#I love them so much you don’t even understand

[thundersoothers]

john price, his wife, and... the dog (derogatory)

who: John Price x wife!reader

what: inspired by this thought about john price being an absolutely softie for his wife.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of cheating but it’s NOT TRUE! you’ll see… just fluff that reallyyyyy makes me want to marry this man.

It’s 2AM on a Saturday in the summer when John Price thinks he hears his wife cheating on him. 

“Shhh!!  You have to be quiet, you’ll wake up my husband.” 

He opens his heavy eyes to see the TV paused at the end credits of some movie he can’t even remember the name of.  The screen reflects in the crystal of the empty rocks glass on the coffee table next to his feet, holding only a warm whiskey stone.  

He groans and stretches, his old t-shirt riding up to show a dark happy trail disappearing into low-waisted flannel pajama pants.  He has one sock on with a hole in the toe.  You told him to get rid of them and got him a pack of 20 of the same sock (he’s very particular about his socks), but he still wears these ones, anyway. 

“Stop moving, I’m trying to concentrate here.  Damn lock… can never— oh, shit.  Heh. Wrong key.” 

He can hear you muttering and giggling and the scratch of the key against the lock as you struggle to get it in. 

It’s your girls’ night and he likes to wait up for you to make sure you get in safely.  He saw you off around 8PM, pouring himself a glass of whiskey as you took a shot of tequila.  You planted a big kiss on his cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark that he didn’t bother to fully wipe off. 

“Sorry, I know you’re eager to get inside.  I bet you’re so cold, all naked.  Here, you can go in my dress, is that better?  Fu—ow!  Don’t bite my tit, Jesus!  Sharp teeth…” 

Price suddenly feels much more awake.  He pushes himself up from the couch and starts to walk to the foyer. 

“This damn door… ah!  There we go.” 

The door creaks open and he hears you tiptoe inside in your heels (wearing heels and tiptoeing—are two actions that are mutually exclusive, especially when you’re plastered). 

“Remember, we have to be quiet.  My husband waits for me to get home, we don’t want to wake him up.  He’s very nice, you see, but he can’t know you’re here.” 

Apparently, you have gotten home safely—with an extra guest who just bit at your tit.  And you’re being louder than your guest, who you keep telling to be quiet. 

“My husband is gonna be soooo mad.  He’s gonna be so mad at me, but once he sees how cute you are, I think he’ll forgive me.  He’ll understand.  I had to.  I just had to!” 

He hears rustling as he gets closer to the foyer, you fumbling around in the dark. 

“Stay there, don’t move, okay?  Stay, yeah?  You know that, don’t you?  Mummy will teach you if not.  Just stay right there.  Lemme get these damn heels off…” 

There’s an odd sound of something quickly clicking on hardwood floor that makes his eyebrows furrow, and then you gasp—

“Wait, don’t run—“ 

Bang! 

You groan loudly. 

Price flicks on the lights.

You’re lying face down on the rug.  You have one heel on.  The second heel is twisted around your other foot—what you fell over.  Your little dress is flipped up over your ass and your arms are outstretched. 

“You okay there, love?” John asks, torn between amusement and concern. You just groan.  “Sounded like you fell pretty hard.” 

“I tripped,” you say into the rug, sounding very sad. 

“You hurt?” he asks.  “Anything broken?”

You shake your head and curl up a little.  “I’ll just sleep here.” 

He laughs softly.  “Come on, none of that.” 

“It’s so comfortable.  I’ll just—“ 

There’s that clicking sound again and he’s almost startled by the abruptness of your movement.  You push yourself up with one arm, stretch the other out and fucking snatch the quick-moving little brown blob that’s moving toward you.  You pull it to your chest and cradle it, shielding it from John’s view. 

He blinks. “What you got there, love?” he asks after a second. 

“Nothing,” you say innocently. 

“Right.”  He crosses his arms, looking you over.  “Who were you talking to just now?” 

“No one,” you say quickly.  “Myself.” 

“Right,” John says again slowly. “Show me what you have.” 

You look over your shoulder up at him through your lashes, vision blurry.  “No.  You’re gonna be mad.” 

“Just show me.” 

“Promise you won’t be mad.” 

He sighs.  “I won’t be mad.”  You give him a look.  He sighs again.  You’re wasted—he can tell by your eyes. They’re unfocused and heavy.  “Promise.  Now show me.” 

You look down at whatever you’re holding to your chest.  “Okay,” you whisper (to your tits?), “you need to be very well-behaved, okay?  No biting, please.  Be very nice for Daddy so he will like you, okay?  Can you do that?  Yes?  Okay.” 

You glance up at John again over your shoulder and then turn yourself around in a very clumsy movement.  Then, as if presenting whatever it is like you’re Mufasa from the Lion King, you lift it up in the air toward your husband. 

It’s a puppy. 

It’s quiet. 

The little dog wriggles in your hands, wagging his tail so hard his whole body shakes.  He barks up at John, high pitched.  A small pink tongue lolls out of his mouth. 

It’s still quiet. 

You lower the dog a little so you can look up at John.  “You said you wouldn’t be mad!” 

“I’m not mad,” John says, sounding mad. 

“You look mad.” 

“I’m not mad,” he says again.  “It’s just… dirty.” 

You gasp.  “He’s not dirty!” you exclaim, sounding offended on behalf of the dog.  You pull him to your chest.  “He’s just a little mangey, you see.  But that’s okay.  It can be fixed.  You know—they have medicine for that.  Or lotion, or whatever it is.  He’s very nice, John, I swear.  I know he’s a little… skrunkly but he’s very cute and—ow!  That’s my hair, no biting Mummy, please.” 

“You’re already calling yourself his Mummy?” he asks, bemused, eyebrow raised at you.  Yep.  You’re fucking wasted. 

“Yes, and you’re his Daddy.”  You hold the dog up again, this time facing him toward you.  “I think you’re very cute, puppy. You’ll grow on Daddy.  Just be very good for him, you can do that, can’t you?  Yes, you can.”  You whisper, as if John isn’t standing right there, “We’ll wear him down. Don’t worry.”

“I thought it was something else,” Price says. 

“What did you think it was?” you ask, not looking away from the dog.

“Where did you find it?” he asks instead of answering. 

This is much better than what his traitorous mind momentarily supplied.  You, cheating? As if.

How silly of him to even think that. For a moment, his stomach twists with the guilt of doubting you. He should have known better. 

Of course it’s this.  What else could it have been?

A puppy. 

A puppy! 

“Oh, hello, there.” 

You crouch down in your dress and heels and hold out your hand to the little puppy emerging from the bushes by the side of the road. 

“What are you doing here, all alone?  Come here, love, I won’t hurt you.  Come on, puppy, come to me.  Yeahhh, there we go.  Oh, look at you.  You’re so cute.  You’re all mangey, though.  Oh,” you say pitifully, “you little baby.” 

You’re drunk as fuck at 2AM on a Saturday in the summer, halfway through your walk home from the bar, squatting in the middle of a back road in England, about to cry while petting this puppy clumsily—but he doesn’t seem to mind.  He wags his tail and nips at your fingers. 

“Where’s your Mummy?  You shouldn’t be out here all alone.  No collar… oh, goodness, what should I do with you?  I don’t want to leave you.  I’m not sure what to do.” 

He barks at you, high pitched. 

You nod at him seriously.  “Oh, yes, good point.”  He barks again.  “Mhm.  Yes, yes.  I thought so, too.  Exactly right.” 

He runs in a circle around you. 

“What are you, a month?  You should be with your Mum, you shouldn’t be all alone.  Oh, you little baby, you must be so scared.”  (He’s wagging his tail.) 

“It’s so cold.”  (It’s summer.) 

“Maybe you can come home with me?”  (Your husband would be so mad.) 

“Yes,” you decide.  “You’ll come home with me.”  (Your husband is going to be so mad.) 

That’s how you end up stumbling home with a puppy in your arms, rambling to him about yourself and your life. 

“Well, puppy, my name is Mrs. Price.  I’m from around here.  I live in a nice three bedroom house with my husband, I think you’ll like it very much.  It’s very cute. He let me decorate it. He doesn’t understand feng shui, you see. You should see his office, puppy, it’s so bland. No taste for interior design.”

“Our house is only 10 more minutes away.  See that big tree there?  That means we only have 10 minutes left until we’re home.  I’m not great with street names, you see, so I go by landmarks.”  He barks.  “Yes, yes, you get it.” 

“Anyway.  So, I’m—stop wiggling please, Mummy’s going to drop you—I’m married to a very nice man named John.  I love him very much.  You’ll like him, too,” you tell him seriously, “he’s very likable.  I like lots of things about him, puppy.  Actually, I like everything about him.” 

“He says I can’t have a dog, though.  He says it’s for my own good—booooo. Boo! But maybe we can sneak you in.  What do you think, puppy?  Should we do that?  I think we should do that.  We’ll have to be very quiet, though.  Very quiet.” 

“John waits for me to get home safely—he’s so nice, he’s so kind to me, I love him sooooo much—but we have to make sure not to wake him up. This is one of them—uh, covert operations. He’s very well-versed in those. My husband is very talented, puppy, he’s a Captain. So we’ll have to be extra careful.”

And that’s how you end up trying to sneak into your own house and then trip over your shoe and fucking slam! your face on the rug. 

“Where did you find it?” John asks you as you sit on the floor after you presented the dog to him.

“On the way home from the bar, kind of my that big tree.” 

“By Notting Street?” 

You furrow your eyebrows.  “Notting Str—I dunno.  Maybe?  I just know the big tree.  The one with all the branches.” 

“‘The one with all the branches,’” he repeats, nodding slowly.  “Right.” 

“But he was there all alone so I took him home.  I couldn’t leave him, John, he’s so little.  And he’s very cute, look at his little ears?  And his little feet?  His toes are soooo small.  His little teeth are sharp, though—like a shark.  Fuckin’ hurt, he almost bit my tit off.” 

“Yeah, I heard.” 

“You heard?  Oh.  I was trying to be quiet.  I didn’t want to wake you up.” 

He smiles at you.  “I know.” 

You smile back. 

“Give me the dog.” 

You frown.  “No.” 

“The dog, please.” 

“No.”  You hold him tighter.  “You’ll take him from me.” 

“Well,” he says, “yes.” 

You sigh heavily.  “Be gentle.”  You hand him to John and he takes him in one hand and holds him out, frowning, as if it’s offended him. 

A puppy. 

“Can we keep him?” you ask hopefully. 

He glances at you and then back to the puppy and then back to you and then back to the puppy.  “No.” 

“Please?” 

“No.” 

“But…”  You trail off and he looks back down at you.  You’re starting to tear up. 

“Oh—love, don’t cry.” 

“He’s so little and soft and nice and he’s all mangey and he’s all alone and he’s just a little baby and…” 

“Okay, okay, darling, we can keep him.” 

(By that, he means you’ll talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober, and by ‘talk about it’, he means, ‘no.’) 

“Really?!” you gasp.  

The way your face fucking lights up makes John pause.  For a second, he almost feels like he lost his balance.

“Oh, John, really?  Oh, thank you so much!  Puppy, did you hear that?  Daddy said yes!  See, he’s very nice, just like I told you, remember?  He’s very nice and kind and he’s very handsome and I love him very much, and I—“ 

“The dog can’t understand you.” 

“You don’t know that,” you say defensively.

He looks down at you. “Right.”

You stare up at him, standing over you as you sit on the floor.  “How are you handsome even from this angle?”  You frown deeper.  “Stupid face,” you mutter. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Let’s get you up.” 

“I’m so comfortable.” 

“Hand.”  He tucks the dog under his arm and extends his other hand toward you.  He crooks his long, thick fingers at you.  “Now.” 

You look between his hand and his face, and then slip your hand into his.  He fucking yanks you up and, in one movement that’s somehow graceful, bends down and throws you over his shoulder. 

He, naturally, slaps your ass and you squeal.  “Hey!!” 

You kick your feet (still with only one heel on) and he laughs, resting his hand on your hip, heavy fingers digging into the plush of your butt, as he makes his way up the stairs with you on his shoulder and the dog in his hand. 

Gently, he drops you onto the bed and you fall back with an oof! and stare up at him. 

“Well,” Price drawls, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

You grin.  “I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.”  He takes off your shoe (singular), your dress, and your makeup as you hold the dog, curled up, on your chest. 

“You’re so good to me, John,” you say, your eyes closed.  “I’m so lucky.  I don’t know how I got so lucky.  And, you, puppy,” you mumble, petting him slowly, “you’re so lucky, too.  You’re about to have the best Daddy in the world.  He’s so good to us.” 

“‘Puppy’ is asleep,” John says.  “And,” he adds, scooping him up in one hand, “puppy is not sleeping in the bed.” 

You just groan, too tired and drunk to argue. 

He holds the dog out in the air again, turning him around and upside down to examine him.  He yips and wriggles in his hands, but John shushes him.  “Hush now.  Your Mummy is asleep.”  He shakes his head and sighs.  “What am I going to do with you?” 

He takes the dog to the bathroom and puts him down on the floor. His paws slip a little on the cold tile. John puts his hands on his hips, staring down at the dog.  “I can’t believe this.”

He reaches over to turn on the heated floor (which he got installed for you) and says to the dog, “You are so, so damn lucky I love your Mummy.” 

In the morning, despite John Price’s best efforts to say no to you, you end up convincing him to keep the dog. He’s a military Captain but the pleading of his wife is enough to make him crumble.

The happiness on your face when he finally says yes, makes him wonder why he ever said no in the first place.

note: thank you for reading! this is my first time posting in years–and in a totally new fandom. thank you for your patience and your support. let me know your thoughts! merry christmas!

posted 12.26.2024.

revised 12.27.24.

do not repost or modify any of my original words on any other platform.

to masterlist.

[dollishmehrayan]

# CELEBRATING CHRISTMAS WITH BATBOYS! ── .✦ ( how you celebrate Christmas with different batboys )

a/n: merry christmasss! I took a small christmas break so enjoyy this one this was supposed to be on drafts but tumblr deleted it for NO REASON. Anywayss enjoyyy, tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick is all about family and making you feel like part of his world. He drags you to Wayne Manor for the annual Christmas gathering.

“You’re not just meeting them you’re officially part of the chaos now.”

He insists on matching Christmas sweaters—preferably something embarrassing but endearing, like sweaters with reindeer antlers or Santa hats.

When you two decorate the tree, he’ll lift you up to put the star on top, even if you don’t need the help. “It’s tradition!”

Christmas morning involves him waking you up early with hot cocoa and a million kisses before unwrapping presents.

He loves going ice skating with you after all the festivities, holding your hand and showing off his acrobatic spins. “Bet you didn’t know I could do that, huh?”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason keeps things quiet and low-key, preferring a cozy Christmas at home over big gatherings. He’ll grumble if you insist on dragging him to the Manor but secretly enjoys seeing you happy.

“If Alfred offers you eggnog, don’t drink it. Trust me.”

He’s surprisingly thoughtful when it comes to gifts. He’ll give you something heartfelt, like a first-edition book or a piece of jewelry with a story behind it.

Jason will absolutely read you a Christmas story by the fireplace. He tries to act like it’s no big deal, but you catch him smiling when you lean against him to listen.

Baking Christmas cookies together turns into a disaster. He somehow burns half of them but insists on eating them anyway. “It’s the thought that counts, right?”

