#Heavenly Hundred

[thesolyanka]

Герої не вмирають. Вмирають вороги.

Heroes don’t die. Enemies die.

[princessofthemoooon]

[kitten-cab00dle]

All due respect but this isn't a youtube shorts thing this is a fundamentalist Christian thing (elaboration in tags)

[thesmallatlarge]

Do any of the guys even bother to wear underwear?

If so, what type of underwear do they prefer?

Beepers: Nope!

The Imp: No.

69 Floods: I do not.

Markus: Boxer-Briefs. Gotta hug the package without cutting off circulation to my thighs. Also they make my butt look great!

Pole: The FUCK is underwear?

[yueebby]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

synopsis. period piece, forbidden love

contents. ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior (5k words of gojo pining), lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips

notes. inspired by the apothecary diaries and this post. loosely based off of ancient japan (this is basically its own world). this is the prologue to the series where everything can generally be read as a standalone ! (fic under the cut)

series masterlist

emperor!gojo who broke a hundred year tradition to take you as his only lover. despite your role as a concubine, everyone in the imperial palace knew he was going to make you his empress.

emperor!gojo who had not meant to fall in love with you, but you have managed to somehow charm him. a man that single handedly brought his own clan to power– weak in your hands. hushed whispers around the imperial palace call you a witch, but they never reach your ears. not as long as he is alive.

emperor!gojo shamelessly showering you with love. he pays no mind that it is highly frowned upon, he will have his hands on you every time you are in the same room.

emperor!gojo who is livid when there is an attempt on your life. his usual ocean eyes turned to blue flames like a wild animal. servants and clan elders alike scurry under his gaze. the assailant is taken care of by his own hands. 

emperor!gojo who is forced to satiate the clan elders into submission by taking in another concubine from an influential clan. he insists to you that it is no more than a political formality. who are you to meddle into imperial affairs?

emperor!gojo who can’t help himself and ends up falling for another girl who his clan elders demand he must wed. she is much younger than you, beautiful and is well bred; a perfect match for the emperor. 

emperor!gojo whose frequent visits to you come to an end, forcing you to move from his chambers and back to the consorts’ pavilion.

There was a time when you had everything. A place to call home in the Inner Court, a beautiful palace with anything you could have ever dreamed of. Servants, admirers, riches; you had it all. But what was most dear to you was your lover– a man so divine, many thought he was directly blessed by the hand of God. It was too good to be true. A woman of lowly birth like you, paid as homage for the sins of her clan against the new reigning family of Japan, becoming a concubine of the Heavenly Emperor. 

You remembered it all too well.

His brilliant mind that once strategized the downfall of the previous imperial family, calculating its next move in a game of Go against you. You can still remember the shock on his face upon his first defeat. The way he would keep you from leaving to fulfill your other duties until he was satisfied, eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to keep up with you. No matter how hard he tried, you remained victorious. It drove him mad.

You remembered the stolen kisses while you made your rounds in the Inner Palace with your ladies in waiting. It took you quite a while to learn to tune out their giggles every time the Emperor dips you down to taste your lips in broad daylight. The grin that he wore after was enough to leave your legs weak.

Above all, you'll always remember how safe you felt in his strong, reassuring embrace. You’ve seen him train, and it was no wonder the Gojo clan rose to power so quickly as a result of one man. The way he wields the katana is unlike any man on the face of the earth. Those arms were your sanctuary. You can still vividly recall the attempt on your life, orchestrated by a traditionalist incensed by the Gojo clan's swift ascent to power. The emperor, outraged by the assassination plot, personally saw to the man's execution. 

However, the damage was done and it caused great strain in the Imperial Palace.

To appease the old geezers that were forced out of power, Emperor Gojo had taken in another concubine from one of the Big Three families of Japan— a beautiful Zenin girl. Her flowing, silky hair and saccharine voice enchanted everyone in the Inner Palace, captivating the Emperor, most of all. She was younger than you, with perkier breasts and soft skin that was enough to capture the attention of any man. 

You don’t blame her for taking the Emperor’s attention away. Though you would be a liar if you said it did not hurt you. Deep down, you cannot deny the agony that sears your soul, realizing that the only semblance of love you've ever tasted remains unrequited. With a heavy heart, you resign yourself to the bitter truth of your existence, knowing all too well the cruel confines of your place in this world.

You were merely a pawn, and the Emperor did not want you anymore.

That was made clear months later when you received a scroll from the Emperor’s advisor, a man you were once well acquainted with, Geto Suguru. 

“What is this?” You asked him quietly, your heart silently begging the Heavens it was not what you had suspected it to be. The black haired man in front of you does not respond, and you feel something pierce into your heart. Despite being a part of the Emperor’s court, it was rare that you received letters directly.

Your suspicions were confirmed when your shaky hands finally opened the scroll to read the familiar kanji written by your beloved.

“The Emperor decrees the termination of your role as concubine." Geto spares you the trouble of deciphering the characters neatly written in ink. “In his mercy, you are to be moved as a servant in the Outer Court. You are to serve the Imperial Physician.”

What you remember most was the silence. The Emperor’s silence after the stressful months you had to endure alone. The silence shared between you and Geto when you were forced out of the Imperial Court. All that was left was the sound of your heart breaking and the wood creaking underneath Geto’s feet as he walked away. Satoru never bothered to see you off.

Seasons change and by the next spring, you’re busying your hands with collecting herbs for the Imperial Physician, a man by the name of Yaga Masamichi. He is a kind man, pitying you enough to fill your days with laborious tasks to prevent your mind from wandering to thoughts of the unfortunate turn your life has taken. He is even generous enough to supply you with a new wardrobe of clothing full of light fabrics, a luxury you thought you would lose in the Outer Palace. Though the initial humiliation has worn off with the passing of time, you are still constantly reminded of your fall from grace.

Looks by the mix of condolences and disgust are shared when you roam the walls of the Outer Palace. You hear whispers of how the Emperor is infatuated with his newer, shinier toy. It is enough for you to swallow the bile that makes its way up your throat. 

“It is no wonder the Emperor tossed away a wildflower like her in exchange for a cherry blossom. He needed someone to rival his own greatness.” A particular comment stopped you in your tracks. Your grip tightens on the woven basket in your hand filled with medicinal herbs you had collected earlier that morning. 

“Have some pity on her.” Another eunuch whispers. Your breath falters, but you continue your walk with your head held up. You’ve heard the rumors. The beautiful Zenin Himiko has charmed the Emperor enough that there are rumors of a royal marriage to come. It doesn’t help that the Emperor has remained monogamous to her since he had banished you from his court.

A comforting hand links itself with your arm, “Ignore them. I saw Yaga shooing away a crowd of suitors that were lined up for your hand.” Ieiri Shoko scoffs, secretly sending you a wink. She has been studying medicine under Yaga for nearly a decade, eagerly accepting you as a companion upon your arrival. You feel your cheeks heat up at her flattery. You know she’s just trying to make you feel better.

