. he ends up pulling you further into the friend group composed of xiangling, xingqiu, & himself. xiangling points out how chongyun seems to treat you differently than he treats his friends. that's where it all starts, because apparently xingqiu is giving chongyun romantic advice from the best romance novels he has read so far.

the exorcist ends up asking you on a sweet date to eat amongst the qingxin flowers in the mountains. you cook a meal for a picnic with him in chef mao's kitchen with xiangling's aide. she's the best at hyping you up !! you both enjoy the food with the sunset & breathtaking view ahead. that won't be the last time the two of you share a pleasant date like that !!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

THANK YOU FOR READING !!

if you're the person that sent this & are unsatisfied with the results, feel free to shoot me an ask or im !!

if you'd like to receive one of these yourself, they are still open at the moment. please refer to THIS POST if you're interested.

if you liked my writing, please consider commissioning me !! it is my only source of income at the moment. i offering writing commissions such as custom character x reader fics, comfort character emails, ship fics, & more <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#anonymous #hiiro amagi #hiiro x reader #hiiro x y/n #hiiro x you #enstars #ensemble stars #enstars x you #enstars x reader #enstars x y/n #ensemble stars x y/n #enstars!! #ensemble stars!! #ensemble stars x reader #ensemble stars x you #chongyun #chongyun x reader #chongyun x you #chongyun x y/n #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #ensemble stars imagines #enstars imagines #genshin x you #genshin impact reader insert #enstars reader insert #enesmble stars reader insert #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n

[irandrura]

Addendum to BioWare post!

Warning: more politics, I'm bad at judging how spicy my takes are

demonwrestler: Wow I missed this when you posted it. I wholly agree. I think part of the trouble of BioWare being unable to properly represent race relations in DA no matter what they do is based in… white privilege blinders and a love of Game of Thrones style bleakness dominating the worldbuilding. Nothing good is allowed to remain, radical change is not possible or doesn’t last, and all you can see game to game is further enforcement of the status quo. Mostly so the game can remain in medieval stasis. The white privilege I mention because an overwhelming majority of BW’s prior writing team was white people from Edmonton, which… Alberta is notorious for poor historical treatment and modern discrimination of native people. I’m shocked we don’t have more commentary on how the Dalish are a huge indigenous peoples expy in the world of Thedas, and how very much there seems to be some… white experience differences. Justice, who represents THE CONCEPT OF JUSTICE, in Awakening tells Velanna she has to forgive her oppressors to stop the cycle of violence. She has to be the one to change, despite the evil done to her clan, her people as a whole, etc. and she has to be the model minority. I would have exorcised that spirit in her shoes. It is wildly difficult for me to continue to love Dragon Age as a setting when it actively takes those big self-unaware dumps on itself.

So that isn’t quite where I was going with the post…

I would argue there’s a tendency in some self-consciously progressive politics to go so far in rejecting or opposing a particular bias as to reinvent that bias itself, sometimes in a more virulent way than the original bias was.

Dragon Age on race is one example of this. Dragon Age, textually, thinks that racism is very, very bad. That much is obvious. However, it also thinks that racism is very, very powerful and that it can’t be easily escaped from. Everyone is shaped by these vast, unconscious forces and individual will isn’t enough to overcome them, resulting in tremendous pessimism. The standard liberal solution to racism is colourblindness – just treat everybody the same regardless of race and things will shake out. Dragon Age, and I’d guess BioWare, do not believe that. But the net result is that in Dragon Age’s world, racism is something that cannot be overcome and therefore the only way to avoid its effects is to just avoid having people of different races come into contact at all.

That’s how you end up with a game that’s ostensibly anti-racist presenting a world and a story that’s… almost pro-segregation. It all follows from the premises – racism is awful, racism is structural and omnipresent, it’s insufficient to just try to not be racist – but it amounts to a conclusion that’s kind of... reinventing racism.

Let me give another, perhaps more controversial example. When I read Terra Ignota, I was particularly fascinated by what it had to say about sex and gender, and in particular the way that Mycroft (it’s unclear what his society itself thinks; unfortunately the entire series is narrated by a fruit loop) ends up reinventing and depending on the most grotesque sexist caricatures. Mycroft very determinedly believes in the importance of sex, but he doesn’t believe that it’s determined by one’s biology. So far, so progressive. But the result is that Mycroft sexes people based on whether he thinks their personalities are ‘male’ or ‘female’, and the result is, if anything, more constraining and disturbing than what a traditional sexist might think. A traditional sexist might say “you’re a woman, so you’re caring and nurturing”. Mycroft says “you’re caring and nurturing, so you’re a woman”, as with Carlyle, who ends up violently forced into a dress and made to perform some demure caricature of womanliness. We’ve seen this sort of logic outside of weird science fiction novels. A traditional sexist might say “you’re a woman, so you can’t be a warrior”.  But the inverse of that – “you’re a warrior, so you can’t be a woman” – seems to exist as well, as in that horrible play.

My previous post was mostly about, if not fascism, then at least authoritarianism. I was criticising BioWare for, while ostensibly being progressive democrats, repeatedly using a story structure that seems to endorse the need for some sort of ubermensch strongman to seize power from feckless civilian leaders. The strongman will do what is necessary; the civil elites are at best weak and lack both will and vision, and at worst are actively corrupt and evil. That, uh… seems more like the worldview of the far-right in today’s politics.

I’m skeptical that all of this can be attributed to white privilege, though you are surely correct about the demographics of BioWare. Rather, I think at least some of this is a real tension that exists in liberatory movements or in marginal communities. Famously the civil rights movement in America was divided between assimilationists, who felt that it was possible to integrate on an even basis with the wider population, and separatists or revolutionaries, who felt that was impossible and advocated for black withdrawal and self-determination. In Dragon Age, this might be a valid question for elves – do you want to be treated exactly the same as humans, living in human-majority society alongside them? (I suppose this is the Sera position.) Or do you want to withdraw, to build your own majority-elven society, different and distinct from that of the humans? I believe there are still debates among Jewish people along similar lines. How do we walk the tightrope? We don’t want to be assimilated so that we lose all our distinctive identity, but neither do we want to cordon ourselves off and form our own impermeable bubble. These are interesting and valid questions.

Where I think privilege might be a useful frame is where we talk about forgiveness. I didn’t put this in my previous post, but I have written before about the way that forgiveness is portrayed in games, especially in World of Warcraft, where it seems like there’s a repetitive story beat about forgiving your oppressor. I talked about this once on a web forum. I certainly don’t mean to imply that vengeance is morally superior to forgiveness – I do believe in forgiveness – but that it’s possible to frame forgiveness as something that is very flattering to the oppressors. Is it possible to forgive while at the same time continuing to hold out a demand for justice? (Incidentally, the relationship between mercy and justice like this is at the heart of a lot of Christian theology.) It is very easy for people from a powerful group to speak of the importance of forgiveness, healing, and moving on. They already have what they want, after all.

On the Dalish specifically – I generally like to advise against reading groups like the Dalish as expies for any one specific group. The Dalish are clearly written to have resonances with a lot of different groups. Native Americans are one of them. Jews are another. Irish are a third. Romani people are a fourth. You can read the Dalish in a way that resonates with those different groups and experiences without excluding others. Arguably it’s because the Dalish don’t map one-to-one on to any real group that they’re interesting. Rather, their fictional nature allows them to explore issues related to all those groups and their experiences, but without being limited to any one of them. So I wouldn’t want to close the Dalish off to being only an allegory for insert-group-here.