At night, he takes you on a walk through Gotham to see the Christmas lights, keeping you close to shield you from the cold and doing that sidewalk rule thingy.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s idea of a perfect Christmas is you, him, and a stack of holiday movies to binge-watch while wrapped in a blanket fort.

“We’re staying up all night. Sleep is for New Year’s Eve.”

He’s a last-minute shopper but somehow always gets you the perfect gift. He’ll blush when you open it and say, “I just… figured you’d like it.”

Decorating the tree is a fun and chaotic process because he tries to turn it into a competition. “Whoever hangs the most ornaments wins bragging rights for the year.”

He insists on taking a cute selfie in front of the tree to commemorate the moment, even if you’re in pajamas and your hair’s a mess.

You exchange heartfelt letters as part of your gift exchange, and his words always leave you teary-eyed.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian is a bit awkward about Christmas traditions at first, but he puts in effort because he knows how much it means to you.

He surprises you with a beautifully wrapped gift, probably something rare or unique that shows he knows you well. “I trust this meets your expectations.”

If you’re at Wayne Manor, he’ll grumble about the chaos but secretly enjoys seeing everyone together. He stays close to you the entire time.

You two spend part of the day at the animal shelter, helping out with the holiday rush. Seeing him with the animals melts your heart.

At home, he’ll insist on making hot cocoa for you. It’s surprisingly good, and he pretends not to notice your impressed look.

Late at night, he plays piano for you by the fire, begrudgingly admitting that Christmas music isn’t entirely awful.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce makes sure Christmas is magical for you. The Manor is decked out with elegant decorations, and Alfred ensures everything is perfect.

He gives you a tour of the massive Christmas tree, explaining how each ornament has a story. “This one’s from the first Christmas Dick spent here. It’s… special.”

Bruce is incredibly thoughtful with gifts. He doesn’t just buy something expensive; he finds something meaningful that shows how much he knows and cares about you.

You spend part of the day helping him and Alfred deliver gifts to shelters and hospitals. It’s a tradition he holds close to his heart.

In quieter moments, he’ll hold you close by the fire, watching the snow fall outside. “Thank you for making this Christmas so much better.”

He surprises you with a slow dance to soft Christmas music, making you feel like you’re in a fairytale.

[crwbannwen]

I was writing this in the tags but I have too much to say.

So this absolutely. Don’t unwelsh my Mari Lwyd please and thank you

BUT I’d like to add some more:

As someone completely guilty of using the phrase ‘Welsh rap battle�� over pwnco. It’s because it’s one, a joke phrase I used to use even before it became more widely recognised, and two a more understandable concept I can explain to people without boring them with rhyme and meter.

I love my rhyme and meters, so trust me I knew how the pwnco worked when I use this phrase. I like saying ‘Welsh Rap Battle’ because I think it’s funny and emphasises how cool and charming I find my own cultural tradition to an English speaking person who wouldn’t know the tradition. It’s good to alter your language for people’s ease of understanding, it’s unfortunate that the joke caught on to people who don’t understand the pwnco. (And there is a limit to changing your language: it eventually does become altering something important too much for someone’s benefit).

I will also note here, while I use the phrase ‘Welsh rap battle’ to reinforce that I like the tradition, I also know people who were ashamed of the culture and tradition and used that phrase to make fun of the dead singing horse (same issue with Scots being called a dialect: cultural shame is a big issue in Wales even if we don’t think it is). Now the tradition is being reclaimed I doubt those people still see it as something to be ashamed of. But it’s something to keep in mind when using that phrase. Intentions do vary.

But my main point I wanted to adress:

Dysgais i Cymraeg fel iaith yn ail felly dw i ddim yn siarad cymraeg yn digon rhugl i fyrfyfyrio pwnco. Dw i’n gallu creu cerdd gydag amser ond beth am y bobl (cymreig) sydd ddim yn gallu siarad cymraeg o gwbl?

So while we don’t want to remove the Welsh from our tradition, we definitely don’t want to make the tradition inaccessible to our own people.

Learning a language is difficult. The education system sucks. Welsh second language a level is torture (I’d know, I did it. Average AS result in my class was a U, it was that awful). And not everyone has the means or the opportunity to learn Welsh so we should take care never to ostracise our own people. It’s more than unfortunate that we don’t all have a good grasp on the language. So having a set Cân-y-Fari that non-speakers or dysgwyr can learn and recite helps to both immerse them in Welsh and includes them in their own culture. Same with having art or an aesthetic. Maybe you can’t speak Welsh: but you can draw. That gives you a way to celebrate your culture still and I think that’s awesome. Even in English I couldn’t improvise a poem with a strict meter. The actual tradition of the Mari Lwyd is a seemingly unattainable level of fluency to most dysgwyr.

Obviously this still needs to coexist with the original Welsh tradition (not necessarily art though, if it’s a drawing of a Mari Lwyd then it’s a drawing of a Mari Lwyd. In my opinion art doesn’t need words unless the artist wants to add words). Traditions do change and that isn’t always a bad thing. In this case it’s not something we want to do, but it’s something we need to consider doing in order to help the non-Welsh speakers and dysgwyr be included in their culture.

There is an even larger issue here to be addressed with how we treat our own people as not ‘Welsh’ enough. Especially people who have mixed heritage. There’s a big racism issue that I could unpack here as well where non-white welsh students are made not to feel Welsh enough to deserve to be involved in welsh culture. Which should not happen. Similarly with half English Welshies. We need to stop treating ourselves like we aren’t Welsh enough; it only hurts us to be denied by our own people.

And as for Krampus comparisons, I bonded with a German friend over our different but similarly unique cultural Christmas traditions so I think that’s good too. I guess it’s the simplification of it that’s the problem

So I hate how the Mari Lwyd has been ‘de-welshed’. But personally, the ability for all of Welsh people to have access to it also needs to be considered in this discourse.

Still if the tradition completely shifted to English I would be so livid.

Edit: forgot to say, while I know the Mari Lwyd isn’t a cryptid, it is a cultural creature and I see no issue with people using that aspect of the tradition as a way to connect to it. The tradition isn’t only changing, it’s expanding. We just have to make sure it doesn’t drown out the original tradition

The thing with the Mari Lwyd, though, is that it's being... I don't know, 'appropriated' is the wrong word, but certainly turned into something it isn't.

Thing is, this is a folk tradition in the Welsh language, and that's the most important aspect of it. I feel partly responsible for this, because I accidentally became a bit of an expert on the topic of the Mari Lwyd in a post that escaped Tumblr containment, and I clearly didn't stress it strongly enough there (in my defence, I wrote that post for ten likes and some attention); but this is a Welsh language tradition, conducted in Welsh, using Welsh language poetic forms that are older than the entire English language, and also a very specific sung melody (with a very specific first verse; that's Cân y Fari). It is not actually a 'rap battle'. It's not a recited poem. It is not any old rhyme scheme however you want.

It is not in English.

Given the extensive and frankly ongoing attempts by England to wipe out Welsh, and its attendant cultural traditions, the Mari is being revived across Wales as an act of linguistic-cultural defiance. She's a symbol of Welsh language culture, specifically; an icon to remind that we are a distinct people, with our own culture and traditions, and in spite of everyone and everything, we're still here. Separating her from that by removing the Welsh is, to put it mildly, wildly disrespectful.

...but it IS what I'm increasingly seeing, both online and in real world Mari Lwyd festivals. She's gained enormous pop-culture popularity in recent years, which is fantastic; but she's also been reduced from the tradition to just an aesthetic now.

So many people are talking/drawing about her as though she's a cryptid or a mythological figure, rather than the folk practice of shoving a skull on a stick and pretending to be a naughty horse for cheese and drunken larks. And I get it! It's an intriguing visual! Some of the artwork is great! But this is not what she is. She's not a Krampus equivalent for your Dark Christmas aesthetic.

I see people writing their own version of the pwnco (though never called the pwnco; almost always called some variant on 'Mari Lwyd rap battle'), and as fun as these are, they are never even written in the meter and poetic rules of Cân y Fari, much less in Welsh, and they never conclude with the promise to behave before letting the Mari into the house. The pwnco is the central part to the tradition; this is the Welsh language part, the bit that's important and matters.

Mari Lwyd festivals are increasingly just English wassail festivals with a Mari or two present. The Swansea one last weekend didn't even include a Mari trying to break into a building (insert Shrek meme); there was no pwnco at all. Even in the Chepstow ones, they didn't do actual Cân y Fari; just a couple of recited verses. Instead, the Maris are just an aesthetic, a way to make it look a bit more Welsh, without having to commit to the unfashionable inconvenience of actually including Welsh.

And I don't really know what the answers are to these. I can tell you what I'd like - I'd like art to include the Welsh somewhere, maybe incorporating the first line of Cân y Fari like this one did, to keep it connected to the actual Welsh tradition (or other Welsh, if other phrases are preferred). I'd like people who want to write their version of the pwnco to respect the actual tradition of it by using Cân y Fari's meter and rhyme scheme, finishing with the promise to behave, and actually calling it the pwnco rather than a rap battle (and preferably in Welsh, though I do understand that's not always possible lol). I'd like to see the festivals actually observe the tradition, and include a link on the booking website to an audio clip of Cân y Fari and the words to the first verse, so attendees who want to can learn it ahead of time. I don't know how feasible any of that is, of course! But that's what I'd like to see.

I don't know. This is rambly. But it's something I've been thinking about - and increasingly nettled by - for a while. There's was something so affirming and wonderful at first about seeing the Mari's climb into international recognition, but it's very much turned to dismay by now, because she's important to my endangered culture and yet that's the part that everyone apparently wants to drop for being too awkward and ruining the aesthetic. It's very frustrating.

[calcifiedunderland]

The Prefect’s Kiss~

—When a Night Raven College’s housewarden falls under the Sleeping Curse, only one person can wake them up.

Riddle Rosehearts, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim al-Asim x gn! Reader

“Oh! How terrible! Oh woe is me! How could this happen?!”

Crowley wailed at the news, sobbing fake tears beneath his mask. “What will I tell the parents?! The press?! How will I be able to afford vacation- I MEAN funding for my wonderful students?!”

Crewel rolled his eyes. He’d actually feel sorry for the Headmage if he was actually crying tears. The tissue clutched in Crowley’s fist was still dry.

Trein sighed, “this is the antidote recipe for Sleeping Death. Although, the materials are extremely hard to come by.” Crewel scanned the paper, noting the ingredients. “The recipe is possible, although they are quite expensive.” Crowley cringed, “how much will it be?” He screeched at the amount Trein said.

Meanwhile, Crewel muttered to himself. “The only other option is possibly true love’s kiss.” He looked up, “well, I’ll get the ingredients first thing in the-“ He stopped. Where Crowley was standing, was now a few black feathers fluttering down to the carpet. Crewel’s face fell, “oh no…”

In Ramshackle dorm, the Headmage chuckled nervously, sweating. You stared in disbelief, “I… honestly can’t believe that happened?” You were beyond shocked to hear that a Housewarden of all students had been knocked out with Sleeping Death. Crowley nodded wisely, “And I have decided to generously ask you to do the honors!”

“Huh?!” You stared incredulously at the Headmage as he ushered you out the door. He looked cheerful, “ah, aren’t I so gracious? I’m reuniting you with your true love!” You stared at him, jaw dropped, “HUH?!”

Riddle Rosehearts

♥️ The Headmage’s speech about True Love’s Kiss echoed in your head. You’d admitted to your friends that you had just a tiny, itty-bitty crush on your beloved Teapot-Tyrant. You didn’t know if he’d ever like you back, even though Ace swore up and down that Riddle gave you special treatment when you, Ace, and Deuce got into trouble (aka gently scolding you while they got collared and yelled at)

♥️ You didn’t want to give yourself false hope, even though you got butterflies every time Riddle personally waited on you during Unbirthday Parties and offered to tutor you when you didn’t understand something. If only you didn’t look away every time you got flustered, then you see the sweet blush on Riddle’s face and the gentle look he’d give you when you were together.

♥️ Now, you stared at the boy in front of you. Your beloved hothead-redhead looked too peaceful to be under a sleeping curse. You deadpanned at Ace and Deuce. “Explain.”

♥️ Apparently, while the two of them were messing around in the botanical gardens, they dropped some draught into Trey’s strawberry plants. And Trey baked the strawberries into a tart for Riddle. It was just your luck that your two beloved idiots had Sleeping Death as their potion.

You rubbed your temples. Deuce held his head in his hands. “The Housewarden will be so furious,” Ace said in a daze. Cater nodded solemnly, tucking his phone away, “your heads’ll be off quicker than you can say Magicam.”

“And they’ll be permanently off if you don’t leave them now.” Trey’s aura made them bustle out of the room, and Cater flashed you a little kissy face before leaving after Trey. You turned back to Riddle, sitting next to him. You gently cupped his cheek, brushing his bangs away from his face.

Even though you wanted to do it so many times before, thought of kissing him made you nervous. Especially when he could never wake up. Still, you leaned forward.

“Please wake up Riddle, I’ll miss you too much” you begged, before gently pressing your lips against his. You lingered there for a few seconds, before gasping and pulling away when you felt him move. Riddle’s eyes were wide open and staring at you, his face growing red. “P-prefect?! What is the meaning of this?!”

You threw your arms around Riddle, who dazedly hugged you back. Ace and Deuce fell through the door, and Cater and Trey rushed in. Deuce grabbed Ace and forced him down, bowing before Riddle, “we’re sorry, Housewarden! It won’t happen again!” Riddle looked at Trey and Cater in confusion, who explained “you were under the Sleeping Curse thanks to these two.”

You felt Riddle tense under you, and you pulled away. You cupped his cheek gently as he grit his teeth, “deal with them later, ok? Just rest,” you kissed his cheek and Riddle’s anger fizzled out as Ace and Deuce ran out of them room. Cater chuckled as he and Trey left, “we’ll leave you two lovebirds!” He sneakily snapped a photo, with you and Riddle wrapped in each others arms gazing at each other. He dm’ed you the photo, #truelove’skiss #finallythesetwoaretogether #getaroom

Azul Ashengrotto

💜 The Mostro Lounge was still running normally thanks to Jade. It seemed that only him and Floyd knew that Azul was under the Sleeping Curse. The entire dorm might revolt against working if they knew their Housewarden was cursed. The thought made you giggle, despite your growing nervousness of your crush being cursed.

💜 It was a long shot that Azul would like you. After all, more often than not you caused a lot of trouble for him. But still, you supposed you did get more discounts than the average student. And Azul did seem more keen on roping you into contracts, but somehow your end of the ‘deal’ wasn’t as harsh as others…

💜As Jade lead you into Azul’s bedroom, you asked what happened. Somehow, one of his edible mushrooms had been watered with Sleeping Death. They were making new dishes for the menu, and Azul accidentally ate it. You supposed they knew who spilled the potion into Jade’s precious mushrooms - you saw Ace and Deuce being worked to the bone in the kitchens.

💜“I’ll leave you two,” Jade looked worried when you first arrived, but somehow he looked amused as shut the door.

In the watery lighting of Azul’s room, the quietness felt loud as you remembered the Headmage’s words. You had to kiss him. He was your true love. You brushed Azul’s hair from his face, “are you?” You wondered out loud.

For a while, you tried to squash the growing feelings you had for him. But you couldn’t help but get flustered when he smiled so charmingly at you. And the way he’d offer you anything, anything Prefect please accept this, probably in a guilty attempt to ‘repay’ you. But deep down, you knew there was only one way you wanted him to repay you.

