#Just thinking abt how he is a man always living in a past he keeps getting ripped from

[wolvmir]

The pictures incomplete / can’t see without the missing piece

[seiwas]

i maxxed the tags (what did i expect) but!!

what a soft piece ari 🥺 thank you for sharing this hurt/comfort piece w us!! i think satoru will always be a figure of strength—but i think it’s in part because that’s how he brands himself to be around the people he cares about. he’ll never truly share how he thinks and feels about things, will almost always downplay it really. but he’s always worrying, always aware and cautious, overthinking 🥺 and i felt that loads here!!

there’s a shipwreck stuck between your ribs ; satoru gojo

synopsis; three times satoru sees you cry, and the understanding you gain of each other from it.

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, the synopsis speaks for itself i think, copious amounts of hurt/comfort, i just think he’d be so good at comforting u :ccc, also fluff!!, he’s addicted to calling u ”baby,” satoru gojo vs human emotion (he loses)

a/n; pls ignore the fact that 90% of my gojo fics are hurt/comfort ok we dont need to get into that <33 the writing in this one might be a lil rusty but im pretty fond of this gojo :’3

dim lights, buttery popcorn, and boredom.

the senses invading his mind are mellow, coaxing, a little tedious. all he can see are the buzzing lights before him, all he can hear is the insistent chewing of the people around him, and all he can feel is just that:

boredom.

satoru stifles a yawn, resting his cheek on the heel of his palm. he’s trying to pay attention — really, he is. trying to pay attention to the movie he picked out himself, after thoughtful consideration, one he’s been looking forward to watching with you all week. he’s trying his best. but, gosh, it’s just so boring.

or maybe he just doesn’t have it in him today — with all these too-dim lights, too-loud popcorn-chewers, and the too-convoluted plot playing on the big screen in front of him. he has no idea what’s happening, anymore, what scene this is supposed to be. some sob-story? he clocked out a while ago.

so, with nothing better to do — satoru decides to savour another view.

that’s how it always goes. no matter the movie, no matter the snacks, whether you’re watching at home on the couch or a nearby movie theatre — eventually, when his eyelids begin to grow heavy, or when his attention span begins to falter, that blue-soaked gaze of his shifts. a moth to a flame, following his instincts. constantly looking over to see what kind of face you're making. 

after all, your reactions are far more entertaining than any movie could ever hope to be. little sighs of exasperation, jolts and shivers down your spine, or a laughter so bubbly he can’t resist leaning in for a kiss or ten — he loves it. adores it. lives and dies by it. 

so satoru turns his head, and looks at you, knowing you’ll save him from the boredom clutching at his subconscious. 

and something in his chest constricts.

at first, he doesn’t notice it. hungrily lapping over the expanse of your jaw, to your cheekbones, his gaze drinking in everything he can see. scanning your eyes for a hint of emotion; and he finds it. he finds it in something that glimmers in the dim lighting of the theatre, something that has his breath drawing back to the depths of his throat.

tears.

crystalline, dew-drawn, a fresh set of tears clinging to the edge of your lash line. they’ve yet to fall, but satoru sees them — he sees them and he doesn’t know what to do. 

tears. 

tears?

you’re crying.

in the depths of your glassy eyes, he sees a fractured scene — playing against the scope of your iris, as the movie reflects off your pupils. there’s a turmoil there, a sadness, one that has you covering your mouth with the front of your knuckle. and you’re crying.

satoru wants to tease you. he wants to lean over and purr against the shell of your ear, poke fun at you for being so emotional. such a little baby. what else is he supposed to do?

the tricky part is that he can’t. he can’t move, can’t shape his voice into a purr, can’t even speak. he’s frozen in place like a bug trapped in amber, stuck to his seat, unable to do anything but blink at you in what he thinks might be bewilderment.

his breath hitches — and that’s all. 

something about the sight of you makes him falter, makes him stop in his tracks. catches him off guard. he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t recognize the feeling stirred deep within his chest, something discomforting and foreign. doesn’t understand why his heart feels so itchy, all of a sudden.

then your eyes meet.

and you blink. once, then twice. eyes just a little wide, an embarrassed kind of surprise. he thinks you must be flustered, and he’s proven right when your gaze flees from his.

a mingle of words clog up at the base of his throat. say something, say something, say something. but he doesn’t know what. 

he wets his lips, preparing to part them, but before he can get the first syllable out you're leaning in. close. close enough that he feels your breath ghost against the shell of his ear, close enough that his heart starts skipping the way it always does when you press yourself against him like that’s where you belong.

a whisper. it’s small, hushed, a little frail. but there’s something else, too, laced together with the vowels — amusement. 

”you didn’t tell me this was a sad movie.”

a pout plays at your lips, as you murmur your grievances. but then there’s that amusement; it’s there when you pull back, in the crinkle of your sparkling eyes, the curve of your smile. 

and satoru’s shoulders relax. stiffened bones melting. he exhales a breath he had no idea he was holding, and his heart feels at ease. a grin finds it’s way to his lips, wide, teasing, cheshire and sweet. 

he leans a little closer, bumping his head against yours. gently. ”i think you’re just sensitive, baby.”

his teasing is rewarded with a little huff, as your elbow meets his side. soft. everything you do is soft. 

”oh, shut up,” you scoff. smiling. he’s so relieved that you’re smiling. 

a moth to a flame, following his instincts, satoru brings you closer. an arm around your waist, pulling you into his orbit, until you’re practically sharing seats. searching for your hand — and he finds it, intertwining his long fingers with yours, just to give it a little squeeze.

(for some reason, he feels more protective than usual.)

he feels your gaze. questioning, maybe. but you melt into him quickly, with your head slumped against his shoulder, and his heart settles back into a sleepy rhythm. just watching the movie pass you by.

the dim lighting of the theatre casts a hazy shadow over your face, a tender desaturation, and his eyes stay glued to it when you aren’t looking. the smell of popcorn hangs heavy in the air, salty and buttery, warm and sweet, and he’s almost grateful to feel that familiar boredom tug at his veins.

anything is fine. anything is better than that discomfort, that irritating itch. 

satoru watches the movie flicker by, scene by scene, whispering commentary into your ear and stealing your popcorn with a satisfied hum. chuckling when you whisper-shout at him to cut it out!

he tries not to think of the glittering tears at your lash line, and almost succeeds.

rain clouds, cups of chamomile, and frustration.

it seeps out into the open air, engulfing your living room in a feverish haze. thick and suffocating; the scent of heavy rain, lukewarm tea, and that ugly, ugly feeling underneath his skin.

it pulses. it itches. and oh, how it aches.

satoru hates it. he hates feeling angry, feeling upset — hates when either of those emotions are in connection to you. hates it, hates it, hates it more than anything.

he does everything he possibly can to avoid it; his eyes are keen, always have been, and he can see when that thin line he shouldn’t cross crawls a little too close for comfort. when the rubber band of your patience just snaps. he sees all your buttons, knows which ones not to push. he knows you.

and, more importantly, more than anything — nothing you do could ever make him angry at you. 

(well, at least that’s what he thought.) 

satoru’s anger is a fickle thing, controlled, kept under wraps. it’s a slow process; it simmers, boils, a cup of chamomile brewed too long. and then it all but invades his senses. it never gets the best of him, never, but right now he can feel it — little pinpricks against his skin, a frustration that stirs his guts and has his eyes going cold.

satoru towers over you, like this. full height on display. not slouching or draping himself over furniture, but standing tall, and proud, and menacing. he isn’t smiling, and that’s all you need to know that he’s upset with you. his eyes are layered over with discontentment. 

a sigh spills from his lips, a little gruff, unmistakably annoyed. it slices the silence of the room in half, and a shiver travels down your spine. he doesn’t notice it. his voice has a rough edge to it, something firm. something that doesn’t sound like it could come out of his mouth at all.

