At least hit me with some curses at my end

eno • she/her

[rhodeys]

ZENDAYA as EMMA HARWOOD

The Drama (2026) dir. Kristoffer Borgli

[mrs-johnson]

“The Quiet One”

Tsu’tey x Sully!Female Reader

Warnings: Soft Romance | Slow Burn | Emotional Intimacy

Summary: Where you are Jake Sully’s mute younger sister, a Dreamwalker learning the Na’vi ways under Tsu’tey’s guidance.

Quick Note: Yes, I do know this is not Aaron or any of his characters. But I love Tsu’tey! Always been my avatar crush for when I saw it as a kid.

You did not speak — not with words, anyway.

On Earth, your silence had been seen as a burden. A thing to work around. Something to fix. But on Pandora, the forest didn’t need sound to understand you. The leaves shifted for you. The ikran tilted their heads. Even Eywa, it seemed, listened when your heart was full and your hands fluttered like birds to express what your lips could not.

Jake had called you his shadow once. Always behind him, quiet and gentle, while he stomped ahead and carved his path. But now that you were Dreamwalking in your own Avatar body, breathing Pandora’s air and touching the bioluminescent soil, you felt more alive than you ever had before.

And Tsu’tey was the first to notice.

At first, he hadn’t been thrilled. Being assigned the tsahìk-in-training’s silent younger sibling as a student? He had expected trouble. Or worse, fragility. But what he got was… stillness.

You watched with wide eyes. Moved like wind through tall grass. Mimicked the Na’vi gestures with careful hands and tilted your head in ways that reminded him of the forest cats — quiet, observant, full of untamed patience.

You didn’t need words.

You had presence.

⸻

“I will show her the bow next,” Tsu’tey grunted to Neytiri, his voice low as he glanced at you crouched near the woven baskets. “She learns fast.”

“She listens,” Neytiri replied, plucking fruit. “With all her spirit.”

Tsu’tey found himself watching you longer than necessary — the way your fingers traced the braided fiber, the way you looked up when a banshee passed overhead, smiling so softly it was barely there.

You didn’t speak, but you saw everything.

⸻

The first time you shot an arrow, it sailed clean and true. Tsu’tey blinked.

You gave him a bright, silent smile, fists balled in celebration.

“…You’ve done this before?”

You shook your head and signed quickly —

“I watched”

He blinked again.

“…Watched who?”

You pointed at him.

Tsu’tey’s ears twitched. “Hrm.”

After that, his lessons came slower. Not because he thought you couldn’t keep up — but because he liked having you near longer.

⸻

He taught you the call of the yerik. How to weave a sling. How to understand the rhythm of the forest beneath your feet. You showed him how to speak your language with gestures, and he — the mighty, gruff warrior — took to it with more dedication than anyone expected.

You touched his shoulder once when he’d gotten a word wrong. Corrected it gently with your hands.

He stared at your fingers like they were sacred.

And when you smiled at him — shy, gentle, eyes crinkled — he felt it like an arrow to the chest.

⸻

One evening, Jake found the two of you perched high in the trees, sharing silence like an old song.

“Should I be worried?” Jake teased, raising a brow.

You stuck your tongue out at him playfully. Tsu’tey, surprisingly, chuckled.

“She is far too good for you,” your brother joked. “Even I know that.”

Tsu’tey looked over at you — the way your Avatar skin glowed faintly in the dusk, how your eyes met his without fear or shyness now. And he said softly, “I already know.”

⸻

The night you bonded with your ikran, it was Tsu’y who waited for you at the edge of the cliff.

You were trembling — not from fear, but from the weight of it. Of finally belonging. Of becoming one of the People in full.

You couldn’t put it into words. But you didn’t need to.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

He opened his arms.

You ran into them.

⸻

Later, when the moons hung low and the trees glowed blue, Tsu’tey traced the side of your face with one reverent hand.

“You say more with your silence than others say with speech,” he murmured. “I see you.”

You pressed his hand closer to your cheek. Then signed slowly —

“I see you, too”

And in the hush of Pandora’s night, you didn’t need sound to fall in love.

Only breath, only eyes, only the steady heartbeat between you.

[pandoraslxna]

dream blunt rotation (i'm the blunt)

[chromemolars]

Tsu’tey te Rongloa Ateyitan

tsu’tey x reader

a reader who loves her ikran more than life itself.

(a/n i love this man more than anything, don’t be afraid to request avatar fics!)