Anyway, to try to come to some sort of conclusion – I think this is the sort of mess you get when you’ve absorbed a bunch of contradictory superficial convictions, but haven’t really thought about them at any length. BioWare end up implicitly endorsing positions that seem like they would horrify them. I don’t think they did it maliciously at any point, but they went step by step and eventually reached absurd places. Thus for instance, David Gaider famously wrote the Sith Code based on Mein Kampf. Then fans played the game and thought it was cool and embraced it. Then somehow we ended up in a place with TOR where we have heroic Sith who use the dark side and whole story arcs that portray the Sith as morally equivalent to or even sometimes superior to the flawed but still democratic Republic. No one had to be explicitly evil at any point in the process, but it’s still weird how they end up implicitly endorsing the opposite of what they probably believe.

Baldur’s Gate starts with that famous Nietzsche quote about “he who fights with monsters”. Maybe it was more relevant than we thought?

[sporadicarbitergardener]

Bible used for spell work . 🖤🤍✝️🛐✡️

Did you know that the Bible, along with other traditionally Christian items like rosaries and icons of Saints and even the Eucharist, have been used in folk magic for centuries? From English Devon folk magic to Italian folk magic, from superstitions and syncretic practices to prayer books such as the Slovenian Kolomonov Žegen, the use of Christian iconography, literature, figures, and holy names (like the name of Jesus Himself) have featured prominently in some of the most potent magical acts and procedures.

When it comes to witchcraft today, though, people traditionally think of a Book of Shadows or a grimoire—a book full of a witch’s spells, information, and good old fashioned trial and error that they’ve accumulated over the years. These books are wonderful treasures as they continue to be filled, full of spells and incantations and prayers created by the practitioner that have been proven to work, and many people write them with the specific intent of passing them on to children or apprentices or other practitioners.

But one often overlooked resource, especially for those looking to reconnect with the folk culture of their ancestors, is none other than the Bible itself. Within it are many different sections that can be used to focus one’s magic, as has been done over the centuries by Christian cunningfolk and other magicians—often with the intent of defending against harmful or evil intentions from other practitioners. And given that so many members of the Abrahamic faiths use actual pieces of scripture in protections (like the Jewish mezzuzah or the different types of wearable amulets with pieces of the Qu’ran inside), the power of the Word of God is acknowledged even among those who have nothing to do with the concept of magic and the Craft.

Of course, it’s strange to think about for many a modern witch–the idea that magic is not only possible, but prolific in religions that seemingly condemn it so harshly—but the reality is that no religion can truly be operated without magic. How else would we interact directly with our God, exorcise evil spirits, or transmute our Eucharist? This is why you might notice a group of Christians calling themselves witches, using the modern idea or witchcraft that spawned thanks to Wicca and 90’s new age spirituality as a type of cultural shorthand to explain the spiritual work we’ve always done.

In fact, the words used to denote witchcraft in the Bible were actually ones that dealt with specifically harmful or foreign magic, which both Abrahamic and other religions had issues with (including Babylonian, Sumerian, Greek, and Roman polytheism). It’s also why you’ll see so much of what we would call witchcraft today in European and Christian folk magic dedicated to warding against witchcraft (like German mothers putting lavender under their children’s beds to protect from evil magic, Slovenian unwitchers doing elaborate prayers and rituals to break curses, or cunningfolk doing counter magic on cheese that allegedly wouldn’t curdle right due to a witch’s curse). When you’re a rural European farmer who can’t afford to wait for a doctor or a priest, the only option is to learn defensive and healing magic for yourself.

I myself am a Christian witch, and I can tell you firsthand: Christian magic is a staple in our ancestors’ interactions with God, especially when tools like the Bible are involved. And, of course, the more of your own folk practice and ancestral traditions you learn, the more unique and inventive the magic gets. As a Christian Witch goes about learning more of their heritage and ancestral practices, however, it’s good to know the basics of using the Bible in witchcraft—so let’s talk about it!

DIVINATION WITH THE BIBLE (BIBLIOMANCY) A seasoned witch will tell you that before any spellwork or ritual, it’s wise to do some divination with your guides, whoever they may be.

As a Christian witch, our foremost guide is, naturally, God. And there’s an age-old practice that many Christians might not think of as divination, but absolutely fits the bill, and that’s bibliomancy.

Bibliomancy, as the word suggests, is any sort of information we can gather from a book (any book, not just the Bible). After all, that first part of the word, biblio- shows up in more than just the Bible, right? Think of a bibliography, a list of compiled sources, or a bibliophile, a person who’s really enthusiastic about books. But when it comes to bibliomancy, the Bible is certainly a top contender for the divinatory tool of choice, even if plenty of other interesting books are available on your shelf.

Bibliomancy is simple. Just like shuffling a deck of oracle or tarot cards, you want to really focus on your question and intention. Hold it in your mind even after you ask God, and then open your Bible and flip the pages until you feel compelled to stop. You may feel a sensation like:

A tingle in your ear or at your fingertips A sudden silence in the mind that interrupts your flow & catches your attention A heavy feeling in your stomach when you reach a certain section Whatever your intuitive signs are that you’re used to with other methods of divination, look for that here and fish out a specific part of the page with it. You might find yourself landing on a verse of Scripture, or you may find yourself looking at an insightful footnote you didn’t consider before. Either way, thank God for His attention and HIs message, and decide from there whether or not spellwork is even a good idea that day.

PSALMS & PROVERBS FOR QUICK CASTING Once you’ve gotten your divination out of the way, the first thing you’ll hear anyone tell you about using the Bible for witchcraft is that the Psalms are insanely overpowered.

And they’re right!

One of the most prime examples of a powerful Psalm is none other than Psalm 109—an imprecatory Psalm, meaning one in which the speaker asks God to incite some serious punishment on whoever did something wrong. My Bible, the Jewish Study Bible, notes that because of its focus on what words were said against the speaker, and the long string of asks that come after pleading their case to God, it’s entirely reasonable to say that this Psalm was actually written as a counter curse.

It’s awfully brutal for a counter curse, I will say. But it is an example of magic you can use through the Bible, especially if you’re looking for quick, pre-written incantations or spells that hit the mark. The Psalms and Proverbs are so varied in their talking points, purposes, and themes that you can find one for pretty much any occasion, and when you read them aloud with the intention of them being a spell—really connecting to God and channeling down His blessings through your own magic—you’ll find it’s like the difference between a static shock from your sweater and a full on lightning blast.

And remember: you don’t have to use an entire Psalm or Proverb (they run quite long!). Sometimes, just a verse or two is enough to get your point across and focus your magic and intention in your spellwork.

Some of my personal favorites include:

Psalm 147 (for emotional healing & fortification) Psalm 146 (anti-gossip and slander) Psalm 81, 142 (security & comfort) Psalm 39:13-14 (A great opening section for plainly stating a request later) Proverbs 1, 8 (Wisdom/Knowledge) Proverbs 3:9-12 (Prosperity) Proverbs 17 (Peace/Anti-Conflict) Proverbs 22 (Softness of Heart against greedy folks) Proverbs 31:25 (Empowerment/Anti-Anxiety)

THEMATIC RITUALS AND INGREDIENT INSPIRATION Lastly, those who know the Bible well and know the story inside and out will find all kinds of beautiful lessons tucked in between all the raw humanity of this book. Yes, you read that right, and I’ll repeat it again: the Bible, the Word of God, is such an inherently human and vulnerable and raw book, full of tragedy and celebration side by side, just as Life itself is.

But when you know the stories, and you can pull out core lessons, you can actually find a lot of fantastic focusing or centering verses and chapters to build your spells around. I’ve even made amulets with lockets that have a verse number or bit of Scripture tucked inside, along with corresponding herbs and spices and other such things. All of the Psalms and Proverbs I listed have their functions, including anti-anxiety, but they’re not the only ones that can do that!