Although your beauty never faded, it seems as though you are no longer sought after in the marriage market. Not that it matters, considering the new life that you’re living. You’re now a personal servant to the Imperial Physician, leaving no time to worry about suitors and such. Your days are filled with good work— tending to Yaga’s cherished garden that he has sowed for decades rather than frivolous games and attending the Emperor. It may not be glorious compared to your former life, but it was the best a woman of your status could receive. 

When you and Shoko return to Yaga’s estate, you’re surprised to see the somber look that has settled on his aging features. Shoko makes an offhand comment that he will age faster if he keeps scowling. She receives a scolding.

“Is something the matter?” You gently place down your basket full of herbs. 

Yaga sighs, calloused hands rolling up a scroll with the Imperial Seal. “It appears the Emperor’s consort has fallen ill and His Majesty commands my presence in the Imperial Palace.” 

The Royal Consort. The woman that dethroned you: Zenin Himiko.

“I understand.” You nod, maintaining your composure while two sets of eyes scrutinize you with keen observation. It was only natural the emperor wanted the best doctor in the country for his object of affection. “Shall I close up the shop while you journey into the Inner Palace?” 

Yaga shakes his head, “That won’t be necessary. I will have Shoko act as my stand-in.” He remarks with a quick glance in her direction “You, on the other hand, will accompany me.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“You cannot be serious.”

“Typically, one of my apprentices would accompany me on such journeys. However, now that I have acquired a personal attendant,” He gestures towards you with a flick of his hand, “It shall no longer be necessary.” As he speaks, he runs his hand absentmindedly through his well trimmed beard, gaging your reaction.

"I—" Your words falter and fade away. "Yes, sir," you respond, inclining your head in deference, a stark reminder of your place. While you may have concealed it, you were seething with humiliation. Returning to the Imperial Palace after a year of exile to serve the woman who took your spot was mortifying beyond measure.

“Very well. Pack enough for one week’s time. I doubt the Emperor would have called me if this was a light ailment.” He says gruffly. “We leave at dawn.” His gaze shifted to the horizon outside.

1 YEAR AGO

“Your Grace,” You purr at the feeling of his large hands scratching your head. 

The smile that rests on his face is almost ravenous. “Yes, my love?”

“I think—“ A soft sigh escapes your lips when he presses on your weak points. “I should g-go.”

His ministrations stop almost immediately. 

“Go?” His eyes peer down at you in his lap. It is now that you realize the weight of his piercing gaze. “Have I commanded you to leave yet?”

“No, but—��

“Then you have nowhere else to be.” He huffs, unintentionally puffing his cheeks out. You stifle the giggle that nearly escapes from your lips. He vaguely resembles a pufferfish– or so you think. Though you’ve never seen the round creature with your very own eyes, you’ve heard that the delicacy was something only members of the aristocratic class would feast on. 

Your mouth waters at the thought.

“What are you thinking about that could possibly be so important? Keep your eyes on me,” A strong hand squishes your cheeks together and firmly guides your face back upon him. 

You should be embarrassed; ashamed at the intimate position His Majesty has trapped you in. The way your head is tucked away in his lap as he peers down at you, nothing to shield you away from him. It was incredibly scandalous, considering that you were an unmarried woman! But it seemed like the Emperor had taken no mind towards it. You would even dare to say that he was enjoying it, with the way his lips quirk upward at the sight of you squirming. 

“Your Grace,” You repeat, determined to free yourself from his hold. His eyebrows furrow.

“Satoru,” He reminds you. You purse your lips. The position you hold in his court is simply not high enough to grant you the privilege of calling him by his given name.

“Your Grace,” You try again, the title rolling off of your tongue naturally. A man like him did not deserve any title less than.

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Indulge a man, won’t you?” He pouts down at you. As stubborn as ever, you don’t relent.

“I would be overstepping my boundaries as your consort to call you as such. That privilege is reserved for your future bride.” You take advantage of his guard let down to sit up and escape his hold. If he could have caught you, he made no effort.

“I am a simple man.” He follows you to your vanity. A giggle escapes your mouth. He is anything but. “I want my love to call me by my name.” 

You turn around to cup his cheek. He eagerly leans into your touch, sighing happily at the contact.

“I wonder how Lord Kento and Geto would react to you like this.” You tease, a smile unknowingly painting itself on your lips. 

Satoru’s face falls, features morphing into an appalled expression. You watch him close the distance between you through the mirror.

“Kento?” His voice had a dangerous lilt in it. You blink, unsure what spurred on the sudden tension in the room. “Since when were you so comfortable around him? He cannot satisfy you like I can.” He reminds you of the man’s castrated state as an eunuch. You wince.

“I have not gotten comfortable,” You’re careful to pick your words. Gojo’s possessiveness was something that was not easily tamed. “He simply provides good conversation while you are away.The palace is far too big and lonely while you’re away dealing with clan matters.” 

The only response you get is a quiet grumble. “You’re lucky that you’re pretty.” His large hand creeps its way into your hair again, undoing the hairstyle your ladies in waiting had spent a copious amount of time on earlier that morning. Gojo carefully plucks the extravagant silver hairpin from your hair, the dangling pearls clicking softly at the sudden movement.  His hands slowly make their way down to the kimono that you are wearing, hands ready to undo the obi.

Your hands softly hover his, “I fear that our roles have been reversed. Should it not be me who gets you unready, Your Grace?”

He chuckles and through the mirror you can see a smirk make his way to his lips, “I’d let you undress me any day. Just say the word, beloved.” 

You roll your eyes, but allow him to continue. It was moments like these with the Emperor that led you on to believe that there was a semblance of love between the two of you. 

How wrong you were.

PRESENT DAY

The sun has yet to meet the horizon when you arrive at the Inner Palace. The horse-drawn carriage that you and Yaga had taken is the only sound at the scene, clopping down the stone road and back to the Inner Court. You miss the serenity of the beautiful palace you once resided in, knowing that it will be bustling with life in just a few short hours.

In front of the large doors of the primary ceremonial hall where the Emperor spends most of his time, stands Lord Nanami, a counsellor to the Emperor himself. Time has only made his face sterner, but his neatly styled hair and blue and yellow dyed court attire remained the same. He waits patiently while you and Yaga make your way up the flight up stairs that lead up to the hall.

“I am glad to see you in good health, Yaga.” Nanami bows. 

The man next to you promptly waves his politeness off, thanking him for his hospitality. You stand silently while the two men engage in conversation regally.

Lord Nanami sighs, “His Majesty has been plagued by stress lately. To say I am relieved by your presence would be an understatement.” His statement is a subtle reminder that you must harden your heart upon entering the palace walls. The meticulously built walls were no longer a sanctuary for you, rather, a painful testament that you were no longer wanted. 

