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littlefireball · 5 months ago

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May I request a Yunho x Yeosang fic? Where all of Ateez is Poly but Yeosang hasn't gotten intimate with anyone yet. But when yunho comes out of a shower he gets really hot and bothered and he doesn't know why. (He's a virgin) He talks to Yunho and Yunho explains to him what's going on. And he asked to know what it feels like to be fucked and Yunho shows him while the rest of ATEEZ watch?

🐈‍⬛

First time to write BxB ahhh hope you like it

sorry for the slow update cuz i hv no inspiration to write TT

i quite like 'Fake God' setting so i added it to this fic

maybe i'm gonna make a series haha btw i find that 99% of requests are about yeosang 😂(it doesn't mean that i don't like him, just wonder why 🤣🤣 where are the other members ㅋㅋㅋㅋ）

Yunsang|BxB|Eros paidikos(M) ft. OT6

Becoming an attendant of the gods was considered the ultimate honor for a human being. Whenever a deity descended to earth, people would eagerly showcase their loyalty and talents in hopes of securing a place in heaven. They reveled in the adoration of humans, effortlessly casting spells to captivate them. To these beings, humans were mere playthings for their amusement or desire.

Yet, this did not stop humans from desiring to get close to those Gods, or I should say, those Fake Gods.

Becoming a servant was no simple task; one must first earn their favor. However, there was one man who effortlessly captured the hearts of the gods. No tribute or money was required. Simply being in their presence was enough to inspire them to offer everything for him. His appearance was akin to a masterpiece sculpted by the divine, drawing others to him like moths to a flame.

"Yeosang, bring us the wine," Yunho instructed. "Yes, master," Yeosang replied with a simple salute before turning to retrieve the wine. Unbeknownst to him, the seven men observing him were captivated by his beauty. Dressed in a white gauze garment that left little to the imagination, Yeosang's exposed chest, arms, and legs only added to his allure.

"He is truly remarkable, isn't he? I never thought I would use such a word to describe a man," Yunho admitted, his voice betraying a hint of desire. "Did you fuck him?" Jongho inquired, his posture shifting slightly as he leaned against the pool's edge.

"No," Yunho shook his head. "But I will not impose myself on him," he added. "Oh, really? I believe you have already made him your cum pocket," San remarked with a chuckle, resting his head on Seonghwa's chest. "I want him to come to me willingly. I am confident it will not be long before he does," Yunho replied.

“Why are you so certain?” Wooyoung interjected, moving closer to Yunho. “Maybe you just show him your big dick and he will ask you to fuck him badly.” “What?Do you want me to fuck you now?” Yunho lifted wooyoung's chin with his finger, hiding his surging lust under his cold face.

“Then fuck me,” With a smooth motion, Yunho flipped wooyoung over, pinning him under his big frame and thrusted into his hole with one go. "Oh fuck! You're so big!” Wooyoung moaned loud enough for yeosang to hear. He was already used to it as he watched them make love a thousand times, not to mention he could alway hear their moaning the whole day.

Yeosang carefully carried the tray back to the bath where they were gathered. What was once a sacred space now felt tainted by debauchery. Wooyoung was riding Yunho, Mingi was making out with Hongjoong, and Jongho was fucking Seonghwa as if the last day of the Earth.

The scene in the pool left onlookers speechless upon first sight. Yeosang was no exception, though he was tempted to join in despite his shyness. Deep down, he longed to experience the sensation of being desired.

The water in the pool rippled with their movements, creating a symphony of splashes against the sides. Moans and hesitant kisses filled the air, blending with the heady scent of desire to create an intensely erotic atmosphere.

"Master, your wine," Yeosang said as he approached Yunho, offering him the glass with a steady hand. As Yunho took a sip, Wooyoung's sudden rough movements caused him to choke on the wine. “Oh…mas─"

“Fuck you, wooyoung!” “Don't be mad~” Gripping wooyoung's waist hard enough to leave a red mark, Yunho fucked him at an inhuman pace. “Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!Slow down!” “Who told you to act like a brat?" With a loud moan, both of them reached the climax and the white liquid floated on water.

“I gotta take a shower. Yeosang, go bring me some new clothes.” Yunho stood up from the bath, wrapping a towel on his waist. But that didn't stop him from seeing his big cock. “Yes, master.” Swallowed with a ball of saliva, Yeosang tried his best to hide his nervousness before turning to get some clothes.

“Hey, Yunho, what I said is true.” Wooyoung bent over the edge of the pool, tilting his head with an evil smirk.

“And remember what I said? It won't take too long for him to ask me.” Yunho winked before taking a quick bath.

—---

Yeosang's body suddenly felt ablaze, as if a fire was consuming him from within. His flushed face only intensified the heat that coursed through him. The recent scene played on a loop in his mind, stirring up desires he had long suppressed.

Holding Yunho's garment in his hand, Yeosang found himself drawn closer, unable to resist the urge to inhale deeply, savoring the scent that was uniquely Yunho's. The action only served to heighten his panic, causing his heart to race as if it might burst from his chest.

"No… I have to go back now…What's wrong with me?" Yeosang willed himself to calm down, the chill of the wind offering a slight reprieve from the feverish sensations that gripped him.