Despite yourself, you felt a lump in your throat as you watched Azul sleep. You grit your teeth. “You can put me in any contract you want. Whatever the price for this is, I-I’ll pay it,” you bit your lip, “just wake up, Azul.” And you pressed your lips to his before you could back down.

You couldn’t hear anything over your heartbeat loud in your ears, as you watched his chest move upwards while he breathed in deeply. His eyes snapped open, and immediately he focused on you, albeit blurry. Still, he could recognize you anywhere.

“Prefect?” Azul’s voice was raspy, and he frantically felt the nightstand for his glasses, “wh-what are you doing here?!” Your mouth flopped open but no sound came out. You stared at each other as Azul shoved his glasses on his face while scrambling to sit up. “A-AZUL!” You said too loudly, “you’re awake!” You both probably would’ve stayed there, staring, for the rest of the year when the door slammed open.

“Azuuuul~” Floyd ran in. “Guess ya finally woke up~ ” Jade sauntered in, and you could see relief in his face. “Yes,” Jade smirked at Azul, “it’s a good thing Prefect was here, isn’t it?”

Azul turned pink, and mercifully the twins seemed to think he’d had enough. They looked at each other with a grin, and excused themselves. You found yourself smiling shyly at Azul. “Are you feeling okay?” Azul seemed spaced out, but he snapped back to focus on you. He gulped.

“On account that you’re my… true love,” Azul took a deep breath, “perhaps you’d like to sign a contract now?”

Kalim al-Asim

🧡 The Headmage had barely said anything before Jamil slammed down your door and grabbed your wrist, hauling you straight to Scarabia. You’d never seen Jamil so stressed, ever. Crowley promptly abandoned you, wailing that he had to “go appease the parents.”

🧡 You could at least see why he was upset. The al-Asim’s were no regular family, after all. And neither was Kalim. Still, you couldn’t shake the thought. Bright, bubbly Kalim laying in bed under the Sleeping Curse. It didn’t matter how rich he was, how could someone do that to him?

🧡 Maybe it was because of how everyone at NRC was, but you’d come to appreciate Kalim. It wasn’t a stretch to say you enjoyed his company - whether it was him dragging you out on midnight carpet rides, or out to a party. His smile made the chaos bearable.

🧡 You never hid how happy he made you, especially so during his parties. Kalim always made sure to play your favorite songs, but you never noticed his smile widen when he saw you dance. You always looked so carefree, like a bird in flight. He always beamed when he got you to relax and have fun.

Jamil wasted no time dropping you off at Kalim’s room. “Just… please, I-” He swallowed thickly, before nodding at you. “I’ll leave you be.” He closed the door, and you slowly made your way to Kalim. He was laying among a dozen pillows, the with a few rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains. You sighed and sat next to him.

Scarabia felt downright somber without the sunniness of their Housewarden. Kalim’s usually smiling face was now devoid of any emotion. It bothered you more than you thought, to see Kalim with a neutral expression. You idly twisted a lock of his hair. The air felt thick without him to lighten the mood.

You didn’t want to think about never seeing Kalim again. Ever. “The dorm feels empty without you, Kalim,” you gently stroked his cheek, begging “you have to wake up to make it come back to life.” Softly you kissed him, closing your eyes tightly. You hovered there for a second, and pulled away with a gasp when you felt movement.

Kalim began stretching, still laying on the bed. “Mmh? Prefect?” he sat up with a small yawn, “What are you doing here?” He suddenly gasped, ruby eyes brightening. “Did we have a sleepover?! I totally forgot!”

You burst into laughter, feeling your eyes grow wet. You launched yourself at Kalim, both of you falling back onto the bed. Kalim hugged you back tightly, “Huh? What’s this about? Don’t cry, Prefect - I’m here!”

—————

I finally got some free time so here’s the fic three months late oops

Thanks for reading!!! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated, I hope you enjoyed 😄 the rest of the housewardens should be posted soon!

Take care shrimpies~ ✨ calci

[darnell-la]

i love the darkpervy!logan x reader content, pls make more!

summary: logan hated picking y/n up from bars and clubs, especially if her male best friend was there. she never listens to him, and tonight, he could only show her what happens when she gets as drunk as she does in public.

note: I think we’ve made a similar story like this, so we’ll try to make it a bit different.

“She’s drunk, peanut. Go and pick her up for me,” Wade told Logan as his eyes stayed on Vanessa who danced in front of him. “Why would I? She’s old enough to get around herself,” Logan said as he took a sip of his drink.

“It’s not like you’re enjoying this amazing, godsend of a woman dancing in front of us, anyway. Plus, Max is there, and you don’t want him taking her home, right?”

Logan’s fist tightened at the thought of Max being anywhere near y/n. He knew what kind of man that boy was. Logan wouldn’t be able to live in his shared apartment, knowing Max fucked her somewhere in there.

Logan got up without saying a word. “By the way, I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. I’m spending time with my future wife,” Wade shouted as Logan walked out of the bar door.

Logan had been sitting in his car for a while now. Usually, y/n comes right out, but by the videos, her friends are posting online, he knew she was having too much fun there.

Logan groaned as he stepped out of his truck, knowing he’d hate the sight of seeing y/n all over Max like she always is. He hated that thought. There was nothing special about Maximilian in any way.

“I’ll be right back, bub,” Logan told the security guard, so he wouldn’t have his truck removed from in front of the building. “Five minutes,” was all the guard gave him.

Logan quickly made his way to the section y/n and her friends always buy, and with no surprise, Max was all in y/n’s ear. The way she giggled, made Logan’s fists tightened.

“Alright, bub — Time to go home,” Logan spoke as he walked up to the section. “Logan! Have a drink with us,” Y/n offered as she raised her hand to give him her glass, but he didn’t take it.

“I don’t think he wants to drink from you, princess. Let him get his own glass,” Max spoke for Logan, and that was something he wouldn’t allow. Who does this man actually think he is?

Logan took y/n’s glass and chugged the whole thing, knowing he wouldn’t feel anything. All she drank were sweet drinks.

“Happy, princess?” Logan said, claiming her nickname back from Max. “That’s not fair, Lo. You’ve gotta drink more,” y/n said as she grabbed bottles to mix them in a glass.

“We can do that another time, bub, let’s get you home,” Logan said as he pushed past Max and softly grabbed y/n’s hand. Y/n whined as she got up to move past Max with him.

“Next week, same time?” Max asked, and right as y/n opened her mouth, Logan spoke for her. “I’m taking her out with Wade, so, no thank you,” Logan winked at the younger man before dragging y/n towards the exit with him.

“What are we gonna do next weekend?” Y/n asked, very excited, but anyone could tell she was drunk out of her mind. Logan knew once she got in his trust, she’d be passed out in his back seat, and that’s what she was.

“You can’t be drinkin’ like this, y/n. No Uber would actually take you home, seeing you like this,” Logan only told the truth as she whined in the back seat. She could barely understand the man.

“I’ve thought about what I should say to you, on my way here, but no matter what I’ll say, you won’t listen. You probably won’t even remember from how drunk you are,”

Logan pulled into a dark park that was only around the corner from their shared apartment. Wade wasn’t home, and y/n was vulnerable. Only one thing could cross Logan’s mind that he’s been wanting to do, but couldn’t. He never knew how, and when to, but tonight was the night.

“I’m hungry,” y/n struggled to say. Lovna could barely hear her. “I’ll make something at home, but right now, you’re in trouble,” Logan got out of the car as y/n repeatedly asked why.

“You see,” Logan opened the back doors to his truck and hopped in. “You would’ve taken the Uber tonight, right?” Logan asked as he moved y/n so her back was on the seat. “Mhmh,” y/n replied as her head spun.

“Yeah, so let’s see how you’d get through the night in an Uber,” Logan said as he began tugging at her dress, lighting it up until her skin touched his seat. “Huh? What?” Y/n asked, her voice seeming so far away.

“What would you do in this situation? If the Uber didn’t take you right home?” Logan asked as he hooked his fingers around her panties before ripping them clean off of her.

“Hey- Logan?” Y/n didn’t know what to do or say. What was even happening? Y/n couldn’t think straight, and the sight of that angered Logan, yet, turned him on. It’s not like he couldn’t get what he wanted if she was sober. He was stronger than her either way.

“And, this is why you can’t go out drunk. Look at you. You can’t even lift your head to look at me,” Logan said as he unbuckled his pants, feeling how hard his cock rubbed against his fabric. She looked sweeter than ever.

“Lo? What- happening?” Y/n wanted to know what was going on as Logan moved between her legs, always feeling close to the sight of her folds. She looked wet, smooth, and sweet. Just like he’d imagine.

“I’m not Logan, remember? I’m your Uber driver,” Logan said as he pushed at y/n’s entrance. At first, she didn’t feel too much to alarm her, until his tip slipped past her folds.

“Logan- Logan!” Y/n whined loudly as she lifted her arms to push at his chest. “Nah uh, you let me in,” Logan continued painting through her folds as her feet curled and mouth parted.

“N-No,” y/n felt her heart pound, getting scared of what was happening. She knew this was Logan, but she was too drunk tonight. There was too much pressure running through her body.

“Why? Tell me why, baby, and I might stop,” Logan lied. He just wanted to hear her speak. “T-Too big — I-I came breath,” y/n stuttered, and being the asshole Logan was, he lifted y/n’s legs over his shoulder to make her feel more trapped.

“Lo- please! I-I can’t,” y/n begged as her stomach twitched. “Oh, yeah? But, you can fuck Max, huh? You can fuck him at his place, but can’t give me a little attention at home?”

Y/n shook her head as she tried to comprehend what Logan was saying. Why was he bringing up Max? Why did he sound so angry? Why did he speed up his thrust the more she pushed at his lower stomach?

“G-Get up — Please,” y/n begged, feeling the need to pee, which meant she was close to an orgasm. That was too embarrassing for her. She couldn’t cum on Logan’s cock. This was inappropriate.

“Stop trying to push me away, y/n. It’s not gonna fucking work,” growled as he slapped y/n’a hands away. “No! N-No, I won’t,” y/n got fussy with the man as she fought his hands from pushing her away.

“W-We can’t do this!” Y/n tried shouting at Logan, but nothing about her in this situation made him think she’d get out of this. “I don’t care how embarrassed you are, y/n. You’re gonna fucking cum on me like you do to Max,”

Logan’s hands wrapped around y/n’s neck, making her gasp. “Logan, please — I-I’m gonna cum, and- I- Please,” y/n begged the man, but her eyes soon rolled to the back of her head.

“Ah huh,” Logan snapped his hips as his grip pulled her into his thrust. “G-Gonna cum,” y/n cried low as she gushed around the man. Her legs shook and nails dug right into Logan’s wrists.

“That’s it — It feels good, doesn’t it? Better than Max, right? C’mon, baby, tell me,” Logan slowed his strokes down, but made sure to dig deep in her cunt, causing her lower belly to ache.

“P-Please, please,” y/n tried holding it back, but she gushed again, spilling all over his seats with a loud cry. “Oh, yeah — That’s my, girl. Only for me,”

[b00tyliciousbabe]

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙

oddballs and eggnog

goofybf! x THICC male reader

summary: love me a nerdy man that’s got a lil spice to him. plus a lil xmas lore!

notes: HI BEAUTIFULS! merry xmas to those who celebrate. it’s been a while fr, my bad dawgs uni work has been ploughing my ass so violently im reconsidering if a degree is even for me. but as a masochistic bottom, i had to channel my energy elsewhere; thus, this fic is just me showing the variety of my tastes as the true indecisive femboy that i am. show me a cute guy and i will plan my whole life with him. i need to get a grip.

originally, i canonically wrote this character with ginger hair (y’all know i fold for redheads), but the more i kept writing, the clearer it became to me that dark brown hair/black aligned with my OWN understanding of him. it’s all fiction anyways so feel free to adapt body types as you see fit. enjoy my lovelies 🎀

album rec: flo - access all areas. these girlies have my heart. been following them since about 2022 and they are genuinely my fave artists, cannot wait for flo world domination.

you guys had mutual acquaintances for a couple years, but it wasn’t until the two of you got to university that your friendship really blossomed. the engineering student didn’t have the best luck when it came to relationships; in fact, people would only toy with his emotions when they wanted something from him, so he learnt to put up a wall of cynicism.

these barriers he had fortified for his own protection made him quite a reserved guy. never cruel or nasty. just quiet. sure, he wasn’t a complete loner, he had a few VERY close bros who he’d let in, but it was clear that in this silence, he was safe.

he’s super handsy, whether that means pulling you on his lap, be it at parties or when he’s gaming, or placing his hands in your back pocket when y’all walk to class, he just wants to hold you. probably got something to do with the fact that he needs to make sure you’re real and not the angel he believes you to be. you love your needy bf and his craving for physical touch.

this is kinda juxtaposed by how flustered he gets by your words. the minute you whisper in his ear, he could cum in his jeans on the spot. he gets so red when you compliment him which makes him squeeze you tighter.

he wasn’t a virgin before meeting you, he’d had a few hookups but nothing sexual with someone he genuinely cared about. as a result, it made sense why he was very nervous when it came to your first time together.

to relax him, you decided to give him a blowjob to ease the tension and allow him to cum quick in the first round so he’d last longer during anal. sat back on the edge of his bed, he wore a vest and baggy joggers, awaiting your fingers to unleash his raging boner. you knelt down and flashed a comforting smile to him, which he failed to mirror perfectly.

‘we don’t have to do this if you’re not ready to. I’d never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.’ you said concerned, stroking his abs, clear to you that he was stressing.

‘nah baby, i want this so bad. it’s just gotta be really special because you’re really special to me.’ he said gripping your chin.

‘i love you, y/n. like a lot.’

‘i know that you weirdo, i love you too, you mean so much to me.’

‘now, lemme show you how much.’ you said coyly, to which he was more than happy to oblige.

when i tell you, your man eats so well that his cum is literally like milk. the typa white, thick, pearly cum that you would swallow every drop of, because it truly is just disrespectful not to. the first time he came was a surprise for the two of you. he didn’t realise how much he loved seeing his cum all over your face, decorating your juicy, wet lips. the head you gave him was so good, he napped for 2 hours straight after you drained him. but that deffo changed him for the better.

his hobbies include boxing and gaming. he’s such a nerd he makes his own demo projects, playing with his classmates. you always chastise him for not making his hobby a lucrative endeavour - your boy’s got a talent and he doesn’t seem to know it. equally, he loves his legos and comics just as much as he enjoys coding, making you the prettiest bouquet of lego flowers for your first date. after spending some time walking, he took you back to his place and y’all spent the entire night binging his favourite marvel and dc films.

one time it was his birthday and you thought it be a good idea to make a short graphic novel of the journey of your relationship - ending steamily with you pregnant.

‘baby, i love this so much! who knew how sexy you’d look with a baby bump?’ ‘anything can happen in the multiverse’ you laugh, as he kissed your jaw.

