Sweets n sugar!!✨✨

I’m a decent writer, but if you request something I’d probably do them, I don’t mind unless it’s just really weird… 03/24/2003

[rishiimaa]

Hello!! Since I guess I’m starting to write on tumblr lately, I’ll do an about me page and requests you can take from me!

My name is Destinei! I’d rather you call Rishima, but if you want, you can call me by my first name! :3

Requests:Open ||

Closed | X |

About me

My favorite color is yellow, surprisingly, and as you could tell, my favorite anime is Sakura Cardcaptor ! and my favorite character is Spinel (Suppie) ! :>

Requests I’d take

Angst

Fluff

Smut (Not with minors)

I would do fanfics with your oc’s if you like!! :)

Requests I WON’T take

Yandere

R@pe

kidnapping

Toxic relationships

Abuse

Dub-con

Smut (With minors)

Animes I can write about!

Naruto

Jjk

Mashle

Pokemon

Sailor moon

Sakura cardcaptor

Dragon ball (Z and super)

One piece (maybe?? I haven’t finished it yet)

Demon slayer!!

Inuyasha

mha

Video games I’d maybe write fanfics about!

Kingdom hearts

Pokemon

Sonic

Mario

Ships that I can do!

I do all ships! Just as long as it isn’t toxic! So if you have a ship you like, don’t be afraid to send me a request about it, I love all ships and I think they can all be cute in their own way! :3

Characters i WON’T write about

Mahito.

(Sorry, I just…don’t see potential in him.)

P.S: I can draw! If anyone has commissions I’d love to give them to you! Here’s some examples lay on my tik tok! And a bit of my instagram!

It’s my first time commissioning, so go easy ob me with prices,

Sketches - 5$

Lineart - 10$

Flat color - 15$

(I don’t render, so i’ll just call this details) - 20$

And, All of those with Shading - 25$

Some of the things I can draw

-Furries

-Humans

-Animals

-pfp

-OC drawings

-Poc

-Plus size (I don’t think I can do men as well I can do women)

———————-

Things I can’t draw, like… physically

-Backgrounds

-gore

I could draw these for you…but I can promise it won’t be well 😭

—————————-

Please tell me if you’d want some art! You can dm on insta or tiktok or even here! And however you want your drawing, I’ll personally price itself.

At the moment, I take zelle or apple pay! I may do more payment methods in the future

Also, some please tell me if my art shouldn’t be this expensive, I really don’t want backlash, and could someone also give me advice for this stuff? 😭

https://www.instagram.com/dessie_bug?igsh=MXR5NzE5OXEyMGJ2Yw%3D%3D&utm_source=qr

I am @doodle_nxxdle on TikTok. To download the app and watch more videos, tap: https://m.tiktok.com/invitef/download?username=muser&platform

TikTok

[erosiism]

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐘 | yandere! priest x male! reader | NSFW

pairing: yandere priest x chosen one reader

CONTAINS

extreme yandere

nsfw

religious themes

overstimulation

extremely dubious consent; stockholm syndrome

toxic behaviour

not to be glorified or romanticised!

SUMMARY: Y/N rebels consistently in church; Priest Anton teaches him a lesson to make him stay.

Y/n wakes up one day with his memory wiped out and his mind a mess. He goes to a Church for salvation and soon becomes embroiled with the handsome, all-knowing and almost otherworldly head priest, Anton. But soon, the priest’s affections become crazed, spiraling into a deadly obsession that threatens to ruin Y/n. (Perhaps the Priest Anton has had something to do with memories. But Y/n will never know that.)

referenced from my fic called twisted faith on my wattpad (linked in profile)! long overdue side story of what would’ve happened if Y/n ran away from him! welcome back anton; been a while since I wrote you…yes i do have something also pretty similar to this on my profile which i only remembered abt after this was written but still I hope you enjoy this!

art done by the incredibly reverenced_cicada!!!

please comment, reblog; and like this if you enjoyed it!!

**

He doesn’t remember the ruin; the blood soaked fingers that thread through his hair. Softly, gently, lovingly. He doesn’t remember his trembles beneath him, the soft, strangled moans, the claw marks left on his back. Y/n didn’t remember any of it — his memory is closed and bottled and gone and his mind is a mess. He remembers scratching at the door of the church for mercy, and being welcomed.