”don’t act like such a child.”

a flinch. or maybe more like a jolt; this time, he notices, but it’s too late. he’s in too deep, boiled water licking at his ankles, pulling him down. frustration nips at his skin, and he can’t quite seem to push it away.

and you’re just so, so unaccustomed to it. unaccustomed to seeing him wear anything but a smile, unaccustomed to that cold gaze, usually nothing but warm and fond when it meets your own. this isn’t like him.

it’s not like him at all.

swallowing thickly, you do your best to calm down. but before you can make any attempt to contain it, wetness begins to gather in the corners of your eyes. pooling, little droplets yearning to fall.

satoru notices them instantly. he sees that sad glimmer, framed by the murky darkness seeping in from beyond the curtains, accompanied by the symphony of pitter patter against the windowpane. tears, much like the rain beating down outside.

and his chest goes cold.

a tiny sniffle pushes past your lips, and the dam inside you begins to break — tears tripping over your lash line, rolling down your cheeks. cascading across your pretty face. the air fills with a sense of dread, and both of you seem to be thinking the exact same thing.

(oh, fuck.)

satoru notices, belatedly, that his throat has gone dry. that his heart feels itchy, again. it itches and itches but he can’t do anything to soothe it, and your tears continue to fall. 

his heart begins to crack. right down the middle, like a gash in the reflection of a puddle, right across his chest. it hurts.

an inhale, then an exhale. you’re still trying to keep it all together, grasping for control over your emotions, but it’s not going too well. the little breaths that escape your throat are shaky at best, hands trembling as you wipe the tears away with the front of your wrists. and your voice sounds a little like it’s about to crumble away. 

”sorry,” you squeak, taking a step back. there’s a silent panic in the gesture, one that makes satoru want to get down on his knees. ”i’ll just — i’ll leave —”

he wants to stop you. he needs to stop you. but he does nothing, nothing at all, even as you stumble out. leaving the haunting echo of tiny sniffles and tear-stained cheeks behind you. 

satoru just stands there. once again, the sight of your tears seems to render him completely helpless. useless.

and he's frustrated, honestly. frustrated by the argument, by your tears, by his own guilt. he’s so frustrated he wants to claw his eyes out. he scratches at his forearm, but it does no good. all he can think of is your frightened little expression.

(he scared you.)

satoru slumps down on the couch, head in his hands, running rough fingers through his soft hair. it’s unruly by the time he’s done, and his bottom lip is bruised with teeth marks, and everything in the world feels so meaningless. so out of tune.

(he made you cry.)

a sigh. drawn out, tinged with exhaustion, bitter and battered like the swing of a baseball bat. he feels a little like he could throw up. it’s foreign, this emotion, suffocating. how long has it been since he genuinely felt this kind of shame?

the crack in his heart grows deeper, while you’re gone. more severe. every moment you spend outside of his vision makes him falter more and more, makes his desperation grow. desperate to plead for your forgiveness, to convince you not to leave. to wipe the tears away from your cheeks, delicately, the way you deserve. but he can do nothing but sit there, useless, repeating the same old phrase inside his mind.

he’ll make it up to you.

and when you finally come back, having calmed down a bit, he does just that. you’re embarrassed, he can tell, a little meek. it makes him feel that discomforting emotion, again, that ache. the crack that only ever seems to deepen.

but he covers it all up with a smile. a little sheepish, more than a little forced, but he hopes you understand. hopes you can see his remorse, see a man who loves you, because he does. 

so satoru takes you into his arms, softly, hands finding the small of your back. delicate, protective. a little whisper spilling from his lips. 

”’m sorry, baby. i didn’t mean it.”

and it’s not enough. he knows it isn’t. but he does what he can — even when it just ends up clumsy, teasing, bordering on something that most would interpret as insincere. all he can do is coddle you. shower you in hugs and kisses, gifts and praises. he hands it out like candy, eager hands finding yours, everything spilling out of his chest all at once. 

there’s a desperation to it that isn’t lost on you.

but it works. he’ll make it up to you; he swears. and he dotes on you until you’re too embarrassed to be sad anymore, apologizes until his throat runs dry. until he’s sure you believe him. 

he brews you another cup of chamomile, stirred to perfection, warm enough to make up for the shiver he sent down your spine. the rain beating down on your windows serves as a constant reminder of his failure, and satoru does his best to ignore it. swallowing what’s left of his frustration, focusing on you.

anything to see you smile again. anything to wash away the red tint to your eyes, the puffy skin beneath them. anything to hear you laugh, to get you to feel safe around him again. 

(anything to make him forget the sight of those tears rolling down your cheeks.)

panic, panic, panic.

it’s all he can feel, all he can think, the only emotion his muddled mind can cling to. he’s in pure, sincere, genuine panic, and you aren’t saying a thing. can’t bring yourself to.

arms wrapped around his waist, tightly, you hide away in the crook of his neck. clutching the fabric of his shirt, burrowing your face deeper into his warmth — and you’re not just crying.

you’re downright sobbing.

satoru knew something was off the moment you fell into his embrace, suddenly, tackling him into a hug so desperate it left him reeling. a kind of desperation he isn’t used to, from you.

he knew something was wrong. 

he knew even before he heard it; your choking sobs, those shaky, heaving breaths. muffled into the cotton of his shirt, his uncertain arms around you.

they break his heart.

”hey, hey…” there’s a soothing lilt to his voice, awfully delicate. sweet like molten honey, almost enough to hide the panic. ”what’s wrong?”

satoru holds you to his chest, safe and secure, cradling you protectively. as if shielding you from the world — from whatever or whoever got you like this. as if you’d crumble into dust, otherwise.

he tries to calm down, but his mind is spinning like a broken clock, and your silence doesn’t help. you’re trying to respond; he knows you are, but you just can’t get the words out. any attempts only make you cry harder.

a shake of your head is all he gets — and it’s not much, but satoru’s learned to make a lot out of a little. 

so he continues to hold you, hiding his worry, tucking his anxiety away somewhere you won’t be able to see. he curses, inwardly, grasping blindly for conclusions — for some divine guidance. how is he supposed to deal with this?

(how long has it been since he felt so very useless?)

gentle. that’s the approach he takes, finally, hiding his nervosity. he rocks you back and forth, just a little, like he’s lulling you to sleep; his warm hands finding the small of your back, the back of your head. cradling you so close you hear his rapid heartbeat by your ear.

soothing whispers. murmured into your hair, so soft they seem to melt once they slip from his tongue, all honey and devotion. affection so palpable you taste it in the air, from the breaths he exhales. 

”it’s fine. i’m here, i’m here… i’ve got you.”

he doesn’t know what he’s doing, not really, but it seems to work. because you calm down, after a while, just sniffling into his neck and letting him soothe you. sobs and unstable heaves, turning into whimpers and shaky breaths. clinging to him all the while; so desperate for comfort, for him.

it makes him feel so, so desperate to protect you, to wash every single one of your worries away.

it’s unbearable, this aching desire. like a great, insatiable, unnamed something deep within the caverns of his chest, clawing at his ribcage, snarling and hissing, itching to break out so it can open its maw and devour you both.