Not even too long after the war with the Sky People, the forest had fallen back into rhythm — but Tsu’tey had not.

Peace returned, yes, but quiet did not bring rest. He still woke early, still trained twice as hard, still sat in council with the olo’eyktan’s face carved into his own — all stone, no softness. It was his place now. His responsibility. But as the moons passed, so too came the pressure from the elders: A mate. A Tsahìk. A future to balance his strength and leadership.

He bore the words like he bore everything else — with silence, with pride, with a long, unspoken ache beneath the surface. Tsu’tey had known the promise of love once. Sylwanin — sweet, sharp-eyed, as fierce as she was kind. Her death left a scar that never fully healed. Then came Neytiri — she was beautiful and a great warrior, but he could’ve never truly loved her. Jake sully had won her heart anyways.

So no — he had not opened his heart or mind to love since. Until you.

He didn’t know when it began, but he knew he couldn’t stop watching you. Not as a hunter. Not as a top warrior. Not even as a leader. Something else. Something harder to admit. And today, he felt it again — that weirdly stubborn, unfamiliar ache in his chest — as he stepped outside the high cave and turned his gaze to the sky. You and your hunters had returned.

The wind shifted first — sharp and hot as it rolled off your ikran’s wings. Her shriek rang out through the mountains, wild and proud, like thunder tearing across the air. The trees below trembled with the beat of her descent. Tskärel.

She was enormous for a female — even larger than many of the males. Her wingspan stretched farther than any in the Omatikaya rookery, (besides toruk makto’s) — she was all lean muscle, raw power, and deadly grace. Her coloring was fierce: the same deep jungle blue as you, but with a crown of glowing orange across her head and down the back of her neck, marked by streaks of blood-red pigment that flared like war paint in motion.

It was no wonder you matched her so perfectly.

The beads in your braid shimmered orange and crimson, woven with thin black thread — exact replicas of Tskärel’s patterning. Even your chest wrap and hip adornments were dyed in the same hues, and feathered accents swung from your belt and armbands. You had chosen them with purpose. Not just to honor your bond — but to make it clear that you were her, and she you. There was no separation between you and your mount. You were a pair unlike any the clan had seen.

so much so that even the way you landed mirrored your ikran.

Tskärel flared her wings and dropped sharply onto the stone ledge, claws scraping briefly before digging in. You dismounted in one fluid motion — not a pause between her landing and your feet hitting the ground. You moved like water over stone — quickly and quietly. Beads clicked in your hair, muscles pulled beneath painted skin, and your tail moved in time with the sway of your hips. Tsu’tey watched with a stare he didn’t bother hiding. It wasn’t just admiration. It was memory.

He remembered the day youd chosen each other. You were younger then, still feeling unproven, smaller than most of the other candidates — and yet you had walked onto the rookery platform with no hesitation. Your eyes scanned the beasts like you were choosing a weapon, and when Tskärel emerged from the shadows — all size and flame-colored fury — the other warriors took a step back.

He had been standing above, arms folded, watching from a ledge higher on the cliff. “Way too big,” he’d thought immediately. “Nga ke tsun ftxey — you cannot handle that one.” The beast had shrieked, wings snapping outward, eyes glowing gold as she lunged. You did not flinch.

He remembered the sound of your battle cries, your sharp commands, your breath hitching as she knocked you flat and raked claws near your head. But you kept coming. You leapt, hands out, and somehow — you made the bond. The whoops and cheers of your teachers and peers filled the sky. Tsu’tey hadn’t spoken a word that day. But he’d watched. And something in him had shifted — a crack in the stone.

Now, years later, you walked toward him like a living echo of that moment. You stopped a few steps away, lifting your fingers to your brow and then extending your arm forward. “Oel ngati kameie, Olo’eyktan,” you said, voice smooth as river clay. I see you, leader. He nodded, returning the gesture. “Oel ngati kameie.”

“I have come to report,” you continued, slipping easily into duty. “The hunt was a success. Between my party and the southeastern flank, we brought in enough game to feed the clan through the coming rains. There were no signs of activity from the southern perimeter.” You stood tall, proud, eyes bright with the thrill of a job well done. Your tail flicked once in satisfaction. He nodded. “Strong work.” That was all. Your smile faltered, just slightly. You tilted your head.