‘I’m gonna fuck you so good tonight.’

as we have established, he’s far from experienced. he holds your hand through missionary always because it makes him feel safe. makes so many jokes during it as a way to deflect. lowkey loves being choked. you took the lead most of the time before, using him as a pole and ride the shit out of him.

but, that night he ploughed you with a sense of purpose, so deep and mercilessly that your insides were moulded into an incubator for any hypothetical foetus he would soon impregnate you with. after, he laid curled up next to you, caressing the belly that he had now filled with

‘i hate biology sometimes,’ he says breathlessly. ’you’d look so good with our lil baby growing inside your belly.’

your boyfriend is the goofiest mf ever; playing practical jokes on all his friends and fulfilling his role as your comedian. definitely one of your favourite characteristics of his.

his sleeper build is INSANE. he might appear tall and lanky, but he is far from it. bench pressing more than 100 kilos with one arm - the brudda is basically superman. he’s what you’d get if clark kent had ginger hair, and was a huge weirdo.

though he cannot dance to save his life. he used to be very awkward and shy, but the minute them clothes are off and you two are in the sheets? stroke game is giving pornstar baby girl lemme tell you! ever since your first time, it’s like you awaken the sexual drive in him that’s been missing all his life. this, paired for his complete adoration for you makes him a lethal weapon in bed - quite literally, your man casually packs an 8 inch pussy destroyer with veins that massage and pummel your gummy walls so well.

after this moment he became the BIGGEST TEASE. slapping his dick all over your face. as you chase his dick like a good puppy, he giggles at how desperate you are. ‘sweet Jesus you feel good’. ‘holy shit’. ‘don’t act like you don’t love it.’ painting hickeys all over your neck . he loves when ppl ask you because of how flustered you get, makes him want to mark you more. he’s no longer shy to the world and he thanks you everyday for that. living to call you princess - in both a mocking and endearing tone, he loved toying with your nipples because you’re his lil doll. in cowgirl he will play with them whilst jerking you off to get you to cum all over his abs. and! he LOVES eating ass - like almost obsessively, as if he’s high of your pussy.

he smells so good. so good. you always act like a bitch in heat whenever he steps out of the shower with a towel skimpily wrapped around his adonis belt.

your bf loves playing with his cum and using his dick as a paintbrush to decorate your belly, butt, and face. ‘my masterpiece’ + ‘my muse’ he professes. somehow managing to entrance you to always stroke his dick during makeout sessions. he brings his hands to play with your hair, knowing that his dick is in extremely good hands with you - literally. always pulling you off of his dick because he is really sensitive and ur mouth is a fucking weapon, but will show you that he’s the boss and could leave you bedridden for a couple days after a good fuck.

things he would say drunk off of eggnog:

‘i would die a happy man beneath those beautiful cheeks of yours’

‘put ur hole on my North Pole.’

‘ay, you Don’t get to call me handsome unless you’re gonna HANDsome of those fat cheeks of yours to my lap.’

‘come on, I’ve been a good boy, Santa says gimme some of that pussy you know I love so much.’

‘that ass of yours, come here lemme unwrap it.’

this man has you written into his destiny. he always dreamed of raising a son and dressing him up in the flyest outfits and with you, that desire became reality. you too truly are a match made in heaven.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙

taglist:

@ghostking4m

@gayaristocrat

@lysanderplume

@acoustickitten

[back2bluesidex]

To Be Popular - JJK [Prologue]

Pairing: Social Media Influencer! Jungkook X Marketing Manager! Reader ft. Yoongi

Summary:

You love everything about social media - apart from the ever-growing number of social media influencers. You don't understand how these people gain followers and admirers just by installing a camera and doing very basic things in front of it. And you despise how some of them can do anything to gain fame, to be popular - even if it includes uploading their bedroom scene in pornsites aka people like Jeon Jungkook. But when your company launches a new product and your department head tasks you with signing Jeon Jungkook up as an endorsement partner - you have no choice but to chase him like the corporate slave that you are. However, things turn worse when you embroil in a dating rumor with him and have to keep the game going for the sake of everything. is it really for the worse or things will turn in a way you never expected it to?  

Theme: Strangers to lovers au, fake dating au, kind of enemies to lover au, angst, smut, fluff.

Full Series Word Count: 26k

Chapter word count: 1k

Warnings: a tiny little smutty scene, dirty words.

Masterlist | Patreon (For access to the complete series)

Taglist requests are open.

Minors, I am not responsible for what you consume online. So, act more rationally and stay away.

A/N: After brooding for a long time, I have decided to (alongside your votes) release one of the patreon exclusive, since no other stories are working out. Though this is originally a drabble series, I will release longer chapters here.

Chapter index: -

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |

Or read the full series right away on Patreon at a discounted price today!!

Your eyes zero on your laptop screen - the quality is just above what is called grainy. 

But you can clearly recognize those tattoos. Moreover, you can recognize that voice, even if he says nothing good but filth. 

“You whore!” a slap rings as if to punctuate the man’s breathy voice, “look at your greedy hole swallowing me up so good!” 

You look at what his voice is referring to. The place where his cock disappears into her, creating a lewd, wet sound, her arousal drips down the back of her thigh - your own thighs come against each other as an impact. 

Even though their faces are not visible in the 3 minute video, the whole country knows who they are. 

Social media influencer Jeon Jungkook and Youtuber Kim Doona. 

There are a plethora of reasons behind why you don’t like these social media influencers. If you have the energy to make a list then it will go like: 

1. These people think of themselves much more highly than they actually are. You mean, they are not even celebrities or making the country proud or something. What the fuck make them so obnoxious? 

2. They have an awful number of dumb followers. Why do people even follow them? For showing their makeup and skin-care routine? For screaming loudly at the gaming screen? For recording themselves eating, doing the most random shit every normal human being does on a daily basis? You just don’t understand why. 

3. These people are absolutely fame-hungry. They can do anything and everything to boost their followers even if the said actions aren’t really positive. 

Take an instance from the current scenario - two of the most popular social media influencers have dropped their bedroom scene at an adult site and it got monetized within a day. Nice move because they gained both money and fame 10x overnight. 

It’s not that you have paid to watch what you are watching currently - you would rather die than feeding into the delusions of these influencers. You are watching because you despise these people and there was a leaked version circulating on Telegram. 

You scoff at the screen but the wetness in between your legs scoffs back at you. 

You hate them, yeah, but it’s not like you are totally immune to the sexy scene they have portrayed. Especially the way Jeon Jungkook’s tattoo arm held onto the female’s waist, or the way his muscles flexed under the dim light, or the way his cock- 

“Y/N! What the fuck?” you scold yourself, slam-shutting your laptop with unnecessary force. You blame it on your temporary state of celibacy that has been forced upon you since your last break up. 

And the fact that you have a fat crush on your manager - doesn’t make things any less painful. 

So you decide to shut off your system for the night and go to sleep as you should have done long ago. You have work tomorrow and a meeting, being wet after watching some influencers fuck each other wouldn’t help you with your career. 

Or would it? 

Your jaw hangs ajar, threatening to touch the floor as Min Yoongi, aka the manager you have a fat crush on, presents the campaign plan of your company’s new product’s marketing. Everything was fine until Yoongi suggested influencer endorsement and if this is not a joke of the universe then you don’t know what it is because you can see Jeon Jungkook’s picture gracing the screen.   

“Jeon Jungkook? Why?” you utter these words without so much of a thought. 

Yoongi looks at you with his narrowed eyes, “why not? You know, he is really famous. He is trending currently.” 

“Yeah but the reason he is trending- well. I don’t think he is suitable for our brand image.” you press on. 

Yoongi chuckles at your constipated expression, “Y/N-ah” he calls you softly and a tiny part of your heart melts, “I am sure our brand image can go up with a few charitable works here and there. But the company wants a return of what they are investing in marketing. I bet signing up Jeon Jungkook will help.” 

“Y/N, you know we are already at a tight spot right? Our last campaign wasn’t as successful as we expected. The company may take steps if we don’t do this right this time.” calls Mrs. Lee from the other side of the table. 

“And before you ask me why him, why not the other influencers…” Yoongi chimes in again, “We are selling gaming laptops and this guy is addicted to games. He has more followers than the actual streamers. He is young, hot, and talented in many areas. In one word, he is perfect.” 

“You awfully sound like you want to date him.” You scoff at the man. He only chuckles. 

Yoongi tries to say something but a knock rings on the door. One of the staff opens the door only a little and says, “Sir, he is here.” 

Yoongi nods and says, “send him inside.” 

“Who is coming?” you place the question. Only for Yoongi to smirk as a response. 

When you are about to press more, the door swings open revealing the man who-should-not-be-named, Jeon Jungkook. 

Your eyes go wide as you take him in - all baggy clothes and a cute bucket hat perched on the top of his head. Bambi eyes scanning the room like a puppy brought to his very new home. As if he is not the guy who is going viral for fucking on camera and selling it to an adult site. 

He bows deeply and opens his mouth to greet, “Hello, I am Jeon Jungkook.” 

You feel your blood pressure raising at the thought of working with him. You will survive it right? 

You will have to. 

Permanent Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @armystay89 @ryryvna @purple-realms

[theartofwoompwoomp]

You do what now?…

Various Transformers x human!reader

Summary: we spoke about us receiving aggressive affection, but what about us giving them the cuteness aggression

——————————————————————

Knockout definitely won’t let you even think about biting him. He just got polished. He’s going to make sure you don’t even get near him the second he sees that glint in your eye.

He was cuddling with you as he rambled on about his day. Moments like these brought him so much peace. But clearly, it seemed you had another definition of peace.

Your head lowered a bit towards his arm. He wouldn’t thought anything if not for the way you seemed to hesitate opening your mouth. Your lips were pursed and your full attention on his paint.

His own instincts acted before you, quickly pushing you away as he threw a tiny pillow on top of you and ran.

“Awww knockout ! I wasn’t even gonna do nothing !” He could hear your voice in the distance but he wasn’t taking any chances, knowing you were now in a game of hide-in-seek. If he wasn’t careful your small mouth would definitely bit him if he’s not aware.

Optimus would be surprised to say the least.  Never once knowing humans did such a thing to others. Especially not their significant others. He’d probably ask the reason for your actions, mistaking it for an act of anger towards him.

One second he was holding you, the next he was looking down as you had your mouth on his digit. 

He didn’t move. Just watching as you a bit him. The thing was, you weren’t chomping or taking many bites. You simply bit him once and didn’t let go. He didn’t feel you put pressure on the bit, so you weren’t attacking him.

Then what were you doing? you didn’t even look up when you let go. Perplexed he wondered why’d you grabbed his attention only for you to ignore him.

Maybe it was a way to show you were upset? But it didn’t make sense, when he called out to you about it you weren’t upset. It was an act,… of affection

Honestly he didn’t understand but it made you happy so he just let you continue on.

Bee would probably encourage your aggressive behavior towards him. Letting you run into him and start random play fights while ofc always letting you win.

Bee was just walking around base. He didn’t really have anything planned. He was about to head back towards his quarters when he heard fast steps behind him.

As he turned around, he saw that you had jumped off the shelf road set for humans. Your smile wides as launched straight for him.

Stretching towards you to catch your small body, you randomly pulled a pillow from nowhere and threw it straight to his face. He fell and you landed on him. Giving him a quick peck before taking off. Hearing your voice quite far yelling a quick, “Love ya babe !”

Still on the ground he just let a small beep that sounded a lot like a sigh. He was totally gonna get you back for this.

Soundwave is always dumbfounded by your impulses. Mainly since you act before thinking a lot of the times. Causing him to not being able to know your next move. And since your cuteness aggression is always spontaneous he never predicts it.

You were on his berth with him. While he was desperately trying to hold his mask onto his faceplate. It had broken during a battle and knockout had yet to be able to attend him. Thus leaving him in the sad state of holding it up wherever he went.

But he trusted you. And he was tired from holding it the whole day. Lowering his mask he hears a small gasp from you. 

Feeling as a bunch of thoughts rush through you, he mainly notices your curiosity.

Lowering his face as he hands you his mask. You take it eagerly, your own eyes analyzing it and tracing every dent and detail.

But it wasn’t until he had his face in front of you he felt it change in your thoughts.

Your eyes no longer focusing on his mask, rather all your attention on his lower half of his face. At first he could feel all your thoughts, but now your mind was rushing so fast to the point he wasn’t sure if you were even thinking at all.

Noticing your breath pick a bit of pace, he wasn’t expecting you to launch his mask far from him. Your eyes wide as you rushed to reach him. 

Still surprised from the loud noise of his mask crashing onto the floor, what brought his attention back was your small mouth on his. All your emotions pouring towards him, he honestly didn’t mind it a bit. 

Now this was one impulse of yours he liked.

Starscream would surely love your attention. No matter how strange it is. He’d probably show off and brag about your actions to other decepticons. It would get to the point that the others think he’s making it up, mainly since most of them don’t think humans have cuteness aggression.

Funny thing is, recently you’ve been noticing a lot of things about your seeker. You hadn’t noticed before, but his wings tend to be very expressive.

Thanks to your request you were given a datapad that acted a lot as an ipad for a kid. You’re favorite feature was the camera settings. Thanks to being small no one noticed that you recorded a lot of things. Especially Starscream. 

You had a bunch of videos and pics of him. Looking through them was definitely your favorite pastime.

As Starscream got closer he heard you speaking with lots of emotion. You were talking too fast and changing volume constantly that he couldn’t really understand what you were saying.

Peeking a bit he saw you watching something on the datapad he got you. You were laying down with your stomach to the surface as your feet kept swinging in the air. You were really focused on whatever you were watching.

He was going to continue watching you in silence until he heard you yell out, “Oh.My.God! Why is he soo hot !” 

You were ogling someone and he didn’t like it one bit. 

Barging in making his presence loud and clear, you turned quickly hiding the datapad. “oh heyy starscream. I hadn’t realized you were here.” Your voice laced with nerves he saw your face reddened as you tucked the pad deeper under the pillow.

Not responding he grabbed the datapad against your small protest, as he opened it up to see who exactly was winning your heart.

He wasn’t expecting to find an edit of him that you made. 

Now you were both flustered.

———————————————————————

Lol let me know if you want a specific character with this concept, it’s very fun 

Masterlist 

[seeingivy]

I think the ttpd requests thing is so cute I love that album!!! could I request i can fix him x toji fushiguro or i loved you the way that you were x satoru gojo (THE ANGST)? ilysm

i loved you the way that you were x satoru gojo

**part of my tortured poets concert event

--

“what did he do today?” 

at the sound of megumi’s voice, coupled with his footsteps getting menacingly louder as he tracks down the hall, you immediately slam the tattered cardboard box shut, haphazardly leaning over it in some misguided attempt to prevent him from seeing the insides. 

it partially does the job. true to your attempt, you covering the box with the weight of your body prevents him from seeing the contents. but the sight of you leaning over the counter, hands outstretched in a position so unnatural, doesn’t do the job of preventing him from asking again. or even raising the question as to why you were being so secretive in the first place. 

“what’s in the box?” megumi asks. 

“your birthday present.” you state. 

megumi narrows his eyes at you. 

“my birthday isn’t for another two months.” 

“never hurts to start getting gifts early! especially since december can be busy with the holidays and all.” you murmur. 

megumi narrows his eyes at you, his signal to you that he won’t necessarily drop his question, that instead he’ll be more adamant on the fact that he deserves the answer, as you retreat your hold on the box. 

“did you want to eat breakfast?” you ask. 

“sure. then, we can talk about what’s in there. and whatever tantrum gojo sensei threw this morning.” 

you glare at him. 

“it’s not a tantrum. he’s just…having a difficult time adjusting. it’s hard.” you insist. 

megumi rolls his eyes. 