Y/n remembers first meeting him, the man clothed in white; the man with silky golden hair and cerulean blue eyes. The man who was so devastatingly and damningly beautiful that people stopped to stare at him; the man with the gentle smile that swallowed your rage. The man named Anton.

“Poor thing,” Anton had told Y/n, and his fingers had been warm then. Y/n would’ve mistaken anything for warmth; he was so horribly starved of touch and affection that even the simplest of words could feel like the sun to him. And so he basked in it. “Poor thing,” Anton said quietly, “you are at the mercy of God. At me.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Y/n choked out. He knew the emptiness gnawing at his brain. Chewing at nothing, with a bottomless hunger that had yet not been satiated. His fingers had clutched at the priest’s robes; he had nearly cried out from reprieve at seeing another human; another life form. He had stumbled on the bare roads alone. Something about the priest had seemed so familiar and it filled Y/n with indescribable relief.

“You’re trembling,” Anton had murmured softly and gently in return, his fingers brushing Y/n’s cheek. “How fortunate, then. You have stumbled upon the one place that you can be saved. The only place you will be saved.”

Y/n had drunk his words in at the point of time. He had been — ah, what’s that word? He had been docile, yes he had. He had been so painfully and ridiculously pliant to the priest’s needs then, so much like a lamb that had been reared for him, the shepherd — that he now laughed at the absurdity of it all.

The priest, who had been so charming at first, was a vicious monster. The smile never left his face; that ineffable mannerisms he had that was so graceful; so powerful, so divine…and yet Anton robbed people of their lives so easily; with a careless flick and a sanguine, saccharine smile. His fingers were bloody when they traced Y/n’s back, when they touched his face…when they left a crimson, unforgiving trail.

He will kill me, Y/n always thought, he will kill me one day. He will murder me; like he has murdered so many of his foolish believers who throw themselves at his feet…

“When will you kill me?” Y/n had begged once, after the thirty eighth slaughter, after the last of the flames had been snuffed out and burnt carcasses lay on the floor again. “Why did you welcome me? Why did you — why did you let me live and why do you treat me so well? Why do you treat me like I’m special — when you are simply going to kill me?”

Oh, yes, Anton treated him so differently. During service Anton rebuked those who tormented Y/n for being a new believer. Y/n watched as others poured their savings out for Anton and he didn’t bat an eye at them. But with Y/n…why? Y/n’s memories had not yet returned; and he was beginning to accept the bleak reality that it would never do so. And so now he was left to spiral here, in this crazed madness where the priest ruled this place like a cult and he had no answers and only him —

I should never have come, Y/n found himself thinking over this all the time, I should never have been on that path, walking towards the church. This is not holy: this is not divine.

“Oh, Y/n,” Anton sighed. “Oh, Y/n.” He stalked towards Y/n; his large strides making Y/n flinch and cower and summon the last vestiges of his strength to bare his teeth; like a dog that had yet not been tamed. The priest’s hands were cold this time round as he tipped the (h/c)-haired boy’s chin up. “You will never die. You are the Chosen One. The one who is my most beloved ordained proxy. The heavens have chosen you. I have chosen you.”

His words were sweet, coated in so much honey that Y/n wanted to vomit.

“You kill all of them,” Y/n choked out, “you -you cannot possibly believe that what you’re doing is —”

“You don’t understand,” Anton said sadly, “not yet; it seems.”

“Murder,” Y/n finished, “it’s fucking murder- do you hear me? I can’t believe I ever listened to you- I can’t believe I ever thought I would — kill me, just kill —”

“You were like this before,” Anton’s tone had hardened, but it held that tone of wistfulness from before. Almost stern; like a beguiling parent chiding a naughty child. “Then I went through all that trouble to do that…and still you rebel; still you fight. How many lessons do you need to learn?”

“Fuck you,” the words had slipped from Y/n’s throat before he knew it, “fuck your murderous tendencies and your cult and your deranged —”

Anton had taken his arm then, in a grip so tight it bruised, and had forced Y/n to stare at those unsettling eyes of his. Y/n had swallowed; Anton had looked hungrily at him; with thinly veiled desire and fondness and reluctance.

Reluctance…?