For instance, one of the most powerful pieces of the Gospel for spellwork is none other than Jesus’s admonishment of his disciples in Matthew 6:25-34:

25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Jesus had a lot of wonderful things to say that can strengthen us even in the darkest of times, and those make for some powerful magic. In fact, it’s Jesus Himself that delivers the secret of Christian magic in the Gospels: faith, even that the size of a mustard seed, can move mountains.

Speaking of the mustard seed, though, now’s also a good time to mention: the Bible has quite a few spots that signify specific stones, incenses, herbs, and spices throughout its stories. Frankincense, after all, isn’t only something offered to Jesus and His family when He’s born; it’s also an integral part of the holy incense of the very Temple of God. And mint, anise or dill (depending on translation), and cumin are among the spices Jesus mentions as being a tithe in Matthew 23:23, too—along with justice, mercy, and faith. When you find mention of herbs, spices, or other abstract concepts like these, pay attention!

They’re significant to God, and when you combine their associations in the Bible (rue and hyssop, for instance, being apotropaic, along with lamb’s blood or cedar), with traditional witchy associations with them, you can get a lot more bang for your buck. Mustard has always meant power and passion thanks to its fiery, Mars-based associations, but combining it with its ability to surprise us with its aggressive growth and its representative qualities regarding faith, it gets all the more important.

You might also take the time to learn from cultural practices that become apparent in places like Leviticus 14, which is a ritual to cure people of leprosy, or in the story of Jesus casting demons into a herd of pigs. Both of these represent the idea of giving an evil spirit or malady somewhere else to attach to (the bird, the pigs) and driving it away from the afflicted person. That’s some powerful banishment and exorcism technique!

GET CREATIVE WITH THE BIBLE AND MAX OUT YOUR SPELLWORK All in all, like any other magic, what matters with using the Bible in spellwork is how creative you are in applying it. The book contains the hopes, dreams, fervor, and faith of millions of people over the course of thousands of years, and it’s also had the honest energy and belief of millions more poured into it as a sacred object. Even if God’s power weren’t in that book, that alone would make the Bible super powerful as a magical focusing tool and ritual item.

Whatever your intention is, I can almost guarantee you can find a verse to match it, so go wild! And even if you aren’t Christian, chances are that you have ancestors that might’ve been (or who had to use the cover of Christianity to cloak the magical work they did as folk magicians). The Bible is powerful on its own, and there are so many instances of syncretic crossovers in folk magic (such as German folk magic, where many pagan practitioners still incorporate items such as rosaries and Bible verses into their spells and ritual workings). But also remember, that when it comes to Christian Witches, the place our power comes from isn’t a book (even if it is God’s word): it’s God. So when a Christian uses their magic to connect to Him, that’s where the real power lies.

No matter your background, and no matter your beliefs, though, remember to stay safe in your spellcasting, take your proper precautions, and overall just enjoy the moment. Happy witching!

#folk magic #spellcraft #paganblr #traditional witchcraft #book of shadows #witchcraft community #witches of tumblr #witch stuff #pagan wicca #eclectic witch #HexePrietess #german #french #state #louisiana #common #new york #california #cannabis #armstrongblood #energy #meditation

[alleiradayne]

A Touch of Evil | Art Master Post

A Destiel Series Sequel to Innuendo

When Dean and Castiel are left to clean up a mess in the archives, they accidentally release an incubus from his 1000 year imprisonment. To regain his power, the incubus takes up residence within Dean and Castiel, influencing their most intimate moments. But they quickly learn that the incubus is draining their lives from them, and if they do not satisfy the demon soon enough, they will die. Do they sate the incubus' lust? Or will they find a way to exorcise him in time?

Chapter 11 - Hell Bent for Leather Summary: Once again, research fails to distract Dean very long. Characters/Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Word Count: 4,945 Song: Hell Bent for Leather - Judas Priest

Two thumps of heavy boots vaulted the library steps before he spoke. “I’m on to something. I think.”

Dean kept his stare focused on his book. “Sam, if I had a nickel for every time you’ve said that today, I’d have twenty cents. We got three days left, this better be good.”

“No, seriously,” Sam spat. When Dean said nothing, Sam shoved his boots from the chair across from him and sat. “I went back through the Sumerian section in the archives and grabbed everything related to lilit and lilitu. I found this.”

Resigned, Dean looked up and grabbed the weathered book. The leather binding cracked and peeled, raining dust onto the pages of his own book in his lap. “Christ, how old is this?”

“Couple centuries?” Sam shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, just look. Lilit and lilitu were also terms for spirits.”

“Cas mentioned that,” he muttered as he read. On one page, an artist’s take on a wind spirit covered the paper from margin to margin. Though colorless, fine details rode the swirling winds. Squinting helped little, but Dean asked, “Is that… are those people? And is that an… an owl? Does she have wings? What is going on here?”

“Babylonians thought Lilith was a bird-footed woman. With wings. Kinda like harpies,” Sam said. “There are more depictions, like spirits of wind and trees. But the most interesting part I found was an exorcism for these spirits. And it’s beyond any exorcism we’ve ever performed.”

“But we’ve got a sex demon riding shotgun,” Dean stated. “Not a harpie. Or a wind spirit, whatever the hell that is.”

Sam flipped the page in the book. “Does that harpy look a little familiar?”

In a relief on a wall stood a woman with wings and talons. “But that’s not—”

“What about this?” Sam continued, flipping the page.

Another painting, but one that Dean recognized. “That’s a friggin’ lamia. We roasted one of them.”

“I know, like I said, this lore is all over the place. It gets weirder. There are so many potential translations throughout the centuries, lilith could be one of the oldest vampires. And everything I’ve found about incubi and succubi points back to these ancient stories of lilit. Here.” He turned to another page that bore an incantation Dean could barely read. “Aramaic warding incantation against lilit.” He pulled out his phone and, after a few swipes of his thumb, showed him a picture of a bowl with the same incantation written on the inside. “People buried these upside down on their land to ward off night demons. Night demons that would take on the image of one spouse or the other and beget a child just to torment them by killing it later.”

“That’s… really fucked up,” Dean started with a shudder, “but Cas explained some of this to me already. Where’s the actual connection to our demon?”

“This book.” Sam thudded a knuckle on the cover. “It has everything on incubi and succubi in all but name. Each culture, each civilization had their story, their own lore, their own way of warding. But here,” he paused as he flipped to the end of the book, “is a recording of an exorcism performed in the early seventh century. I have a ton of work to do to pick this apart, make sure I understand it, but… this could work.”

Hope. A glimmer at least. Dean closed the book and handed it back to Sam. “You better be—”

“What’s that?”

Sam’s narrowed glare followed a piece of paper as it drifted to the floor. Too late, Dean lunged for it. Retrieved with a snatch, he shoved it into his book and snapped it shut. “Nothing.” He stood and rushed for the southern library door. “I… I’ll uh. You get to work on that exorcism. I’m gonna finish this book in my room.”

Before Sam could reply, Dean rushed through the door and slammed it shut behind him. On his way to his room, a familiar scene played out in his mind. Tension tightened his shoulders at the thought of Sam knowing too much. Oh, he knew the basics, sure. Incubus. Uncontrollable lust. Three-day comas with Castiel. But he had struck a deal, and he knew Sam would not blame him for following through on a backup plan.

The primary plan, if Dean had any say about it.

Safely in his room, Dean sat at his desk and set the book on its spine. It fell open at the inserted page, the thick cover thudding against the wood. Dean ensured his drawing remained intact, withdrawing it from the book. Centered on his desk, he stared at the drawing. With only three days left and only increasing signs of aging—the most recent bout presenting itself as an intolerance of cheese—ensuring their survival had inspired him. Obviously, it had always been his top priority. But such a unique threat of death had spawned in him a devious creation.