Yaga lets out a hearty laugh and it reveals a rare sight, Lord Nanami’s lips curving upwards by a slight. “I highly doubt the boy would be glad to see me. The appearance of the Imperial Physician is portentous.” He scratches his beard. You tilt your head in confusion at how he referred to the Emperor.

“I suppose, yet I am intrigued to find out how he will react upon seeing his object of affection flourishing anew despite the sting of frost.” Nanami audibly wonders. Even a fool could understand his eloquent comparison. The Emperor would be thrilled to see his consort in full bloom once again. You pray that the Heavens would grant you some mercy from witnessing such a scene.

“Youth,” Yaga shakes his head, chuckling to himself before regaining composure. “I mustn't keep the Emperor waiting. [Name], please gather the herbal ingredients to treat the young Consort as you seem fit. I shall confer with His Majesty and meet you in her chambers to declare a proper diagnosis.”

You bow, “Yes sir.”

While Yaga prepares to enter the doors where The Heavenly Emperor resides, your eyes couldn’t help but gaze longingly at the large bronze doors. 

“You seem well,” Nanami addresses you for the first time in over a year. Your eyes trail from the Emperor’s door to the blonde man in front of you. “Allow me to guide you to our herbal stock.” Nanami offers you his arm as you start to make your way down the stairs. 

You take it, lightly holding his arm.  “Thank you, Lord Nanami. Time away from the Inner Palace has been like a breath of fresh air,” You respond, ensuring your voice carries no malice. You hear the large palace doors from behind you open, the metal creaking loudly in the quiet dawn. 

“I must ask you to call me Kento,” He leads you down the stone steps. “We are old friends, it is strange to hear anything but.” 

You focus on your steps down the stairs, only responding once your feet meet the solid ground, “I fear that our social statuses have changed since then. It would be the cause of a scandal should anyone hear I am calling the Imperial Counselor by his given name. Your admirers would have my head on a stick.”

“Your imagination is amusing as always, [Name].” He gives you a closed eyes smile. You huff.

“I am only speaking the truth!” You insist. He chuckles.

“It is quite refreshing to see both you and Yaga again. I’m not sure how long it has been since I have been at the imperial physician.” 

You gape at his confession. “You mustn't skip your annual visits to the physician, Kento. It is in the best interest of your health!” You lightly scold him, lifting your hand to flick his forehead. It was a force of habit. “Perhaps if I have time after treating the Consort, I shall do a check up on you.”

Nanami clears his throat at your comment, the twinkle in his eyes dissipating as if your direct touch had burned him. 

“I would rather not lose my head.” He mumbles, eyes scanning the courtyard around the two of you. You knit your eyebrows, confused.

Nanami leaves you to fulfill his duties once you arrive at the Royal Kitchens to retrieve all the necessary items to treat Consort Himiko. You are glad that he did not accompany you into the kitchens to prepare Consort Himiko’s herbal soup. 

The memory of it still irks you.

“You’re late,” One of Consort Himiko’s ladies in waiting snaps just as you enter the kitchen. You look up to see a young girl, dressed in a light purple kimono. It must be Himiko’s signature, you note. It was strange to see someone outside of the Imperial family donning the color, but you suppose it was only a grand display of Himiko’s influence.

“You’re a lot more plain than I anticipated,” The other lady in waiting quirks an eyebrow, eyeing your appearance. You furrow your eyebrows, shocked by their rudeness.Their undying loyalty to their Lady was enough to fuel an unspoken hatred for you. Though you’re not sure that the two coincide, you don’t blame them.

The two are mixing a concoction that you don’t recognize to be used to treat the sick. The taller one adds some aromatics and herbs in and you see the other one unwrap a cloth to reveal a rare delicacy from the West. Cocoa, you believed they called it. 

Then it hits you– the two are not making a medicinal soup for their Lady, rather they are making an aphrodisiac! The image that conjures in your head makes you blanch. Back in the Outer Palace, Shoko had shown you the effects of the stimulant (you shiver at the memory of her shoving a treat laced with it into your mouth). It was certainly a night to remember.

“How pathetic,” You mutter underneath your breath, quickly rushing to obtain the ingredients you needed without making conversation with the two girls.

Fortunately, they pay you no further attention for the time you’re in the kitchen.

“Please excuse me,” You bow upon entering the Emperor’s chambers. Despite the Consort’s Pavilion being similar in size to a small town, you remember spending most of your time in the Emperor’s chambers rather than your own. It was probably the same case with Consort Himiko. You slowly place the tray carrying broth and medicinal herbs to treat the Consort down on the circular wooden table in the middle of the room.

Out of curiosity, your eyes can’t help but soak in the Emperor’s room. Not much has changed since you’ve left. His Majesty’s preference for minimalist decorations have stayed the same, along with his natural musk that fills your nose. You feel your face heat up at your own thoughts. How could you think of such a thing when you are about to meet his new lover?

Your gaze moves to his bed, where Consort Himiko resides– only to find nothing.

“Huh?” 

You observe his bed, silk sheets neatly made, seemingly untouched. The sounds of your sock clad feet patter on the wooden floor as you make your way to feel the bedsheets for any signs of warmth, but you are met with nothing.

“Don’t you know that entering the Emperor’s chambers can be punishable by death?” A deep voice from behind you causes you to jump in your spot. 

Your guard is immediately raised, head whipping to the sound. In hindsight, you should have never agreed to accompany Yaga on his trip. It was a foolish idea all along, you think as all of the air in your lungs dissipates upon seeing your former lover. 

Standing at the entrance of his own sleeping quarters is Gojo Satoru, his frame big enough to tower over the doorway. His arms are crossed over each other, electric blue eyes focused on nothing else but you. You press your thighs together tightly to avoid squirming anymore than you are.  He has loosened his dark blue kimono to expose some of his hardened chest, a sight any woman in the nation would die to catch a glimpse.  Even underneath all of the fabric, anyone can see his divinely sculpted physique.

“Your Grace,” You waste no time to dip your body deeply, praying that he will allow you to keep your head by sunset. “I apologize for the intrusion, I was under the pretense that Consort Himiko resided in your quarters–” Your voice loses itself in your throat when you see his shadow quickly encroaching.

“Himiko stays in her Pavilion,” He towers over you, eyes gazing down on you. “But one might suspect that you already knew that.”

Your eyes frantically meet his feet, desperate to salvage what was left of your dignity, “I assure you that I speak of the truth, Your Majesty.”

When he doesn’t respond, you slowly lift your head.

The flustered look on your face must have been amusing to him, as he makes his way closer to you, bending down to interrogate you further.

“Is that so?” He hums, enjoying every second of cornering you into his chambers. The back of your legs have met his bed, trapping you. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your breaths even, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on you.

He continues, “You’re awfully skittish for someone who was happily skipping around my territory in the arms of another man just earlier.” His predatory gaze seems to darken. 

