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#ana!!! i hope you like it!!
hayakaws · 7 months
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gojo satoru ♡ 五条悟
happy belated birthday Ana! @gojosattoru
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upperranktwo · 1 year
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♡The Forger Family♡
Merry Christmas Ana ♡ @gojosattoru | From your animanga secret santa 
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corporaloretsev · 1 year
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Friends Couples who judge people together, stay together Requested by @vokrats
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kmuiyato · 2 years
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Loid Forger ↪ special gift for my sweet Ana @gojosattoru ❤
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fyodcrs · 2 years
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Miwa Kasumi ✰
Happy birthday, Ana! (ノ´ヮ´)ノ*:・゚✧ @gojosattoru
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GOJO SATORU IN JUJUTSU KAISEN 0
「 No one's allowed to take youth away from young people. 」
happy birthday ana  @gojosattoru !
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misakarose · 2 years
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★ GOJO SATORU || THE STRONGEST ★
          ↳ happy belated birthday ana!! (@gojosattoru)
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anawrites3 · 7 months
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Ana seeing as Ive just finished reading the Captive Prince trilogy, Im iching for a sladick AU with a similar premise.
In the books they mention that slaves/pets are trained to take cock well before they lose their virginity.
If Dick was given to Slade (not a Prince, maybe a member of nobility? A slave trainer? Whatever role you like)...
Ahh that's great! I havent read it yet because I just cant put my hands on it, it's so expensive here :( and I dont think any libraries nearby have it haha
But I'm always all in for some slave/master dynamics 😏💕 so have a little story, I hope it's what you were thinking about!
Dick breathed out slowly in an attempt to calm down even just slightly, and his breath shook almost as badly as his hands did when he was shading his robe. Lord Slade Wilson, the man that was his master now, was sitting comfortably on the settee in front of him, watching Dick like a predator watches its prey. He was sprawled on the soft cushions with his legs spread comfortably, his pants untied and lowered just enough to uncover his erected cock.
The thin material of Dick's robe pooled around his feet and for a moment he allowed himself to just stand there, letting Slade's hungry gaze wander around his body. It's not like it was covering much in the first place but without it Dick suddenly felt much more vulnerable.
"Do you know what to do, boy?" Slade drawled in a low voice.
With those few words, he interrupted the silence that wasn't exactly comforting but still made the whole situation feel more surreal. As if it was just a distant dream or, more precisely, a nightmare. A few words, that's all it took Slade to made everything feel so much more real for Dick.
Dick shouldn't even be there. He was a prince, even after being betrayed and sold, even after being bought by men that "trained" pleasure slaves and... and after being forced to go through said training himself- he still was a prince of Gotham, the first son of king Bruce Wayne. He shouldn't be there, gifted to lord Wilson to be his slave and do everything the man wanted.
Still, what left his mouth was, "Yes, master."
Slade kept watching him. Dick looked back, his heart pounding against his ribcage, painfully aware of every inch of his naked body, still bruised from the last time his trainers punished him.
The man patted wordlessly at his thighs and Dick stepped closer, close enough to put his hands on Slade's shoulders and take a seat on his lap. Slade's hands seemed to be scorching hot when they found their place on Dick's waist and for a moment Dick was sure that they would leave marks on his skin with barely any touch. But no - it was just Dick who was cold, still not used to this realm's weather.
Slade traced his hipbone with his thumb.
"They told me no one touched you before." He mused. "Is that true?"
Dick lowered his gaze. He wet his lips with his tongue, hating how nervous he still got while talking about it after everything he already went through.
"Yes, master. I'm fully yours."
Slade's fingers dug into his skin as Dick got pulled closer to the man, so close that their chests were pressed together, Slade's cock rubbing against his stomach.
"But you still know what to do." Slade said, more a statement than a question.
Dick swallowed, "I've been trained well."
The settee whispered when Slade leaned back against it more comfortably. He continued watching Dick's every reaction, his every move. It wasn't how Dick imagined a lover would ever look at him.
But that was before. Now he was just a pleasure slave, property of his master.
"Show me then, little bird." Slade purred out, the corner of his lips twitching up in a smirk. "Let's see how good you are."
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doppokannonzakaas · 1 year
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Merry Christmas Ana! ( @gojosattoru )
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mokacheer · 2 years
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⤷ Happy Birthday to my dearest Ana, @gojosattoru  ⋆。 ゚ ☁︎。⋆。 ゚ ☾ ゚ 。⋆
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strawhatboy · 2 years
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The Strongest | happy birthday @gojosattoru ���️❤️
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lewishamil10n · 10 months
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OMGGGGG 23 and Sam and Dean <3333
23. in relief
"—and why can't they just say what they mean on the phone?" Dean continued as they got out of the car. "Why does it always have to be some shit like 'Can I see you in my office' or whatever? If you can call for an appointment, you can sure as hell just say it—"
"Dean," Sam said, cutting him short. "Deep breaths, man. It'll be—" He inhaled, as if convincing himself, too. "It'll be fine."