“It pains me to do this,” Anton said calmly, his voice soft. “But it seems punishment is needed for you. I shall not do something as extreme as what I did the last time…but you do need to learn a lesson.”

“No,” Y/n whispered.

“You will be declared holy. You will be consecrated. You will be freed from sin.”

The lessons would be the start of despair; of torment.

**

Y/n remembers his attempts at fighting. He remembers clawing at locked doors that won’t budge; the endless darkness that he was drenched in, the protest of not eating food and water. He remembers the corpses lined up in his mind, relentless and determined to make him miserable. He remembers screaming; until his throat is hoarse and until he is sure the Gods have grown tired of his misery. He remembers cursing God at his pain; at his situation.

“Will you surrender yet?” Anton asks softly. He holds a starved Y/n; his arms the only flicker of warmth. Y/n’s head, on his lap, the hallucinations driving him mad. He looks at the priest; he stares. He feels emptiness, hatred.

Starving himself had not worked; he had been forcibly fed. He had tried to stab the priest with a knife, and it had melted into a puddle of wax.

“Sin is resistance,” Anton tells him, smiling so serene, so beautiful. “I will purge you of it. You are Chosen, Y/n: remember that. I will allow no one to taint you; no one to touch you.”

Y/n remembers slipping into a haze. He remembers lips against his own. He remembers being too weak to fight back.

**

Days become weeks; and weeks — they become something completely indecipherable; slipping elusively through the cracks of time. Y/n doesn’t remember Anton ever harming him — not physically, at least; but Anton torments him. Anton bathes him; dresses him in all white, and prays over him with hands that linger too long on the throat. Y/n feels the anger dying in his mouth: but it is so bountiful, so full that it wriggles between his gum like cavities. Anton’s obsession is so sweet it rots Y/n’s teeth.

He speaks of the prophecy; at how they united together through divine matrimony — “You belong to me,” Anton says sweetly. He whispers quietly and presses their foreheads together while Y/n squirms and sobs.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Y/n says deliriously, “I cannot. I cannot — I cannot accept this: I cannot — I cannot live like this. Let me go, Anton. Let me go —”

Who was he before this? Has he ever been a person? What had the outside been like?

I am utterly isolated, Y/n realizes and he weeps; he weeps big, grieving, loud cries. I do not know anyone else except for him; why has Anton imbued me with only the knowledge of him?

Anton tilts his head and his voice is flat as he speaks. “You still choose to rebel.”

“I —”

“Was everything I did for naught?” He says tonelessly. He looks at Y/n. “I have gone to this extent and you want me to let you go,” he says. His tone is terrifyingly dark and Y/n is shaking, and oh god, the mantra of please let me go repeats in Y/n’s head and he’s stumbling and crying and —

“I declared that I would make you holy,” Anton says, smiling. But it is without mirth; it is completely empty.

“And so I will,” Anton says, “perhaps it’s time to purify you.”

Anton takes Y/n’s hand; very very gently. He pulls Y/n away; for once Y/n is out of that dark attic and he winces when light meets his skin and he wonders if the word purify has a negative or positive connotation to it because he’s free, and he’s seeing the outside world, and —

Oh.

There are hands tearing at his robes, there are harsh kisses pressed to his collarbone and Anton is undressing and there is an — altar; an incense burning in a censer and its smells sweet…Y/n hallucinates a lute playing; a pipe…

“After this I will give you a choice,” Anton says cruelly with a smile; “to leave. If you can walk, that is.”

**

Y/n learns that his moans are loud; strangled, like his screams. Or perhaps his moans and screams are blending together and he doesn’t know which is which; but he does know that they are ripped mercilessly from his throat and at least the constant thing in his life is that he is offered no mercy.

“This is what I was supposed to do,” Anton says, his voice a sigh. His eyes are impossibly dark and his expression is so cold and terrifying and warm at the same time…his fingers ghost over Y/n’s body and he shivers; he feels the touch glide up to his nipples and he feels teeth rest at the curve of his throat.

I can feel his pulse, Y/n thinks. I can feel him…entering me…breaking me…all of him.

Y/n knows his scream is loud when the priest pushes his large cock into his body; when he feels his walls tighten around painfully around him like they’re welcoming him, the traitorous hardening of his own cock that is left untouched. He feels delirious, delirious with painful pleasure when the thrusts become forceful and Anton is moving, he’s moving and pushing into him and each time Y/n accepts him, Y/n’s hands go to his back and they scratch and claw.