“Kento?” When his name leaves your lips, the man in front of you grits his teeth. You turn your head to the side, deliberately avoiding him. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, but I don’t see how Kento and I’s relationship is any of your concern,” He does not take your actions well, his gaze searing into you.

“It certainly is when the woman in question is you,” Gojo’s voice loses its feral lilt, distress flashing across his face. There’s a newfound desperation in it that chips away at your resolve. His hand raises to your face so slowly, as if he did not want to startle you.

“This is wrong. I– I saw a couple of servants earlier making aphrodisiacs, perhaps you could have unknowingly consumed them.” You tell him, frantic eyes meeting him. It is not unusual for couples to use aphrodisiacs, you know that after under Yaga. The Emperor must have mistaken the laced dessert for his usual. 

He shakes his head, running a hand through his white hair.

“You are mistaken. This is solely your effect on me.” He promises. You could barely believe his words, stuck between feeling offended or shocked.

“How could you stand to be so cruel?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. There are no tears in your eyes this time.  “I am not a courtesan you can buy for the night,” You snap, pointing a harsh finger to his chest. 

“What do you mean?” He sounds breathless.

“Whatever do I mean?” You scoff, a dry laugh escaping your mouth. “For a year, all I have gotten is pity from the world, because you decided I was no longer entertaining. You could have at least banished me away yourself. Instead, you sent Suguru who couldn’t even look me in the eye! Don’t you know how humiliating that is?” With every word that left your lips, more venom seemed to drip. Anger was prickling you all over, taking control of the rational part of you.

Gojo seemed to be taken aback by your outburst. It was far too late to take anything back now. If you lose your head by nightfall, so be it.

You dig a deeper grave for yourself when you take advantage of his moment of weakness to flee. He’s quick to react, attempting to grip your wrist.

“Wait, [Name], beloved–” He uses that all too familiar term of endearment, but it doesn't deter you.

You accidentally bump into the circular wooden table placed in the middle of the room. What an awful place to keep it, watching in horror as the Consort’s medicine shatters on the floor. To add salt to the wound, a vase you recognize to be specially gifted to the Emperor from a foreign nation tips off too before you can catch it. The sound of porcelain shattering fills the room.

“[Name]! Are you alright?” You hear Gojo ask from behind you, but you run over the broken shards before he can catch you.

Had you bothered to pay closer attention, you would have noticed articles of your clothing and a couple of your missing belongings littered all over the room– creating a faux impression that you never really left the palace.

Days passed by after the incident, and luckily, your head was still attached to your body despite offending and nearly endangering the Emperor. Yaga’s disappointment when you had told him what happened was made evident when he sent you home early after hearing the events that transpired, insisting that he can handle the Consort on his own. Normally you would have argued, but you knew better than to inflict Yaga’s wrath.

“Now you’ve really done it,” Shoko whistles lowly, walking in from the front of Yaga’s shop. 

You hide your face in your hands, “I made an absolute fool of myself, didn’t I?”

“A fool? No. A conspirator against the Emperor? Perhaps.” She dangles a scroll with a familiar seal on it. The Gojo Clan’s familiar emblem reflects off of the sunlight spilling into the room. Your heart drops.

“Oh, they’ll have my head.” You moan, hands instinctively lifting to shield your neck.

“Though I’m quite impressed that Yaga only sent you back here. He used to have worse punishments.” She shudders before impatiently unraveling the scroll. You watch her eyes gradually widen as they read the contents of the letter. The scroll falls from her hand.

You rush to it, desperate to read your fate.

To [Last Name] [First Name],

Greetings and prosperity unto you.

By the mandate of the heavens and the authority vested in Us, We hereby extend Our solemn words to you, [Last Name] [First Name], servant of the realm, in acknowledgement of your debt to the Empire.

In response to your unmeritorious deeds, The Emperor bestows upon you His imperial pardon from capital punishment. In consideration of your obligations and the harmony of the realm, it is hereby decreed that you shall serve as an indentured servant to the Imperial Household for a period commensurate with your debt. During this time, you shall labor faithfully and diligently under the supervision of Our Heavenly Emperor, performing duties essential to the welfare of the Empire.

By fulfilling your obligations with diligence and humility, you may yet earn favor and esteem in Our sight.

The Imperial Court

A loud gasp escapes your mouth.

You feel your legs weaken, your emotions running wild. Shoko’s eyes meet yours, mirroring your frantic gaze. In that moment, you are met with the same suffocating sense of hopelessness.

extra!

gojo was kicking his feet happily as he watched suguru draft out his letter to you. suguru thought it rather cruel, while the white haired male was too busy purring happily as he fantasized about having you back into his grasp.

previous chapter | next chapter [coming soon!]

[shycoconutt]

It isn’t until you’re laid out underneath him, face burrowed in Nanami’s neck, hands gripping onto his biceps for dear life as he ruts into you, that you notice it.

Right there, where the peak of his shoulder meets his trap muscle, the pale skin decorated with hundreds of small freckles, appears an unnatural, angry indentation.

As you feel his cockhead ram into your cervix over and over, you fixate on this point, eyes going a tad cross eyed as you process what’s in front of you.

“The sword I carry on my back and my duty as a sorcerer is the cross I choose to bear.”

You don’t notice the small bead of drool that escapes the corner of your mouth, or the way your hand instinctively wraps around from behind his back to press the pad of your middle finger into the small divot.

Your eyes widen and your pussy pulses at the small whimper he gives you in response.

Your touches are light at first, but you need to know more. Holding fully onto his shoulder now, you press two of your fingers firmly into his meaty flesh.

The noise that escapes his mouth in reaction to your touch is uncharted territory. Somewhere between a moan and a cry, Nanami folds you fully into a mating press, snapping his hips into you unrestrained.

You understand completely—the mental, emotional and physical toll his line of work has on his being. He is the strongest man you know, but even he needs support. That is your duty, and you give it your all.

“That’s it, that’s it, Ken,” you coo while wrapping both hands around him, pressing with all your strength into his shoulders as he cries out, “release all your tension. Give everything to me, I can take it.”

It isn’t long until he’s dumping all of his thick seed into you, coating your slick walls. He collapses on top of you, more small spurts escaping in the aftershocks.

Wanting to keep him close, you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his torso, giving his whole body a playful squeeze. His half-hard length remains in you, keeping you plugged with his essence. You can feel the pressure of a small bulge inside your lower tummy. You’re full of him, just how you like.

Nanami softy clears his throat, willing himself to speak.

“Do you, uh, do you mind massaging my shoulders while we lay here? Your touch is heavenly, darling.”

You smile and hum in response, softy beginning to work at him while he shifts lower to take one of your nipples gently in his mouth.

For hours you two lay there while he softy suckles your tits and you relieve any remaining tension in his body. Every once in a while, he slowly grinds his cock into you, brining you both to multiple climaxes over the course of your lazy afternoon together.