(it’s ugly. it’s grotesque. it wants to keep you safe so badly it might kill him for it.)

a coo. sad, dripping with care, a comforting tone that he hopes you’ll find soothing. he smooths his palm down the back of your head, heavy, doting. it hurts so much to see you hurt.

”my baby….” satoru exhales, a little shaky. but he smiles, and he hopes you can hear it, hopes it’ll help mend the pain in your chest. ”what’s got you this upset, hm? you're worrying me, here…”

a broken sniffle. the guilt eats at you, gnaws at your bones, and all you can do is hide away in the crook of his neck. apologizing, your voice no more than a tremor of a breath.

”’m sorry…”

and satoru thinks his heart shatters. he can practically hear the crash, feel the broken, useless little pieces dig into his skin.

his arms travel down to your hips, steady, and he lifts you up. just for a second, just so he can plop down on the floor with you in tow — keeping you snuggled into his neck. seated on his lap with your legs around his waist, like you’re his baby koala.

”shh, it's okay,” he soothes, a grounding rumble of his chest right by your ear. he’s got you enveloped, wrapped up in his buzzing warmth, and all you can feel is him. ”you’re okay. no matter what it is, i'll take care of it, alright? you can rely on me.”

a moment passes. 

satoru clears his throat. nervous, suddenly. ”you know that, right?”

all you can give him is a shaky nod, but it’s enough. he sighs, in palpable relief, still rubbing circles into your back. ”okay,” he sneaks a hand underneath your shirt, tracing little shapes into your bare skin. ”good.”

he isn’t sure how long you spend there, on the floor, entirely focused on comforting you. washing away all your sadness, with every gentle caress, every soothing murmur of there, there… every little stutter of his heartbeat next to yours.

and when you’ve finally calmed down, melting under his touch and into his skin, arms going lax around his neck — satoru takes a breath. collecting himself, so you don’t have to. acting like his heart isn’t still a mess of crushed glass.

”you okay now?” he coos, drawing absentminded hearts into the skin of your back. his voice is teasing, but warm, spilling from his tongue and into your ear. deep and smooth. ”almost gave me a heart attack, baby.”

he feels the way your grip around him tightens, just a smidge, and he hears the weak little breath you draw in. your voice is still shaky, and it makes him want to rearrange the world, stitch those broken vowels back together. 

(he doesn’t like how irrational it is, this insatiable something. how it makes him want to bend the rules of the universe, just to see you smile. a dangerous temptation.)

”i’m sorry,” you croak, clinging to him like a shipwreck to a shore. ”it’s not — not a big deal, ’m just…” 

satoru pulls back. just a little bit, making sure your arms and legs stay in their rightful place, curled around his neck and waist. making sure the two of you stay connected.

then he pinches your cheek.

”don’t apologize,” he quips, a playful frown on his face. soft, a vague furrow of his brows. like he’s scolding you. 

it makes you wince, your eyes downcast. you look so meek. a little like a kicked puppy, glassy eyes glancing up at him in search of comfort.

satoru clicks his tongue. ”and don’t look at me like that, either.” 

he boops your nose, playful, doting, and you exhale weakly. it’s small, more breath than a real laugh, but you’re almost smiling, and —

it’s a start. it’s something.

satoru coos, voice dripping with warmth, sickeningly sweet. it seeps from his fingertips when he cradles your cheek in his palm, rubbing circles into the puffy skin beneath your eyes. there’s a mirth in his own, crinkled at the edges, tucked into that blue shade, something glazed over with pure adoration.

”there’s that smile.” 

he leans forward, closer, to press a kiss against the bridge of your nose, eyelashes fluttering. tickling your skin. you fall further into his embrace and he makes no move to resist, wouldn’t do it even if he physically could. even if he had the strength to let you go.

then he broaches the subject. hesitant. tactful, careful, delicate — he tries to remember how it works. how to handle something fragile. he thinks of those boxes you carried last week, little porcelain cups. heavy in his arms. he thinks of the way you jab his side with your elbow; gentle, always gentle, even though there’s never any need.

he thinks of you, and it all comes easy. that’s how it always goes.

”wanna talk about it?” he asks, softly. fingers treading through your hair, scratching softly at your scalp. it makes you melt, a little. clearing your throat.

”it’s nothing, really,” you mumble, tiny, seeking respite in the warmth that seeps from his body. speaking with a raspy voice, a hoarse throat, all tired out after crying. ”nothing big, anyway…” 

a moment passes, before you continue. ”i guess it's just been a rough week,” you admit, a sigh slipping from your lips, tinged with pure exhaustion. ”just little things piling up. ’m okay now.” 

a hum. satoru clears his throat.

”anything i can do?”

(please let me help.)

but you only shake your head. ”you’ve already done enough,” you assure him, leaning into his touch. ”think i just needed to get it all out, y’know?”

a beat. an itch. satoru holds you tight, a little tighter than he should. gentle, he reminds himself. but he needs you close enough to feel the flutter of your heartbeat, close enough to delude himself that you’ve merged together. closer isn’t close enough.

he gnaws at his bottom lip, teeth sinking into the flesh. pulling words out from the back of his throat, uncertain. ”i’m always here,” he settles on. ”if there’s anything you need, come straight to me. okay?”

a frown plays at your lips. you’re silent, for a while, until he hears you mumble beneath your breath.

”i don’t want to bother you so much, though…”

”— it’s not a bother.”

the words spill into the air, a little more firm than he meant to sound. but he means them.

”i’m serious. if you ever need help, with anything, come find me. i’m yours,” satoru inhales, deep, his chest moving in tune with the breath. you’re carried along with it, as if being lulled to sleep, following the steady pattern of his lungs. 

then he exhales. in, and out, and with it comes a promise. ”if anyone makes you cry, i’ll get rid of them.”

he says it casually, so casually that you assume it’s a joke, a bout of breathless giggles pushing past your lips. the sound has his own curling up, and he doesn’t have the heart to correct you. has enough tact to know that this might not be the best moment to let you know that he’s honestly a little terrified of how far he’d be willing to go to keep you safe and happy. 

but you’re smiling, finally, laughing. and that matters more than anything. when he closes his eyes, he thinks he can even feel the telltale signs that his heart is picking itself back up, gluing jagged shards into a shape that resembles you.

"that's scary!” you gasp, amusement bubbling up inside your throat. ”you’d go to jail for me?”

satoru huffs. ”bold of you to assume i’d get caught,” he tuts, a smug smile on his face. it makes you giggle, again, and he feels like a god.

”okay, okay,”  you nose at his neck, breathing him in, strawberry lotion and laundry detergent filling your senses. ”please don’t kill anyone on my behalf, though.”

”no promises.”

”satoru…”

slowly, steadily, his heart begins to stitch itself together. it helps that you’re there, he thinks. helps that you’re pressed up against him, that you’re holding him, like he’s the safest thing in the world. like you trust him.

(the word tastes like molten honey and luscious berries, sickly-sweet on his tongue. he gulps it down hungrily.)

it’s healing. the weight of your arms around him, the breaths that brush against his neck. he holds you to keep you together, intact, to keep himself together. a shipwreck and a shore — he just isn’t sure which one of you is which. but your jagged edges fit just right with his own.

”i don’t like seeing you cry.”

you blink. gazing up at him, with a contemplative look in your eyes. it melts into something a little too close to guilt for his liking. shame.