He knew why. And a small part of him, a tiny little voice in the darkest recesses of his mind, didn’t care. Because he had created something. He had designed, procured. For the first time in so many years, his hands left behind life. Not death. Might it ruin their love for uncomplicated, no-frills sex? He doubted it. But if he could experience everything in that blueprint, the risk, in his opinion, was worth it.

A smile curled his lips as he stared at the drawing, losing himself in the potential, the anticipation. Whether it was himself or Castiel strung up, Dean was indifferent. He had used Castiel in the diagram, but only because that had been easier than drawing himself. With one primary display on profile and several surrounding angles, Dean had poured every ounce of his creativity into the apparatus. Leather bondage, spreader bar, ball gag, butt plug, paddle—all the new things Castiel had recently acquired but had yet to try. The blindfold and the cock cage required encores, so he had included them as well.

But something was missing, he noticed. He grabbed a blue pencil from the mug on his desk. As he began to draw, the world around him faded, ceased to exist. Reality suspended as though to grant him the time and space to perfect his fantasy. Spirals of blue angled across the open swathes of Castiel’s skin, diamonds connecting leather. Maybe he could use the squat rack in the gym as a hoist—

“Dean!”

The pencil flew from his hand and clattered to the floor with his shout. Castiel stood in the threshold, hand still gripping the handle. “Do you ever knock?”

“I… can if that’s what you would prefer.” He closed the door, then strode to his side. “Did Sam tell you about the exorcism?”

Oh, no. That smile. That brilliantly, innocently optimistic smile. “Cas, I don’t… he did tell me. But I think we should stay realistic. There’s still a chance it won’t work.”

“I understand and agree, but—what’s that?”

His wide-eyed hope had narrowed into a suspicious examination. No use hiding it. He would find out eventually. So he handed the drawing to Castiel and explained. “Plans. Pulling out all the stops. Last-ditch effort to get rid of this damn demon.”

Gingerly, Castiel took the image in both hands and brought it under his nose. How he could see so close to his face, Dean had no idea. But he had no intention of interrupting such intense scrutiny. His eyes popped over the top of the paper. “This is a highly detailed schematic.”

“Most folks would call it pornography, but different strokes…”

“You found what I bought?”

Dean shrugged as Castiel handed the drawing back to him. “I snooped. Was looking for you but you weren’t in your room. The bag was just… sitting there. So I—hey!”

His cry clipped short when Castiel’s lips landed on his. Dean would never know how he had hauled him out of his chair and onto his feet. He suspected some lingering angel strength. Maybe. Or he had always been that strong. Christ, what if he was? Finally, someone that could overpower him—

“Come with me.”

Castiel’s throaty insistence snapped him out of his thoughts. “Let’s just do it here. Pin me up against the door or fold me over my desk.”

“But all the leather is in my room.” He gestured to the drawing. “I’d suggest breaking it all in before attempting that.”

No need to tell him twice. Dean pulled from Castiel and headed for the door. “Good point.”

“Would you—” Castiel paused as he shut the door behind him. “Can you wear it first?”

“You know you can tie me up any day of the week, Cas,” he said over his shoulder. Around the corner, he barreled through Castiel’s door and ushered him through. “And I’ve never done leather against bare skin, so this oughtta be interesting.”

Castiel crossed the room for the bag and withdrew the various pieces of leather to toss on the bed. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Red?” Dean asked as he approached the bed.

“It was either that or black,” Castiel said. “Red hides blood well.” When Dean glared at him, Castiel smiled and laughed. “That was a joke.”

“It better be,” he replied as he peeled himself free of his flannel. “A waist harness and a… is this a gorget?”

“Another type of harness,” Castiel stated as he slipped between him and the bed. Greedy fingers grasped the hem of his shirt and teased at his skin. “Modular. Allows for different combinations of restraints.”

He raised his arms, and Castiel slipped his shirt over his head. “Restraints?”

“The wrists can be bound to any of the other pieces, as can the ankles. To each other as well,” he explained. As he loosened Dean’s belt, he flicked apart the button and drew down the zipper. “But you knew that, based on your drawing.”

“I… h-had a hunch,” he stammered. Castiel’s long fingers slipped into his briefs. His breath hitched in his throat as he tried to speak again. “You want to take the wheel on this one, or are we both riding shotgun?”

“I am in a… mood? Would you mind indulging me?”

Indulge? With that crooked little grin and that inquisitively arched brow? “You would be indulging me.” He paused a beat as Castiel leaned close. “Sir.”

“That’s a good boy,” Castiel crooned. He ran his free hand through Dean’s hair and grasped him at the back of his head. “Do you think you can please me tonight?”

“Damn straight—”

His thought clipped off with a gasp when Castiel wrenched back on his hair. Those lips, those god damned lips of his, brushed against Dean’s ear as he said, “Excuse me?”

“Ah—yes, sir. Yes. I can please you. Thoroughly.”

Soothing fingertips eased the sting at the back of his head. “That’s more like it. Now…” He paused as he withdrew his hand from his pants. “You are considerably further along than I am.” With a forceful tug, he stripped Dean of his pants, then Castiel gave his first order. “Take the rest off. Then catch me up. Including this.”

Damn him and those too soft fingers. Damn his perfect hands and that baiting smiling, with his crooked lips parting as if to ask, to dare Dean to defy him. And oh, how he wanted to misbehave. Draw out Castiel’s strength, his ire. But he obeyed, first drawing down the shoulders of his flannel, then pulling his henley over his head.

“This,” Castiel said as he hefted the collar, “has some versatility.” He slipped the supple fiber around Dean’s neck, then tightened the strap. The velvety material slipped over his skin, and his heart galloped. As though railing against the restraint, his pulse point drummed back the collar, and dammit all to Hell, Castiel noticed.

“You won’t choke. But it needs to be tight enough not to chafe.”

Dean returned to his task and slipped them to his ankles with Castiel’s pants unfastened. “I understand, sir.”

“It’s not uncomfortable?”

A vehement shake of his head spun the room. “No, sir. It feels… so good.”

“Excellent,” Castiel continued as he gathered up the waist harness. “Now, I’ll put this on, but we won’t be using it much. I imagine…” He paused as he kicked free of his boots and stepped from his pants. With the harness wrapped about Dean’s waist, he said, “It will still look… yes. Divine.”

The leather was all sensual pleasure where the rope had had a pleasant sting to its bite. No leather coat had ever felt so arousing. Son of a bitch, but there was more to it than that. It wasn’t just about the pleasing feel of leather against his skin. Something about being constricted so tightly by fabric as sexy as leather—

Castiel cleared his throat, a harsh, intentional sound. When his vision focused, Dean saw he held a large set of cuffs. Then Castiel licked his lips and said, “Spread your legs.”

“Hng—yes, sir,” Dean stuttered. He stepped apart, cool air soothing the growing heat between his thighs. A shiver coursed up his spine as the leather tightened around the left thigh, just below his groin. He couldn’t help but sigh as Castiel bound the other leg.

“Breathe. Deep inhale, long exhale.”

That one clarifying breath, though ordered, steadied Dean’s racing heart.

“That’s it,” Castiel cooed. He grabbed the final two sets of cuffs, then began binding Dean’s wrists. “Tell me, would you prefer to be on your back or your knees?”

“I have a choice, sir?”

“I am allowing you one.”

Allowing. Fuck, that was hot. “My back. Like… like we were in the archives the first day.”

“Oh, how romantic,” Castiel sang. He knelt to cuff his ankles, then stood. “You are such a sweet boy. My sweet little… honey bee. I consider myself a lucky master.”

“I… I am undeserving of such praise, sir.”