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; fem!reader + daddy kink

shoko smoking a cigarette while she's fucking you with her strap.. chuckling at the way you're drooling into the pillow,, she's got a knee on the bed while her other leg is propped up on the mattress, so she can reach even deeper, so she can fuck you even better. her free hand kneads the plush flesh of your ass, slapping it every once in a while just to hear you whimper her name. it's like music to her ears, she fucking loves it.

throwing her hair over her shoulder, she leans forward, her strap now slotted so deep inside you that you feel it in your throat. her tits press against your back and you arch up into her on instinct. she takes the cigarette from her lips and places it onto the ashtray right next to the bed, just so she can get closer to you.

her pace turns into a slower one, simply grinding her hips into yours as she kisses your sweaty temple. "does it feel good, hm?"

your grip on the sheet below you tightens, the flame in your stomach burning brighter at the sudden proximity. your mind is hazy, your thoughts all jumbled inside your head, so you give her a faint nod, hoping that'll be enough.

shoko's lips trace down the side of your face and your body moves all on its own, leaning into her touch like a cat in heat. you feel her smile against your skin. "c'mon, use your words, baby... tell daddy how you feel."

her voice is raspy, the coo trickling from her lips like sticky goo, trapping you under her indefinitely. you're burning all over; the rays of sun that peek from between the curtain cradle your faces, they illuminate the pleasure painted onto your expressions. shoko places another kiss right in the middle of a light patch right on the corner of your lips and it all feels unreal.

she presses you down further into the mattress, the sweat of your bodies mixing together as she continues rocking into you. the words get stuck in your throat and she laughs at your cute, fucked out expression.

the sound makes you want to take a peek at her and you regret the decision to do so immediately, because she's right there, staring down at you with low eyes, her lips swollen from all of the kisses you stole but a mere hour earlier. the makeout session escalalated fast – with you sat on her lap, nipping at her neck and her mouth hungrily, all while whining about her not paying enough attention to you, it was impossible for it not to go from one to a hundred. you asked for this. begged for it.

the marks on her neck are darker now and she looks fucking heavenly. her lipstick is smudged, a droplet of sweat dribbling down her forehead – there's a sick little grin glued to her lips, the kind that lets you know that she's so fucking far from being done with you, despite the numerous orgasms she's pulled from you already.

when you still can't muster up a single word, she slithers a hand into your hair and gives it a tug strong enough for you to raise your head from the bed. you hiss at the faint tinge of pain and she lets out another raspy laugh – she likes seeing you like this, she loves ruining you. with her mouth latched onto your jaw, you feel her wet and warm tongue draw shapes into your skin.

"aw, has daddy fucked you dumb already, baby?"

the coil in your stomach tightens at her words and you don't even try to hold back the filthy moan that spills from your sore throat. she gives your hair another tug and you know she expects a proper answer and that there will be consequences if you don't give her one. so you try to hold her gaze with everything you've got, tears brimming in your lashline from how much everything is starting to become.

"so– so good."

you sound pathetic and you know it. her grin widens.

"who's making you feel so good?"

"you are."

her lips brush over the shell of your ear.

"who is?"

she angles her hips, making the tip of her silicone cock hits the spongy spot inside you that makes your eyes go cross. "i– fuck."

her hot breath fans your face, her fingers still twisted around the strands of your hair as she waits for your answer.

"daddy is."

you bite down onto your lip at the pleased hum she gives you and let your heavy head fall back onto the pillow the second she lets go of your hair. she leans closer once more, pressing a sloppy, haste kiss to your lips before pushing herself into her original position while dragging her nails along your spine. with her thighs flush to yours, she reaches for her cigarette again; she doesn't rush it, she takes her time ashing it, reveling in the way you're trembling on her cock.

her lips wrap around the already stained stick as she stares at where you're connected, the mess of it all – her masterpiece.

"good girl."

[tiedsuccubus]

No lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, gently, rough, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, pancake, throat fucking, till my insides are white, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, till my dna is 50% cum, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, on the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, having the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering. eye rolling. hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blowing, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, lustful, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocius, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity detying, nail biting, sweaty, teet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell dissolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly feeling, ruining me,corrupting me, choking me, biting me, tying me and handcuffing me taking him for 69 times in a hundred positions 'cause never back down never what??? Never give up!!! And I'm not giving up to screw me 'till my mind becomes nothing but subservient to him and I pass out.

[joelmchaleit]

i was looking for an old, favorite fanart of stephen and tony and boyyyy did i stumble on a lot. might have drafted a lot of them too. will most definitely put them into the queue so they’re safe and sound on my blog too. so many of these wonderful artists have now deactivated, and some of the art is lost forever, it breaks my heart 

[wordsinhaled]

i’m so totally normal about the fact that aziraphale’s last (known) deliberate foray into the queer community was when he learned the gavotte at the fictionalized hundred guineas club (!!!) in the 1800s and now in the 2020s he’s like “grindr? what’s that?”

many are talking about his repression which is very valid… and yet the thing to me that stands out about aziraphale is that he’s actually… incredibly stable in his identity and that identity IS incredibly queer. queer by the standards of heaven AND by human standards as well

metatron describes his “de facto partnership” with crowley as “irregular.” and in fact aziraphale in his entirety is irregular. he likes and makes it his business not only to understand but to be a connoisseur of all manner of things angels aren’t supposed to even remotely care about. food. music. books. theatre. sleight of hand. and more.

it’s the sort of behavior that would’ve gotten him othered, treated as a bit odd, in heaven even if he hadn’t chosen to consort all across the earth with a literal demon. and it IS treated that way - the fact is aziraphale even as an angel has got proclivities that set him apart from the rest of the host (even after offering him the highest position in heaven, metatron still acts deeply dismissive of him… like aziraphale’s bookshop is merely a quaint little hobby of his that can be easily transferred to another custodian, and not a literal extension of who aziraphale has become, full of his tartan and unique bibles and special vintages of wine and the books arranged in a very specific way)

so. aziraphale is a queer angel but of course he’s also queer to other humans. but in such a way that… he had his realization a LONG time ago, and put the matter very much to rest after that. aziraphale is perpetually something like several centuries behind schedule. he owns an ancient computer that probably continues to run windows 98 simply because aziraphale’s decided it should. he wears the same waistcoat and coat for generations because he simply likes them precisely the way they are and sees no reason to change them. but the idea that he doesn’t know how he comes across to others - of course he does. he knows he looks like your prim and proper grandfather and he prefers it that way

aziraphale looked around at humans in the 1880s and said: ah yes. this is where i fit. and promptly ensconced himself in that queer subculture. learned the gavotte. read his austen. loved crowley from afar. aziraphale is fiercely and vibrantly queer. just with the sort of assurance of someone who lives with his lover in a commonlaw marriage for decades and then shows up at city hall for the certificate once society decides it’s ‘allowed.’ like… he hasn’t had any need to know what grindr is because aziraphale’s ‘scene’ was a century and a half ago and it defined romance for him too.