“…That’s it?” you asked, crossing your arms loosely. “No list of praise this time? No ‘nga lu txantslusam — your formation was tighter, your arrows truer, your traps better placed’?” Tsu’tey turned away without answering, walking toward a flat stone near the firepit behind him. You frowned, your ears twitching. Before you could speak again, he turned back around — something small in his hand.

A woven neckpiece. It was bright — orange and red with black accents, made from softened root fiber and finely cut beads, clearly chosen with care. It mirrored your colors exactly. The colors of your bond.

You blinked, stunned. “…What is that?” He cleared his throat, suddenly unsure of his voice. “It is for you.” You stepped forward slowly. “You… made this?”

“Yes.” He sounded irritated to admit it, as if the fact was somehow beneath him. “It is not much. But I have seen how you wear your colors. You wear them like your skin. Everyone sees how you and Tskärel are joined. They know of your bond.” You smiled softly.“I wished…” he stopped, jaw tightening. “I wished to give you something that would match. With me..and her” Your breath caught.

“I want the People to see it. Not just that you ride well. Or that you lead. But that we are—” he broke off again, ears folding back slightly. “That there is… intention. Between us.” You stared at him, blinking once, then twice. Your heart beat like a war drum in your chest. “And here I thought you were ignoring me,” you murmured. He snorted softly, looking away.

You reached for the necklace gently, brushing your fingers over the beads. “This is… beautiful. I never thought I’d see the day our Olo’eyktan sat still long enough to make something like this.” “I had help,” he admitted begrudgingly. “Only a little.” You laughed quietly, and without warning, you stepped close and wrapped your arms around his neck.

He let out a small grunt — stiff, caught off guard — but his hands came to your waist, anchoring you there with steady strength. You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “Oeru txoa livu…*” you murmured, grinning. Forgive me…

“…But I will wear this with such pride. Nga yawne lu oer.” You are beloved to me. His expression shifted just slightly — another crack in the stone. A breath let out through his nose. Relief, maybe. Or something close.

“More than your ikran?” he asked, his voice just shy of teasing. You gave him a look — sharp, amused before lightly slapping his chest “Kehe. Tskärel lu nga’it. She is my soul.”

He nodded solemnly. “But you,” you added, voice softer now, “are something she cannot be.” He did not reply. Just held you, gaze steady and searching, as if trying to see what you truly meant.

That night, beneath the canopy built into the floating mountain, the fire glowed brighter than usual. You and Tsu’tey sat near the center — side by side, quiet, steady. Matching.

The necklace glimmered at your throat. Its colors burned in the firelight. And though no announcement was made, no formal rite performed, the message was clear to all who had eyes: Two warriors. Two leaders. A bond forming, not made of public displays or a grand ceremony — but something quieter. Something earned. Neytiri nudged Jake with her elbow as she caught sight of the pair.

“Po tsun tìkangkem,” she whispered, smiling. He has begun. Jake followed her gaze and nodded. “Took him long enough.” “Sìlronsem,” she murmured. Stubborn man.

And in the distance, under the stars, Tskärel lifted her head from her perch — letting out a low, echoing trill that drifted through the forest. As if she too approved.

[sxftvanity]

I Can't Lose You.

༉‧₊˚. Featuring. Tsu’tey x Fem! Omatikaya! Mate! Reader.

༉‧₊˚. Anonymous Request. Hi! I see your post about Tsu'tey and I love him too. What about a na'vi reader as a warrior? After a fight, many na'vi dies and Tsu'tey have panic bc. He can't find his mate? But she is just injured and he is really happy about it. Thank you for reading!

༉‧₊˚. Summary. When Tsu’tey notices you’re missing, he is struck by fear thinking the worst may have happened to you.

༉‧₊˚. General Tags. Angst and fluff.

༉‧₊˚. Content Warnings. Panic, fear, injuries, mention of a deceased character, and mention of dead na’vi’s.

༉‧₊˚. Word Count. 638.

༉‧₊˚. Index. Yawne — [beloved], Tiyawn — [love], and Nga yawne lu oer — [I love you].

༉‧₊˚. Notes. I was looking through all my requests and this caught my eye. Especially seeing a Tsu’tey edit motivated me so much to write it. I can’t believe how fast I finished this, I hope you like it.