Castiel struck faster than lightning. A resounding smack filled the room as the flat of his palm swatted Dean’s ass, loud as his startled squawk. “I do not tolerate any such talk. Remove these, and I will explain.” As Dean slipped his fingers into his briefs, Castiel continued. “You deserve everything. You are a good boy, and deserve all the love and affection I have.” As he spoke, he attached a short strap to the wrist cuffs. “Sometimes, that affection is rough. Painful. Even humiliating. But we both know how amazing that can feel.” He handed another set of cuffs and straps to Dean. “Ankles.”

As Dean dragged his briefs to the floor, he paused to stare. Castiel’s half-hard cock hung heavy over his sac, foreskin slowly receding as he stiffened. Then Dean knelt, removed his underwear, and fastened the cuffs to his ankles. “I have enjoyed your affection in all the ways you have given it, sir.”

Castiel tilted his head to one side and cupped his cheek. “Knelt before your angel,” he observed. “And in all that red leather. Better put it to good use. Attach your wrists to your thighs.”

Dean did as ordered, the two-inch strap giving just enough length to do so himself. The restriction triggered a kinesthetic memory, rope warped around his wrists and bound to the foot of his bed. But two inches? He could hardly move, and the thrilling panic of such entrapment swelled the ache in his sac.

Loud as a shotgun blast, a latch clicked at his throat, hooking into the golden loop below his adam’s apple. When he looked, a long red leather strap led to Castiel’s fingers gently holding the free end. Then he cleared his throat once more and said, “Open your mouth.”

Too slow. He had taken his time. Licked his lips, breathed in deep, and exhaled to ease his racing heart again. Far too slow.

Castiel tightened the slack in the leash and pulled. Instinctive, he reached, but the clasps binding his hands to his thighs caught. Every muscle tensed to catch himself, but Castiel continued to draw, and as he grasped the base of his half-hard cock, he lifted it to Dean’s lips. “Open your mouth or I will open it for you.”

The jarring flash of memory created not so long ago streaked across his mind. It had been the first thing—the very first sexual act—they had ever done. Dean had dropped to his knees without hesitation that night. Back when he thought he had lost Castiel. When he thought he had driven him away for the last time.

Lucky for them both that Castiel was not so easily deterred. Especially from what he wanted. And Dean would give him exactly that.

With his thoughts spanning space and time, Dean transcended reality. He existed not merely in that present moment but in the past, too, as he dropped his jaw. Sweet skin overwhelmed his tongue as it met Castiel’s heated flesh. And then he coaxed him between his lips, cheeks hollowed to suck.

A guttural groan rumbled through Castiel’s chest, and his head tilted back. That little mantra, that demand for every ounce of pleasure, found him again. More. Give it to me. Irresistible, Dean obeyed and began bobbing his head on Castiel’s cock. Saliva ran down his lips, his chin, his neck, and then everything stopped. He pitched forward, unable to catch himself, and Castiel’s head plunged into his throat.

“I’ll set the pace. Understand?” Dean tapped him on the thigh once. “Such a sweet honey bee.”

When Castiel slackened the leash, Dean slumped back to his haunches. The tip of Castiel’s cock still lay on his lips, and he heaved for breath. Sore already. Even his jaw. After too few seconds, Castiel rolled his hips, the tiniest of movements. But it was enough to slip the crown of his cock between his lips. Little strokes penetrated his mouth, the glans rolling on his lips with each one. Above him, Castiel towered, bright eyes wide as he watched. And then he grasped Dean’s head with both hands, first the right, then the left. Buried in his hair, the rasp of fingertips on his scalp sent a shiver down Dean’s spine.

“That’s it,” Castiel said with a hum. “You just keep that mouth open for me and I’ll fuck it until I come. Would you like that, honey bee?”

He agreed as best as he could with a mouthful of Castiel’s cock slipping in and out of his mouth.

“Good enough,” he growled.

A dark stare shrouded Castiel’s gaze, unfamiliar yet arousing. And a grin so wicked curled his lips, Dean’s heart leaped into his throat. Fingers tightened about his head, and Castiel thrust for long, languid strokes. “I know you can please me, honey bee,” he moaned. “Keep those lips open.”

Dean gurgled a reply, but Castiel muted him with the next thrust. That exhilarating sound, not quite choking, not quite gagging, roused that ache between his thighs. It seemed that it did more for Castiel; dribbles of precum ran over his lips to join the mess. Close, then.

But he could do nothing. Thrust after thrust, the thick heat of Castiel’s cock filled his mouth, and Dean could only sit there. Infuriatingly aroused. Used. Like some sort of bimbo fuckdoll. And yet, as much as he wanted to help, wanted to grab Castiel’s cock and sucking him off until he burst, Dean savored the glorious simplicity, the absolute freedom of letting go. For once, he could just be, just sit there and be and not think. Let someone else do all the work. And Castiel, in his own brand of human nature, did all the work.

Including facefucking him crosseyed.

“Oh, fuck, honey, I’m gonna—I’m—hng.” Faster, shorter thrusts pumped his cock shallowly in Dean’s mouth. Frustrated grunts and growls mingled with his own garbled moans, but not for long. The telltale swell of his cock filled Dean’s mouth, and Castiel’s hips stuttered, stilling. With the tip of his cock between Dean’s lips, the first long jet of cum filled his mouth. Dean closed his eyes and relished the sensation as he swallowed, lips pursed on the tip of Castiel’s cock. A sudden jerking motion popped his eyes wide, and he found Castiel had gripped himself to stroke just below the head. The tip bobbed between Dean’s lips until he came again, a longer shot of pearly white landed across his face, lips, and open mouth.

Dean licked his lips clean and swallowed once more. Before he had a moment to breathe, Castiel bent over, grasped him by the jaw, and kissed him. His tongue swam into his mouth, swirled, sucked, and then parted with a wet slurp. He licked his own lips, then said, “You looked so delicious with my cum all over your face, I had to find out.”

“Did it… did the taste please you?”

“Oh, it did,” he growled. “But I want you now. I want to feel you from the inside. And I want to see you covered in your cum. Up on the bed. On your back.”

The leash slipped from Castiel’s fingers as Dean stood, only to remember that he could not straighten entirely at the last second. The straps at his wrists tugged sharply at the bands on his thighs, squeezing his groin, and he moaned. And then that resounding smack filled the room, a glorious sting prickling his ass where Castiel’s hand had struck him.

“Did I allow you to pleasure yourself?”

“No,” Dean whimpered. “No, sir, I’m sorry, it was an accident.”

Another smack rang in his ears, and Dean bit his bottom lip. He had half a mind to continue his insolence. Next time, he thought.

Castiel jerked the leash to him, then shoved him to the bed. “On your back, now. Knees up.”

Cool air soothed the exposed skin as Dean lay back and spread himself. “Like this, sir?”

Two delicate clinks clipped his ankle cuffs to his thigh bands. But the finality of that sound rang like a struck gong between Dean’s ears. Complete restriction, utter helplessness. Truly, he was at Castiel’s mercy. And there was nowhere else he would rather be. For there would be no mercy. Gone were the gentle touches, the tender kisses, and the slow, sensuous penetration. For his insolence, Dean would pay with his body.

And he was going to enjoy every fucking second of it.

“You know,” Castiel began as he grabbed the bottle of lube from the desk. “I quite enjoy you like this.”

“I am glad that—” Dean gasped at the sudden warmth running down his taint to his asshole. “I uh… I’m glad. That I—” An unbidden whimper interrupted his thought. Muscles spread, relaxed. It was a sensation so rote that Dean wondered how he had gone so long without it. As Castiel used his hole to stroke the head of his cock, Dean could hardly string together three words.

“You are glad… because…”

“I—because I please you,” Dean breathed. “I… I bring you pleasure.”