“well, we’ve all had a difficult time. it’s not just him.” he mutters, the tone in his voice searingly angry. 

there’s natural symptoms that you can expect from the ordeal – of satoru being put back together, inches from death, of megumi having his body used as a puppet – that you anticipate. the ones that you can expect are easy to handle, because you know what they are. could anticipate before hand what they would be.

shock.

numbness. 

a loss of regular life. 

megumi doesn’t say anything for two weeks. sometimes it takes a good effort to get satoru to shower. the two of them are no longer particularly fond of eating. 

what you don’t expect is the disability. because in the aftermath of the loss, shoko can only put so much of satoru back together. and while mostly everything is intact – his limbs, his legs, his heart – the six eyes and the limitless technique don’t return. and in ways you can’t understand, it takes too harsh of a toll. 

he can barely walk straight, slamming into doors or hitting the side edge of the coffee table because he insists he couldn’t sense it spatially, whatever that meant. the loss of limitless means that most of the times, standing still feels like he’s drowning, not being able to manipulate the space around him leaves him debilitated to the point where you sometimes find him cowering in a corner.

rambling over and over again about how he’s unprotected, far too exposed out in the open. 

shoko can’t fix the six eyes or the limitless. and as long as you’re all concerned, they won’t ever return. 

and neither will the satoru gojo that you knew and loved.

his frustrations drive him to be angry, withdrawn, and closed off every time you see him. unable to even ask for help.

and the byproduct of it all is just as shocking. because satoru gojo’s newfound flagrance for life is something that drives megumi fushiguro insane. 

“satoru threw away his entire sunglasses collection this morning.” you state. 

megumi frowns. 

“isn’t it worth like…thousands of dollars?” he asks. 

you shrug. 

“he’s just insisting that he has no need for them anymore, so what’s the point of keeping them around where they’re just taking up space?” 

megumi sucks in his teeth. 

“i see. so why’d you go dig them out of the trash? you should have saved yourself the trouble than typing to help him when he’s intent on…on acting so pathetic.” he asks. 

“i didn’t dig them out of the trash.” you retort. 

megumi narrows his eyes at you. 

“the box smells. you kind of do too. and i could hear you from my window this morning rustling with the bins, it woke me up.” he states. 

you frown, before opening up the box, and reaching in for the set of sunglasses right at the top. they’re simple frames, silver on the sides, dark black shades, but now there’s a deep crack in the lens on the right. you’re afraid if you push it too hard, it’ll shatter into tiny pieces. but you throw away the thought, extending them out to megumi.

“do you remember these?” you ask. 

megumi takes the frames, holding them up to the light, as he inspects them. he gives you a halfhearted shake. 

“satoru wore these at our wedding. and every anniversary after, he’s…worn them to the dinner that we have together. makes some dumb joke about how he’s seeing me for the first time all over again.” 

megumi gives a nod, before gently placing the frames back in the palm of your hand. he lets his hand linger in yours for a little too long, something that you’ve come to understand is his way of comforting you in the aftermath, as you give him a nod in response. 

“he’ll be mad if you keep them. might even yell at you.” he murmurs. 

“well, i’ll cross that bridge when i get there.” 

--

you cross that bridge four days later. there’s only so many places to hide things in the apartment. your original thought – that hiding them in the kitchen because satoru can’t cook – doesn’t fare well when he decides to come poking for scissors. 

“y/n.” 

“hm?” 

satoru’s suddenly materialized at your side, enough for you to abandon the pie crust you’re failing to mold, with his eyes narrowed at you. 

“what are these?” he asks. 

he holds up the sunglasses in the space between the two of you as you feel the embarrassed warmth run to your cheeks, and slightly take a step back. 

“your sunglasses.” you murmur. 

“i can see that. my question is what are they still doing here?” he seethes. 

you shrug. 

“i just thought you might want to keep them. i was holding on to them for you.” 

satoru glares at you. 

“you know, when i make the effort of walking all the way out to throw something in the dumpster, i’m fairly certain i don’t want them anymore. they were where they belonged.” 

“i know, i know, i just thought…” 

satoru heaves an exasperated sigh. 

“thought what? that i’d need to use them again? i won’t fucking need to, because i can see just fine without them.” 

you bite down on your lip. and he makes no signs of relenting. 

“okay, but..” 

“what part of this is so hard for you to understand? i don’t need your fucking help or for you to hold on to shit for me because you think i’ll regret it later. i won’t. i’m just fine without you trying to walk around, waiting hand and foot on me, because you think i’m defective.” 

you frown, reaching forward to cup the side of his face. the mere gesture makes him flinch, enough for him to put distance between the two of you this time, and it makes your heart sink immeasurably. 

“i don’t think you’re defective. you’re still the same and i…i’m just trying to be there for you in whatever way i can.” 

“then why do you look at me like that?” he whispers. 

“like what?” 

“everytime, i walk into a wall by accident or brush against the table, you wince. you wince because i can’t find my fucking bearings with every stupid thing you’ve put in this apartment, and it drives me fucking insane because i don’t even want to look at you anymore. i understand it’s difficult, that you loved me the way that i was, but i’m just not the fucking same and i can’t do anything about it. you don’t have to make me these dumbass pies or cakes or whatever the fuck you’re trying to do everyday to celebrate my progress or whatever. i don’t care for any of it, so just give it a rest.” 

you frown, dropping your hands to your side, as you dust away the last of the spare flour that’s melded into your hands. you can tell that he’s watching you, maybe a little too keenly, as you untie the apron around your neck and set it on the counter. 

“you’re right, you know.” you mumble. 

“what?” 

“i loved you the way that you were.” 

satoru frowns. 

“the person i loved never raised his voice at me like that.” you whisper. 

you reach forward, for the sunglasses discarded on the counter, and look down at the crack. it’s gotten noticeably bigger, probably from how satoru was shaking it around in the air a few seconds prior, before you look back up at him. 

“the person i loved dragged these sunglasses out of his collection because they’re the exact ones he was wearing when i married him. he’d put them on and tell me that he was seeing me again for the first time, even though that wasn’t really true. and deep down, he probably knew that i thought it was a little cheesy, stupid even, but did it anyway because it made me laugh.” 

you shake your head. 

“he’d never throw these away. i’m sorry that i’m not…not as broken up that you’ve lost your six eyes or your limitless and i don’t know how to help you. i’m sorry i want to bake things and celebrate or whatever…but i almost lost you. i watched shoko sew you back together for hours, sat there for days when you didn’t wake up, and i was…just thankful that i got to see you again. in whatever state that you were. i’m sorry that it’s something that i thought warranted celebration, that the mere fact that you have the opportunity to struggle instead of be…be six feet under the ground…is something that i delight in.” 

you sigh, before setting them back down on the counter, the warm tears bubbling in your eyes. 

“but, please. by all means, throw them away. suppose they mean nothing to you when they’re not attached to the six eyes, anyways.” 

and on that note, you turn on your heel and leave. 

--

when you return home after three hours, there’s an almost pungent smell in the kitchen, so strong that it makes your nose water. you’re almost positive that in your absence the two of them made some horrible attempt at fixing themselves food, and you make a mental note to rectify their mess later. 

you make your way over to the balcony doors to clear the air, except for the fact that the sliding door is already open, that satoru’s sitting criss crossed on the floor with megumi at his side, looking at the view of the city below. 

you lightly wrap your knuckles against the door, the two of them turning their heads ever so slightly, as you lightly step out into the cold air. you crouch down, placing a hand on megumi’s shoulder and squeezing hard. 

“mind if i talk to gojo alone?” you ask. 

he gives you a polite smile, returning your gesture by placing his hand on your shoulder, and giving you a nod. the two of you switch spots, as you criss cross into the warmth megumi’s left behind, and hike your legs to your chest. 

“so, i just wanted to say that…” you start. 

satoru wordlessly slides two boxes in front of you. they’re dark black, a sparkling silver logo embossed into the material, tied together with a white ribbon. you shoot him a glare, before picking up the first box.

it makes you nervous, testing the waters with a joke when they were so tense when you left, but you do it anyways. 

“are you trying to bribe me, satoru gojo?” you ask. 

satoru gives you a smile. you note that it’s been extremely long since you’ve seen one. 

“would that work, princess?” 

“well, i didn’t marry you for your looks, pumpkin.” you joke, reaching forward to pinch his cheeks. 

satoru fakes hurt, dramatically pressing his hand to his chest, as you pull the ribbon off the box. the sunglasses, glistening in perfect shape and sans cracks, are sitting in the box. 

“oh, satoru. you didn’t have to…” 

“yes, i did. they’re my wife glasses.” 

you smile, reaching into the box and pulling the glasses out, and lightly pulling them around satoru’s ears. satoru shakes your hands off, only because you’ve horribly aimed for his ears, and readjusts them before leaning closer. 

“oh my goodness.” he murmurs. 

“what?” you whisper. 

satoru lifts his hands and places them on your cheeks, the touch warm, as he rubs circles into your cheeks. 

“my wife is so pretty.” 

you can’t help but grin, the warmth rushing to your cheeks. 

“is that right?” 

“so so pretty. and kind, and patient, and too good for me to begin with.” he responds. 

you shake your head. 

“not true. you…” 

“very true.” he insists. 

satoru drops his hands, fingers fast as he sets the sunglasses back in the open box, before interlocking his fingers in with yours. he’s looking down at your skin, tracing the callouses left behind on your palms. 

“you know the worst part of losing the six eyes?” he whispers. 

you shake your head. 

“i could feel your cursed energy all the time. and now i can’t.” 

he’s never told you that before. 

“really? was my cursed energy hot?” 

satoru rolls his eyes at you, an unmistakable smile on his face.

“unbelievable.” 

he’s quiet again, fingers outlining one of the red gashes leftover from months prior in your skin. 

“it was comforting. knowing you were around, all the time. that you were moving from the kitchen, or coming up the stairs, or…or sleeping. i’d reach for it sometimes, straining to feel it when you were far away in another classroom or something, whenever someone pissed me off. something to just calm me down.”  

you smile. 

“i’m still around. you might not be able to feel me…that way…but i’m still right here. all the time.” 

satoru winces. 

“kind of embarrassing, isn’t it?” he murmurs. 

“what?” 

“i’m sitting over here, reeling in the fact that i’ve lost…lost what you feel like to me, when you’re the one who actually had to live that.” he whispers. 

you flip his hand over in yours, mimicking his motions by tracing circles into his hand instead. 

“it was no big deal.” you joke. 

satoru narrows his eyes at you. 

“you thought i was dead, didn’t you?” he asks. 

you nod. 

“i didn’t just think it, satoru. you were dead. for a whole three hours, you were…no heartbeat. skin cold. the whole ten miles of…of dead people. i was sitting there thinking about how i was twenty-five years old and already a widow.” you respond. 

satoru sighs. 

“i’m still around too. and…still me in the ways that matter to you. you don’t need to follow me around like you’re worried i’m going to break. hell, i’m surely not as strong as i was before, but i’ve…i will put in efforts to safeguard myself so you won’t have to…cut your losses again.” 

you smile. 

“that would be appreciated, you know that?” 

satoru gives you a wink, before lifting your fingers to press a kiss against your knuckles. 

“it’s a deal, princess.” 

“also…i hope you know i regretted what i said earlier. right after i said it. i’d love you in any iteration. two eyes, six eyes, eleven.” 

satoru smiles, before closing the distance to press three featherlike kisses to your cheek. he retreats to slide the second box over to you, the one you left unopened, and places it in the palm of your hands. you slide the ribbon off just the same, pulling off the lid, to find what might possibly be the most unflattering glasses you’ve ever seen. 

bright green, hexagon shaped, and comically small. 

“well, that’s a choice.” you mumble. 

“if your memory’s failing you, these are the sunglasses you picked out for me on our third or fourth date. pretty sure you were half joking, but…but it felt right to buy them now. rebuild my collection.” 

“how much were they?” 

satoru pinches his lips together in a line. 

“well, i’d prefer to save myself from another lecture today, if that’s okay with you. ask me again tomorrow, princess.”

--

taglist: @7haze

[straylightdream]

always

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bang chan x f.reader

loving someone who can’t return your feelings can be heartbreaking.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): angst, friends to ??

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): nonidol au, underground boxer au

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: injuries from fighting, cuts, mentions of blood and stitches, talks about powerful men who want to get leverage on Chan, lots of tears, and angst

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: pg 13

𝐚𝐧: sorry I haven’t posted a skz story in a minute.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

It had been a rough night to say the least. You laid in the same bed with a foot between the two of you. The room was so silent it seemed to leave a ringing sound in the room. Chan wore nothing but his boxers that sat low on his hips. He was laying on his back with his hand holding his side that had a pair of cracked ribs. His breathing was pretty uneven because he was in so much pain. The night had left him stumbling into your apartment with a deep gash on right below his collarbone, that you had to stitch up as he sat at your kitchen table. Unfortunately Chan coming to your apartment beat up wasn’t anything new. This was a side effect to him being an underground boxer.

Biting your bottom lip, you stared at the man who seemed to easily hold your heart in his hands. Luckily, he wasn’t careless with your heart, he was well aware you were in love with him. He went out of his way to make sure you didn’t get hurt, but knew at some point he was going to break your heart without even trying.

Laying on your side you reached your hand out slowly as it shook. You wanted to touch him to pull him close to you, but you knew you shouldn’t do it. He wasn’t your boyfriend, and probably was never going to be. A normal friendship between a boy and a girl normally didn’t involve the boy getting the shit beat out of him and then crawling through your window beaten. Normally the girl wouldn’t have to stitch him up and then beg him to spend the night so you would know he was safe.

His eyes were closed as he attempted to get some sleep, but he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, at least not until you had a very important conversation. You were well aware he wasn’t asleep even with him laying there with his eyes closed.

Your hand reached out a little more so you could touch him, but before you were able to touch him, you pulled your hand away. You needed to tell him that you couldn’t take this anymore, but you were terrified.

“Chan?” Your voice was shaky as you were unsure of if you should even be speaking.

“Yeah?” his eyes opened up as they blankly stared at the ceiling.

“What is going on here?” You whispered as tears continued to slide down your cheek.

“I’m a selfish asshole,” he groaned as his head moved so he was blankly looking in your direction.

“Why did you come to me and not Changbin?” You needed to know if he returned your feelings.

“Because for some reason even though I know I need to leave you alone, I can’t seem to stay away,” he sighed. He knew he was being selfish, that he was well aware of your feelings, and that he should respect them and stay away from you since he couldn’t give you what you truly deserved.

“I don’t want you to stay away, but I need you to know how I actually feel.”

He nodded his head and moved his arm from his stomach where it was resting onto the bed so it was about an inch from your hand.

“Chan I’m in love with you and I hate seeing you get hurt, but what hurts most of all is that I know that no matter how much I actually love you…” you hesitated knowing that no matter what was said right now you were never going to be able to take back anything you said. “I’m never going to be able to actually be with you. You won’t ever feel the same way, and I understand but I just need you to know that it hurts loving someone who doesn’t feel the same way.”

There was a silence between you as Chan was taking in everything you had just said to him. He had known for a while that you were in love with him, and he had even let you know that he couldn’t be with anyone as long as he was illegally fighting. It was too risky to actually be with someone. He made a lot of money fighting and he had made some enemies along the way.

“Okay I regret saying all that,” you mumbled at the fact that he hadn’t even said anything in response.

“Hey,” he reached out and rested his hand on top of yours as he lay still on his back. “Give me a second to take in everything you just said to me. I know that you’re in love with me, and believe me I return the feelings. I have for a long time, but…” he paused knowing that what he was about to say was going to hurt both of you. You attempted to brace yourself for whatever was going to come after the “but”. “I can’t be selfish and put you in harm's way. I love you too, but if someone finds out that I have someone that I love, you would be the first person that people would use to get leverage. Too many powerful men know who I am, and I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt because of me.” His hand that was resting on top of yours gave it a gentle squeeze.