”— but i still want you to let me see you like that.” satoru smiles, with a tilt of his head. snowy tufts of hair falling across his face. ”is that weird?”

a moment passes. then you hum.

”no,” you exhale, a little breathless. smiling, somewhat weak, but still enough to have his heart skipping a beat. ”i love that about you, satoru.”

”huh?” he gapes at you — blinking dumbly. ”love what? that i want to see you sob into my chest?”

”that you try,” you stifle a yawn, sleepily nuzzling into him, all tuckered out from crying. ”even when it makes you a little uncomfortable.”

satoru stills. 

silence fills the space between you. there’s nothing more to say. his tongue isn’t really cooperating with him, anyhow — all tied up. so he leaves a kiss on the top of your head, and doesn’t say a word about the tremor running through his chest. 

he hates seeing you cry. hates how powerless it makes him feel, how useless. hates the fact that he can’t always protect you from the world, from himself.

but you let him see you like that.

he thinks of your tears, crystalline and glassy, like translucent marbles on a summer shore — and sees the trust instead of the sorrow. he thinks of your tearstained face, meek and feeble, and knows it’ll always be enough to break his heart to pieces. 

he thinks of you, and tells himself that it’s worth it; just as long as he gets to bring that pretty little smile back to life. 

[meo-eiru]

meru, i always did like elias but he really really has been growing on me lately and i just have so much appreciation for the way you crafted his character like it is legit so beautiful😭💔

there was this advertisement that used to play on tv when i was a kid, and i can't really remember what it was for or abt tbh, but it had this man that lived on the moon and everytime you post elias content i kinda just remember it somehow.

there's this sort of isolated air around him, all he has is his self and his darling, and even then — it's not like he can always keep them around, no matter how hard he tries. so he's kinda left there, stuck with himself so to say. someone he doesn't love, and in turn, struggles to see how anyone else can love. in his head 24 hours a day, thinking how he can use the only trait he has to his advantage.

i can imagine all those things eat him up little by little, which is why he's volatile at the slightest indication his darling could be losing interest. their stopping him from hurting himself, somewhere is soothing, like a headpat, bc it feels like they're telling him they still care despite all odds.

how does one recieve love they feel like they don't deserve? in a way, he builds a bubble around himself bc of that w/o knowing and then there's just this surmounting distance he doesn't know how to lessen. so man on the moon, staring at earth through his telescope everyday, but failing to feel its warmth bc though he revolves around it and monoplises the fact that he belongs in its orbit, he makes no move to get closer. constantly trapped in the thought that he is stuck where he is, and that place is an undesirable home.

idk know where i'm going with all this and i rambled a lot so you can just ignore it actually ahaha all i really wanted to say was that you're amazing and elias deserves quality hand-holding time😩💕

I LOVE THIS ASK!!!

You captured Elias as a character so so well.

Elias truly is like a miracle. People who used to ask me stuff about him should remember, he basically didn't have any story. I don't know if it was just sheer force of will, or if it was thanks to you guys, but he developed so much within these past few weeks he existed.

I've never seen the ad you mentioned but based on what you said it fits him so well. A lonely man who was thrown out of the bubble due to his biggest blessing, and keeping himself there without realizing.

So lonely, so desperate, so self aware yet too far gone to fix any of it. Thirsty for your love yet thinks he doesn't deserve it causing him to always be on edge. So contradictory, so unstable.

A man who so desperately yearns for your love, to feel alive, to know he exists, to know someone is seeing him. He doesn't care what happens to him in the progress, he just needs you and your love.

[silentmoths]

Acts of Service

The voices are still whispering and @dustofthedailylife may or may not have implanted some brainrot as we both sat and mutually gushed about how blade is a misunderstood wet dog of a man.

Blade x Reader (gn, no actual gender mentioned)

SFW, fluff and Comfort ig...honestly I dont really knoww hat to tag this one as other than just...my own ramblings abt how blade isnt just a bloodthirsty killer just LOOK AT HIM PLEASE- Not proofread, 1.2K words

When asked about Blade, most everyone would reply that he is cold, standoffish and intimidating. He looks like the kind of man who wouldn’t hesitate to end you if you accidentally put pickles on his burger.

The Stellaron Hunters would say otherwise; sure, he looks intimidating, but he’s actually a calm, thoughtful guy. The kind of man who, after several years of living with solely women, doesn’t even question when Silver Wolf, Kafka or Firefly ask him if he can go to the store, he already knows, hell- half the time, he’s already got what they need, and if he doesn't? He knows what they want before they even say it. 

He’s more attentive than people give him credit for, like a cat, lingering in the corner, but keeping watch over his territory and those he has deemed ‘his’ people. A wallflower some might say…just...one that would occasionally lash out if he deemed someone’s presence unworthy or unwelcome.

He is far sweeter than people believe, the rumours about his bloodthirsty and violent nature, and the bounty to match only serving to cover up the man beneath, the man he keeps out of the public eye the most.

Because for you? For you, he’s never been anything but attentive and kind.

He would never say it, but everything he does for you screams the lengths he would go, he would move mountains for you, destroy planets, solar systems, entire galaxies if he had to. 

It was in how he touched you; bandaged fingers always always careful, no matter how many times you assured him that you were not made of glass. It wasn't fear, you think, that kept him in this state, more like a reverence, like he was a child, and you were his most precious treasure, something he would not, or could not dare break, fold or crease. 

It was the way he always leaned his head down whenever you spoke to him, not condescending, but acknowledging. Even if his eyes were elsewhere, he always makes a point to let you know he’s listening. He takes your suggestions to heart always, he listens to your woes, sometimes he will offer words of encouragement, and sometimes he will offer his sword, if that was what would rid you of your problem faster.

(you had yet to take him up on the offer of the sword)

It was the way he cooked, despite seldom eating himself. He claims that food is simply nutrients for his body, and when he eats for himself, it is almost always something plain and easy to procure…but if he had deemed it long enough that you, or the other’s had gone without, he would rise from the couch and cook a meal that was far more complex, he was a surprisingly good cook, Xianzhou cuisine etched into his muscle memory to the point you’re sure he could make some of these dishes with his eyes closed…and yet it was only ever for you, for the girls, for literally anyone he cared enough for but himself, that he would showcase this ability for. 

You knew he struggled with memory, with himself, with his past and his present. He never verbally acknowledged it, and you think it’s because he doesn’t want you to worry; but you worry anyway, because it’s Blade, and with all the time and care he puts into you and the other Stellaron Hunters, you think he deserves that much. 

He’s far fonder of physical touch than he lets on. He claims he cares little, but the fact he seemingly physically cannot fall asleep unless he’s holding something close to his chest states otherwise. In the privacy of his own quarters with you, it’s rare that you part. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, Blade wants to be a part of it, no matter how big or small. Reading? You find yourself pulled into his lap as he leans against the wall, working on something? There’s usually a hand on your thigh, or an arm wrapped around your waist.

He liked to bite on occasion too. Nothing wholly terrible…a love language with no words. The soft nibbling of teeth along your shoulder as he holds you, or the way he would timetimes lift your hand, just to bite down onto it- this could could mean a thousand different things that he couldn’t say; ’I missed you’.

’Don’t be gone so long, next time.’

’I love you.’

You don’t need to know the exact meaning, his presence, and the act in itself was enough.

Blade liked to claim his body was nothing but a weapon, he did not understand why you saw attraction in it, but he doesn’t stop you either as you carefully unbind the bandages to see him properly. 