༉‧₊˚. Extra. Comments, likes, and reblogs are highly appreciated but not pressured. 🤍

༉‧₊˚. Starred Links. Navigation + Masterlist + Prompts + Taglist

Tsu’tey looks over at the aftermath of the raid, some warriors were able to get out alive but some weren’t so lucky. He walks over to his ikran ready to mount him but he looks over to your empty ikran, his chest starts to tighten as he raises his hand to his neck and presses the button on his communication device.

“Yawne, where are you?” he speaks into the communication device. When you don’t answer, he presses the button again as if the first time, he was doing it wrong. “Tiyawn, can you hear me? Are you okay?” Still no answer.

He takes a deep breath trying not to think of the worst outcome. He rushes back onto the battlefield looking at all the bodies that were spread out across the ground. “Please be okay,” He repeats in his head as he searches for you. He doesn’t want to think that there was a possibility that you were gone, if he did then that would mean he would be truly alone in this world. 

After losing Sylwanin, he didn’t think he would find love again but then there was you, a strong warrior that stole his attention, he tried not to act on those feelings but the time he spent training you, hanging out with you in his free time, seeing your angelic smile that always made his day better. By then he just knew he couldn’t ignore it any longer and courted you before any guy could snatch you up. 

When you accepted his advances, he felt like he was the happiest man alive, he thought this to be his second chance at love and he wasn’t about to take it for granted. He starts to worry as he doesn’t seem to find you anywhere and tears start to form in his eyes as he begins to think of the thought that you might be dead. “She has to be okay… she just has to be,” he lets out a deep breath as his tail drooped sadly. 

He clenches his fists as he fights the tears back, "I just got you in my life, I can’t lose you, great mother, please… I beg of you…" His ears perk up as he hears a distant cough and he looks around hoping for it to come from you.

He starts to run toward the direction the cough came from and when he does he sees you trapped under a piece of metal, his eyes widen in fear and he immediately rushes over, easily picking up the scrap metal and throwing it to the side.

He examines your state, you had wounds that were placed on your stomach and arms but nothing too serious, he drops to his knees carefully taking you into his arms, and softly embraces you as he silently thanks Eywa causing a small groan to escape from your mouth.

“Oops, sorry tiyawn,” he adjusts you softly in his arms to make you more comfortable, he places his lips on your forehead giving it a kiss before looking at your beautiful eyes. 

“Tsu’tey, I’m so glad to see you,” you slowly raise your hand to caress his cheek, and a small smile appears on your face, he takes your hand kisses the inside of your palm, and holds it tightly as if he let go, you’d disappear.

“You scared me, tiyawn,” the tears that he held back finally spilling down his face “I’m never letting you go again, Nga yawne lu oer,” he kisses your forehead again making you smile but wince when you make a slight move.

“Alright, let's get you back so you can get treated.” He carefully picks you up and carries you in bridal style as he slowly makes his way to his ikran, again thanking eywa for bringing you back to him.

🔖 @livelaughloak, @jakesully-sbabygirl, @kenzi-woycehoski, @fanboyluvr, @onlytays, @amart-e, @vxncxntt, @blep24, @blackheart-stuff, @almondmilk8, @love-chx, @uniltsatirey, @23victoria, @saeayanaa, @aash3, @canaomfa, @neteyamsbaby, @0littlelucy0, @itszmedawn, @strawberryclouds22, @doulcha, @lixiesbrowniess, @liluvtojineteyam, @tinkerbelle05, @olivikiya, @neteyamyawne, @ratchetprime211.

© neteyamsoare 2023. | All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[anniespositivity]

If you are currently going through a difficult time, I want you to know that it is ok if you are not functioning as usual. It is ok if you are not doing it all. Please do not be so hard on yourself, my love. You are fighting. You are surviving. And that is enough. If you do not have the strength to clean your whole place, it is ok to pick out one single thing like changing your pillow case or taking out the bin. If you have no energy to cook a full on meal, it is ok if you just eat something, anything. It does not even have to be healthy. Right now it is all about the baby steps. And it is absolutely ok if life feels hard right now - just remember that you are allowed to do things differently in this situation. Be gentle with yourself.

[damn-stark]

Sugar

Shit the boys send you…

Stuff you take…

[monoiing]

so sane abt him

[witchy-writer-lady]

I don't know if it was said yet — if it was I'm sorry in advance, — but Geto Suguru gives off strong Sephiroth vibes for me (And not just because Takahiro Sakurai voices Cloud and Geto).

Like:

1. Both are praised as the best; Sephiroth as First Class SOLDIER and Shinra's poster boy; Geto as Special Grade sorcerer.