Everything he had just said to you made your world feel like it was spinning. You knew Chan might have some sort of feelings for you, but you never actually expected him to say that he was in love with you too. As your brain was attempting to process the fact, he said he was in love with you, you were also realizing that it didn’t matter that you were both in love, because you couldn’t be together.

“What happens here then?” You sighed.

“I’m not sure exactly, I should probably give you space,” he moved his hand away from you.

You shook your head to yourself refusing to let him walk away from you right now, “Bang Chan you don’t get to tell me you love me, and then say you should give me space.”

He slowly moved so he was sitting up and you laid next to him still in bed wondering if he was actually getting up to leave. He stood up and groaned as he grabbed his side.

“Are you seriously getting up to leave?” You asked quickly getting out of bed. He groaned as he reached on the floor searching for his pants that were on the floor. “Chan,” you got up and ran to the other side of the bed so you were standing in front of him. He didn’t say anything as he reached his hand out so he was cupping your cheek. He stepped forward a little so there were a couple inches between you, you looked up at him as he held your face with one hand. The tension between them seemed to grow even more as you licked your lips as your breathing seemed to pick up. “Please don’t leave, I just poured my heart out to you,” you whispered.

“I’m so selfish when it comes to you, and it's not fair to you,” he sighed as his thumb brushed a tear off your cheek. “I want to give you the world, but I can’t.”

“I’m not asking for the world,” you reached up so your hand held his wrist. “I’m just asking for you to show me that you actually love me.”

“I can’t let you get hurt because of me,” he sighed. “I should start going to Changbin when I get hurt,” his hand was still holding your face as he attempted to convince you and himself that he needed to give you space.

“Chan, please don’t pull away from me, if you do that it will break my heart,” your hand held onto his wrist not wanting him to leave.

“We can’t be together, not right now at least,” he sighed.

Your breathing seemed to catch in your throat for a moment at what he had just said. The tears seemed to slide down your cheek even harder suddenly, and it was as if he held your heart in his other hand, and that he just crushed it.

“Okay,” you pulled away from him shaking your head. “You can have your space if you want it,” your voice was shaky as you were trying your hardest to not sob.

“You mean the world to me, and I don’t want to hurt you, but being with me isn’t safe.” He reached out to grab your wrist. He needed you to know that he wanted to be with you, but it just wasn’t an option. “I already lost my first love, I can’t deal with losing you too.” He never seemed to move on from his high school sweetheart passing in a tragic car accident almost a decade ago.

“Why does it feel like I’m losing you right now,” the tears continued to slide down your cheek.

“I’m sorry that can’t give you everything,” he took a step closer to you. You reached out and rested your hand on his chest and looked back up at him knowing that he was right. That even though you wanted nothing more than to be with him, you knew deep down inside that a lot of powerful men have lost money because of him. Chan is the best fighter in the city and that has made a lot of men angry. Ultimately it wasn’t safe to be with him. You had watched him lose his first love, and you knew how much that destroyed him.

“I understand we can’t be together, but I can’t deal with losing you as my friend too,” you sighed.

Silently he nodded his head and leaned forward so his forehead was resting against yours. You took a deep breath taking in the sudden closeness.

“I want to kiss you so badly, but I shouldn’t,” he mumbled.

Without saying anything you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. You kissed him as if this was going to be the only time ever that you were going to be able to feel his lips against yours. His strong hand moved up and rested on your cheek holding you close to him as your lips moved together. Pulling away slowly you let out a sigh.

“What happens between us Chan?” You asked, wondering if things would ever be the same after tonight.

He sighed and said, “we attempt to be friends.”

“Okay,” you said softly. You didn’t want to be only friends but you knew it was for the best. “If one day you walk away from fighting, would you actually give us a chance?” You asked, needing to know if maybe one day you stood a chance at being together.

He nodded his head and gave you a sad smile, “I’m not going to ask you to wait around for that day, but when I’m finally no longer a fighter I would like us to be together.”

“Let’s go back to bed,” you reached down and laced your fingers with his. You led him back towards the bed. He slowly got back in bed groaning at the pain from his cracked ribs.

You laid in the bed in the same positions you had been laying in before. Your hand was resting on the bed between you, slowly he reached over and laced his fingers with your.

“Thank you for always taking care of me,” he said softly.

“I’ll always take care of you,” you said knowing that no matter what happened between you, that you would always care about him.

“I hope one day that I’ll actually be able to give you the world,” he said gently, squeezing your hand.

You couldn’t help but smile at the possibility that maybe one day you could be together.

[maxdibert]

What a coincidence that this is a fandom “for everyone,” but only as long as the characters are rich and attractive. What a coincidence that the only canonically poor character, the one canonically outside of hegemonic beauty standards, the one canonically outside traditional concepts of masculinity (and who is mistreated in the narrative precisely because of his appearance and mannerisms that don’t align with traditional gender norms), and the one canonically socially marginalized, is the only one you continue to marginalize and mistreat. The only one you don’t punkwash like the other psychopaths you’ve turned into queer icons, even though they’re canonically ten times worse than Snape. But of course, Snape doesn’t count, because Snape was ugly and poor. What a coincidence.

It’s also quite the coincidence that you claim to be inclusive, yet the characters you defend are canonically hegemonic in every sense—privileged, wealthy, and above the socioeconomic average. What a coincidence that in your pinkwashed utopia of wannabes who’ve never actively fought for anything in their lives, making a character gay is all it takes to feel like the revolution is complete. Sorry, but no. You can’t sell the idea that you’re opposing Rowling when you’re pinkwashing the very characters she already glorified because she favored them. Do you think Rowling cares if James Potter is trans in your trashy fic? J.K. Rowling would love that you’re reinforcing her narrative that rich, attractive boys are good, and poor, ugly boys are bad, because that’s something she reproduces throughout her entire saga.

I don’t care where you were born or if you were bullied because that clearly didn’t teach you anything. It didn’t teach you class consciousness, nor did it help you understand how social dynamics work, inequality, or how power mechanisms operate between people from different socioeconomic backgrounds. It also didn’t help you understand that defending rich, aristocratic, abusive kids who harass and torment working-class, underprivileged kids isn’t the peak of the pinkwashed revolution you’ve built in your head just because you label them as gay or trans. That’s not how it works, my friend. You can’t fix everything by slapping a rainbow flag on it. Classism still exists within the LGBTQ+ community, just as abusive behavior and social inequalities do.

So excuse me if I don’t care about your ad hominem fallacy, but clearly, you didn’t get much out of university if your reading comprehension is abysmal and you’re utterly clueless when it comes to political and social culture. So take yourself and your TERF rhetoric elsewhere because the only one speaking like a classist TERF defending bourgeois interests with an elite-bootlicking mentality is you. The only one instrumentalizing an important movement like the LGBTQ+ cause (just as TERFs instrumentalize feminism) to justify your reactionary thoughts, internalized discrimination, and need to trample those in disadvantaged positions is also you.

Though, given your history, maybe the problem you have with Snape is that he reminds you, and other Marauders fans, that in real life, you wouldn’t have been the popular kids. You would’ve been the ones marginalized by people like James and Sirius, who would have made your life miserable. And that’s too unbearable because you want to feel like the protagonists, but you never would’ve been. You never would’ve belonged to the hegemonic, cool kids who ruled the school. In fact, kids like Sirius and James would’ve laughed at you. So instead, you turn them into pinkwashed icons, alter their personalities to your liking, and turn the one true character who fits your idea of a non-hegemonic person into a supervillain because that way, you can fantasize about being the popular ones. Accepting Severus breaks your narrative. In the end, all of this boils down to unresolved self-esteem issues.

I have no problem seeing this kind of stuff, nor do I block tags. If you don’t like being hit with a dose of reality and still think it’s a good idea to keep making a fool of yourself because you have zero arguments or basis to defend your point without coming across as a classist jerk, that’s your problem. Honestly, I couldn’t care less because I’ve said many times that I love debating, and frankly, you’re not going to change my opinion. It’s not for nothing that I pay my rent and bills working as a criminal lawyer and helping people in the process of social reintegration, only for some random person who thinks the revolution is about turning fictional rich bully kids into queer icons to come and try to lecture me about anything. Go on, get lost. Kisses.

okay, hold my drink *hands u cursed ancient goblet full of mead* i gotta talk my shit for a second.

ive been seeing a lot of severus snape love recently. and this is fine, obviously, y'all can love whomever you want. but. i need to rant or i will explode. if we're talking about canon. severus snape spends his adult years, seven books of it in fact, abusing children. and his excuse for this is the girl he loved (tho not enough not to join a group actively trying to exterminate her) fell for the hot jock instead of him (a tragedy indeed, i weep 4 him, i really do). and also she died, which, admittedly is very sad.

it is simply crazy 2 me 2 look at that and think *romance* or *genuine care and affection*. LIKE. fo real. snape calls her a slur in public, apologizes in private, hangs out with dudes who commit hate crimes against her friends (CANONICALLY, she says "you've been hanging out with that douchebag Mulciber, how could you do that after what he did to Mary???" this is not a direct quote but like, it's close enough). lame. loser behaviour.

"Oh but what about regulus" i can hear you say "he loves James potter but snape doesn't love lily???" well. idk. maybe. bit different tho, innit? due to james not being the demographic regulus is attacking (which doesn't make regulus a better person but does make the dynamic between him and james different). ALSO. Regulus chooses to turn against voldemort without hope for anything in return. snape doesn't seem to give a shit about voldemort, he's just sad he's not gonna get to bang lily evans. he switches sides for that reason alone. also doesn't care about what happens to her husband or her son which like. considering lily would be pretty fucking destroyed if they died. once again points to my whole, he doesn't really give a shit about her, theory. lame. loser. behaviour.

also. im sorry. I"M SORRY. but what snape does to neville? to hermione? to harry? gross. a grown ass man out here telling an eleven year old neville he's worthless or hermione she's ugly and annoying. or spilling harry's potion and refusing to grade him for it???????????????

reg and draco are children when we see them at peak suckage and therefore they feel like they can be redeemed much more compellingly (CAN be, not SHOULD be, not HAVE to be, just narratively i think they are easier to turn into interesting, sympathetic characters). but snape? snape grows up into a garbage adult. like he doesn't get better. and again, the only real excuse we're given is his obsession with lily. not very demure. not very cutesy.

ALSO. yall remember that time he got a destitute, struggling Remus Lupin fired from the best job he ever had just because he felt like it? remember that time snape weaponized Remus's lycanthropy and people's prejudice against him just cause. like. literally just cause??? his ego was bruised after the shrieking shack incident so he was like "get wrecked Lupin I'm going to tell everyone your secret so you will be forced back out onto the streets" DO YALL REMEMBER THAT BITCH ASS MOVE????????? THAT HE DID AS A FULL ADULT.

IN CONCLUSION, this is silly and, of course, like i said at the start, everyone can have their own thoughts and feelings about characters, but i simply needed to interject here on behalf of snape haters everywhere because i feel like so much of snape's shitty behaviour as an adult during a time when he was really under no duress and was very safe and cozy, is ignored. and my hater heart just cannot let that stand.

[sirhamburrger]

ᯤ feat. yoichi isagi, meguru bachira, hyoma chigiri, rin itoshi, seishiro nagi, kenyu yukimiya, ryusei shidou and oliver aiku ᯤ tags/cw: all characters are aged up, bit suggestive (shidou you freak), petnames ('sweetheart' in isagi's, 'love' in rin's, 'babe' in shidou's), rin is mean (affectionately), shidou being a freak in the minecraft bedsheets, but also really sweet, hopefully not that ooc, i have a semi-serious, semi-casual relationship with minecraft ᯤ a/n: no reason for this whatsoever no prompt no nothing just take this love child between me and my insomnia *shoves this into your arms and runs away* || divider by @sister-lucifer part 2 [rocket league ver with kuni, reo, karasu, sae]

yoichi isagi:

ᯤ is just kinda average at it. like he truly is just okay at it. ᯤ he’s so competitive though (he would ‘race you to that tree over there’ 😭 but he doesn’t know how to sprint so he always loses to you) ᯤ he likes the little sounds the eyes of ender make when you place them in the end portal frame ᯤ defeats the ender dragon with your help but makes you go ahead of him when exploring the nether ᯤ “hey uh sweetheart? why’s that green thing flashing white and making a noise” ᯤ favourite mob: chickens (they’re funny)

meguru bachira:

ᯤ he l o v e s minecraft so much it’s unbelievable (he was probably one of those kids who grew up playing it) ᯤ he loves trying out different hacks he sees on youtube. he knows that 99 percent of the time they don’t even work, but “there’s a 1 percent chance it will, and i’m feeling lucky today!” ᯤ lets you practice your shooting skills using his avatar as a dummy ᯤ cannot wire redstone for shit ᯤ tries to get the rarest (dumbest) in-game death messages ᯤ baabaabaachira experienced mid-life crisis while being attacked by tropical fish ᯤ favourite mob: cave spiders (they look scary in a cool way)

hyoma chigiri:

ᯤ plays for the mobs. will protect his lovelies with all his heart. ᯤ when he got his first minecraft dog, he built a little kennel made of cherry wood for it, only for it to fall into a pit of lava deep in the caves on day 5 ᯤ he cried for five hours ᯤ once you dyed all his sheep pink and he started to tear up just from looking at them ᯤ “hear me out, okay? i think we should get a pet axolotl.” and it’s legal in japan, so you do! (her name is hyoma jr) ᯤ has a huge minecraft zoo ᯤ favourite mob: parrots (they can sit)

rin itoshi:

ᯤ is mean to you at first. he’ll be like “why do you suck at this” and “i could do that too” ᯤ then he gets his hands on the controller and can’t figure out the controls for half an hour ᯤ “… love?” ᯤ “… yes, rin?” (you, amused) ᯤ “… how do you jump…” ᯤ its subtle charm does grow on him after a while. he plays on creative mode and just explores the server on a horse he named sugarcube ᯤ it’s cute watching him play (you send photos to sae) ᯤ favourite mob: sheep (all they do is eat grass and don’t bother you)

seishiro nagi:

ᯤ i will subvert expectations here and say that nagi doesn’t even play minecraft that much because he doesn’t like it ᯤ “such a hassle to play this game… there isn’t even any storyline you can just do whatever you want… and i don’t want to have to decide what to do” ᯤ he ends up finding a passion for building elaborate traps for you to walk into ᯤ absolute beast at parkour. he performs triple neos to perfection ᯤ if he’s a streamer he plays on twitch for the fans but he complains as he does it ᯤ favourite mob: bees (they’re just cute)

kenyu yukimiya:

ᯤ he doesn’t really play video games so understandably he gets off to a slow start ᯤ but once he gets the hang of things? he’s unstoppable. breezing through achievements like nobody’s business ᯤ he’s really excited about it too like “did you see that?? i just killed a zombie!” ᯤ it’s truly the culmination of 18 years of not touching a single game as a child/teen and now playing a sandbox game ᯤ feeling confident, he starts a hardcore world. (he dies from hunger.) ᯤ he's the kind to look up the most beautiful minecraft seed numbers, key them in meticulously and just take in how amazing they are ᯤ favourite mob: foxes, specifically the orange ones (he loves all things forest biome)

ryusei shidou:

ᯤ we all know he’s a very artistic kind of guy so he’d be geeking out over the textures and which colours would go best with each other ᯤ he doesn’t shower for a day because he’s playing creative (my lil stinky 🫶) ᯤ he builds the most beautiful multi storey houses!! and he’s like “if it were real we could live in there together 🥺“ ᯤ “why is the bedroom huge with like twenty beds…” (you, concerned) ᯤ “oh we’re gonna need space babe. for activities.” ᯤ but he doesn’t stop there; he learns how to make entire cities and landscapes and frankly they are masterpieces - think shovel241 (i freaking LOVE his videos they’re so satisfying) ᯤ favourite mob: endermen (he thinks they look badass)

oliver aiku: 

ᯤ meh he’s pretty good ᯤ raged when he first found out fall damage was a thing and again when he discovered hunger and drowning as death messages ᯤ is obsessed with speed runs and parkour for some reason (he’s really bad at both though) ᯤ is the guy who makes “100 MINECRAFT FACTS YOU DIDN’T KNOW” videos with his friends sendo and lorenzo ᯤ you once saw him set up an experiment to see how many blocks a llama can spit and died laughing ᯤ would absolutely kill you in-game just for the fun of it ᯤ favourite mob: cats (especially the black ones)

say hi to hyoma jr. it is not optional.

bllk masterlist || general masterlist

© sirhamburrger 2024

[thequeenofcurses]

A Love Beyond Death

Reader x Gojo. Reader visits her husband!Gojo’s grave one year after his death and something magical spicy happens. mdni. word count: 3k. beware manga spoilers

December 24th, today

One year. It’s been a whole 365 days since the world was destroyed. Your world. Forever ruining the Christmas season. 