Castiel tilted his head to one side and smiled. “Good. You should be proud. It takes a great deal of trust to relinquish control.” He continued his teasing, pulling out just enough for the glans to undulate his rim. “And a great deal of confidence to be treated in such… humiliating ways.”

“Tha-ah!” 

Obliterated. Any focus he’d retained shattered in the moment Castiel slipped inside him. That sensation, that sublime, stuffed-to-the-brim, spread-oh-so-wide swell, had grown so familiar in the last two months. It might have scared him once. Years ago. A lifetime ago. But in Castiel’s caring arms, Dean knew he was safe. He was loved. He was adored.

He was also very much unable to move. Rote reactions wrenched on the straps at his wrist, his ankles. Every thrust from Castiel rocked through him, lurching across the bed. And without his reach, Dean surrendered to his helplessness, surrendered to Castiel his vulnerability. Tension oozed from every muscle, every fiber of his being, and he floated. Drifted. Rudderless in a vast open ocean of insatiable lust.

Minutes vanished, marked only by their panting breaths. Delirium masked that ceaseless march, reality replaced only with Castiel, his lover, his cock pounding his asshole, his hand as it suddenly grasped him at the base of his own cock and stroked. The room pitched suddenly, a rush of blood vacating his head, and he muttered.

“I’m… sir, I—may I…” He cursed as he tried to reach for Castiel. “Please, I’m—”

Castiel slowed his thrusts, then gently withdrew from him. “Beg, honey bee. Tell me how much you want to come.”

“I can’t… sir, please. It… it hurts, it hurts so damn good, I want it now,” Dean said through his grunts of frustration.

“Aw, so sweet,” Castiel sighed. “So… desperate. Just a few more seconds.”

But those seconds buried their talons in his flesh. Rip, rend, rake, the spurs tore down his walls. And Dean submitted. To Castiel. To that exquisitely vulnerable exposure. To love. What better way to show that than to obey?

So he dug. Deeper than the talons, deeper than the agonizingly sweet arousal. Even when Castiel laid his cock atop his and stroked them together, Dean clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. He obeyed. And it had been worth every torturous second.

Castiel’s hips stuttered, then stopped. Teeth bared, he growled through his release, a carnal sound that softened, lilted, ascended into a gloriously slutty moan. His cock swelled, twitched, and Dean did the only thing he could. He watched the long white ropes lance from the tip of Castiel’s cock. Watched as they landed on his chest, his neck, his stomach. Watched as the aftershocks dribbled more onto his own swollen head.

“Such a good boy,” Castiel breathed. “Would you like to contribute to this mess?”

“Please,” he choked. He squeezed his eyes shut as Castiel stroked them again. “Please, sir…”

“Poor little honey bee can’t even think straight,” he teased. “I suppose you did well enough. Let go, Dean.”

Let go. So simple. And yet, delirious and overstimulated, Dean struggled. He writhed and thrust and squeezed, Castiel stroking and fondling along the way. After what felt like an eternity, that release gripped him, those talons tearing him apart once more, and he came undone. Flex after flex, strands of white mingled with Castiel’s cum, pooling on his stomach, running in little rivulets down his chest, his neck. And the aftershocks never came, for he had nothing left to give.

Before Dean caught his breath, before he even thought to breathe again, Castiel leaned into him. His lips landed on his for a kiss so tender, Dean nearly wept. Again, the instinct to reach, to grasp and pull and pin snapped at the cuffs on his wrists. Castiel hummed a quiet laugh through his nose, then sat up and released his bindings.

Free, Dean stretched his arms overhead and his legs out long over the side of the bed. A cold void replaced Castiel’s warmth when he left his side for an insulated bag near the sink. From it, he withdrew several washcloths, and Dean shook his head.

“Are you kidding me?”

Castiel began to cleanse him, and when Dean tried to sit up to help, he shoved him back down. No point in pushing it. So he relaxed, legs draped over the side of the bed and arms splayed to either side. “This ain’t necess—” He yawned. “You don’t—” He yawned again. “I can—” A third gaping, drawn breath interrupted him, and Castiel’s flat, thin-lipped stare said more than words could.

“Given our situation, I planned this out quite thoroughly. Including clean-up,” he said as he tossed a rag into the sink. “We’d never make it—” Castiel, too, yawned for a deep breath, then continued. “We’d never make it to the showers and back.”

“Thank you,” Dean sighed, eyes rolling closed.

A second rag plopped into the sink, and he began on a third. “I love you, too.”

“My brain’s all fuzzy,” he drawled. “Don’t be—”

When the third rag landed in the sink, Dean opened his eyes, heavy as lead weights. Those gentle blues and the hint of a smile hovered inches from his face, then Castiel kissed him once more. Enthralled, Dean opened to him, and that sweet surrender consumed him once more.

Too soon, Castiel parted from him and spoke. “I’m not mad. I enjoy teasing you.”

“Clearly,” Dean retorted.

A devious smirk crooked Castiel’s. “Do you deny enjoying every second of what we just did?”

From beneath him, Dean shimmed off the bed and discarded the large towel. “No. It was…” He hesitated as he returned to the bed, then drew back the sheets. “It was perfect. Where’d ‘honey bee’ come from?”

“The Google,” Castiel said as he followed Dean beneath the sheets.

He curled in close, head resting on Castiel’s chest as he said, “Of course you looked up pet names on the internet.”

“Do you—”

“It’s perfect,” he said through yet another yawn.

Castiel tugged him tighter, arms wrapped around his shoulders and one hand carding fingers through his hair. An indelible silence carved out a hollow space in Dean’s heart at that moment. It sought room for fear, for anger. And though he wished more than ever to crush that fear, to push it aside and persevere, he succumbed to its impending darkness. But he was safe. He knew that much. He would awake in Castiel’s arms in a few days, and they would find a way through the void.

With Castiel by his side, Dean knew they would always find a way.

This series is complete! Reblogs are loved and feedback is welcome!

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #destiel fanart #deancas #deancas fanfic #deancas fanfiction #deancas fanart

[larathia]

Parallel World Pharmacy: Jesus was an Isekai

This is a cute little one-season "let's highlight the importance of a particular job/field" anime. And yes, it's technically a reincarnation isekai as well. The protagonist was, on Earth, a genius chemist/pharmacist/biochemist/surgeon - let's just say Doogie Howser and House have nothin' on this guy. He's world famous for figuring out how to treat previously untreatable conditions.

Unfortunately for the protagonist, he's SO smart and SO driven he works himself into a heart attack in his mid 30s, and dies. He wakes up in the body of a ten year old boy, in another world.

So far, standard isekai really. Except not quite. I don't know why they went all out on this aspect of the story, since it has nothing to do with why they created the anime (join the school of pharmacology! It's totally cool! We promise!) but this is where things went a little weird.

Firstly, he didn't just wake up in the body of a ten year old. This isn't the standard reincarnation isekai. He doesn't get overlapping memories of his childhood in this new world. No, our hero woke up in the BODY of the ten year old. Who hadn't been breathing FOR A SOLID HOUR. And the boy hadn't just bumped his head. He'd been HIT BY LIGHTNING.

He has glowing fern patterns on both his arms. Of course, protagonist is like "yeah, you get those when you get electrocuted" but no. Those fern patterns are the holy symbol of the Medicine God.

What follows, as a kind of consistent B-plot, is the people of this new world deciding very quickly that Our Hero is in fact the incarnation of the Medicine God, here in their world to save lives and upend medical science as they know it (which, since their medical science is roughly 14th century Europe, is good for everyone) and Our Hero trying and usually utterly failing to pretend that he's just a ten year old human boy.

This is, by far, the most hilariously fun part of this otherwise pretty quiet and serious anime. Because these people don't know what bacteria are, or germs, or viruses. Our Hero promptly invents the microscope to show them, but I have to admit I find it really funny that he's consistently saying things like "yes, this illness is caused by tiny invisible creatures" and everyone else is going "EVIL SPIRITS???"