2. Both break down after being confronted with the harsh reality; Sephiroth "finding truth" about JENOVA Project; Geto and the whole Star Plasma Vessel Arc, enough said.

3. As the result of said breakdown, they burn down the villages; Nibelheim; Mimiko and Nanako's village.

4. Both faced down their friends in the wake of the massacres; Gojo and Zack obviously.

5. Both want to remake the world in their image; Planet as my vessel, yada, yada; Geto's whole idiotic plan regarding non-shamans.

And that's why Geto is giving off Sephiroth vibes for me. That's the points I observed and remember at the moment. Don't hesitate to add more in the notes!

[whimsic404-deactivated20260406]

sensitive ft. toji fushiguro

to be as strong and high-spirited as you are, toji was definitely caught off-guard when he found you crying for the first time.

it didn’t happen on purpose, either. there was no sign as to why you’d be upset, you hadn’t told him anything all day that could even lead to you being so sad, sobbing hysterically into his pillow.

but that didn’t matter. all toji understood was that you were upset, sad, angry, something; and he needed to make it better. so there he stood, frozen in his tracks for a while, an unfamiliar pang in his chest at your cries—the sound alone almost upset him, for some reason.

you didn’t notice toji until he slid into bed behind you, easily scooping up your body in his arms and moving you around to rest on his chest, your arms still grasping the pillow. your cries got even harder for a second at the realization toji had you.

“hey, hey,” toji spoke, calmly, soft, “what’s wrong, babydoll?”

toji’s brows furrowed when you only sniffled and hyperventilated for a minute, chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath—to no avail. if it wasn’t for you practically melting into his touch, he would’ve thought he was making the situation even worse.

“baby,” toji whispered, waiting for a moment before pressing your head into the middle of his chest, “breathe.” his palm ran over your head repeatedly, taking big, deep breaths of his own in hopes you’d follow after. he could feel your tears soaking through his shirt, making big, wet spots, but at that moment, he cared for nothing more than to make you feel better.

like magic, your breathing began to slow down, sniffles becoming less frequent, the clutch you had on the pillow softening. toji took a big sigh of relief at that. he held you like that for a solid fifteen minutes, gently rocking you back and forth with his body.

yet toji didn’t count the minutes, he just stayed. stayed until you stopped crying, until your breathing was back to normal, until there was no sign of woe in the room. he rested his chin atop your head for a little, stroking your arm with his fingertips.

“you okay?” toji asked, almost awkwardly, when obviously, you were not okay.

“mhm,” you hummed, eyes open and staring at the window next to your shared bed.

“hey,” toji repeated, drawing his head back, your sad, wet eyes attracted to his like magnets, “none of that. what’s wrong?” just the simple question caused tears to well up in your eyes again, but you blinked them away and sighed.

“don’t know,” you said, resting your head on his chest by yourself that time, “overwhelmed, i guess. and i watched a sad movie. everything jus’ got to me at once.”

toji frowned, knowing he had no idea that life was piling up on you—and he hadn’t done anything to help beforehand.

“‘m sorry, baby,” he apologized, pecking a kiss to the top of your head, “didn’t know you were so stressed.”

“it’s not your fault, toji,” you replied, nuzzling into his chest, “i just suck at communicating.”

“that makes two of us,” he paused, thinking deeply about what to say next, “you can tell me whatever. scream, cry, hit me, i don’t care.”

“toji, i’m not gonna hit you,” you giggled, a smile finally creeping on your face—the smile toji had been waiting for since he first saw you so upset.

and for once in his life, with you in his arms, toji thought he was doing something right.

[meiieiri]

LITTLE NYMPH OF HIS HEART — GETO SUGURU

❁—SYNOPSIS: in which suguru meets his newborn daughter.

a/n: my writer’s block has me in such a horrible chokehold that this took me an hour to write. also, fuck why isn't this real UGH (⇀‸↼‶)⊃

only an hour and twelve minutes old and she’s already crushing his heart into irreparable smithereens. and she isn’t even doing anything.

she doesn’t have to, really, she could just sleep soundly, and maybe let out a tiny little coo now and then, and her father would weep a million tears to flood the entire earth and plunge it into the realm of archaic legends maybe even more mythical than that of the ancient underwater city of atlantis.

suguru sniffles, holding the little bundle closer to his bare chest when she yawns and shifts ever so slightly, favoring the warmth of her father’s skin. so this is what the doctors meant when they said that the first skin-to-skin contact with his newborn was going to be an emotional affair, he downplayed it as some gross exaggeration and even refused the roll of tissues the nurses had been offering him.

and what a huge blunder that was.