The early morning snow lightly covered the cemetery. The Gojo clan had reorganized a lot since Yuta Okkostu took over as clan leader. Knowing how much you meant to him, Yuta always allowed you to visit Satoru’s grave privately whenever you needed to.

You told that idiot to let you help him fight Sukuna. Every day since, you regret not being there. Maybe your technique could’ve helped him survive. Maybe you could’ve distracted Sukuna and given Satoru an opening. Maybe you could’ve sacrificed yourself for him. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe…

December 24th, 2018

“Babe, I know you’re a great sorcerer, but we both know I can’t go all out if you’re there” you remembered your husband’s voice to you as he was getting dressed. “I can’t risk you getting hurt. I need you to stay here. Stay safe.”

You pouted sadly, but nodded your understanding. “You better come back to me,” you demanded. “Satoru, I swear to God if you die…”

“Shh, shh, shh,” the tall white haired man pulled you into his chest and placed his head atop yours whilst rubbing your back. “Don’t worry about me, ‘kay? I’ll win. I always do.”

Even though you believed him, your eyes continued to flow with salty tears full of worry. “Satoru,” you whisper with a shaky breath. “I love you.”

He stands back a few inches, taking off his blindfold to look you directly in the eyes. “"Hey, don’t cry too much, alright? I don’t want people thinking I left you all heartbroken over me.” He gently cups your face and wipes your tears with his thumbs. “I love you.”

The kiss he gives is everything you need. He lifts your chin then connects his soft lips with your waiting ones. It was gentle, yet passionate, but it left you needing more. 

“Satoru, please.” You look up at him, your heart nervously beating through your chest. He could die today. The terrible thoughts flooded your mind. If this is our last time together, I want to show him how much I love him. “I need you. Please.”

Gojo hesitated for a moment, then smiled. “I know, baby.” He kisses you again then picks you up by your waist. You wrap your legs around him and he carries you to your shared bed, never breaking your kiss. He gently lays you down before crawling above you. “Show me.”

Even after a year of (secret) marriage, Gojo still makes you blush. You push the nervous butterflies in your stomach down and bite your lip. You kiss Gojo again quickly. “I love you.” He lets you flip him over to where you’re straddling his lap. Blindfold still off, his cerulean eyes watch you through snowy white lashes. “So much.” Your hands travel underneath the shirt he just put on, rubbing his taut chest. You quickly pull his shirt above his head, giving him another kiss thereafter. 

Gojo continues to watch you as your hands make their way down from his neck, down, down, down, to his waist. You tug at his pants with need, sliding them and his boxers off in one pull. “Now I’m all naked,” Gojo smirked at you. You giggle at his silly comment before kissing him once more. You use one hand to pull your shirt above your head while your other grips his length, precum already leaking out of it. “Mhhmp,” he groans. You worship his length. Kissing his cock up and down as he continues to get hard for you. You lean down into his lap to take him into your mouth, no hands, as you continue worshiping your husband’s perfect cock. 

With both hands free now, you pull down your shorts, and finally feel your own wetness. Straddling him again, Gojo slides his hands up your thighs. His left one stops at your pussy, while he holds you with his right. He gently rubs your clit with two fingers. “My girl is so wet for me,” he mused.

“Ahwh, ‘Toru” you moan. You gently rub his cockhead against your slick folds. “Need you, inside”.  

Gojo smirks and sits up a bit. “Show me how much you need me baby,” he breathes. 

Instead of responding with words you grip his length and line it up with your entrance. You ever so slowly sink down onto his cock. Slowly inch by inch, until your pussy is tickled by his pelvic hair. You both deeply gasp at the feeling. “‘M so full ‘Toru.” You throw your arms around his neck and start to move. A bit slow at first until you find a good rhythm. Quickly bouncing up and down. Up and down. 

“Ff-fuck princess,” Gojo groaned. “Riding me so good.” He kisses your neck, then trails down to your breasts. Left then right. Giving each one their deserved attention. He puts one of your hardened nipples into his mouth while his hands land back onto your waist, steadying you. You ride him fast, and hard, focused solely on his orgasm. “You’re so beautiful,” he says while giving your nipple a lighthearted bite. 

You throw your head back in pleasure, slowing down your vertical attack on his cock. “Satoruuu,” your moans echo throughout the room.  

“Legs getting tired baby?” Gojo jokes, noticing your pace slow down. The second you nod he effortlessly flips you onto your back and gets between your legs. “Let me take over doll.” He aligns himself at your entrance once again, then thrusts hard, filling you to the brim. The slap, slap, slapping of his balls bullying your clit as he gives you fast, hard thrusts mixed with both of your moans become a cacophony of sound. “I can’t get enough of you,” he admits. 

Each long thrust of his brings you both ever so closer to orgasm. “Gonna cum, ‘Toru” you admit. “C-can’t hold it.”

“Yeah, sweets?” Gojo turns your head up so you're forced to look directly into his eyes then places that hand on your throat while his other hand goes back to rubbing your clit. “Come on then, wife.” He thrusts hard with each word. “Cum. For. Me.”

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck, Satoru,” you gasped through a short breath. His ministrations paid off. Your legs start to inevitably shake as his thrusts bring you closer and closer. He leans forward, kissing you and looking directly into your eyes once more as you cum on his cock.

“I’m right here baby,” he says. His hair was disheveled, forehead was slick with sweat, as was the rest of his body; yet he still never looked more beautiful. “Princess, I’m cumming,” he slows down his murder of your pussy, but doesn’t pull out completely; filling your cunt to the brim with his seed.

He releases his hold on your neck and gives you a deep loving kiss. As you both come down from your high. “You okay, doll?” He begrudgingly pulls out you.

“Yes, ‘Toru. I’m okay.” you reassure him. You look up and see the light from the window molding into a series of oranges and pink, signaling sunrise. Your heart feels heavy and the worry fills your being once again. “I’m just worried–”

“Shh,” Gojo shushes you once again with his finger to your lips. “No worrying about me. C’mere.” He pulls you into a loving warm cuddle. He rubs the back of your head while he explains. “Not to toot my own horn but, I am the strongest. Besides, I have to come back to give you your Christmas gift.”

You believe him. So you both shower together, being intimate one more time. After showering, you help him get ready and he takes off his wedding ring and places it in your hands. “I need you too, y/n,” he kneels down. “And once all of this is over, we’ll have a proper wedding. No more of this secret shit. I wanna show you off to the world. Keep that safe for me, yeah?.” You can’t help, but smile.You pull him into one last hug.

Ring. Ring. Ring. You glance at Gojo’s phone on the bed and see the name. Iori Utahime . 

It’s time.

December 24th, today

“Liar,” you cried out. “You fucking promised.” Your hand was full of blue iris’. His favorite flower. They reminded you of his eyes. Oh God, those eyes. It was stressful for him to have them uncovered, so you didn’t see them too often. But when you did have those special romantic moments with your husband or sometimes during training, he would remove his glasses or blindfold. He mostly did it with you only, because he knew you loved looking into his eyes (plus he knew eye contact would always make you blush). “You damned liar.”

You kneeedl down to the headstone, wiping away the dusty snow that just started to appear, gently placing the flowers down.

Satoru Gojo

December 07, 1989 – December 24th, 2018

Beloved Son And Teacher

They couldn’t even put “loving husband” on his gravestone. With your marriage being secret, only a handful of people knew about your relationship. 

You had zero control of your tears. They flowed freely, running down your reddened cheeks. Fuck. The winter chill was making your nose run and your body shake, yet you remained in front of the grave. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you cried. “I wish I was there, I wish I could've saved you. I wish–” your shaky breath breaks. The wind lightly picks up, wisping your hair around your face. You sat there, telling Gojo about your year and everything that has happened since your last visit. You told him that you were proud of Yuta for taking over the clan. You informed him how you adopted a puppy because you were too lonely without him. You explained that you had hoped and prayed after his death that maybe his seed had land that you would still have a part of him, but alas, every pregnancy test you took back then was negative.

You even explained how much you hate Christmas and winter now because all of it reminds you of him.

You talked his ear off. Or the grave’s ear rather, if it had any. You promised Yuta you wouldn’t be here for too long since he mentioned wanting to come visit Satoru with Yuji and some of the other students. 

“I love you, ‘Toru.”

Standing up, you wiped the snow off your bottom and turned.

“I love you too.”

You turned your head back and forth, searching for the owner of the voice. It must be your head. I must be getting delusional. God, I miss him.

“y/n”

You whip around and do a 360° turn. “Who’s there?” The graveyard was eerily quiet and there were no signs of anyone else nearby. Yuta promised you’d have private time, so where could this voice be coming from.

“Princess,” Gojo whispered. 

Your heart fluttered hearing Gojo’s voice again. It had been so long. Wait, no. Satoru died a year ago. This is impossible… But apparently Suguru Geto had come back from death, maybe it was possible Satoru could too? No, no, no. That was someone’s technique. This is impossible.

“Sweets, I miss you.” Another whisper. Oh God. The only person on the planet who called you that was your husband. 

“Satoru?” you questioned quietly, still turning your head back and forth. Tears started to well up in your eyes again. “Fuck, I miss you so much.”

“It’s really me baby,” you felt a wispy feeling on your face, as if a hand was there; yet you couldn’t see him. “Please don’t cry for me, doll.” Your face leaned into the wisps’ palm. As if reading your mind, the wisp gently brushed the tears off your cheek. “I don’t know how this is possible, but I heard you… talking to me. And now I’m here. I don’t think we have much time though.”

Your heart sank down to your chest. Of course you wouldn’t be lucky enough to have him truly come back. Gojo sacrificed everything, everything, for the world, yet when he wants something that’ll make him happy, he can’t have it. Life truly is unfair. 

Not knowing how much time you had, you try to tell him the entirety of what you may have left out earlier when you were talking to his grave. The words come out like vomit, quickly, making sure he knows exactly how you feel and how much you need him.

As if God was finally giving Satoru something he wanted, the wisps near you form a very light blue cloudy silhouette of what seemed to be Gojo. Almost as if you were seeing his infinity. You still couldn’t see him fully, but at least you had some idea of where he was.

“Baby, I love hearing about all your little adventures.” The wispy silhouette pulled you into a hug. Somehow it’s filled with warmth. “God knows I’ve missed coming home to you.” You leaned into his chest and that’s when you felt it. 

You looked down, still not seeing any physical form of Gojo but his lower outline started to bulge out. “‘Toru is that…”

“Heh, sorry sweets,” he apologized. “I just haven’t touched you in so long.”

“Would it even be possible…?”

“We could try,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

It stopped snowing, yet it was still very frigid. Gojo kissed you, slowly guiding you to his headstone. You unzip your coat and lay it on the ground, but keep your sweater on. “I want this, but I don’t want to freeze.”

“I promise, you won’t freeze.”

You nod, believing him somehow, even though he broke his last promise to you. Your sweater flies off of you just as quickly as he pulled your boots and pants off. The first kiss he gave you was filled with so much warmth and love and need.

“Last time, before I, y'know, died. We fucked and it was amazing, perfect even, but this time, I want to make love to you.” If you could see those blue eyes right now it would make you burst into tears again. “I love you so much, y/n. I’m sorry, I broke my promise.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him with a kiss.”I love you too”.

For the next hour he made slow, sensual love to you, in every romantic position possible. Gojo made sure to take care of you. You felt him and his throbbing length while you rode him and he littered your body with warm kisses. He might’ve even left a hickey or two on your neck. 

Your first orgasm was when he had you in missionary while you pleaded for him to fuck you harder, faster. Of course he declined, wanting to keep this as a love making session until you were absolutely begging for it.

You came again when he had you laying in front of him, cuddling, and he had his arms wrapped around you. Never stopping his relentless pounding into your pussy. A perk to being dead is never running out of stamina.

And you came again, for the third time when he had fucked you hard into a mating press. Your legs above your head. You came again and again, while Gojo declared how much he loved you over and over.

“Princess?”

“Mhmm,” you babbled out.

“M’im gonna cum,” he gasped out. “Gonna fill you right up.” You don’t see it, but you feel him stuffing your cunt full of his cock and his cum. He pulled out of you, rubbing his cock up and down your pretty pussy. He caught some of the cum that leaked out of you with his cockhead and stuffed it back inside of you. “My beautiful girl.”

He cuddled with you for another moment, keeping you warm while you both watched the snowy clouds up above. “Baby, I think, it’s time for me to go.” Your heart fluttered. This was the moment you both knew was coming. You looked where you knew his eyes would be at. "I love you. Always. Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever move on from you,” you admit. “I just want to be with you”

“Baby…” Gojo’s voice is soft, barely a whisper. “Please, try. Live for me.” He ends his reasoning with a kiss. You shiver, his touch starting to become less and less warm. Whatever technique or spell that was keeping him here must be starting to wear off. He grabs your clothes and pulls you up, helping you get dressed. “After all, I know I’m the best,” he joked. “But you have to move on. Please? For me. I hate seeing you so lonely.” He pulled you into a final hug, his body becoming more cold and less tangible. 

You nod into his chest.

And then you feel nothing.

A six sided snowflake landed on your nose before melting instantly. A reminder for you to get back inside. 

Maybe the Christmas season won’t be so bad anymore.

EPILOGUE

Six Weeks Later

“It’s positive,” Shoko read the results. “You’re definitely pregnant.”

Your mouth was still agape. “But, but, that’s impossible.”

“Well the test isn't lying, y/n” Shoko said with a laugh. “Are you sure you didn’t get drunk around Christmas and have a one night stand?”

You thought back to six weeks ago. You tried to move on from Satoru, but none of the men you went on dates with truly interested you. And you definitely didn’t sleep with them. You remember visiting Gojo’s grave on his death anniversary and having a very vivid dream with him. But it was only a dream…

“Shoko…” you started. “Would you believe me if I told you I think this baby might be Satoru’s?”