Their kisses are ravenous. They are dotted with sin, lined with pleasure and desire that should not exist. It is the forbidden fruit; they are falling from the Garden of Eden and Anton has claimed him. There are bottomless pools of blood in Y/n’s vision when he looks at Anton; when he cries for him to stop! And yet his own body aches; wants more. Y/n arches his back still, feels the delicate curve of his spine bending in submission and he twitches his hips while Anton takes more; he takes more and more and he does not stop.

“You will not leave,” Anton says in between his thrusts; as he nips Y/n’s ear. He smiles victoriously above Y/n’s body. “After I’m done…you shall be complete; perfect. I have held back for you.”

“Anton,” Y/n cries out. The name is stuck in his throat, hoarded in his mouth. Why is it all he knows? Where are his memories? Where is the past, the before? Where is his identity — is Anton right; does it rest with him?

(Chosen; chosen, chosen. You are the Chosen One. Why run away?)

“My darling,” Anton says; and he laughs. “Do you want me to continue? You want choices, don’t you? There it is. Do you want me to continue?”

Y/n whimpers below him. “Anton,” he repeats. His mind is broken; he cannot think but god everything is empty and the church is all he has, and —

“Beg,” Anton says, his voice stern. His fingers thrum against the expanse of Y/n’s flesh. He waits to take him apart, to peel him like a fruit and to devour him whole. The bruises on Y/n’s hip have a dull sort of pain. He cannot think.

“Do it, Y/n,” Anton coaxes, tone gentler this time. He kisses the tears off Y/n’s face. “Be good for me. You can do that, right? You can be so good…”

“Please,” the word leaves Y/n’s mouth. “Please ruin me. Please purify me. Please save me.”

Anton crashes his lips onto Y/n; drunk off his declaration; his plea, his piteous, soft cries. He knew Y/n would come around one day. He knew Y/n had to; he knew it was their fates intertwined, their destinies together melding into a singular line. The sex that follows is even more overwhelming; but it is glorious, it is divine.

After it is over, after Y/n is sprawled on the stained sheets and the sweet smell of the incense continues to permeate Y/n’s nostrils… Anton cradles him; soothes him after it’s over.

“Do you still wish to run?” He asks. Then, a more brutal question; “Can you still run?”

**

Y/n is given a choice. He remembers the ruin; the divinity; the purification. He is sanctified, he is pure, he is holy. He is made new.

Anton smiles. “Darling; do you still want to leave?”

Y/n feels a barrage of soft kisses on his forehead. The priest is gentle. The priest is kind. He is chosen.

(Forgive me, Y/n thinks to whatever God who has ignored him, Forgive me, for I no longer wish to be saved.)

**

PAST

“You disobey me,” Anton said quietly. “You slit your wrists; you run away. I have no choice but to start over; to erase your reality. To start from point one.”

“Stop,” Y/n screamed, “do you have enough of this? Do you have enough of —”

“I shall erase your memory,” Anton said, sounding pleased with himself. “Yes; that will be brilliant.”

“I will always run,” Y/n told him through his despairing tears, through the haze of pain and through the priest’s clutch on him. “I will run from you.”

Anton stared at Y/n, before he laughed. He laughed for a good minute; before he stared at Y/n like he had said something so painfully amusing.

“My darling,” Anton shook his head, “my dear. You will never stray from the divine path. You will find me. You will be helpless; you will knock on my door and you will beg for me.”

“No,” Y/n choked out, “I will not. I will kill myself before doing so.”

Anton looked fondly at Y/n. “You funny thing. I will bring you from the dead. You cannot run from me.”

The priest kissed Y/n for the last time; the (h/c)-haired male struggled viciously, but eventually slumped in the priest’s arms.

Anton smiled. Ah; yes, Y/n was his. Nothing could tear them apart; he was God; he commanded the will of the universe. He would wait. He would wait to purify him; to make him stronger; to make him holy…

To sanctify him.