Yet, fate seemed determined to play him as the next sight pushed him to the brink of losing all restraint.

"Master, your attire." Yunho had just stepped out of the bath, water droplets cascading from his hair onto his broad shoulders, trickling down the contours of his sculpted abdomen… He was big,no,huge. Yeosang couldn't bear to meet Yunho's gaze, immediately averting his eyes from the mesmerizing sight before him.

"Thanks, my doll.” He deliberately emphasized the last sentence, and his knuckled fingers traced Yeosang's arm, making him tremble. But Yunho took his hand back and didn't grab the clothes, making Yeosang whimpered softly because of lost touch. "Shouldn't you serve me change my clothes?” Yunho remarked, raising an eyebrow at Yeosang. “Ye…yes, I apologize.”

Yeosang's hands were shaking like a leaf when he touched Yunho's arm, making him imagine how it felt in his embrace, just like what Yunho did to Wooyoung a moment ago.

“Are you hot? Your face is so red, just like the apple Jongho crushes every day." Yunho's concerned voice and laugh snapped Yeosang to reality, making Yeosang slightly jump.

“Just…a little bit…”

“But heaven is not that hot, here is not hell.” Yunho lifted Yeosang's chin with his big hand, brushing his moist lips while speaking softly, “You know why, Yeosang?”

“Why…?” Yeosang once swallowed nervously, finding himself unable to move away from Yunho's captivating gaze.

“Because you want me so badly.” Yunho stepped close enough to brush yeosang's forehead with his lips. “It's called heat, doll.”

“It's just human nature, not a big deal. And of course, we, Gods, have desire too.” Yunho continuted, luring Yeosang to ask the question he wanted to hear. “Sometimes, we just have to do something and the heat would cool down.”

“Is it being fucked?” Yunho's face lighted up as he finally heard what he desired, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yes, you're right, darling.”

“How…how does it feel…? Is…is it hurt?” Yeosang stammered, realizing Yunho's cock sunk between his thighs and rubbed against his sensitive skin.

“No, of course no. It feels so good. Do you want it? Tell me.” “Yes, please. Mas─" Before his words fully came out from his mouth, Yunho attacked his lips without a second thought. They kissed each other hungrily without care. Yunho took the lead, parting yeosang's lips and intertwining with his tongue. Yeosang let out a hem as Yunho kissed him aggressively, leaving him breathless in this heavy make out.

“Gotta fuck you now,” Leaving from each other's lips, Yunho wrapped Yeosang's legs around his waist and knelt down before placing him down on the ground. “Oh god!” Yeosang let out a soft gasp as Yunho entered him, drawing the attention of those around them. Yunho started at a slow pace to make Yeosang adjust to the sensation of being penetrated. After all, it was his first time. The feeling was a mix of strange and thrilling; Yunho pushed deep, almost pushing past his limits. Yet, Yeosang loved it so much. Each thrust gave him a wave of numbness and pleasure.

Murmuring and swearing fled both of their lips, Yeosang threw his head against the ground and closed his eyes, throwing himself into this endless bliss. “Fuck, you're amazing!” Yunho murmured, picking up the pace as Yeosang's long throaty moan urged Yunho to ruin him, have him completely. “Oh gosh-!!My god!! Ah~” Yeosang let out a choppy moan to make everyone gasp. How beautiful the melody was.

Without warning, Yunho pulled out and flipped Yeosang over, pressing him against before thrusting hard from behind. Yeosang's hips were in the air, allowing Yunho to go deeper in this new position. “Fuck!” Yunho groaned, his breath coming in heavy pants. His sanity was about to fade away as Yeosang kept sucking him in;the tightness and the wetness drove him crazy. He drew his hips back, and then slammed himself back in, pumping into his sensitive area.

“Keep your eyes open, Sang.” Yunho commanded, and Yeosang slowly opened his eyes to find that all of their gaze lingered on him. They couldn't tear their eyes away from the sight of Yunho entering him, and his face a mix of pleasure and desire. The wet strands of hair clung to Yeosang's face, swaying with each movement; his ass bounced each time Yunho rolled his hips into him. All of them couldn't lie; their lust was palpable, impossible to ignore.

“Wanna be fucked by them? Huh?Tell me, you slut.” Yunho slapped his ass, making Yeosang groan at the pain. Yet, he wanted more.“See?They all wanted you, wanted to sink their fat cock into your pink hole.” Yunho leaned down to whisper in his ears, pressing his chest against his back. “Oh please, pretty please.” He didn't know what he was begging for, but only felt something tightening in his stomach.

“Need to cum?” Feeling Yunho's big hand trails down to his erection, Yeosang moaned loudly as the cold touch sent him numbness. “Please, please.” Yunho jerked him off at a fast pace, all the heat rushed to his tip. The friction pushed him to the edge of climax, Yeosang spread his legs wider to make Yunho sinking deep. “Master…master…” Yunho fucked him faster and faster and the sound of skin slapping echoed through the room. Everything was overwhelming but perfect at the same time. Yeosang was on cloud nine, totally lost in the lust.

“Cum.” “Gosh!!” Yunho's command was like a trigger, making Yeosang cum immediately. “Good boy.” Yunho also came with a loud moan, filling Yeosang with all his seeds, even dripping on the ground. Huffed and puffed, Yeosang collapsed on the ground and couldn't even sit up straight.