A/N: My bad if this was too long. And sorry if this is cringe; this is literally the first time I’ve written a story with a smutty-type scene in years. In fact, it’s only the second one I’ve ever written, so I’m sorry if it’s awkward. 😭

Banner: @cafekitsune

[st4rrzynight]

𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐈’𝐌 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 — 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭– 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐫

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳˢ ᵖᵒᵛ

𝟏𝟎:𝟓𝟑 𝐏𝐌. i anxiously stared at the time on my phone. it has almost been an hour and paige still hasn't shown up. tonight is my birthday, she promised she'd show up after she washed up from tonights game.

i'm looking around as my friends converse around me in my apartment. my roommates have already questioned me on the absence of my girlfriend. i wish i knew why she wasn't here either.

i enter the passcode to my phone in a hurry as i pull up her contact and type out a message.

Paige 💜🫶

hey, where are you? everyone’s asking about you... are you on your way?

i'm so sorry, babe. i can’t make it.

what?

i know, i know. I feel awful about it, but something came up the team wanted me to come celebrate tonights win with them

its my birthday paige you promised you would be here. going out with the team is suddenly more important than your girlfriends birthday?

it's not just "going out". it's to celebrate tonights win, and it's kind of a big deal. if i don't show up, it could look bad. i don't want to let them down, you have to understand.

no paige, i don’t understand. I’m standing here, surrounded by my friends, and i have to keep making excuses as to why you’re not here. do you know how embarrassing that is? to not have my own girlfriend show up to celebrate my birthday??

i'm sorry, okay? i’ll make it up to you. i’ll take you out somewhere nice tomorrow just the two of us, yeah?

no paige it’s not about “making it up.” it’s about showing up when you say you will. but you NEVER do.

that’s not fair. you know how much pressure i’m under i just want to celebrate the win, look i'll make it up to you tomorrow i promise.

paige i am so tired of this. seriously, you keep making empty promises, you get my hopes up only for you to tell me a half assed excuse that you pulled straight out of your ass last minute.

please don’t do this right now. i’ll call you after i leave.

don’t bother, we're done.

what??

read 10:56

what do you mean were done??

read 10:58

y/n answer me please baby

read 10:59

please ill do anything ill make it up to you i promise please answer my message baby

⚠︎︎ not delivered

꥟

ᵖᵃⁱᵍᵉˢ ᵖᵒᵛ

two years. 730 days. i lost her two years ago today, i lost it all. i know it was my fault, i put everything above her and i deeply regret it. now i have to live life in regret watching from the sidelines as she celebrates her birthday once again. this time, with her girlfriend.

her laugh filling the air knowing i used to be the cause of that laughter. admiring her from across the bar, sitting in between my teammates as they make conversation yet i can't bring myself to take my eyes off of her.

i scan ever inch of her body my eyes stopped on her wrist, then her fingers, then her neck. every single piece of jewelry i got her, gone. none of it in sight as if it never existed.

a hand on her thigh from a woman who was a copy of me. blonde, blue eyes, tall, and she plays soccer. but its not me. it will never be me again.

i can't even blame her, thats why i hate it. i hate that i can't hate her no matter how hard i try because in the end i will always love her and it will always be her.

even if i'm not her happy ever after. i distract myself trying to find someone new but it never ends well. i always find similarities between the girls i've gone on dates with and her. thats what attracts me to them, the fact that they slightly even look like her. but they will never compare to her full look, no one will.

so for the rest of time ill find myself watching from the sidelines seeing her take on life with someone who isn't me by her side, someone who looks like me but is not entirely me.

it will always kill me, it's going to eat me alive till i die. knowing that i'm not hers anymore, i won't be looking for her in the student section knowing shes there. instead ill be looking for her in the student section in hopes she decided to show up, but i know she didn't. she's going to be in the student section of the soccer games watching and cheering on her.

i won't be able to buy her flowers anymore, instead i watch as she gets gifted flowers by another woman. except those aren't her favorite. they're the wrong flowers.

i wont be able to buy her the perfume she always wears when it runs out, her signature scent that i always loved. instead i watch as she gets gifted perfume by another woman. she sprays it into the air and by the time it reaches where i sit i know its not the one she loves. its the wrong perfume.

i won't be making late night sephora trips, picking out her favorite makeup products when shes running low. instead i watch as she gets gifted makeup by another woman. its the wrong brand.

because of my mistakes, ones that i regret so deeply, i now live with the gnawing feeling knowing that she now loves a woman who doesn't pay attention to small details and gifts her all the wrong things, on her birthday of all days, but she showed up. i didn't.

clearly i lacked attention to detail as well if i couldn't see how much i truly disappointed and hurt her and didn't even show up. i wish it went down differently.

every shooting star, every coin toss into a fountain, every time the clock hits 11:11, every fallen eyelash, every dandelion, my last two birthdays, my only wish was to have her back.

but i cant.

not anymore.

and it hurts.

i open up my phone clicking on her contact, i type out one last message, even if i know she won't ever get it. i type it out and send it as some type of closure.

𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲.

⚠︎︎ not delivered

𝐚/𝐧 — 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐍𝐎 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲, 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫

𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 —

@uwupaige @jadasogay @sweetluna20

[evilslushy]

hii!! i <3 ur fics, could u write one abt y/n finding out she's pregnant with her bf (hamzah) 's baby, and she tells him in some cute way and maybe with some fluff/smut?? i just feel like hamzah has such a breeder kink that he would love it😭

When the Time Is Right

Husband!Hamzah x f!reader

(A/N): lowkey proofread this (#ChristmasMiracles) I apologize, this is actually horrifically bad. One of the reasons why and honestly—it’s on me! I should’ve made a detailed request rules post! >_< but i hate anything that has to do with pregnancy—being pregnant—anything of that sort! I was really struggling with this and I tried to change it up to them trying for a baby after many failed attempts but… I still think this is HORRIBLE ;( I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me after taking so long to get back to you with a really shitty version of that you asked for </3

High-key angst, mentions of failed attempts of pregnancies, borderline smut but not really, still—MDNI!

wc: 1.3k

As awkward as it is to say out loud, you and Hamzah have been trying for a baby for some time now. And as much as it breaks your heart to see those pregnancy tests showing negative results, it hurts even more to witness the disappointment in Hamzah’s eyes.

You both try to mask your pain with hopeful smiles and encouraging words, but the silence that follows each failed attempt grows heavier. Hamzah, ever the optimist, often reassures you, saying, “It’ll happen when the time is right.” Yet, you’ve caught him more than once staring into the distance, lost in thought, his expression tinged with longing whenever the topic is brought up.

Today was no exception to your previous attempts, your husband sneaking beside you—your eyes meeting his, hesitantly. “What’s wrong?” He uses elbow to prop himself beside you, moving your hair away from your face with his other hand. It rested on your shoulder, messaging it a bit to help set some comfort for you.

“I’m…” you began, but the words stuck in your throat. Taking a deep breath, you tried again. “I know how badly you want this.” You looked away briefly, then added, “And I want it too.” You needed him to understand that this wasn’t something you felt pressured into—it was something you both deeply desired.

His face softened, his gaze full of understanding. “I know,” he said quietly. “We can try another day if you just want to sleep tonight.” His hand moved up and down your arm in soothing strokes before slipping down to intertwine his fingers with yours.

You shook your head. “No. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” he asked gently.

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed again.”

He snorted softly, a playful edge to his response. “You’re being ridiculous. Baby, I’m not disappointed.” You looked up at him, leaning into his chest, your lips pressing into a slight pout. “I see how sad you get. It makes me sad,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

Hamzah’s expression shifted, and he used the hand holding yours to guide it over his waist. Then he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, cradling you against him as if to shield you from the weight of your own worries. “I’m not sad,” he said firmly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I told you before, it’ll happen at the right time.”

You hummed against his chest, the arm that wrapped around you moving up and down as his fingers ghostly ran across your back. You shivered, looking back up at your husband after hiding in his chest for a few minutes. He looked down—smiling at you. The gap between your lips closing, his smile felt against your lips.

He flipped you away from his body, hovering over you; his lips still attached to yours. Your hands slipping under his loose fitted shirt, feeling for his waist to pull him towards you. The way he kisses you alone shows you how much dedication he has for you. He sighs into the kiss, pulling away to take his shirt off. Taking the hint from your lingering hands.

You smile at him, the proud and excited smile on his face made you break into a fit of giggles. His index finger hooks the elastic band of your pajama shorts, pulling them away from you then letting it go so it’d snap back and hit your skin. Leaning down to kiss you again while his finger hooked your shorts off your legs.

A moan slipped out of your throat—sounding like a groan in pain, making him pull away to see what’s wrong. His lips were left plumper, eyes lidded—chest heaving. The sensual air thick around him, your heart skips a beat.

He raised his eyebrow, indicating his curiosity. “You okay?” He asked. Everything about this, his tone, his warmth, the energy around you. It could send you to sleep. Your hand reaches for his hip, moving upwards to caress his waist. “Yeah.” You cup his face, creasing his cheeks by rubbing your thumbs up and down.

Hamzah’s eyes wandered over your features, studying you intently, as if memorizing every detail of your expression. Slowly, his face leaned toward your right hand, his cheek pressing softly into your palm. His lips curved into a faint smile, and for a moment, the world outside your shared bubble seemed to disappear.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, his tone inviting you to open up but never pushing. His hand slid up to cover yours on his cheek, his fingers warm and grounding. “You don’t have to keep everything inside, you know. Are you not feeling it?”

His words made your chest tighten, not in a painful way, but in that overwhelming way love and vulnerability often do. “I just don’t wanna let you down,” you admitted softly, your voice breaking slightly.

Hamzah shook his head, his smile faint as his hand squeezed yours gently. “You could never let me down,” he said firmly, his gaze locking with yours.

The way he looked at you made your heart flutter, a warmth spreading through your chest that both comforted and unsettled you. His fingers slid from your hand to your wrist, his touch light but intentional as he guided your hand down to rest against his chest. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm, grounding yet electrifying.

“Such a pretty girl. Pretty for me.” He murmured, his voice lower now, the edges softened by the intimacy of the moment. His other hand settled at your waist, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles that sent a ripple of heat through you.

You blinked, unable to form words, your breath catching as he leaned in closer. The faintest smile tugged at his lips before he tilted his head, brushing his nose against yours in a gesture so tender it made your pulse race.

“Hamzah…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but it was enough to draw him in further.

His lips hovered over yours, teasingly close, his breath warm against your skin. “Tell me what you need,” he said softly, his tone a mix of care and something deeper, something that made your cheeks flush.

Your hand slid down his chest, fingers curling around the fabric of the hems of his shirt. That was all he needed to feel.

His lips met yours again, gently, with a hunger that had been building. His hand pressed beside your head to hold himself above you. The kiss was slow at first, unhurried and deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every moment. But as your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him closer, his restraint began to waver.

The world around you blurred; the only thing that mattered was the way his touch ignited every nerve in your body, making you forget everything except him. Every issue you’d faced, every tear you've cried, every painful heart tug melted into an intoxicating sensation you couldn’t get enough of.

He hummed against your lips. His hand moved, slowly, from your waist to your knee, bending it upwards—spreading your leg away to settle in between them. A quiet gasp left your lips at his sudden change in manner. His hand slipped down from your knees to your thigh, settling past it on your hip. Squeezing as he pulled away.

His lips began to trail kisses on from your jaw to your neck, the way his breathing brushed against your skin made your heart feel warm, even in these situations where lust would be the only thing you’d want to feel, his love would wash down on you intensely.

Your arms around his neck, fingers playing with the ends of his hair. Enjoying the feeling of your husband’s sensual touch on you.

[sillymercury]

In the first tags it says most movies/books are not meant to be torn apart but I disagree completely. In fact I think most books/movies are made to dissected and understood on a deeper level. Because whether you like it or not and whether the author meant to or not, books/movies have themes and messages and many people enjoy finding them.

I don’t think it smart to write something(esp things so popular) off as mindless entertainment bc your being fed a message even if you don’t know it. There is nothing wrong with enjoying a book despite whatever message is being sent but when you blatantly ignoring the fact that these things exist is how propaganda propagates. If you are being intentionally fed a narrative without knowing you are likely to internalize it on some level which can be particularly dangerous. The danger presents itself abundantly in this day and age especially when you see people who have such hard stances but cant tell you/explain where those stances originate. Sns thrives off of the want to ‘turn your mind off’ and just consume/enjoy, but that’s never what actually happens. Your subconscious is still processing information but since you’re not consciously dealing with it that leaves room for issues like anxiety, depression, and personality disorder. This seems off topic but ‘mindless consumption’ isn’t a thing, your brain keeps score even when you don’t.

Also a book can have multiple “messages” and you can like some and not the others while still enjoying the piece overall. When I truly love a piece of media I acknowledge is flaws and shortcomings and can see the issues with a story/message while still enjoying it thoroughly. An example for me is I enjoyed the book The Picture of Dorian Gray while recognizing and rejecting the way the characters/book discusses and depicts women.

Like in Nestas book specifically, the main themes are empowerment (specifically female) and growth. This book was my favorite in the series and yet I can still acknowledge all the things wrong with it. Main character were incredibly hypocritical throughout the book, verbal abuse was seemingly over looked/excused, Stockholm syndrome parallels, etc. I identify these things but that still doesn’t detract from my experience instead, adds to it.

Another thing I wanted to mention before bringing this to a close; authors. For the sake of not rambling due to personal feelings I’ll just say, there is nothing wrong with calling out behavior or publicly disagreeing with ideals when it come to public figures. How it’s handled, whether it works, or it’s longevity is a different conversation but there is nothing wrong with speaking out against people in the public eye/people who create mass consumed media.

I understand your take, and I agree people take things way to seriously, but I think your frustration may be displaced. I think the issue with ACOTAR fandom specifically is the same issue with most fandoms. People are delusional, mean, and spoiled. People identify to hard or personalize characters/celebs to the point it becomes an parasocial and problematic. People are also very spoiled in the sense that we feel entitled to the things we want, like we deserve them intrinsically and when there is the threat of not getting what you want (esp is fandoms when discussing this almost mob mentality) or someone challenges your belief/opinion people lash out and get nasty, even feeling personally wronged but a differing stance. When you bring all of these things together it can get nasty very quickly. I’ve been and am still in so many fandoms that I hardly interact with because so much content is toxic or rage bait or whatever. Platforms like Reddit or discord where you can have controlled conversation with a group of people just as dedicated to a topic as you, and you can discuss thoughts and opinions in (what should be) a safe space is an incredible experience but most platforms don’t have moderation that can harbor that so then your left with a mess of often times toxicity and division.

I rambled and diverged a little bit but I thought hard about what I had read and this is what I came up with. Also I feel I should say I’m not a lit major lol but I am educated and I work hard to form my own opinions while still listening to other people takes. And that this is not an attack on op this is pretty much my stream of consciousness after reading the post and I am open to discussion.

my hot take as to why the acotar fandom is a shit show is because too many people with english degrees infiltrated and cannot read a book simply to enjoy it, they must pick it apart and analyze it to the point of just tearing it, the characters and the author apart. and gullible people adopted that same mindset.

in simpler terms: too many people take it way, WAY too seriously lol. like this series is meant for entertainment. sarah didn’t write classic literature with underlying themes on morals and society that’s meant as think pieces. y’all do too much and can never just enjoy things. you’re like the cinephiles that cannot just watch a movie for entertainment purposes, you need citizen kane otherwise you’re shitting on everything because it’s not up to your snobbish standards