**

please support me by reblogging, liking, and commenting

[classyrbf]

Just wanted to pop in and say thank you so much to everyone who has reached out about Winters passing and sending me their condolences and experiences with the same situation. I appreciate all of you guys. I see all your comments, messages and dms and they have been nothing but kind.

I’m still missing my baby very much and still trying to process that he’s gone but I know he’ll forever be in my heart. Meanwhile, I am taking care of my other baby, Smokey, who seems affected by Winters passing. I’m just making sure he doesn’t feel alone in his grieving process as well.

I do miss writing and being silly on here but I’d rather fully go through the healing process before putting a facade on social media and pretending everything is okay.

Once again, I thank you all very much for your kind words and support. ❤️

(Say hi to Smokey everyone!!!)

[blue-lock-real]

kaiser, you said your type in women are beautiful and smart girls… thoughts on pretty nerds ☝️😼 (im literally that nerd emoji)

...as long as you're smart, pretty and you worship me like how I deserve.

[rishiimaa]

Hi there 🌿

We recently shared our story about escaping Gaza and trying to reunite as a family 🕊️

It's been an overwhelming journey, and we're doing everything we can but we could really use help getting our story seen 💔

If you feel like reblogging or sharing our story, it would mean the world to us 🌍

Thank you so much for your time 🙏

And sorry if this message feels out of place.

@mohamedandhisfamily

Hiii!! Yes! I’m more than happy to do that, you heard them, when you see this, please reblog to get it out please!

[rishiimaa]

IS IT JUST ME OR DO I JUST NOT LIKE THE THREESOME SMUT FICS? I CRINGE SO BAD, I’M CRYING SAVE ME FROM THIS CRYEL WORLD

[bloodyboi]

[i2rizz]

New year's countdown Pt.2

Fandom: Blue Lock!

Characters: Kaiser x reader

_______________________________________

Kaiser wasn’t the type to sit back and let moments come to him. He seized them, bent them to his will, and made them his. So when you shyly suggested spending New Year’s Eve together, just the two of you, he couldn’t resist making it a night to remember.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected when he showed up at your apartment that evening. A casual dinner? Watching fireworks from the balcony? Maybe a kiss at midnight?

But Michael Kaiser didn’t do anything halfway.

The knock at your door came promptly at 8 PM, and when you opened it, your breath caught. Kaiser stood there, dressed in a sharp, tailored coat, his blond hair glinting under the hallway light. He held out his hand with an amused smirk.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning to spend New Year’s Eve in pajamas,” he teased, his eyes sweeping over your cozy outfit.

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “What’s wrong with pajamas? I thought we agreed on a quiet night in.”

“Correction,” he said, stepping into your space. “You said that. I, however, had a better idea.”

Before you could protest, he grabbed your hand and led you toward his car, parked just outside. The city sparkled like a jewel against the night sky, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement despite yourself.

“Where are we going?” you asked as he opened the passenger door for you, his usual smirk softening into something almost... tender.

“You’ll see,” he said simply, the glint in his eye making it clear he wasn’t going to spoil the surprise.

The drive was filled with playful banter, his confidence disarming as always. Every now and then, he’d glance at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips when he thought you weren’t looking.

Eventually, the car slowed as you approached a quiet hill overlooking the city. The view was breathtaking—lights stretched as far as the eye could see, the buzz of the city below muted by the distance.

“You did all this for me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you stepped out of the car.

“For us,” he corrected, pulling out a blanket and a thermos from the trunk. “I figured if we’re going to ring in the new year, we might as well do it right.”

You settled onto the blanket together, the thermos revealed to hold hot chocolate he’d actually made himself (“I’m not just a pretty face, you know,” he’d said, winking). The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, the city’s lights twinkling like stars as you leaned into his side.

“Why go through all this trouble?” you asked eventually, your voice breaking the quiet. “You could’ve spent tonight anywhere—with anyone.”

Kaiser turned to you, his expression unusually serious. “Do you really not see it?”

“See what?”

“You’re the only person who makes all of this—the games, the fame, the pressure—worth it,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “You remind me there’s more to life than winning.”

Your breath hitched at the vulnerability in his tone, so different from the confident, almost cocky Kaiser you were used to. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering.

As the countdown began from a distance, carried on the faint cheers of the city below, his eyes never left yours.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

Kaiser cupped your face gently, his thumb tracing your cheek.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

“I don’t need fireworks to celebrate,” he murmured. “All I need is you.”