Nor does he realise that the scars littering his body are far more sensitive than he gave them credit for. Each scar was a story, but a story lost to the mara; his memory too foggy to discern most all of them.

All but one.

His chest, the large, jagged scar that took up near all the space of his right pectoral, long, long since healed over, but still visible. Slightly redder than the rest of his skin, pulled tight, especially just over his heart. You knew, of course, about Dan Feng, about why Blade hunted his reincarnation, but to see the scar made something twist in your gut.

Slowly, you reach out to brush your fingers along the centre, for a brief moment you feel Blade’s rabbiting heartbeat before the man lurches- his hand gripping your wrist like a vice, the pressure only growing stronger as he scowls, you gasp out as you feel your bones creak.

And just like that, the pressure lifts, the wild, frenzied look in his one visible eye fades and you see the rare flicker of concern as he hunches, his hand no longer squeezing, but cradling your wrist as his other arm comes to brace against your back. He looks horrified with himself, at what he’d done. 

“I-” He chokes out after a long moment of just…staring. “I didn’t-” 

You know, you know he didn’t mean it. You weren’t upset; perhaps a little spooked yes, but not upset. Scars held pain long thought healed, yet no matter how faded, they could still sting.

“It’s ok.” you whisper, lifting your other hand to brush some of his bangs out of the way, catching a rare glimpse of his usually covered eye. He looked like a kicked puppy, like he was expecting you to toss him out in the rain. 

You could never.

You don’t need to say anything else, knowing too much reassurance would only lead to Blade second guessing things, so you content yourself with pressing your uninjured hand to his cheek and smiling. Watching as Blade leans down and quietly presses kiss after kiss along the wrist he’d nearly snapped.

It was in these acts of service that he showed he truly cared.

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e @moraxsthrone @mysnowmanandmebaby @inlustris-is-slowly-dying @pvbbyb0y @queen-belial Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

[mustainegf]

🦐🐺👅‼️🏚️

OK SO SEOUL 2006. you’re up front watching Kirk do that solo after fwtbt, and holy shit you’re abt to freak, and he LOOKS AT U with this crazy ass look. after the show, security takes u backstage and Kirk fingerfucks tf outta u in the dressing room…

(If u don’t know what I’m talking abt btw I’ll send u the vid)

SEOUL KIRK IM ON MY KNEES

𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐋 ²⁰⁰⁶

It was finally Metallica day. For years I've waited patiently to go see them live in South Korea. I grew up listening to 'Master of Puppets' with my dad, always dreaming of being in a mosh pit and getting crowd-surfed during the classics. And here I am standing front row at Olympic Gymnasium Hall, one of the best seats I could possibly hope for.

They're just finishing one of my favourite songs, For Whom The Bell Tolls, when the lights go dark and Kirk's solo pierces the air of the stadium.

I'm hooked. My eyes shoot wide and I'm basically ogling at him as he drips with sweat, his head rolling back as his bare chest shone.

There's something about an older rockstar that turns me on- the mystery and sexiness. I know he's seeing me through his smoky haze of sweat and effort.

It felt like he was looking straight into my soul. Like he knew what kind of thoughts were racing through my mind.

Those dark eyes, usually so sweet and awkward, almost evil as he staring at me, his sweaty fingers bending at the string like a madman, his other hand pounding down in the whammy.

He plays like he means it, and you can't help but feel every note.

His tongue is dripping with saliva from biting his lips hard, trying to keep control of himself in a room full of girls going crazy.

I lick my lips and squeeze myself together, knowing exactly where I want those lips. As he makes this last note, every guy around us goes nuts. I can hear screaming, clapping, yelling... I don't give a damn.

My mind and soul are only focused on him for the remainder of the show, he looks the sexiest he ever has.

After the show finally concluded, I find myself in the grip or a security guard, a man leaning in a telling me something.

He nodded his head and pointed behind me. I turn around to see Kirk smiling, pointing over his shoulder, as if he wants to leave.

Its only seconds before I'm being led down a dark hall. This couldn't be real. I walk to the dressing room door, which had been left open and peek inside.

"Hey", someone shouts from the side of the room, I turn to see Kirk walking towards me. "Nice to meet ya"

"I- um. hi.." I greet him awkwardly, unable to suppress my goofy smile.

I'm a fan girl all over again. Kirk holds out his hands like a knight greeting his lady in shining armour. He's shirtless still. His hair slick with sweat, his muscles strained from singing and playing guitar.

"In the dressing room, now." he smirks, pointing into the room.

I didn't hesitate, stepping past him into the dimly lit dressing room, filled with sound equipment and worn leather couches.

Kirk follows close behind, glancing over his shoulder to check no-one is watching. He shuts the door softly and steps closer to me. He leans in and whispers, "what do you think?"

I lean forward too, smiling widely. He notices I'm not wearing any bra underneath my black t-shirt. My nipples poking against my tight sports bra.

"I think we should get better acquainted." I whisper. That set him off, laughing loud enough to make sure there's nobody outside the room, then smiling slyly at me, turning away to sit on the couch.

I watch him sit, taking in the view of his naked torso. Kirk snickers and pats his thighs, so I follow his order and turn, sitting in his lap and leaning my back against his chest.

Our hips pressing tightly together, grinding slowly. He runs his hands up and down my stomach, scratching lightly.

I love how rough his hands are, he keeps glancing over at my tits swaying back and forth, feeling his cock growing under my ass. He wraps his arms around my body, lifting me up slightly.

His mouth presses on my neck, sucking gently. I moan loudly, my legs twitching. He presses his crotch against mine, letting me grind into his rock-hard dick.

"Is that what you wanted to get better acquainted with? You're such a naughty little thing." I look over at him and kiss him deeply, feeling our tongues dancing.

A faint noise of kissing starts, along with some light voices from people outside. I grin cheekily at him, my hands rubbing up and down his strong arms, feeing his bare back pressing on my chest. "You like that baby? Huh?"

Kirk slides his hands down my breasts, over my waist and carefully unbuttoned my jeans.

His hand moved down, sliding under my underwear. Pressing firmly against my mound, rubbing his fingertips against my clit. I gasp, putting both hands over his, applying more pressure to my pussy.

His wet fingers slide smoothly inside me, fucking my hole gently. I shut my eyes and lean my head back against his shoulder. I let out long low breaths.

Feeling his fingers moving in and out of me slowly, making small circles with each movement. "Mmmhmmm." I moan in approval, turning my face and looking directly into his eyes, winking at him.

"Do you like my hands baby? Do they feel nice?" he asks, teasing me. I look at him with pleading eyes. It was getting harder to restrain myself. "Ahh yeaah.. mmm." I struggle to get words out.

His fingers were working their magic, massaging me deeper and harder until I felt a wave of pleasure radiate from my loins. "Fuck!" I shout, my eyes rolling back into my head. His hands never stop touching me.

"Lets get this sexy thing off of you," Kirk snickers into my ear before pulling his fingers out to slide down my lace thong.

I lift my hips to help him slip it down my legs. My panties crumpled in his fist.

Kirk tosses them to the ground and slides his hand back between my legs.

His middle finger finds my hole easily and slides right back in. I whimper at the sensations shooting through my core. "Ahh! Oh yeah..."

I groan quietly, arching my back, grinding my pussy hard against his hand. "Shit yes... Just keep doing that..." He spreads his thumb over my swollen clit and begins a slow circle motion.

God damn it feels good.