“You're too rough, yunho.” Wooyuoung said while walking to Yeosang's side. “You should treat him softly," Patting his head, Wooyoung left a peck on Yeosang's lips, making Yeosang's eyes shut open in surprise. “Don't be afraid, we will treat you well.” “Don't break him.” Yunho smirked. Without waiting for Yeosang's response, he was picked up by someone effortlessly.

“We're gonna have something fun.” A gummy smile broke out on Jongho's face. Oh he looked so cute. But Yeosang soon denied this thought as Jongho was definitely not cute on the bed.

What Yeosang could remember after that was his clothes were literally ripped off, all the men fucked him at least twice, and he had came countless times until he couldn't anymore.

And, since then, Gods have not come to the world again. The blessedness of humans? They never care.

“Oh pretty, pretty, You want our cock so badly, do you?”

“Yes, please.”

What they cared about was only lust.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez ot8 #ateez yunho #ateez x female reader #yeosang smut #ateez yeosang #ateez wooyoung #yunsang

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wawamouse · 18 days ago

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Personally, for some reason I think it'd be fairly amusing if the person who noticed Chico was Like That with Miguel was Mukada.

Maybe after McManus realizes Chico has been involved with a lot of Miguel's troubles and forces them to make up in hopes that it'll help Miguel (and the patting hug), he mentions the whole Chico being connected to some of Miguel's problems thing to Mukada. So, Mukada observes them out of concern. And. Well. (I don't think McManus noticed anything beyond Chico's beef with Miguel making Miguel's life difficult.)

(Tho this may be because I also think Mukada is a little like that with Miguel, though he wouldn't have to be when exploring that. I still think he'd be weird about it, regardless.)

That would definitely be the safer option (safer than the possible outsider POVs I was thinking 🤣)

(Side note: I just made myself laugh with the realization that McManus probably thought he was being smart, making that connection, but actually no: Chico just happens to be the only member of El Norte (in Emerald City) who’s been there the whole time and is still alive …)

(Side note 2: I started writing out this answer with the intention of bringing something to the table, but having finished babbling, I’ve looked back and realised that I was basically stream-of-conscious brainstorming a potential fic 😅 So this may read like a dude pacing the floors… It’s essentially just that, me trying to work out the premise of a fic that may or may not actually come into full fruition)

Mukada as the outsider POV definitely works because he is more invested in Miguel’s well being and blah blah. 🤨 Hm hm hm (stares out window) What would Mukada be thinking?

Alarm, I think: he must know Chico is part of El Norte and surely has at least a passing familiarity with him, since we do see Chico at mass at least once in the show. It’s possible that Mukada is already vaguely aware of Chico’s beef with Miguel… though the gym stabbing and Velez’s death are never officially tied back to Chico nor is he ever acknowledged as a suspect, maybe Mukada somehow put two and two together and has his own suspicions. (Idk, maybe he’s seen Chico staring down the bench before from up at the pulpit or something )

Some suspicion, perhaps mixed with hesitant optimism, I would guess: if McManus tacked on something about maybe Guerra accepting the terms of the truce and seeming willing to make up after some initial reluctance, then Mukada might keep that in mind while observing them. Where would he have the opportunity to observe them? First thought is mass, assuming they both still go at least some of the time. In the past, they sat apart during mass; after they make up in the show, they pretty much immediately (per the episodes) start sitting together to watch TV, so maybe Miguel also tags along and sits in the same row as Chico, which Mukada takes as a sign that McManus was right…?

Then maybe he has continued concerned because Miguel’s been doing so well lately and it would be tragic if making up with and associating with Guerra (and El Norte) then led him astray, intentionally or not… and I think Mukada could still be weird about it here because honestly, if he’s to observe Miguel and Chico, he has to go out of his way to enter the same space as them. Outside of a situation/fic where Mukada’s observations span a long long time*, honestly, I struggle to think of a scenario where their paths are crossing that often organically. Still, it’s not like Mukada isn’t nosy, so I think if he’s decided to go into Miguel Monitoring Mode for a period, because he hasn’t really followed up since the Velez incident (was in the hospital and all for a while) he’d have to be like, hanging around places more than usual… hm, idk, do you think he’d bring it up to Miguel directly? Catch up and ask if any inmates are giving him trouble? Guerra, for instance? Do you think he would try to lecture Chico not to bother Miguel? 😂 (Chico's like wtf, I already got this form McManus...)

*Then again, it would be interesting if he observed Miguel and Chico pre-evacuation and then post-return to Oz, perhaps noting a marked change, not just in Miguel’s states (if he’s still floating), but in Chico’s (if he’s become protective). I feel like this would also be a good place to set a fic, Mukada putting a pin in it after McManus’s remarks and deciding to check in on Miguel some more but ultimately not having too much time to do so outside of his talks with Miguel at Morales’s coffin being shipped away. He sees then that Miguel still seems to be in good spirits and doesn’t delve too much more into it, since I think that was around when he had Hoyt to focus on, too…

— A scene that came to mind:

(Note idrk how to write Mukada lol) (Also this snippet goes nowhere)

—

He heard it rise about the rest of the noise as the inmates stood and began filing out: Laughter.