“Four! Three! Two!”

And when the clock struck midnight, his lips found yours—warm, firm, and full of promises for a new year together.

The world around you seemed to pause, the distant sound of fireworks fading as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his signature smirk returning.

“Happy New Year, meine Königin,” he whispered.

_______________________________________

[rishiimaa]

YA’LL THIS IS INSANE AND SO CUTE IT HAD ME SILENT SCREAMING IN THE DARK CORNER OF MY ROOM 😭

[rishiimaa]

DEAR PEOPLES IF TUMBLR!! I AM IN NEED OF YOUR HELP!!

I am saving money for a cosplay for weebcon, I’m broke so I don’t have much to spend 😖

I can draw pretty decently! So I’m opening commissions to sell.

It's my first time commissioning, so go easy on me with prices,

Sketches - 5$

Lineart - 10$

Flat color - 15$

Render - 20$

And, All of those with Shading - 25$

CommissionsI will accept

-Furries

-Humans

-Animals

-pfp

-OC drawings

-Рос

-Sonic characters

-Cartoon characters

Commissions i WON’T be accepting

Nsfw+

Gore

I’d really appreciate if you helped me

I take payments from

Venmo-

Zelle-

Apple pay-

I can communicate through…

Tumblr

Snapchat- Nousername or Destinei Davis

Instagram- dessie_bug

Tik tok- rinshimaaa_

Thanks a lot :(

Some examples…

[rishiimaa]

…Listen, I love tumblr and their funny rants, smur fics, everything. BUT STOP MISTAGGING EVEREYYTHIBGGG 😡😡 EVERYTIME I SEARCH UP “Kaiser FLUFF”

I GET HIT WITH A BIG BLAST OF TWITTER PORN LINKS AND EVERYTHING, can everyone puhLEASE tag for the correct fic, cause sometimes people don’t wanna get backshots from Toji…AND IT’S THE THE SAME SITUATION TURNED AROUND, SOMETIMES I WANT THE BACKSHOTS…YA KNOW WHAT I GET…? CUTESY WOOTSY BOOSTY FICS, please just stop mistagging and let me read my fics without getting jumpscared 😞

(this is not meant to attack anyone rather it is a post telling MY opinion on the matter, I have nothing a against smut or fluff fics, so leave me alone 😡)

P. i S: Tumblr can you pwease stop recommending Toji fics? Especially the ones with the stepdad shit and the older kinky stuff, I mess with Toji but I’m not THAT crazy about him…not like Yuta…😖

[explosivelywuisa]

STOP THE NSFW POSTS I'M SAD I WANT COMFORT, NOT SOME ROUGH BACKSHOTS😭😭😭

[rishiimaa]

PLEAAAASE REALEST POST EVER

[rishiimaa]

TUMBLR STOP RECOMMENDING ME THESE KINKY ASS FANFICS, JUST GIVE ME THE ONES WITH THE SMUT AND THE GUSHY DUSHY LOVE STUFF, I DON’T DO THAT KINKY SHIT (no hate I just don’t like reading them sometimes)

- Rishima

[rishiimaa]

Guys should I like finish this cause I have quite literal art block. The reason I’m struggling because how TIME CONSUMING IT IS… LIKE I STARTED LATE LIKE 11, EXPECTING TO BE DONE AT 2…NAAAAHH… I GET DONE WITH SAKURA AT 5! I just wanted to do a fun little cute redraw with Syaoran and Sakura figures, BUT I CAN’T GET THAT, CAN’T I MOTIVATION 😡

[rishiimaa]

How…HOW DO PEOPLE WRITE SMUT AND NOT CRASH OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF IT??? I’M A ANGST AND FLUFF WRITER AND EVEN I CRASH OUT WITH THE CHEESY MOMENTS?? I NEED TO TAKE A BREAK BEFORE I EVEN CONTINUE…LIKE HOW CAN YOU SIT THERE AND WRITE OUTRAGEOUS SHIT AND NOT CRASH OUT?? IS IT A TALENT I JUST SIMPLY LACK?? WHAT IS YOUR SECRET 😭

[summer-oil-inactive]

i think sae is one of the bllk men who like it most when you cry but i fear i’m going to hell for saying it

[rishiimaa]

I NEED MORE YUTA X READER FANFICS, TUMBLR START RECOMMENDING ME YUTA X READER FANFICS I WILL PAY YOU FOR IT

[rishiimaa]

Satoru Gojo sat on the edge of his bed, the dim light of his room casting long shadows across the walls. His phone was in his hand, a small device that now felt heavy as a stone. One by one, he played the voicemails, his wife’s laughter filling the room, her voice warm and familiar.