I grind harder, driving his finger deep inside my cunt as far as it can go. I breathe heavily, lost in the moment, my mind blanking out.

"Yesssss... just... oh god. don't stop." I pant desperately, feeling my orgasm building up from somewhere deep inside me.

"Do you want to cum for me baby?" Kirk growls in my ear. I shudder violently, my voice shaking. "Please,

pleaseeeeeeee" I beg him urgently. His index finger joins the other, stretching my walls even wider.

My clit tingles as he rubs feverishly. I can feel it coming, heat rising inside me, my skin starting to burn. His other hand holds onto my breast tightly, squeezing it roughly as he sucks on my neck.

His fingers pump wildly inside me as I reach my climax. The wave of ecstasy surges throughout my body, I cry out as every muscle in my body clenches hard, convulsing uncontrollably. I spasm all over the place. "Kirk!" I whine.

"That's it, love... breathe through it... oh yeah, I bet that feels real nice." he mumbled, giggling under his breath.

Slowly he slows down his rhythm and pulls out of me. All I could do was lie there completely exhausted. He pulled my back to him and held me close, nuzzling his nose in my hair.

Kirk kisses my temple with a sigh and a smile, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking off my juices.

"Good girl... real good.."

[autisticrosewilson]

Hello to the one blog I've been loving to read for the past few days :) <3

Just wanted to add a little something that I started thinking abt after reading a few of your really cool posts, I think we should also discuss abt how Bruce's argument abt killing (with Jay) are often framed with "you're not the judge, jury & the executioner" which is really telling of who he thinks can exersise this legitimately? ? ?

I think it'd be constructive to actually properly discuss this aspect of Bruce's philosophy too. Plus, we get more nuanced Bruce characterisation. (Also keeping in mind uh... comic book propaganda of the writers and DC themselves)

YES ABSOLUTELY! Like what if someone is given a death sentence by a court of law? Does Bruce still care? I'm sure most writers would tell you no because Bruce has become a cop allegory. He's a violent enforcer of the law, and he seeks to uphold the law. Which is a recent switch! Batman comics used to be more radical, but now they're being written by old white men. So it's another one of those things where you can ignore it for your PERSONAL INTERPRETATION but you can't say that it's not A Thing because it's been like this for at least a decade.

His argument would likely be that everyone deserves a fair trial, that everyone has the right to be seen in court. Something which I do think Jason would agree with because when he's being written well he's not just shooting petty criminals! Jason's stance comes in with the big players, the disgustingly rich or well connected upper class who get away with murder. This has been true since the Garzonas case, the whole point was that Felipe was virtually immune to the law, and Jason couldn't allow that.

I think what it comes down to is whether they believe in reformative justice or punitive Justice, and I can most assuredly say that Batman believes in the latter. You can argue that Bruce is an advocate of prison reform but we don't really have evidence of that. He considers himself a punishment for criminals, he considers himself an equalizer but that's not true because he just delivers criminals into a system that is fundamentally corrupt and unfair. Do you actually think a trial in GOTHAM of all places is going to look at a rich man vs a petty crook the same way? That rarely happens even in real life.

And I don't think that Bruce does what he does out of inherent malice. Bruce is a deeply empathetic person, the core of Bruce Wayne is that he cares. But that's not enough, Bruce was allowed to grow up sheltered and it gave him an intrinsic idealism. He only has a Birdseye view of what the common people go through, that is not enough to stand there and say that he understands . Because he doesn't. He literally can't. And I think this bias, certainly one projected by the writers but that's another issue, comes through the most with Jason and Steph.

As far back as Jason's Robin era - widely regarded as Bruce's peak of being a good dad - he still makes some pretty big mistakes. Because he finds this homeless kid whose family has been ripped apart by the corrupted systems, who has actively experienced the worst Gotham has to offer, and he comes to the conclusion that if he doesn't take Jason home Jason will inevitably become a criminal even after Jason explicitly says he doesn't like stealing. So he takes Jason in but he makes that position as his son synonymous with Robin. And this is where we have to talk about meta because Jason is intrinsically tied to meta narratives. I'm not sure if you saw my other posts about Robin, as a concept, but I'll summarize here.

Child sidekicks are fine, in early comics. When things were campy light hearted whodunnit mysteries with a few action sequences, when you always knew that the child hero would come out unscathed, would always live till the next issue. And so when Bruce makes Jason Robin you have this veil of suspension of disbelief. But Jason's era is where you start seeing these kids' storylines get worse. More gruesome, more violent, more cruel. They start really testing the limit of Bruce's morality.

Batman: The Cult - Robin Jason has to crawl through a pile of dead bodies and while Bruce is having a mental break this MAYBE 14 year old is trying to get them out. The Diplomats Son - Jason watches a rapist be let go, because he's powerful and his dad has money. He sees exactly the kind of damage it does to the victims, he's the one who finds Gloria Stanson. A Death in the Family - Jason is murdered. Tortured and murdered and betrayed. He's dead and he was always intended to STAY dead. And all throughout Tim's run and then into Steph's the writers retroactively change everything about who Jason was because it has to be HIS fault, because if it's not Jason's fault then it might be Bruce's. Because how can audiences see Bruce as just and good for taking in new kids after what happened to the last one?

The suspension of disbelief shatters. Because now Jason is back and he's angry. Because maybe we as readers know that Tim, and Steph, and Damian need to be Robin because Robin makes money with young readers. But you know who doesn't know that? Jason, who no doubt assumed that his survival depended on being Robin. Who was sold out because he was Robin. Who was badmouthed and disgraced the entire time he was gone by people he loved and trusted. Jason doesn't know that he's in a comic book, but I argue he knows he's in a Batman story.

If not from his first appearance then definitely in recent ones. What can you do besides lay down and forgive and keep coming back when you know that the universe revolves around one man? How do you get rid of the terror and anger at realizing that you can never leave, that no matter how much he hurts you the universe will bend itself in half so that he is still just and right? When you realize that the love that has defined you is a disease rooted so deeply that to rip it out would be to kill yourself, that you can't even stay dead because Bruce does not want you to be.

And they couldn't even stick to Jason being the problem! Because then Steph dies. And all I could think was "Of course she did. She's an East End girl whose been compared to Jason constantly. Or a version of him. Of course she would be tortured to death trying to get Bruce's approval." Here we are, history has literally repeated itself, and...Tim is Robin again. Why? Because this is a comic book, and Batman needs Robin.

But what do you think everyone in-universe thinks? What do you think that looks like? How can you possibly still call Bruce a good parent under these circumstances? Bruce calls Robin a blessing, a gift, a necessity. He relies on Robin, physically to watch his back and emotionally to keep him in line. He trains them, he molds them, he loves them.

But sometimes love just isn't enough and the good Robin does shouldn't negate the harm they get in the process. Robin then becomes this horrible force of change, you get it and you know that this has doomed you, one way or another. Because Bruce believes that suffering is noble, that pain can reform people. It's baked into his character. Even if he doesn't intend to hurt his kids, it's not like we haven't seen him justify it to himself and others. "I love you, I did this for your own good, I thought I could help you, it was your fault I did that, it won't happen again, I lost control of myself but only this once, we can be a family again if you just come home." It reads an awful lot like an abuser trying to convince you or himself that he's not in the wrong.