It wasn’t that uncommon to hear within the walls of Oswald. The men were under tough, often stressful conditions, but there were still moments of amusement to be found, Ray knew, although many of those moments often came at the expense of others, too. That afternoon, the throaty cackle that Ray heard didn’t seem to be a schadenfreude based reaction to another event. It was joyful—a burst of genuine mirth that drew Ray’s attention as he closed the notes of his sermon. He glanced up, reactively searching for the source of the noise and finding his gaze dragging over familiar faces.

He saw Miguel with the lines of laughter still etched on his face. Head tilted toward another inmate standing on the other side of him, he had that rose-tattooed hand half-raised as if to catch the trailing snickers still making his shoulders shake.

Ray blinked, struck by the thought that it’d been a long time since he saw Miguel wearing such open ease in his expression. His years at Oswald had been up and down—more up in recent times, but still not without his moments of stumbling. Praying for Miguel to feel God’s love and take strength from it had long become a daily habit for Ray. There was so much potential for rehabilitation there, if only Miguel could hang onto his faith, see that, and follow the path that Ray was so sure was there for him.

The inmates continued shuffling through the exit of the cafeteria, and over the next couple of seconds, Ray observed Miguel’s laughter fade into a quiet smirk, a light still in his eyes, after everything.

That was good, he thought, followed by a twinge of guilt. It had been a while since he had checked in on Miguel one-on-one. The days of long sessions of spiritual counsel were in the past, left behind after Miguel’s months long escape from Oswald several years ago. So much had happened since then—to the both of them—and while it was always a pleasure to see Miguel’s face in Mass, as it meant he was no longer locked away in Solitary, Ray wondered if he had been neglecting Miguel personally by keeping him mainly in his thoughts.

Gathering his Bible and papers, Ray turned to exit the stage, supposing that it was his old pride talking again, impairing his vision of his congregants. Belief that he held a special key in guiding their souls to safety was pure arrogance. Miguel had still come to seek his advice over the years, which was what mattered—that he knew Ray was there to help him if he asked, a sign he knew he was not alone as he had often claimed…

He had not neglected Miguel spiritually, Ray concluded as he returned to the familiar walls of his cluttered office. Though, thinking about that laughter in the cafeteria, he could admit that he was feeling a personal curiosity. Parole was coming up again for Miguel, too, and Ray knew that that beacon of hope always brought with it a potential for devastation for the inmates at Oz. For Miguel, the downs always seemed to hit harder…

Yes. He’d schedule a short session with Miguel in the coming weeks, Ray decided. If Miguel was in good spirits these days, then it wouldn’t hurt to check in on him and see what he could do to help keep it that way.

—

Thought: another way to make it sorta weird (not really, I guess) is Mukada not really noticing Chico that much… Sure, Guerra’s presence is noted in the back of his mind, but I think it could be shaped in a way where he is more concerned with Miguel’s state of mind/being, that How Is Miguel Doing is his original main concern and the observation of Guerra being the source of any changes in Miguel registers on a delay, the whole of what it looks like coming all at once and with a note of curiosity and surprise. Surprise, maybe because Mukada doesn’t know Guerra that well but can observe his body language and recognise that Guerra seems, like him, focused on Miguel. Not so much like him, though (in this fic anyway) (and I’m not a Mukada/Alvarez shipper either, so I don’t read it that way generally lol), is how Guerra’s eyes linger on Miguel, a hint of something beyond platonic interest there. Maybe Mukada recognises the look, having observed the other inmates, straight and gay alike, and as soon as he has that suspicion as an outsider, he’s just bamboozled by the obviousness of it, and begins wondering if there was some hot gossip he missed about Miguel (impossible!).

I think it would be fun to see Mukada subtly poking around, getting thoughts from other staffers, especially Sister Pete who might have a better understanding of Chico, at least, him being in at least one of the groups she runs. Inquiring after updates from McManus, I imagine Mukada would just get a shrug of “yeah, looks like their truce has held”. And then he’s just walking around like ‘Am I crazy? Am I imagining things??’ lmao. Cue going out of his way to do more observing… and in more observing, only becoming more and more convinced that something is going on between Miguel and Chico 🧐 Buuut, I think Mukada’s quiet conclusion would be that if it isn’t harming Miguel, hey, it must be a good thing. Sure it’s a sin, but Miguel needs all the love he can get. Much like with Keller and Beecher, Mukada can ignore the sin part under the circumstances. Also he doesn’t thiiiink Guerra is going to pull any Keller moves and fuck Miguel’s shit up. Hard to say. But given their tumultuous history, perhaps Mukada will being keeping an eyes on Guerra, lol.

#text #oz hbo #chico guerra #miguel alvarez #ray mukada #long post #answered ask #merelyafigment

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mstarcreates · 1 month ago

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Not me waking up with a silly little Coffee Shop AU on the brain 🤣 I think I just need a little break from all the damn angst I’ve been writing. Anyway enjoy a little ramble I wrote this morning. Also, also I was 🤏 this close to naming the coffee shop CrowBucks 😂

—

Crow’s Calling

Summary: A series of cute low to no angst ramblings in an AU where Crow works at a coffee shop in the Last City.