but my favorite thing about aziraphale is how much of him is about appearances versus the truth. he can lie straight to angels’ faces and sleep at night. he knows he comes off soft but he once wielded a flaming sword. he dissembles helplessness but he’s far from it and he knows precisely how it makes others treat him. and at the core of aziraphale is rigidity, inflexibility of ideas… his sense of self is stable where crowley’s is malleable, and so on, and so on

and the fact that he’s continuously fixated on trying to misguidedly do the right thing, the fact that he seeks heavenly approval and wants to fit the world into his schema of good vs evil… in no way do i think that means he isn’t one hundred percent aware of how he feels about crowley or what it means about him by angelic or human standards. i’ve seen some folks saying that aziraphale doesn’t want to like kissing crowley and like… as much as i love me some brideshead revisited/atonement flavored angst; i put forth that it’s not internalized homophobia or queer panic but simply: “i’m trying to do the right thing for both of us and you won’t let me.” and “i wanted our first kiss to be different.” he was envisioning an entirely different flavor of romance than what he got but he emma woodhoused too close to the sun

like, y’all. aziraphale in all likelihood has a glorious collection of historical queer erotica. he just has a feathery diva coat hanging in his closet, and for what. “oh, good lord” he says at crowley’s revolutionary outfit in the bastille, while eyeing him up like an entire meal. he’s so good at affected propriety, at carefully constructed stuffiness, but between the two of them aziraphale’s got to be the one who has experience

aziraphale had been physically throwing himself at crowley the entire season. he orchestrated an entire regency ball so they could touch hand to hand. he spends the entire season (well, and season 1) looking at crowley like he’s particularly coveted. he looked at crowley before the fall like he was glorious and beautiful. aziraphale’s queer and he knows it and i think that isn’t his problem, it’s the fact that he wants to build a different sort of future for the two of them but crowley’s gone and thrown a wrench in it by reminding him of everything he can finally have. like. that’s the heartbreak. it’s how dare you make this ugly? i forgive you for our first kiss being all pain and salt. it’s my dearest, i wanted to make heaven as beautiful as you deserve. as sacred and safe for us as our bookshop. and i can do that for us, because once i held a flaming sword and i still remember how the hilt felt in my hands. and now the taste of you is in my mouth.

[wickedghxst]

peace is nice and all but clearly gir has never had chicken & rice.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Morning Glory - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

——

Summary: Spencer can’t sleep and decides to follow through on a previous conversation he had with reader.

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: this is the first bit of smut i’ve written in 5 years so please be patient with me lol, gif isn’t spence but it’s too spot on not to use lol

TW: somnophilia, mild dubcon, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint, reader on top, afab reader

Rating: R, this is literally entirely smut so definitely 18+ only

——

Spencer stared up at the ceiling, the soft hum of the ceiling fan narrating the static in his mind. It was the first weekend the two of you had off in months, and of course his body decided to wake him up at 6 a.m. with no chance of falling back to sleep despite his desire to sleep in. He looked over at you fast asleep next to him, messy hair and quiet breaths, the picture of peaceful slumber. He’d be envious if he weren’t so in love with you.

Now, as he noticed the way your soft lips quivered with each breath, he thought back to a conversation the two of you had a couple weeks ago. You had woken up to the sound of muffled moans coming from your adjoining bathroom, and embarrassed the hell out of Spencer when he came out a few minutes later.

“I’d be more than happy to help the next time you have morning wood y’know.” You teased, making him turn bright red.

“I didn’t want to wake you.” He sighed. You pulled him closer, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Who says you have to wake me up first?” You whispered in his ear, sending a shiver up his spine.

“Are you serious?” He asked, his curiosity peaked.

“The thought of waking up with you inside me is one of the hottest things I could imagine, I’m one hundred percent serious. I trust you Spencer.” You told him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

That was all he could think about now, and as his mind wandered his cock grew in his briefs, eventually becoming too hard to ignore.

He usually didn’t want to wake you when you ended up asleep on your back, knowing it’s the position you get your best sleep in, but you looked so heavenly like this, sleep shirt resting just above your navel, thighs parted just so, the soft light of sunrise illuminating your lace covered center. He simply couldn’t restrain himself any longer. He slipped his fingers just under the waistband of your panties, carefully pulling them down your legs and discarding them.

Spencer reveled in the sight of you, ethereal, all softness and warmth. He couldn’t wait to taste you. He gently pushed your thighs further apart with his forearms, while fingers traced the outline of your labia, studying every curve and contour of your cunt. He never had time to do this, you’d usually end up begging for him inside you before he had the chance to truly worship your pussy the way it deserved to be, but not tonight.

He parted your lips as his tongue met your clit, lapping gently at the sensitive bundle of nerves. You started to squirm, causing him to pin your thighs with his strong hands. His tongue laid wide laps through your cunt, dipping inside of your entrance momentarily before coming back up to suck on your clit, plush lips coated in your growing arousal.

Once he had you well and worked up he brought his hand to your entrance, index finger pushing slowly into your plush warmth. He curled his finger, searching for that soft spot that makes you melt. He added his middle finger, your walls gripped tightly around them as he massaged the sensitive spot inside of you, drawing a moan from your sleep-laden lips.

As he lapped at your clit, tongue working in tandem with the rhythm of his fingers you began to stir, pleasure breaking through the sleepy haze as you felt the warmth in your center grow stronger.

“Spence?” You half-moaned, thought still slightly fogged but too worked up to care.

“Morning angel..” He responded, fingers still pumping inside of you as he watched your expression. Whimpers and sighs fell from your lips, brow furrowed as you stretched your arms, shaking the sleep off so you could intertwine your fingers in his hair.

“Don’t stop.” You begged, bucking your hips ever so slightly. Spencer lifted your legs, placing your thighs over his shoulders to properly dive into your heat, lips sucking at your clit until your thighs were shaking, pressure building by the second. He added a third finger, stretching you out before curling them again, waves of pleasure washing over you as the coil finally snaps.

“Spencer!” You cried, eyes glazing over as your back arched, thighs closing around his head, holding him to you as he worked you through your high. He slowed his movements, helping you come down before pulling back to look at you.

Your chest heaved with each labored breath, trying to draw air back into your lungs.

“You okay baby?” He asked quietly, rubbing your inner thigh. You nod, sleepy smile forming between your flushed cheeks.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask once you’ve caught your breath fully.

“Correct, and I couldn’t think of a better way to tire myself out.” He laughed, moving up to lay beside you. You turn to him, hand palming his cock through his underwear.

“And how did that work?” You asked, watching the way his features contort as you stroke him.

“Still w-wide awake.” He breathes, stuttering as you pull his underwear down, his cock smacking against his stomach. He kicked off his underwear, watching as you move to straddle him.