Because y'know. "tiny invisible malevolent creture" and "evil spirit" do kinda sound like you're talking about the same thing. He's chased by the Inquisition for the standard isekai business of having basically infinite ultra magic and casting no shadow, but when he tries to heal the inquisitor that tried to kill him, they flip right around into OMG WE JUST TRIED TO EXORCISE A GOD.

(This one especially amused me, because the inquisitor he heals then goes on to get himself assigned to Our Hero's town...and present Our Hero with this really really cool staff. He doesn't tell OH until after he picks the staff up that oh, by the way, ONLY A GOD CAN TOUCH THAT STAFF - so, you know, you're a god, we proved it. OH then tries to sell the idea that okay maybe he's a god but an UNDERCOVER one, okay? Please?)

This little B-plot keeps up all through the story; the viewer knows the science (which is, btw, apparently really accurate; the series was written by doctors and chemists) but frankly, the common people of the isekai world's explanations with spirits and gods and demons actually work just as well to explain what's going on most of the time.

Oh and the Black Plague has an actual literal body. Walking around. So we're not just talking 'ignorant peasants' here. Sometimes they're right.

#parallel world pharmacy #larathia reviews

[darsiared]

OBSESSION

CHAPTER 1 : WHERE ENDS MEET

╔══════ ≪≫°✺°≪ ≫ ══════╗

"Adulthood is my favorite child's game to play."

╚══════ ≪≫°✺°≪ ≫ ══════╝

┌────── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ──────┐

Appearance of oc: - Black haired - Height 5'6 - Age around 20 - Purple eyes - Skinny - Wheat colour skin - Simple jeans and hoodie, doesn't like to dress up and stand out - Trimmed nails - Slouched posture

└────── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ──────┘

∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦

After exorcising the 20th special grade curse of the day, Gojo Satoru finally decided to call it a day and go back home.

Now all he wanted to do was to eat some sweet rice buns and get a good night's sleep.

But of course that wouldn't be possible, he thought, while passing through an empty street. Once he returned to the office he would have to report every curse encounter and their abilities in detail. He could sense an all nighter shift coming.

Now all he had to do was think of a way to force Ichiji to write his reports for him.

The curses in the city were drastically increasing in number and strength. With more and more of them becoming capable of using complex Jujutsu, times were going to get even more difficult for the ones who had sworn to protect.

But those special grades really had some nerve believing they could just single handedly defeat him like it's no big deal. Those imbeciles really didn't seem to understand the meaning of the word Strongest.

Same goes for the brat who had been following him for the last 20 minutes.

His stalker's cursed energy was weaker than a beginner's, but they definitely knew how to hide their presence way too well. Gojo himself only noticed them a little while ago, while fighting the cursed spirit, when his senses were boosted. Who knows how long they had been following him before that.

That made Gojo a little curious about the powers of this person as nothing could usually escape his six eyes thus he decided to finally face his guest and be over with them.

"Come on out, I know you're there." he said out loud, turning around.

The person surprisingly obliged immediately, as if they were waiting to be called out and started walking towards him.

As they got nearer, Gojo could tell that this person was a girl, and that she really was an amateur, as she was completely unguarded and had a tonne of openings. Well, at least that meant she was not an attacker.

Or she could be pretending to be an amateur to make him lower his gaurd and be looking for an opportunity to strike when he was distracted.

But it was not something that Gojo Satoru needed to worry about.

She reached near him and stopped a couple of steps away, her hands in her pockets, and her purple eyes gazing at him rather expectantly.

"Are you Gojo Satoru?" she asked, in a voice more steady than he had expected.

"Yes, how can I help you?"

She seemed pretty decent and harmless on first look, but years of fighting experience told Gojo to stay wary. She just gave off this air that even he felt uncomfortable being near. Something about her was definitely off.

"You dropped this" she said, taking something out of her pocket, which Gojo then realised was his wallet.

"Huh? Oh! Ah.....Yeah, Thanks." he said.

He was baffled for a second. That was the last thing he had expected to hear. She was obviously upto something. She wasn't even trying to hide it.

He opened his wallet and found that it had been completely emptied except for his teacher ID card from school.

"How did you know my name?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Your ID card was in the wallet."

"So you opened the wallet?" he asked.

"Yeah"

"And you stole from it?"

"Yeah."

"Did I drop the wallet or did you steal it?"

"I stole it."

Wow.

"So, why show up now? Wouldn't it be better to just run away and keep the money. Or did you suddenly develop a conscience?" Gojo asked, slowly beginning to enjoy this conversation.

The girl once again took something out of her pockets, which this time was Gojo's credit cards and cash. She extended her hand, offering his possessions back to him.

But Gojo couldn't care less about the money anymore, as what she had in her other hand was again, the last thing he had expected to be present in the city of Tokyo at a time like this and in the hands of someone who he now realised wasn't that much of an amateur after all.

An extremely rare and powerful cursed tool that Gojo himself had been fruitlessly looking for, for years now.

"I think now I have your attention." the girl said smiling for the first time.

══════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ════════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ══════

#anime #cannonxoriginalcharacter #canondivergence #characterdevelopment #dark #fanfiction #firstfanfic #firststory #fushiguro #fushigurotoji #gojosatoru #jjk #jujutsukaisen #manga #newauthor #nosmut #originalcharacter #psychological #romance #romancefanfiction #slowburn #sociopath #toji #tojifushiguro #yandere

[sukirichi]

the morning after – gojo satoru ver!

warnings: slight dirty talk and suggestive content, like the yuuji one, nothing too explicit! Oh and a teasing, cheeky gojo :>

masterlist ! (photo not mine)

It doesn’t hit you until you’re whacked by an arm in the face. Literally.

You whine and push the foreign weight away that smushed your nose at the impact, less than pleased because you’re having the best of your life, but someone had to ruin it. Nevertheless, you refuse to open your eyes and settle into the warmth that encases you in that moment. It reminds you of your precious unicorn plushie you left back at your apartment; cuddly, precious, keeps the nightmares away, but the best part about this human teddy bear is that he’s all firm muscles and body heat instead of fur cotton.

Wait, what? Human?

It’s when you hear the man stirring above you with a husky groan that you freeze in your spot, eyes snapping wide open your vision blurs for a split second. The first thing you see is smooth skin and firm pecs, followed by a slender, strong neck and a sharp jawline – oh god.

So last night wasn’t a dream.

Clenching your teeth and even biting the inside of your cheeks to stop squealing – more out of embarrassment and shame than happiness, really – you slowly reach up between your squished bodies to pinch your cheeks, bringing blood and feeling back into them. No wonder you’ve slept so well last night, and as someone who prefers pulling an all-nighter until you pass out in the middle of an anime series, it’s quite rare to find a good eight hour sleep.

It’s not like you had much...activities performed that would take up too much energy. Until Gojo Satoru came, the teacher from the Tokyo school, and also the notoriously infamous “strongest jujutsu sorcerer.”

You’ve had a crush on him the moment you’ve started working as a teacher in the Kyoto school. Utahime, who was closer to him, was incredibly appalled when you told her one day about your raging crush on the white-haired man who looked absolutely breathtaking with his blindfold, but without them?

Just the thought of having seen them last night, when he was between your legs, no less, has you inwardly groaning and cringing so hard you feel so shameful that you can’t even look him in the eye. Satoru is fast asleep above you, one of his strong arms lazily draped over the curve of your waist and his fingers brushing against your bum. When you shift a little to give you both space, his fingers begin to hover dangerously close to a sensitive area and you let out a tiny squeak, muffling it with the back of your fist before he awakens.