“look at her,” he brings a calloused thumb to stroke her rosy cheek, fearing that the weight of his entire hand would overwhelm the little girl. no, his little girl — your newborn daughter.

“it’s like she knows she’s a heartbreaker,” he turns to look at you, his eyes glossy with joyful tears. “just like you.”

you could only let out a quiet tearful laugh, your voice absolutely shredded and strained from the harrowing ordeal of bringing your most precious one into the world.

“or you,” you retort, leaning your head back against the many pillows that suguru had the nurses bring in. “just how many nurses did you have to wink at for these?” you joked, gesturing to the pillows, and the many comforts such as hot compresses and ice chips sitting atop your hospital bedside table.

suguru rolls his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. he turns his attention to the little girl who, seemingly having heard her parents’ voices, feels a little left out leading her to create a slight fuss in her dad’s arms, hiccuping once.

“oh,” suguru coos, consoling her by tickling the soft skin of her feet. “it’s okay, mama’s just being mean.”

despite his words though, he slowly stands up and carefully joins you on the bed, instinctively wrapping an arm around you to tuck you into his side, his heartbeat on the high line knowing that both his girls were safe in his arms, where the both of you rightfully belonged.

“but you’re gonna love her anyway. i know i do,” he reassures his daughter, stroking her little tuft of obsidian black hair, his first gift to her, as if the newborn had the intellectual capacity to understand a single word that comes out of his mouth.

you indulge him anyway, leaving him to his sweet ramblings, preferring not to say anything that could sully this moment of pure unadulterated bliss, a mere passing second in the vast expanse of the turbulent life you and suguru will have to lead as protectors of those who are vulnerable to the demonic forces that lurk in the world’s many back-alleys where even the purest sunlight could not reach. suguru’s soul had been so tormented by the abyssal darkness that slowly consumed him owed to the many cursed spirits he’s had to exorcise that he had long believed himself to be damned, forsaken by the heavens.

but now, how could he still find the nerve to hold on to that pessimistic and borderline cynical belief as he cradles the little nymph of his heart in his arms?

suddenly, a thought hits you and you sit up to stare down at your daughter who was contentedly and happily gurgling away as suguru pokes the tip of her nose.

“akari,” you whisper, testing out the feel of your daughter’s would be name on your lips — the faithful companion that will walk with her for life, a sacred gift that will outlive you and her father. suguru’s eyes widen, awe-struck at the notion of you wanting to name your daughter after the brilliant morning sun, the same one that had greeted her the minute she came into this world.

“akari,” suguru’s voice wobbles. overwhelmed by the rush of emotions, he shifts to press a loving kiss on the crown of your head before bringing akari’s little hand to his lips, softly kissing her minuscule fingers in pure adoration. “heaven’s light.”

[ffagwaii]

[foundheavenly]

Masterlist

The temple chambers are dimly lit, with incense burning softly in the background. Sukuna has just returned from his absence, his ominous and overwhelming aura filling the room. He found you lying on the bed, nursing wounds from the recent attack.

You looked up at him and immediately felt this dangerous aura. He stood there, his crimson eyes narrowing, and he let out a low sound almost like a growl. “Who did this to you? Tell me their names, and I’ll ensure they regret drawing breath.”

Letting out a sigh, you tried to sit up but you simply winced at the pain. Your whole fragile body was aching from the wounds. “Sukuna, please, it’s nothing. Just some sorcerers from the capital who thought they could break you by hurting me.”

His fists clenched and his jaw tightened. “Nothing? This is not nothing. You are my wife- my queen. Anyone who lays a hand on you deserves to be erased from existence.”

You looked down, feeling his intense gaze. “I never wanted you to go to such lengths for me. I thought you married me to gain control over my village. I didn’t expect this…this care from you.”

For a moment his intense eyes pierced at you but they softened almost immediately as he kneeled beside you. “Foolish woman. I may have taken you to secure the land, but I stayed because i chose to keep you. Your every breath, your every pain- it’s mine to protect.”

You shivered at his words. Since when your relationship changed at this point?

“I thought I was nothing more than a sacrifice. A mere tool for you.”