Day 1 - You’re Too Sweet For Me

It was a morning like any other, customers had been in and out almost non-stop since the time the doors had opened. Crow never thought his coffee shop idea would have taken off. And yet here it was. In the heart of the Last City, it was nestled in a small plaza between a ramen shop and a cantina both run by a group of Eliksni he had gotten to know.

So when there was a lull in the rush hour, he was taking advantage of it. He sighed as he leaned against the nearby wall and scrolled through funny videos posted to TravelerTalk on his phone while he passed the time. Crow hadn’t been standing there long before the bell chimed and a customer came walking in.

The male was clearly engrossed in a conversation as he walked in. Even dressed down in dark wash jeans and a casual hoodie, Crow knew exactly who the guy was, the famous Hunter Vanguard Cayde-6.

“Yeah…yeah no I get that. Mhmm. I gotta go kiddo. There’s this real cute guy working in the coffee shop and I plan on getting his number….What?! I have game! Alright we’re talking about this later. Bye now.” Cayde finally strolled up to the counter as he pocketed his phone. “Kids these days, am I right?”

“Welcome to Crow’s Calling, what can I get started for you?” He said, entirely ignoring the fact he’d overheard Cayde’s conversation with…well whoever he’d been talking to.

“Uh I’ll take two of your blackest coffees. Don’t even let them face the general direction of a grain of sugar. I mean it, my coworkers will know.”

“Alright, that's two Black Talon brews, got it.” He punched those into the datapad. “Anything else?”

“Yeah I’ll take your Golden Gun Blast, extra caramel and whipped cream.”

“Not sure if it’s your first time but that drink already comes loaded with caramel.”

“I know what I said,” Cayde grinned at him. “Line it along the inside of the cup. Please.” Then the Hunter drifted over to their counter where all their treats and snacks were displayed. “Hmm I have a bit of a sweet tooth.” Yeah no kidding, Crow thought to himself as he started to make the two black coffees. “What would you recommend?”

“Oh well see, I’m not really a sweets kinda guy, so I’m afraid I couldn’t recommend anything. If that’s all for your order please pay when you’re ready.”

“No? You seem plenty sweet to me.” Cayde said as he tapped a card against the datapad. Crow arched a brow at the comment but otherwise he didn’t reply. “Nothing? Really? That line usually gets the girls all kinds of flustered.”

“Not knocking your ‘game’ or anything but customers hit on me all day. You’ll have to try a lot harder than that.” He put the two finished drinks on the counter and began to work on the Frappuccino, lining the cup with a generous amount of caramel sauce.

“Could I at least get your name? Noticed you're not wearing a badge. Sure your boss isn’t gonna to get mad about that?”

“I am the boss, so can’t really get mad at myself.” He threw ice and the coffee mixture into a blender and ran it for a minute or two before he continued to speak. “And I already gave you my name.” Then Crow poured the mix into a cup and added a generous amount of whipped cream and even more syrup. God just looking at this thing was giving him cavities.

“You did not give me your name. I would have remembered.”

Crow placed the finished sugary concoction on the counter with the other two coffees. “I definitely did.” He smiled a little, watching as Cayde tapped a finger against his chin. It was very amusing to see the Hunter at a complete loss. “Oh I almost forgot…” Crow pulled a small card from a stack of them and grabbed a hole punch. He punctured it three times before holding it out. “For every ten drinks you get a free one on the house.”

“Thanks, I’ll hold onto this,” Cayde took the card and tucked it away. “Don’t think this is over yet, I’ll be coming back.”

“Good. Don’t forget to tell your friends.” Crow watched the other man shift from one foot to another for a few seconds until Cayde finally took the tray of drinks and headed out the door.

#coffee shop au #stupid ramblings #i can’t get them out of my head #they live here now #caydexcrow #crow destiny #destiny cayde #send help

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voxofthevoid · 9 months ago

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I read a lot of published and unpublished(Fanfiction) works of smut, and one thing I know for sure...

If a published author gets their (usually female) fanbase worked up🥵 through erotic literature, the fans have a habit to romanticize and/or sexualize the author, so to speak.

Even more so if the author has an approachable personality.

I'm not sure if that makes you uncomfortable or not, but it's a reality for some authors. Out of respect, I keep my thoughts to myself.

(Though I will neither confirm nor deny that I've had those thoughts before.🥴🤣)

- have a great day!

And that's how I know I've "made it" as an erotica writer 😂

In all seriousness, it doesn't make me uncomfortable. I'm a mixture of amused and charmed, especially because you guys don't even know what I look like; these are reactions solely to the sex I write and the fragments of my personality that my online presence shows. I take it as a compliment to my writing, honestly. Plus, I'm far less approachable IRL (chronic resting bitch face, to start with) and do make an attempt to be chiller online, so it's nice to know I don't come across as an asshole or anything.

It helps that nobody who's confessed to having a crush on me—or whatever the "would fuck you" equivalent is—has crossed any lines. Most of the anons/non-anons have been playful and/or respectful. So long as no one's sending me unsolicited nudes/sexts or leaving me love letters made of human hearts, we're good 🤣. Fantasize to your heart's content.