“Well now I am too, so let me take care of you.” You tell him, aligning his leaking tip with your entrance before slowly lowering yourself until your hips are flush with his. You start grinding against him in a moment of self indulgence, eye fluttering shit as you indulge in the way his cock stretches you out just right.

Spencer finds his hands working their way up your shirt, grazing over your sides before pulling the fabric up to expose your breasts. His mouth quickly finds one of your nipples, licking and sucking the sensitive bud while his large hand palms your other breast. He’s hungry, desperate for more but doesn’t want to rush you, loving how heavenly you look when your mind is lost in pleasure.

You eventually snap back to the goal at hand, bracing your hands on the headboard of the bed for better leverage as you start to move up and down, bouncing yourself as steadily as you can on Spencer’s cock. He moans against your chest, his free hand moving to rest on your hip to guide you as best he can. You find a comfortable pace, angling your hips to hit that soft spot inside of you as you lose yourself in the rhythm.

You can see he’s starting to unravel, his grip on your hip tightening, his face flushed and his sudden inability to withhold his grunts and moans.

“You’re doing so good baby, look so pretty riding my cock.” He groans, watching you with such intense adoration.

“Wanna make you cum Spence.” You whine, feeling your thighs start to burn from the constant movement. He wraps his arms around you to pull your chest against his, his hands kneading your ass as he guides your hips up and down just a little quicker. The closeness is almost too intense, warm, slick skin on skin, you can feel another orgasm building as his cock begins to twitch inside of you, his coming on just as fast as yours.

“Please cum in me.” You pant, hips moving desperately as you chase your high.

“Greedy girl.” He teases, his hips meeting yours with each thrust.

“Please please please!” You beg, teetering on the edge of your collapse.

“Take it angel, all yours.” He grunts, cock twitching inside of you as you feel strings of warmth coating your walls, the sensation finally giving you the release you need. Your eyes glaze over as your thighs shake, nearly collapsing on top of Spencer as you see stars.

When you come down Spencer is pushing your hair away from your face, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead before shifting his weight to lay the both of you down. You lay on your back for a moment, letting your body relax before turning to face him.

“Sleepy yet?” You ask, hand resting on his chest.

“I don’t know, might need another round.” He jokes, smiling softly.

“We’ll see about that, I’ll be back in a minute.” You reply, giving him a kiss on the cheek before getting up and walking to the bathroom.

When you finish and head back into the bedroom, Spencer is fast asleep, just as you suspected he would be.

——

Taglist: DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist :)

[molfarua]

🕯️ On February 20, Ukraine celebrates the Day of the Heroes of the Heavenly Hundred. On February 20 alone, 47 people were killed on the Maidan in Kyiv.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Sunday, Welt, Gallagher, Blade, and Dan Heng react to his shy gn s/o asking to kiss him on the lips?

Blade: finds it adorable. Absolutely adorable when you finally mustered up the courage to ask for what you want.

‘So you do have a voice?’ And or ‘the mouse has finally squeaked.’ Is what he would say with a smirk as he’d watch you get flustered and embarrassed under his gaze.

As much as he teases you for your shyness, he can’t help but feel a sense of pride for you when you took the first step in speaking your mind.

It was nice to know his lessons weren’t going to waste but then again Blade wasn’t one to hold your innate shyness against you, he just wants you to feel as though you could ask him anything without feeling bad about it.

He’s a dick but he’s instantly melting upon feeling your hands cup his face and is in utter bliss when you finally draw him in for a tender, warm kiss. It’s his one slice of heavenly reprieve that he never, ever wants to be deprived of, ever.

God forbid you stop after one kiss, this man will grow lowly and drag you back himself for more because how dare you tempt him with a mere peck, give him at least a hundred more for fuck sake.

Welt: praises you for your bravery in asking as he knows that it’s not exactly an easy thing to do when you’re naturally shy and prone to giving up before you even try.

‘I’d be more than willing to fulfil your wish to the best of my abilities.’

He’s such a gentleman who’s not afraid of going slow just for your comfort if he see you getting overwhelmed by the mere thought of having to take charge when kissing.

You did ask but Welt was more than ready to step in when it was all becoming too much and guides you through it with a soft, low voice and gentle reminders of hand placement and breathing.

He doesn’t want you passing out on him now.

And besides he’s not the type to do anything to you without your permission.

Sunday: raises his brows in amusement.

‘Oh? How bold of you to ask such a thing my dearest.’ Is his response.

It’s like a predatory watching his prey when it comes to Sunday that you were prone to reframe from speaking upon your desires because it always felt as though the Halovian could see through you. Literally.

It triggers your fight of flight response real quick but you have to remind yourself that you were safe with Sunday. (Or are you?)

He’s got that face that told you that he knew what you were going to ask him before you say anything. Whether or not it’s under unsettling is up to you.

He can obviously see that your nervous and stressed about the whole thing and will try to reassure you that neither of you were going anywhere and that you could take your time, he’ll be there whenever you felt comfortable.

He’s in no rush to be anywhere, not when you’re concerned.

Gallagher: originally thinks something is wrong when he saw you stood there unresponsive for a good few minutes, only to blurt out not even a second later, ‘can I kiss you on the lips?’

His worries fade and a smile graced his lips as he chuckled.

‘You almost had me worried there sweetheart but are you sure you want me to kiss you? What if I decide to bite?’ He’d say cheekily and never had he seen you look more flustered than anything. It’s too cute!

You’re giving this man too much power but also making him weak in the knees and want to kneel at your feet and pledge eternal loyalty to you at the same time.

However whatever you want, Gallagher will provide and if you wanted to give him a kiss, then who was he to say no to such a sweet ask?

‘Please.’ You’d add on and Gallagher could swear he melted right then and there. The magic word worked wonders in your favour as he has you sat on his lap, his big hands holding your waist steady as he waits patiently for his kiss, whsilt you felt your face burn all the way up to your ears.

However beware that one kiss becomes a million kisses with this guy as he loves the feel of your lips against his that sometimes he forgets that you both need oxygen to breathe.

Dan Heng: is equally as flustered and embarrassed as you when you asked.

His face is beat red and his eyes were practically bulging out of his head as he then looks away elsewhere and covers the lower half of his face with a hand. Curse you for being so fucking cute and polite!

He’s swears you’ll be the death of him but then again he’s not complaining.

‘Make it quick.’ He’d say but never in a mean way, he’s just genuinely about to combust if you don’t kiss him now and when you do give him a kiss so soft against his lips, you’ll have to shove his face into an ice bath or something with how unnaturally red it is.

You’re both awkward and new at this but that’s what makes every kiss you share afterwards so special and unique.

I wouldn’t put it past Dan Heng is he goes in for another kiss, he’s unabashedly become addicted to the taste of your lips.