He let out a breathy chuckle and reached out, brushing a hand along your bruised cheek. “A sacrifice?” Sukuna said and kept his eyes into yours. “You’re far more than that. You have shown me peace, patience…things i never cared to know. You taught me softness in a world I ruled with terror.” And suddenly his voice dropped to a dangerous tone. “So tell me. Who dared to think they could harm my queen while I was gone?”

“I’m not sure. I guess it was the sorcerers who want you dead. They were chanted something strange- something they thought could sever our bond.”

“As if mere sorcerers like them could sever something I have bound myself to. I will find them, every last one.” He looked at you with an intense gaze. “But first, my love, you will rest. I’ve already sent for the healers. Let them tend to you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise yet you couldn’t help the smile on your lips. “Thank you.”

He stood up, towering you with his giant height and four arms. His tone was firm yet soft. “Never thank me for protecting what’s mine.”

The healers arrived and bowed deeply to Sukuna before approaching you with a mix of reverence and fear. Under his cold, watchful gaze, they tend to your wounds with the utmost gentleness, knowing full well what would happen if they caused you even a sliver of pain.

A young healer gently cleaned and bandaged your arm. “Please, let us know if anything hurts, my lady. We’ve brought ointments that should ease the wounds.”

The second healer, an older man, turned to Sukuna and nervously looked up. “Master, we’ll be careful. She’ll be well in no time.”

“Good.” He simply said yet it was sharp as a knife. “I don’t want a single mistake. Her pain will be your pain. Understood?”

They nodded in unison.

They world quickly but gently, applying ointments and bandages to your wounds. You winced here and there, but it’s clear they’re doing their best to avoid hurting you. Sukuna’s presence loomed over them, his gaze never leaving you.

After a moment, he spoke. “Once they are finished, rest. I’ll take care of everything else.”

“You already do too much. I don’t want to burden you…”

He frowned. “Enough. Protecting you is no burden. They will suffer for what they have done. Just focus on healing.”

Once satisfied that the healers have done everything correctly, Sukuna nodded in approval. He turned to you one last time, his gaze lingering. “I’ll be back soon. No one else will dare come near you.”

He left the chambers, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. As he stepped outside, he let his fury settle over him like a cloak. He already knew who orchestrated this attack, and his mind sharpened with a dark satisfaction. Soon, those foolish enough to challenge him- and to harm you- will pay a steep price.

In the shadows of the capital, Sukuna’s aura surged as he moved through the crowded streets, homing in on his targets. He didn’t need to ask for information, the mere presence of his power sent whispers rippling through the city.

“They thought they could hide from me. Cowards.”

He knew exactly where to find them. Tonight, those who dared to touch his precious gem will learn what it means to cross the King of Curses.

[sfonsecan]

[frenchcoucou]

geto ∩^ω^∩

ac: mossbun_

[summer-oil-inactive]

mornings with suguru feel like a pipe dream.

there’s something honeyed in the air, bleeding into the scent of freshly brewed espresso, fried eggs resting on the stove, newly bought flowers on the windowsill — apricot nectar heavy on your tongue, dripping down your lip in a sticky stream. his thumb reaches over to wipe it away before you can even try.

suguru is sitting right in front of you, looking like what dreams are made of. eyes a little bleary, mind still sinking into the reality of morning, hair put up into a messy bun; raven strands tickling his forehead and framing his eyes, warm and fond, a nice mocha brown. he’s wearing a white button-up, the scent of laundry detergent seeping into the fabric. he’s smiling, and you’re so in love you can barely breathe.

he always wakes up before you. always has breakfast prepared, or half-done, by the time you stumble into the kitchen on unsteady feet — you love clinging to his back while he cooks. but you love this even more.

outside the frail glass of your window, the world is subdued by the changing seasons. autumn is in full bloom, the sky enveloped by wet, molten clouds, a light layer of mist; on the ground are a row of golden trees. it’s a cozy, indoor kind of morning, the kind that makes your veins feel all sleepy, heart all tender, as if melted down by the gentle rain — the kind that has you sipping from your cup, rubbing your eyes, watching your fiancé from across the kitchen table.

there’s nectar on your tongue, espresso behind your teeth, and you wish you could open your mouth and speak. but you’re too tired, still far too groggy — far too sentimental. you can scarcely breathe. you can only sit there, and silently think: i could never love anyone like you. could never even come close.

do you have any idea what i’d do for you?