#i love my anons #anon

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lovecolibri · 2 years ago

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ABC, if they don’t re-cancel the show, does have an opportunity to be the funniest fuckers on the planet though and go full soap and make everything post lightning strike be the coma dream. Inception that shit, dream within a dream, what IS reality? Who knows? Have 7x1 open with Buck waking up in the hospital like oh hey guys I had the wildest dream! 😂 anyway I don’t see them saving this situation so I gotta amuse myself.

🤣🤣🤣 there was also a post that naturally I can't find at the moment about season 7 opening with them closing tay kay's book and then making comments about the wild shit that happened and being like "why would she write this?" 🤣

Honestly I don't know what they're going to do, and I'm a little worried to find out because I just...I barely made it through this season 4 gf repeat, I CANNOT do a season 5 gf repeat, I just can't. I honestly wouldn't mind them just being like "welp, those relationships didn't work out! *shrug*" at the beginning and just never talking about it again. I mean, Ravi was with the team in 5x18 and then his name wasn't ever even spoken in season 6 until he was on screen again in the back half of the season so like, they could disappear and we could all pretend it was a fever dream. Most people didn't even remember who Marisol was when she popped back up and when people said "the girl from the DIY call" you still got a lot of "who?" so it's not like they will notice or care that much, and the majority of them don't watch for Buck or Eddie anyway.

#my sweet nonnie friends #911 #911 spoilers #i do think there are some really funny choices they could make though so we'll see!#mostly i just don't want a huge time skip because i want that cruise ship disaster damnit!#but those two can disappear forever and i won't say a word and will be happy to pretend the last 20 minutes of the finale don't exist.

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foxymoxynoona · 1 year ago

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My world is going crazy (in a mundane way) right now. Tomorrow the kids go back to school (which means I go back to work), we're crammed with soccer/marching band/taekwondo, my kiddo's 15th birthday is coming up, and just life in general is picking up the pace after summer break. Yet despite all of that, all I can do is keep counting the days until August 22nd because I miss JK and Sasha SO MUCH!!

I think it's the authenticity behind the story. Your characterization of JK is so aligned with what he portrays irl. And Sasha is take-your-breath-away levels of amazing but also so real, and flawed in ways that are relatable and not off-putting.

When Jungkook does something surprising or amusing in real life, I find myself daydreaming about how Sasha would react 😅

I also like to think he runs around his house hiding any evidence of her before he goes live to vacuum in the middle of the night 😂

I'm so honored my story has a place in your busy schedule. I always find going back to school is bittersweet; my kids look forward to school so much but I also feel a loss of the freedom (and easier mornings) of summer haha. And happy birthday to your kiddo!!!

I'm so amused Sasha gets to live along your experience of IRL BTS moments too. She definitely does for me! I'm always thinking of whether and how to weave in something that happens in the real world. It's great fun to all daydream along together haha.

Maybe that's why his apartment looks so barren most of the time, he's gotta shove everything into a closet 🤣 If you remember, she is not nearly as tidy as he is!

#asks #secret song series

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bellaxgiornata · 2 years ago

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HI BESTIE GAL oh my god 🥹 u have absolutely ruined me for any other fic writer. i binged your matt murdock series today and it was so jaw-droppingly slay i'll never be able to recover U ARE INCREDIBLE!!!! we absolutely don't deserve u or this beautiful fic and i think i fucking died reading it was EVERYTHING (the angst is killing me but ur writing is so sexy i don't even care (i am yearning so bad)). please feel free to reach out if you ever need an organ donation xoxo or literally anything else tbh i would actually die for u fr 🤭 michelle obama wrote hey queen girl u have done it again just for u (she time travelled to the future to read your fic this is fact! source: me) I AM UR BIGGEST FAN SHUT UP (please never shut up) I LOVE U + thank you for your dedication to consistently girlbossing!!!! i hope you have a lovely day 🫶

Okay this was honestly the best thing for me to wake up and read! I am equally grateful for your kind compliments and also highly amused at the offer of being my organ donor 🤣

Thank you so much!! I am so overwhelmed (in a good way) by how many of you have really fallen in love with this series and Matt and Reader's relationship journey! And side note--I always love hearing this series is worthy of being binged because I have certainly felt that with fics myself and I feel like it's such a big compliment!

Honestly this series has taken over my life and grown into what it has because so many of you have been so invested in watching these two grow together. It has been so amazing to write that journey and share it with you all. It's also been so incredibly fun chatting with you all about Matt and Reader!

That being said--the beginning of the end of Big Angst is upon us later today!! I will start mending your heart and everyone else's with the update I share later today!

But like seriously, thank you ❤️ This really made my morning and I've only been awake for like ten minutes now 😂 I hope you have a lovely day as well!!

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gothicvalentine · 1 year ago

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So, I was on Amazon, looking up books written by this guy I just saw in a Ted talk. Then I happened to notice a couple of books about bats.

As a general rule, I adore bats and have since I stayed at camp at around age 5 and saw this little, tiny bat. It was hanging upside down from the huge stone fireplace.

The lady reading the stories that evening just calmly pointed it out to us all and I was amazed by how tiny and cute it looked. I thought it was a baby but I'm sure it wasn't. The adults are incredibly small here.

To add to my bat experiences, my dad would catch and release them if they got inside. He'd wear gloves in case they bit him, but he'd show them to me and let me gently pet the soft fur on their backs.