[tanadrin]

according to traditional chinese mythology, the jade emperor was born into the kingdom of Pure Felicy and Majestic Heavenly Lights, and spent 1,750 eons of 129,600 years cultivating the Tao on the Bright and Fragrant Cliff before he attained Golden Immortality. after another hundred million years of cultivation, he became the Jade Emperor. this means the time from his birth to the time he attained the status of Jade Emperor was about 327 million years.

based on his magisterial and benevolent nature the jade emperor must have been a giant eurypterid of the genus Hibbertopterus, as elasmobranch fishes are notoriously cruel, and amphibians are all Legalists who have no truck with the Tao. locating the Kingdom of Pure Felicity and Majestic Heavenly Lights is much easier: obviously it was on the northeast side of the Paleo-Tethys sea, on the craton that is now part of northern China, which is why the geological memory of the Jade Emperor persisted in that region down to the present day.

[lina-linny]

summary: yn is insecured about talking to much but her boyfriend hyunjin is there to comfort her

genre: hurt, comfort, fluff

words: 1k

It was a typical Friday evening. As always, Yn stumbled through the door of the small apartment she shared with her boyfriend Hyunjin just as he sat down in front of his canvas. Loaded down with bags, she tried to get rid of her shoes with moderate success.

"Yn-aaaaah how was work, love?"

"Good," she replied curtly, putting down one of her numerous shopping bags, which were filled to the brim. Hyunjin was taken aback. When yn came home on Fridays, she usually never stopped talking to him about her work. About how much fun she had with her new project at work, what she had for lunch or what her annoying colleague had done again. It wasn't like her to be that curt and dismissive, hyunjin realized with a frown. shrugging his shoulders, he began to draw. maybe she was just tired.

yn was completely caught up in her usual routine. everything was the same as always. But instead of looking forward to the weekend with her boyfriend and finding comfort in her upcoming weekly "painting-tea-talking ritual", she was plagued by countless self-doubts today. Was she not pretty enough? Was she really annoying hyunjin? Was she too loud?

Sighing, she walked through the kitchen and put the freshly bought groceries away in their designated places. When she had put the last can in one of the cupboards, she put on some tea water and opened the shelf with her thousands of cups. without thinking about it, she pulled out her comfort cup and filled it to the brim with hot water. looking at it, the cup wasn't particularly pretty. the design was peeling off nicely because of the frequent washing, and yet it was perfect in yn's eyes. it had been the first gift hyunjin had ever given her. when she met him, she was stuck in one of the darkest periods of her life. plagued by insecurities, stress and unhealthy relationships, hyunjin had smuggled himself into her life as a small glimmer of hope and when he wasn't there or she couldn't express her worries, she clung to the cup.

Ironically, the reason she needed to hold her cup today was her fear of losing hyunjin. Was she too exhausting? lost in thought, she picked out a tea bag and carefully let it disappear into the water in the cup. then, as usual, she sat down next to hyunjin, who by now had a rough sketch on his canvas and greeted her with a beaming smile.

the artist had been looking forward to her usual ritual all day. yn could only muster a half-hearted grin. as she slumped into her usual chair, hyunjin waited patiently to finally hear all about her day. he was dying to find out whether her colleague ayumi had so obviously made a move at her much too old and happily married boss again, or whether linh from the marketing department had spilled her coffee on her colleagues again and had brought these heavenly muffins as an apology for the chaos, which yn would quote "kill for". in both cases, this would be the third time in a month. but instead of the usual gossip, a depressed silence followed. hyunjin tried to ignore the silence by turning his attention back to the painting in front of him.

he began to paint a dark blue. he carefully let the brush glide over the canvas. as he always did. as he had done hundreds of times before and yet it was wrong. the line was wrong. it didn't show what his heart wanted to express. it was too big and too small, too wide and too thin. it lacked any warmth, just like hyunjin. the room was warmed by the rays of the setting sun and his sweater gave his body a pleasant temperature but it didn't reach his heart.

"yn-ah what's wrong? why don't you talk to me? you can't make me beg so brutally. give me all the tea!" hyunjin's mouth twisted into a pout and made yn smile slightly.

"I don't know, Jini... I talk too much anyway... I don't want to distract you from painting." to say hyunjin was confused would be an understatement. he furrowed his brow worriedly.

"jagia where did you get the idea that you talk too much? i love to hear you talk. especially when i'm painting! i want to know how your day was. every day! i want to hear everything you have to tell me my muse. i can't paint without you. the lines don't get right the painting can't really convey what i feel but when you're with me, when i hear your honey sweet voice it just becomes real love. i never want you to shut up understand?" hyunjin curled his shapely lips into a pout as if his girlfriend had personally attacked him with her previous statement.

"okay, okay jini!" yn laughed, but hyunjin didn't want to let the whole thing go so easily.

"jagi, what makes you think you talk too much?" hyunjin shifted so that his full attention was on his beloved. he looked at her anxiously as she nervously kneaded her hands and clutched her cup for support.

"well... i just thought... you know, hana, you know the one who regularly sleeps with the ceo... i was talking about our date where we went to see this beautiful van gogh exhibition and well... she said i always talk way too much and that i never let anyone get a word in edgewise. and... maybe she also said that... she's surprised that someone like you is still with me at all... and i mean she's not entirely wrong, is she? i always talk so much. when you paint i ramble non-stop. you don't get a word in edgewise and i'd understand if you were annoyed with me for that... or something"

"ohh love..." hyunjin sighed and wrapped his girlfriend in a warm hug, pulling her onto his lap, which she only commented on with a sad smile.

"have you forgotten that I always ramble the same way?" He lovingly nudged her nose, which made her giggle.

"i sometimes ramble on for hours about how great our new choreography is or how annoyed i am with one of the boys and as far as i can remember you always love to listen to me. so please don't stop. you shouldn't listen to hana this little..."

yn stopped her boyfriend from uttering a sinful insult to hana by placing her soft and tea-warmed lips on his. hyunjin sighed into the kiss and pulled her closer to him. Their lips moved as if they had never done anything else before. They danced a dance whose choreography only they knew. Hyunjin's hands were soon in her hair as he tried to take away her insecurities with his kiss alone.

panting, they broke away from each other but hyunjin didn't let her escape from his strong arms. slowly, he covered her now laughing face with kisses. smiling, hyunjin buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent. "soo... are you going to tell me how your day was, my muse?" he asked, pressing a tender kiss to her sensitive neck, which made her giggle.

"okay... do you know how annoying hikaru was today? he's been running around all day and..." hyunjin returned to his canvas even though one of his hands was now occupied holding yn's, who by now was sitting in her own chair again, sipping her tea as she talked.

by now, the sun had disappeared and was replaced by the soft shimmer of the moon. the cool evening air wafted through the open windows of their shared apartment and yet hyunjin was much warmer than he had been just a few minutes before. her voice dripped like liquid honey straight to his heart and the soft giggle that had just left her lips made hyunjin beam. he carefully applied the brush and... the line was perfect.