you’re sure he doesn’t. sure he prefers to see himself as your protector, not the other way around — that he’s most comfortable being a caretaker, rather than someone who gets taken care of. you know how he is. it’s in everything; the cup of coffee he made for you, the shirt he draped over you last night. his own, always, as if he thinks the fabric will bring you sweet dreams. it’s in the way he holds your hand when you cross the sidewalk, the way his thumb rubs over your knuckles when you’re anxious. it’s in the rain, gentle and comforting, watering your plant-like heart.

there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

nothing. absolutely nothing.

i’d drink a million cups of coffee, one after the other — i’d run out in the rain and pluck the apricots from every tree. i’d listen to that song you like. i’d listen to it until my eardrums bleed, and still wouldn’t stop.

nothing, nothing, nothing.

he turns his head, to gaze out the window, his bangs swaying gently as he does — and your gaze gulps down the lines of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, every flutter of his lashes. he parts his lips, and murmurs something about the weather. he’s smiling, a soft curve, his eyes just barely crinkled —

and you can’t breathe.

you’re so lovely it kills me.

your chest aches with yearning. you want to reach across the table and touch him, but you’re still too immobilized by how beautiful he is, how intense this love has come to feel. how devastating it is, to have this kind of life, to know you can do nothing but savour every bit of it. you can’t stop staring, drinking in his softened features, that content look in his amber-coloured eyes — the rasp under his velvety voice. your baby, your angel, your sun. 

(you want him to shine forever.)

when you look down at the table, there’s an open palm waiting for you. smooth skin, soft lines, gleaming under the dim glow of the kitchen lights. 

you look up, and suguru smiles.

he doesn’t speak until you’ve lifted your hand, tangled your fingers together with his. it feels good, the skin to skin contact, the sight of your rings pressed up against one another. his thumb begins to rub gentle circles into the knots of your knuckles, just the same as always. soothing, rhythmic, a mantra you’ve learned by heart.

”something on your mind?” he asks, softly.

(everything.)

”nothing,” you answer, a quiet lull of your tongue, averting your gaze with a heat to your ears. it’s too early for him to be so gorgeous, to aim his unbridled attention in your direction. ”i just love you…”

his lashes flutter, for a moment.

then his mind catches up to your words, and he laughs — breathy and sweet, the slightest gravelly residue. squeezing your palm in his own.

”i love you too,” he croons, lips curled upwards, and you swear you could never tire of hearing him say those words. ”is someone still a little tired, hm?”

”… maybe.”

a low chuckle. he tugs at your hand, gently, bringing it his lips; they’re warm against your skin, his hot breath seeping out, gliding across your knuckles, stopping right by your ring finger. his eyes gleam with mirth, like the golden leaves just outside your window, pressed against the glass. his voice comes out as a purr. ”do you need another cup, my love?”

his lips trails down, all the way to your wrist, catching onto your pulsepoint. you can’t help but shiver.

”or should i wake you up just like this?”

he’s smiling, and something about it seems smug. he knows exactly how weak you are. and he must think he’s flustering you, acting so suave — but that’s not quite it. when he’s tilting his head like that, he looks more like a puppy than anything, so cute you think you might just melt right through the floorboards.

through the sleepy haze of your mind, to the tips of your fingers — your brain retaliates.

you tug his hand back, bringing yours with it; all the way to your puckered lips. lazily smearing a kiss on the inside of his palm, just barely catching the hitch of his breath, the inhale his heartbeat deigns to swallow down. it makes you smile, against his skin.

(and the tips of his ears bloom with heat.)

everything i need is you. the words are silent, unspoken, only barely mouthed against his skin. i don’t need the rain or the sun. just you, only you. 

when you pull away, your intertwined fingers finding their way back to the tablecloth, suguru gives you another smile. almost painfully tender.

you can’t help but feed into each other, like this. on sleepy mornings, when the words don’t come as easy, so actions are all you have. that, and loving gazes. all you can think is that you want more autumn mornings; you don’t want any of them to end before you’ve finished sipping from your cup of espresso, finished watching him from across the table. not until you’ve woken up enough to spill the words helplessly building up in the back of your throat, the butterflies stuffed in between your ribs. 

until then, this morning mantra will have no choice but to continue. until then, you’ll opt to stay silent.

until then, all you can do is stare.

(and all your mind can think, is nothing, nothing, could ever measure up to this. nothing in the world.)

[gojosbf]

they're literally every trope ever