I consider myself lucky that I was never around people who were scared of them because it would be sad if even more people feared these little dudes. (My daughter likes them too, lol)

So, back to why I'm posting this screenshot.

After seeing these bat books, I, of course thought about Twisted Wonderland's resident bat, Lillia van Rouge . So, having Lillia already on my mind, the next book I see has a dragon! Malleus!!!!

(omg Malleus. I am SO, SO sorry!) Nope! Once my brain actually engaged I realized it was a dino--a T Rex to be more precise. 😂🤣😂😭😭

Despite being all alone, I was simultaneously embarrassed, ashamed, and secretly amused.

Because of course I wouldn't want to let the imaginary dragon prince find out that mistaking him for a freaking T Rex was actually pretty hilarious. 🙄😂

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 2 years ago

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The Marali Festival Commentary Part 3

WELCOME TO THE CHAPTER SECTION OF LAST MINUTE SUNNY DECISIONS!🤣 Chapters were getting written after I got home from school rather than posted beforehand. And I had to switch some chapters around last minute. Trust me it made more sense.😉 But more on that below.

**SPOILERS FOR THIS FIC BELOW**

Chapter 7- Dance

I posted in the author’s notes here that I had the “Kingdom Dance” from Tangled playing on repeat as I wrote this chapter! It just seemed to work well.

As soon as Bilbo was confident enough with the basic steps, she spun him out and into the arms of another dancer. Bilbo found himself hugely amused as Dori fretted and kept his eyes down so as not to accidentally hurt Bilbo. Then Bilbo was spun into another dwarf and then another. The rhythm picked up, and all of Bilbo’s worries over how well he was doing went by the wayside as he became lost in the music.

A clap here, two stomps, spin, and heel kick. Bilbo closed his eyes for only a moment, and when he opened, there was Thorin holding him in his arms. Bilbo panted, a large grin spread across his face as everyone around clapped in thanks for the wonderful dance.

Okay, I may have also been inspired by the actual scene as well.

Thorin continued to try to inch away as his protests grew in volume.

“Bilbo, stop…”

“It’s just one little dance…”

“I DON’T WANT TO DANCE WITH YOU!”

Bilbo’s hands dropped listly at his sides. Thorin’s expression swam with regret and frustration, but rather than explain his harsh words, he shook his head and stomped out of the halls.

Thorin...you done goofed. I really hoped that the anxiety he was feeling from the previous chapter translated over well. But this was certainly a chapter that I was mentally kicking myself for adopting this back and forth POV style. This chapter probably would have made more sense and flowed better from Thorin’s POV.

Chapter 8- Silent Communication

Okay so Thorin making it up to Bilbo was supposed to happen during the “Cooking Together” chapter, and “Silent Communication” was originally going to be after “Laugh Together” consisting of Thorin and Bilbo making goo-goo eyes at each other in the hallway. However, I realized I could get a lot more out of it with Bilbo giving Thorin the ‘silent treatment’ and moved this into place very last minute.

“Um…greetings…Your Majesty. I was told to inform you that Master Baggins wishes not to be disturbed at this time.”

Thorin leaned around the younger dwarf to see Bilbo glaring at him before ducking his head back down into his book.

“Tabor?” Thorin addressed.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Move.”

Tabor is very loyal to Bilbo for all that he wasn’t actually in love with him. That was part of what sold him to go along with Fili and Kili was they promised it would make Bilbo very happy. Maybe I should write a Tabor POV??

Bilbo dropped the book just far enough to raise an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted.

Bilbo huffed and raised his book to hide his face once more.

“I was…unprepared to hear that particular tune, and I’m afraid I might have lashed out.”

The book slammed shut and came to rest in front of Bilbo as the hobbit rested one elbow on the cover, and his chin in his hand, glaring at Thorin with suspiciously glistening eyes.

I was weirdly proud of my descriptions of Bilbo here. I mean, he’s giving Thorin SO MUCH sass and attitude and he hasn’t said a word.😂

Chapter 9- Laughing Together

The Green Room was an entertaining space in the royal apartments of Erebor that Bilbo was informed once sparkled in the light of emeralds.

You can’t tell me Thror wouldn’t have an ‘Amber Room’. He probably had several: Emerald Room, Sapphire Room, Diamond Room, Gold Room...

“Arda Day.” Thorin blurted which all of them nodded and agreed as if that explained everything.

“Arda Day?” Bilbo repeated.

“I promise you’ll like it.” Was all the dwarf would say.

I can’t remember how detailed I got in this, but the garden Thorin gifts Bilbo on Arda Day was supposed to be a sort of ‘thank you for giving us a home’ so all the dwarves (plus Gandalf) were in on it. It becomes more romantic when he kisses Bilbo the night before.😉

“What I don’t understand is how you had a song like this all ready to go upon first meeting me.” Bilbo pointed out when they finished.

“It’s an old tune.” Thorin explained. “You replace a few words here and there, and considering the majority of dwarven names are two syllables it becomes ‘that’s what Fili the dwarf hates’ or ‘that’s what Bofur the dwarf hates’.”

“That’s what our Uncle Thorin hates.” Kili reminded cheekily.

“You had one for Thorin.” Bilbo asked, far too amused as the dwarf king threw his head into his hands in disbelief.