Dean paused. "And if it's not?" he asked, quieter, more afraid.
"Then we'll deal with it," Sam replied, wishing he felt as sure as he sounded.
He'd never had a brain scan before. It was surprising, in hindsight, how he'd managed to go through decades of hunting without ever getting his head MRI'd. Avoiding hospitals at all costs probably had something to do with it. Now, though, he was retired, and Dean had managed to get them the good insurance, and it was something he figured it was best to be ahead of.
Academically, he knew the dangers of sustaining constant knocks to the head, especially those that rendered him unconscious. He knew what frequent traumatic head injuries could do to a person over time. He was the one who'd made Dean watch that movie about the football players with CTE, the one with Will Smith in it.
On the other hand — he had never thought he'd live long enough to have to worry about the long-term side effects of head injuries.
"We're here," Dean said, and Sam came out of his thoughts to find that they were there already. He informed the receptionist about their appointment, she nodded politely, went over their insurance, and said the doctor would call them in soon, and then it was more waiting.
"Stop that," Sam muttered to Dean, who was moving his leg up and down at the speed of light.
"I'm not doing anything," Dean retorted, but stopped moving. Hospitals triggered him, Sam knew, kickstarted his anxiety like nothing else. Oftentimes just the smell of antiseptic... Sam knew Dean associated it with all their near death experiences, but sometimes it was unavoidable.
The doctor called them in only a few minutes later, thankfully. Sam couldn't help but feel relieved. He didn't think he could last another thirty seconds trying to stop Dean from tapping his foot against the floor. He knew Dean was stressed, but he was too, even if he was doing a better job of hiding it. He didn't think there was anything wrong with him... but if there was? Suddenly he wished he'd never made the appointment to begin with. Maybe it would have been better not to know.
Then he remembered the movie about CTE, and conceded that it was better to know after all.
"Mr..." The neurologist squinted at the file on his computer, and then back up. "Campbell. Good afternoon."
Sam returned the greeting, hoping his smile camouflaged his nerves. Dean, on the other hand, was frowning already, fidgety and restless, and suddenly Sam thought, it's bad news, it's got to be, how am I going to handle Dean?
"Oh, relax," said the doctor, smiling, "it's nothing bad."
Dean didn't look convinced.
"I have your results right here," he continued, and turned his computer screen so they could see the image of Sam's brain on it. "As you can see, there is nothing abnormal here. Everything looks clean. There's nothing to worry about, Mr. Campbell."
"You sure?" Sam asked, unable to help himself.
The doctor nodded. "Absolutely. You're very lucky."
Dean let out a short laugh. "Well, how about that," he said. "Lucky, Sammy."
And before Sam could react, he grabbed him by the back of his head and pulled him in, planting a hard kiss on his forehead. "Lucky," he said one more time, and Sam was unsurprised to see that his eyes were a little wet.
"Yeah," he whispered. "Lucky."
The page he'd torn out of the Black Grimoire sat heavy in his pocket. Sam discreetly balled it into his fist, crumpling it up, resolving to get rid of it as soon as he could.
Dean could never know.
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axlrosebaby · 8 months
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if i am not pretty enough for axl rose, i am not pretty enough for anyone.
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creepling · 7 months
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🍙 - happy 1k!! i'm going to be completely on brand and humbly request an ana moodboard - final girl vibes, something about her relationship with maria, whatever floats your boat
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— ana flores moodboard
"I love you. I'm so sorry I couldn't find you."
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universalcas · 1 year
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URL Graphic Challenge: @casblackfeathers
(Click for HQ)
Request one
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astrovagrant · 7 months
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to follow up a post i made like 2 days ago. astarion finally pushes thru all of his Issues and Problems at the end of act 2 to be like hi. i'm in love with you and i mean that genuinely which is horrifying? like truly, deeply horrifying, i hope you know. truly i could not have shared this information in a more flattering light because i need you to know how much you're um. [gestures] not really what i planned to fall in love with.
and ana's just like oh! well. deeply flattering introduction to the concept, but (fleabag voice) it'll pass. and then they have an "argument" about it because he's GONNA throw a fit and she CANNOT get away with the kinds of distancing tactics she's used on every single person in the party for the past month. the "argument" is very. stilted? emotionally raw and filled with missteps and foot-in-mouth moments? yeah.
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