This was longer than I intended it to be, but I guess my main point is that Bruce and Batman can't ever be fully separated. Something that I think his relationship with Cass shows us he's aware of but chooses to ignore. We know that Batman is dangerous, that he wouldn't hesitate to hurt his kids, we saw that with Zurr-Batman (WHO BRUCE ADMITTED WAS A FACET OF HIMSELF YOU CAN'T SAY IT WASN'T HIM BECAUSE HE HIMSELF SAID THAT IT WAS). So why try and act like it's this impossible out of character thing for Bruce to be harmful? For his kids to feel angry and hurt about his actions or for their feelings to be as or more valid than Bruce's. Batman has and will hurt his kids and Bruce will try to rationalize it all away because he loves them, he would never want to hurt them. And the narrative will tell us that Bruce is right, that this is good and fair and just, that Bruce's perspective is the correct one, that his kids deserve this, because this is a comic book and outrage sells. Or they'll retcon it and pretend it never happened. Or they'll just never bring it up again. Or Bruce will be forgiven regardless just to hammer home how good and right he is.

Because this is a comic book about Batman, and Batman is a hero, he is our protagonist, and so he is reliable and we should never doubt him, or call him out, or be mad at him. Naturally.

[l0vema]

Satiable

Synopsis: you and hoshi were happy. Mostly. But why does it seem like hoshi doesn't crave for more like you?

A/n: it's kinda long srry >_<

Dating hoshi was fun. There was never a dull moment. He took you on dates and made you ugly laugh over dinner with his dumb jokes and embarrassing moments. You were happy.

That doesn't mean you were completely satisfied with the relationship. It'd been 4 months and you've emotionally broken down speaking about your past, you've cried with laughter and slept with utmost comfortability but still, not enough. You weren't a degenerate but sometimes hoshi made you feel like one. There were times you'd just look at him talking to woozi and imagine dragging him to a room. Watched him come to your house post practice all sweaty and hot and your mind flashed with the image of sucking him off, making him feel so good he passed out. The night before he went abroad he'd bring you his stuffed animals to keep you company and you just wanted him to sink into you and make him yours.

Maybe you were a degenerate.

But intimacy comes in many forms and sex is the only one you hadn't explored with hoshi. You were at your breaking point tonight. Literally trembling at the sight of him. You might as well blurt it out " I want you to fuck me." But he'd think you were joking or something or maybe he won't be into it. What other reason has he not brought it up for 4 MONTHS. He's already said he loved you (even though you didn't respond despite feeling the bloom in your chest when you thought of him. It's scary to confess your heart to someone considering your past) Maybe your silence as he said "you don't have to reply I just...need you to know" was why he never initiated anything past a little makeout session.

Right now you look up at him as he talks to vernon about something (you do not care about what they're saying) He just looks so good with his black hair, his undercut really suits him. You just want to sink your nails in as he makes you see-

You sigh and rub your temple. You need to get yourself together, especially in public. You thank God for your darker complexion. You'd be shockingly red if not.

Stuck in your mental struggle you don't notice seungkwan sit next to you until he whispers "what's up with you? Hoshi not treating you right?" Now was not the time to make this joke, you thought.

To try and get in on it you smile a little "you'd be surprised". To which he laughs and shoves you a little. It has always been easy to get along with hoshi's friends, especially seugnkwan. If only they could tell the man to keep his girl sated. That sounds like something scoups could do but alas, here you are.

There is conversation around you but you don't really engage. Too busy staring hoshi down. He looks good, as always. Dressed in a white striped button down (a/n: that one live, yall know what I'm talking abt). You just want to tear it off him.

You'd seen his body when you cuddle on hot nights but don't want to let go of each other. You'd made your thoughts on it known with a blunt "your built. It's hot"

You'd learnt to be blunt with hoshi, otherwise he'd never connect the dots on how you really felt.

Even being blunt didn't work the way you wished it to.

"Hey, seungkwan said you aren't feeling yourself. What's wrong?" Hoshi's smooth voice intercepted your thoughts. Looking at the evident concern in his eyes made your heart grow. If only you could gather the courage "I love you and I want you to fuck me." All these thoughts would disappear, you'd get some clarity on whether he was taking it slow or if he didn't want you in that way.

"You....huh?" Was what made your heart stop and drop to the depths of the earth. Hoshi's eyes were wide, eyebrows raised. "Nothing. Huh? I think scoups is calling you babe. You should go." You hadn't realised you said your thoughts out loud. "Babe..." his soft tone made everything worse. You groaned and stuff your face in your hands. Kill me now was the only thought left in your stupid head.

"I'm sorry forget what I said this is not how I wanted to say I love you I'm sorry I just ughhh-" you mumbled through your fingers.

"Let's go home babe." Was all he said before interlocking your fingers and walking towards his car. Your heart had never been beating so hard, even when you first confessed to him. This must be a medical issue. The air was getting thinner too. This was why you never admitted your feelings. The relationship was good, you were happy. "Relax, breathe. What's wrong?" He held onto your shoulders. You didn't realise you were hyperventilating. After a few minutes in silence and with normal breathing you managed to look up at him and his beautiful eyes and face "I'm sorry for what I said. It wasn't appropriate. I get we're taking everything slow and all."

Silence.

You look down afraid of whatever he'll say that will rip your heart out. "Don't be sorry. I'd been waiting for you to come around I didn't want you to feel pressured. I told you this much when I said it first."

Of course he only heard the I love you. I mean that's what you wanted...you do love him.

"...and I was waiting for you to come to me in your own timing, it's not right to push someone to have sex, especially when you love them". His words made you pause. He wasn't disgusted by your physical appearance. He was taking his time cause he thought you wanted that. He does love you. (A/n: having sex has NOTHING to do with someone's love for you. Don't get it twisted, sometimes people just don't want to have sex)

You wrap your arms around his neck "I was so scared we were about to break up or something" you muffled out.

"I love you"

"I love you too"

Sweet whispered confessions that Aphrodite would envy.

Once you guys let go of one another hoshi began driving. It was a comfortable silence. You got home and he held the door for you. You changed into your designated big t shirt for whenever you stayed at his house. Got into the bed and stared at him. He was bare chested. God did you feel disgusting. You sigh and get under the covers.

"Babe..." he whispered and you just knew to turn towards him. "I love you so fucking much" you whisper before kissing him. It was as usual- he was rubbing up and down your hip, pushing you towards him, tongue prodding your lips. The prelude to what gets you lightheaded. "I love you..." he softly said as he trailed down your neck "babe..." you responded.

"I love you..." as he kissed down your shirt neck hole. "Babe..." you choke out before he puts one of your clothed nipples in his mouth. You began to breathe heavy, head clouded with the pleasure. This is the most he's ever done with you before.

"I did in fact hear you."

You barely processed what he said, too caught up in the bliss. His ministrations had you losing your breath. "I- i- pls-" was the only words that jumbled out. Hoshi continued to go down, slowly pushing your shirt up only to go on abusing your nipples, showing both equal love and affection. There were butterflies in your whole being. His open mouthed kisses led down your navel, his breath on your skin was hot and heightened the sensations.

"Can imwhhaaa-" took you out of the trance. "Huh babe?" You questioned, the fear of rejection thrumming back to life.

He detaches his mouth from you to kiss you once more before, "can I go down on you? I've dreamt of it for so long". Your heart fluttered at his words before nodding aggressively. Immediately he pulled your legs up and placed hot kisses on your calves, put hickeys on your thighs, before lowering himself to place an open mouth kiss onto your clit. The sudden stimulation took your breath away as your back arched off the bed. Hoshi scoffed out a laugh before licking from your hole to your clit- the whole act dizzying.