“Oh please!” Balin answered with a chuckle. “They had a new version every week depending on what Thorin made them do.”

“ Blunt the swords and dull the blade.” Fili started mockingly.

“Arrows littered all over the glade.” Kili chimed in.

“There’s no shine to these breastplates…that what our Uncle Thorin hates!” They screamed out together.

Okay, MONTHS in advance I realized that every dwarf in the Company had two-syllable names with the exception of Oin, but even that one could be stretched into 2 and therefore could be replaced in the ‘That’s What Bilbo Baggins Hates’. In fact, I had planned this scene so far in advance that I actually almost forgot it when it came to writing, and had to go back and add it in later.

Whelp, that’s it for this section. See you tomorrow for cute family moments and the reveal of the misunderstanding. 👀

#sunny's greatest hits #the hobbit #bagginshield #the marali festival #commentary day 3 #my shorter sections 😅

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now-she-is-very-amused · 2 years ago

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I can't do this anonymously, so I guess if this falls flat, I can't hide behind a gray ball and sunglasses.

Hello, Miss Amused. I wanted to do this on the other account, but I couldn't, so here we are.

Below, I've added a screenshot that I took of a video while on Instagram. For context, the women in the video tells the audience something like, "If there's one thing I've learned, it is that if God won't do it, it just won't get done." 🤷‍♀️

She then proceeds to sing those same lines and as you can tell by the image text, it was a joke about laundry.

I saw it and thought of your many blogs about laundry. So I hope this makes you laugh. If not...well, I'll just keep this for myself and giggle. Have a blessed day.

🤣🤣😂 I love it!! There are literally two full baskets of laundry sitting next to me right now waiting to be folded. 😅

I didn’t realize anons weren’t enabled, sorry. It’s been so long since I set up a blog! They’re on now.

#asks #missleismon #it did not fall flat at all #if loathing laundry is to become my legacy so be it #it’s perfectly true after all

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n4kxi · 8 months ago

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hello 👋👋👋

been lurking like a mouse so im gonna. hah

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?”

WOWZERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! dearest to. To his - HEASRRT!!!!!!!!!!!!! "dearest to my heart?" IT HURTS 🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁 it hurts beautifully because everything is written so perfectly the effect it gives is as if a searing knife impaling. Me

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

i will not heal from this in the next 4000000 days this isn't funny anymore it's so good im going to scream and rip my hair from my scalp "only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm."

it feels so intimate. be so for real right now just skibidi each other ( already im so sick of myself sorry ) im not much of a yapper but i appreciate art like my life depends on it so this. is a AMZIZNG!!!!!! bazinga!🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯💯💯💯💯

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

this paragraph makes me ache like a sickly and starving victorian child BECAUSE I WOULD 😂😂😂😂😂😂 id kiss him till my lips mark upon his skin as if a canvas SATPRU GOJO 🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

he's. dear to me. the way this entire thing is written makes me like him more than i want to admit it because IM VERU BIG ON MY APPRECIATION FOR TOJI INSTEAF OF SATPUR 🤥🤥🤥🤥🤥 anyways before i young sheldon my way into talking about dear beloved father fushiguro let's talk about

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

I LOBE RJIS. this part is just perfect. "too mesmerized," MESMERIZED 🎆 go off "too paralyzed," THEY'RE PARALYZED a car crashes "a blue so jarring it makes you shiver." THEY'RE SHIVERING BUILDINGS HAVE FALLEN MOUNTAINS ARE CRUMBLING PEOPLE ARE DYING EXPLOSION EXPLOSION BOOM BOOM BOOM 💥 FIRE FIRE FIRE 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

and this haha

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

DId i already mentiom a boy so sweet you’d die for him. Because haha silly willy me i think i didn't whoops 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😞🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

OK thanks for breathing on this earth you are an amazing writer please don't die you are so awesome

how deep is your devotion? ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank u to @softgirlgonehaywire for having the biggest brain in the world and infecting me w this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading u can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy.

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work.

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into.

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears.

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere.

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever.

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company.

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone.

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true.

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house.

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight.

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying.

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect.

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue.

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now.

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes.

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is.

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth.

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl.

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.”

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time.

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?”

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable.

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself. awfully amused.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise your brow. unimpressed.

satoru steps back. inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own.

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little.

his knight. his favourite knight.

“.. fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate.

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily.

his chest is heaving. lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting.

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still.

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air.

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller.

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.”

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby.

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.”

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.”

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand.

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip.

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years.

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire.

”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then;

“i’d do it, you know.”

a questioning hum. “do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows.

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing.

enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze.

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?”

…

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse.

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light.

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else.

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from the faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear.

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

#i hope this doesn't scare you off im mentally well i promise #Im sick in the head im sorry for lying #PLEASE i ove #💯#i am no #NO!#h #HOW #how do you do this #UEE😭🥺💧Eu💧💧E E😭😭 E EUE🥺🥺😭UUUUE😭🥺💧🥺😭 ue 💧 ee😭🥺💧 ue 🥺e e e😭. e 💧🥺😭Uueuuue. 💧 💧 ue 😭🥺ee e🥺🥺😭eUEE 💧🥺💧EEE

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