This man had the Six Eyes – the last thing you wanted was for him to sense and notice the little things and wake up. No, you had to leave before he even gets the chance to move.

The chances of not waking him up was pretty slim, but you’ve always been proud of your sneaky movements that you try anyway. Fortunately, Satoru doesn’t seem to be a hardcore cuddler because he doesn’t pull you back when you finally slip past the sheets.

You freeze for a moment at the edge of the bed, still in disbelief that you actually slept with him. No, no, that’s wrong, you’d have slept with him anytime if he allowed it but – he actually slept with you. It’s not that you’re looking down on yourself because you’re also a special grade sorcerer and could stand your own ground confidently, but your powers when it comes to exorcising and your social skills are two different things that don’t even come close together.

You’re not worried that a special grade curse would kill you and take away your privilege of finishing that new manga you bought in your day off because you know you could handle it easily, but as a person, there’s a stark difference between you and Satoru.

True, he wasn’t exactly liked by everyone because he refused to be limited by rules and regulations, always claiming that one should not be hindered by the narrow-mindedness of the others, but it was something you really admired about him because you’re not like that. You’re old school, sticking by the book, much like his co-worker Nanami Kento who equally hates overtime, and while Gojo Satoru was loud and confident, you’re more of the person who stays by a corner during a party.

Which is exactly what happened last night at Utahime’s birthday party – aka the old wrinkly principal isn’t here so let’s get wasted type of party.

You’re not surprised that Gojo Satoru walked in, but when he did, you had to clutch your spirit water and drink it in haste because he’s got you feeling thirstier than you did last night – and you drink your water plenty. But how could you remain sane when he looked so gorgeous in just his uniform and his laughter has butterflies erupting in your stomach?

Truth was, you’re satisfied watching him from afar. It’s not like you ever plan on asking him out or being his friend because you’re sure Satoru has better things to do and prettier people to talk to, so when he sits next to you in the desolate leather couch, legs crossed over one another and his arm right behind you (although not touching, he respects your space) you nearly pass out.

One thing leads to another, and you find yourself writhing under his arms, shamelessly crying his name over and over again until the dead hours of the night that has his ego inflating.

You don’t remember how or exactly why it happened, but definitely, alcohol had to be involved. There’s no way Gojo Satoru would actually notice you, much less sleep with you, when he’s completely sober, which is why you scramble around the room with the blanket covering your bare body as you look for your discarded clothes.

If he wakes up and sees you, he’ll probably regret everything that happened last night, if he remembers any of it, anyway.

But you’re most definitely mostly sober through the whole thing, so you remember how good he was in making you feel like a goddess. The way he sucked on your neck, licking a stripe at your burning skin while his large hands groped your breasts possessively, all the while rutting in that perfect spot that has your eyes rolling at the back of your head with your nails running down his back – you shiver just thinking about it.

Gojo Satoru really has that effect on people.

You hide your flustered state and quickly pull on your undergarments, about to slip the sweater over your head, only to die on the inside because you realize you’re wearing those full cotton panties instead of sexy lingerie. With a groan, you fight back the urge to cry. But then again, who could blame yourself for not dressing sexily? It’s not like you had any idea that this would happen.

You’re halfway through your jeans when Gojo’s husky morning voice breaks through the silence. “Leaving already?” you hear him smile, although your back is turned to him, face completely morphed into terror. “Such a shame. I was actually thinking shower sex sounds nice – if you’re into that, of course.”

“Satoru,” you greet lamely with a bow, avoiding the way his stunning eyes raked over your form with an unreadable dark expression. “Uh, you’re awake, and...good morning, I guess.”

Gojo smirks at your flushed cheeks, and it takes everything not to stare at the way his biceps strain from the way he supports his head, hair sticking in every direction and looking absolutely sexy in the morning light. “Good morning to you too, Y/N,” your breath stifles, because he knows your name? “Although it would be an ever better morning if you weren’t such in a rush to leave,” he chuckles, “It makes me feel like maybe you regret what happened last night.”

Your head snaps up at his words as you shakily wiggle your arms, “No, that’s not true, I loved every second of it! It was...it was the best night of my life,” your cheeks tinge a shade darker when Gojo beams at your words, chest almost puffing out proudly. Shyly, you turn away from him and fiddle with the hem of your sweatshirt. “I just...I didn’t think you’d still want me here around, because you were drunk last night and all and I thought maybe you’ll regret it, which I don’t want to happen so yeah, I just thought I’d leave before I get to...” you clear your throat awkwardly, “...be rejected like that.”

“Y/N,” his voice falls an octave lower, the thoughts in your head growing so loud you don’t even hear that he’s already left the bed, and now he’s cradling your chin until you’re forced to witness the galaxies burning in his eyes. “You thought I was drunk last night and did it because I was just horny? That I would regret it and forget all about it?”

His proximity has your breath stuttering, your eyelashes slapping your cheeks as you blink rapidly. “Well, uhm, I’m not really your type, so I think it was safe to assume that.”

Gojo hums at your words, his calloused thumb running over your lips. A small smile flits across his face when he remembers how much of a good girl you were for him last night, obediently opening those lips up and letting him bask in the warmth of your wet cavern before swallowing all he has to give. Funnily enough, Gojo isn’t the best with his words, so he just tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before sighing.

“I wasn’t drunk,” he finally admits. The confession has you slipping from his grasp, but Gojo snakes his arm around the small of your back to pull you to him, the warmth of his bare skin seeping into your clothes. However, it’s nothing compared to the lust and adoration burning in his eyes – one you can’t properly fathom in this clouded state. “Tipsy, sure, but I assure you I was aware and sober for every little part,” his lips hover at your ear, one of his hands coming at the back of your neck to tilt your head to the side, granting him access to the hickeys he’d purposely left.

Just the sight of his markings on your perfect body has a tent growing in his pants. You feel his erection rub at the pad of your jeans, eliciting a small whine from you, and this makes Gojo resist the urge to bend you over right then and there. But he doesn’t do that, because he knows your body is too tired from his ministrations, and he’s nice enough to give you a break – even if that’s not exactly what your burning core wants at that moment.

“Like the way you clenched around my cock when I hit that sensitive spot of yours,” he laughs when you shiver at the way his breath tickles you, “Or how pretty you look when you cream around my cock, begging me to go harder because you can take it, and baby, I promise you, I loved it just as much as you did.”

Finally, Gojo pulls back, and he’s extremely satisfied when he sees how small and innocent you look just like that, as if he hadn’t just folded you in half to watch the way your pretty pussy welcome him and take him better than anyone else just hours ago.

“But,” he continues, “I think I enjoyed it a lot more, considering I’ve wanted to do that for such a long time now,” at his words, you furrow your brows, and that’s when he realizes his mistake. Gojo reverts back to his usual lighthearted self and fans his hand out almost comically with his hands on his hips. “I mean, not just the sex, though it is amazing, but having you close is what I meant. Like holding your hand or getting to kiss you,” he sighs dreamily as if you’re not in the same room as him.

“Uh,” you awkwardly begin, unsure of what to say. “Are you saying you like me?”

“Yeah,” he smirks, which shouldn’t have been such a sexy look on him, but because he’s Gojo, it was. “But Utahime said she’d cut my balls off if I even get near you. Thank goodness she was too drunk last night to ever see it, but I’m glad I talked to you. I’m just ashamed I’m only saying this after the sex but...would you like to go out with me?”

Thanks to his Six Eyes ability, Gojo is blessed with the privilege of seeing you malfunction before him as you try to find your words.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x reader imagines #gojo x reader smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader imagines #gojo satoru x reader imagines #gojo satoru imagines #jjk gojo satoru #gojo satoru fic #gojo x reader headcanon #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen smut