“Hey, love,” Y/N’s voice chimed. “Don’t forget to pick up C/N after practice. She’s excited to show you her new tricks—she’s getting good, you know?”

Satoru chuckled softly, his heart aching at the sound. Then came the voicemail from his daughter, C/N, her small voice bright with innocence.

“Dad! Guess what? I won today! Can we have ice cream later? Mom says yes, but only if you say yes too!”

The room felt so full in that moment, as though they were still there, still waiting for him. But the reality of the empty bed beside him, the eerie stillness of the house, brought him back to the cold truth: neither of them was there.

A chill crawled up his spine. Where were they? Satoru stood up, scanning the quiet room, his confusion growing. It wasn’t like them to be gone like this, without a word. His eyes darted to the hallway, but there was no sound, no soft footsteps, no laughter echoing through the home.

“Y/N? C/N?” His voice cracked slightly, the unease starting to seep into his chest. He moved quickly through the house, checking the kitchen, the living room, every corner where they might be hiding, waiting with their teasing smiles. But there was only silence.

Panic gripped him. He rushed outside, into the rain that had begun to fall softly, the cold droplets hitting his skin. He didn’t even grab a jacket—just his slippers, his shirt, and his sweats. His breath quickened as he sprinted down the street, calling out their names into the night.

“Y/N! C/N!” He shouted, his voice growing hoarse as the rain pelted harder, drenching him as he ran. His feet pounded the wet pavement, slipping occasionally, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. His heart was racing, a frantic drum in his chest, pushing him forward. Something was wrong—he knew it now. Every instinct screamed that he needed to find them, now.

It wasn’t until he reached the cemetery, his slippers soaked and muddied, that his legs faltered. His breath caught in his throat as two headstones came into view, side by side, their inscriptions barely visible in the downpour.

His legs moved on their own, his body numb as he approached the graves. His vision blurred, but not from the rain. The names etched into the stone tore through him like a blade: Y/N Gojo and C/N Gojo, his wife and his daughter.

“No…” Satoru whispered, his voice barely audible. But as he sank to his knees, his fingers trembling over the wet stones, the memories came crashing back all at once.

October 31st. Shibuya. Y/N and C/N had gone out to shop, just another day, just another errand. But then—curses. A flood of them, tearing through the city like a storm of death and destruction. Satoru had been there—he’d fought, he’d saved countless lives—but not fast enough. Not for them.

He remembered the sight of Y/N and C/N, their bodies entwined even in death, his wife’s arms wrapped tightly around their daughter, shielding her even as they died. Their last moments had been together, and the last thing he heard that day was the sound of their screams—their final scream, drowned in terror, cut short before he could reach them.

He had gotten there, but too late. He was always too late.

Now, as the rain fell heavier, soaking him to his core, Satoru sat by their graves. The world felt distant, blurred around the edges, like a cruel dream he couldn’t wake from. The silence he once feared was now the only thing that stayed with him—the silence of a house that would never again hear their voices.

He covered his face, his chest heaving with sobs that ripped through him, the grief that had been buried for too long finally breaking free. He sobbed loudly, the sound raw and anguished, filling the cold, empty night. There was no one to hear him—no one left.

For all his strength, all his power, he had been helpless in the end. He couldn’t save the two people who mattered most. And now, they were gone. Truly gone. The silence, the emptiness—it wasn’t a nightmare. It was reality.

As the rain fell, Satoru finally accepted the truth: he was alone. Completely, utterly alone. His world had ended on that day, with the sound of his family’s screams. The memories flooded back, vivid and unrelenting, until there was nothing left to fight against.

The strongest sorcerer, sat broken at their graves, the weight of their absence crushing him, and for the first time, he couldn’t stand back up.

Sorry guys, yes, I know I’m messed up for this