Then you feel his finger massaging your entrance. You moan into the pillow by your side. The whole thing was too much. As he sinks his finger into you, there are tears forming from how good you feel. It's been almost a year since you last touched yourself and the pent up tension has your stomach coiling up quicker than anticipated.

"Babe-" you can barely get it out before his finger brushes on the softest part of your insides. His mouth is still working hard licking and sucking till spit and arousal is dripping from his chin. It all feels too much. You're getting lightheaded. Your stomach is fluttering. Your breath is held. Muscles begin to tense up and your legs are trembling around his head. You grab onto his hair to ensure he does not stop. Not when you're in heaven. He moans into you making you moan a little louder. The sinking of your hands into his hair , the trembling legs the nasty dirty wetness you feel. It's all you had wanted. "Yes yes yes yes fuck yessss babe" was all that managed to escape your throat as your high steadily went down.

Once Hoshi got up his glistening lower face damn near brought you to orgasm all over again. He had this dark glint in his eye as he leaned over, finger still pumping you slowly, and kissed you. Mess and all. "You'll have a hard time stopping me from doing that all the time. Taste yourself on me. Fucking delicious."

You whined as his fingers started to speed up. "Babe fuck me already" was all you got out before he had you flipped- face pushed down ass up.

"You look better than I imagined, if only I knew how you'd wanted me. All that wasted time could've been put to good use" he groaned out as he rub himself on your folds, still slick with multiple different liquids. He pushed into you slowly before filling you up so good. You moan into the mattress falling deeper into the abyss that is loving hoshi.

He begins slow, watching you're every reaction to figure out what to keep doing before settling on it. You like fast and deep. He begins the rhythm that almost instantly has you clenching unbelievably tight around him. This goes on till your thighs are trembling once more. Your knees nearly give in. Hoshi grabs your elbows and pulls you flush against him as his dancer hips don't falter even once on the set rhythm. His deep moans in your hair have your eyes rolling back. Your second orgasm is closing in and you just stay there ready to be washed out into the sea of all things beautiful. The coil snaps and you feel a gush, you take a sharp breath and fall. Your head lands in a pillow while hoshi slows down but still goes deep. He is about to cum and grabs your ass to ground himself. "Inside me" you manage out weakly. There is no way you're ending the night with no creampie. He doesn't ask twice before unloading in you. The warmth has your eyes fluttering.

"I am so in love with you it's disgusting" you say out loud after a few moments to catch your breath. "Well I love you too" hoshi responds before kissing your temple. The silence is calm. You fall into contentment as his arms wrap you in his scent and warmth. You're in way too deep now, is what passes through your mind. Hoshi's eyes were shut as he pictured proposing to you, A tiger suit would be in order.

You both dozed off. Sated by love and sex.

L0ve, M.A

[vigilskeep]

wait, Minerva "canonically" has a baby?? i want to know everything!! when how what - how does motherhood change her, pls elaborate, srry if you talked about this before, i just love them so much

she does!! i talk abt this less bc i think its self-indulgent jghsskks and that people are less interested in this, but it’s super fun to think about for me

the baby was a surprise, minerva was kind of being stupid about it lmao because she was being less careful than she might have been in the circle, especially because she’s a warden now so she’s less likely to get pregnant at all, without really thinking through what might happen. (i’m sure our local kinloch hold spirit healer companions both had their field days telling her off for this at some point.) but as soon as it does happen she wants the baby so badly. as a circle mage and then a warden she had never really seriously considered it a possibility for herself, but she loves children, and it’s been so long since she had a real family

it’s zevran’s and zevran is in antiva most of the time. i think she has a weird crisis about whether he’ll want anything to do with a baby, and she would despise for him to come back just out of obligation but also what if he doesn’t come back, and she ends up procrastinating telling him for, like, months. just a stupid amount of time. bc she was born to stress her man out and to give her wardens unnecessary grudges against him because they thought he had obviously chosen not to be here because obviously she would have told him. truly when will his suffering end. anyway he’s thrilled when somebody eventually does him the courtesy of letting him know

the baby’s a boy, she names him duncan, it sparks a whole other argument with alistair that we won’t get into here. he gets nicknamed junior a lot, partly bc he’s duncan jr, partly bc of the ongoing joke that he’s the resident Junior Warden. he was very much raised in warden blue since the cradle. because minerva is so busy and zevran is often away, he’s pretty much collectively raised in vigil’s keep by the awakening squad and whoever else gets added to that trusted inner circle. which works out bc wardens don’t often have kids of their own so they all just kind of... share this one lmao. (and possibly sometimes also oghren and felsi’s kid if they stick around?) it’s velanna who instigates this bc that’s what the dalish do and she’s also literally the only one here who knows what to do with a baby so thank the maker she’s here (minerva’s practised with kids but by nature they don’t have babies in the circle)

i’m so thrilled that spellblade is a crow-themed rogue-like mage subclass bc that’s exactly what i always pictured for duncan jr eventually. he’s a mage, his magic manifests very young, but minerva is very strict abt his studies and it has the unfortunate reverse effect of making getting his dad or nathaniel or sigrun to teach him combat much more fun. it works out really bc his magic having manifested is a tightly kept secret so it’s good for him not to have to rely on it

being a mother kind of changes/crystallises a lot of minerva’s priorities. it’s one thing to say, like, i would like to improve the situation for my fellow mages at some point, or, it sure would be nice to live past a warden’s usual limits. it’s another thing entirely to have a mage child and need to make a world that’s safe for him and live long enough to see it done. it ends up being a key issue of her conflict with the chantry between origins and inquisition because nobody’s quite certain what the rules are. obviously if she were still a circle mage any child of hers would be taken away. but she’s not a circle mage and arguably the chantry has no right to a child born outside of the circle, with no sign yet (as far as anyone outside vigil’s keep knows) of magic. (like i say it manifested younger than normal so this is believable even to those who think he will eventually show.) it definitely exacerbates tensions, shall we say, because obviously they can pry him out of her cold dead hands

he’s probably still only quite young in inquisition. six or seven? somewhere around there, i hate timelines. not sure where he is while minerva and her squad are on their quest, but given the very short list of people she trusts that much, i have to say that the most insane answer is likely: he’s in denerim as a temporary ward of the king. probably the first elven kid to be such

[dias-writing-corner]

I keep thinking abt yandere ticci Toby that started off as childhood friends.

You meet him through his sister as the 2 of you were good friends long before you meet her brother. And sure you’ve heard Lyra mention how her brother is being bullied and about his  Tourette’s through the school grapevine but you’ve never actually met the kid or even really seen him outside of pics or from afar.

Anyways when you meet him he’s this shy and awkward kid who’s a year or so under you and Lyra. But you don’t judge him for his Tourette’s or anything, you’ve always been a kind person like that. As you hang out with the two of them he starts getting this silly little puppy crush on you and Lyra teases both of you - separately - about it. But you blow her off as you just see him as a little brother.

Soon Lyra gets into her accident and dies. Leaving a hole in both yours and Toby’s lives and hearts. You spend more time with each other trying to remember her, you bring him homework he missed from staying home after her death and start to notice he’s more erratic with his behavior. Prone to outbursts or even aggressive behavior towards you. You can’t stand his self harm - even if he doesn’t feel what he’s doing to his hands - and he snaps at you when you press the issue too much. After you leave each time he lashes out at you Toby feels bad and beats himself up, after all he’s lost his sister, he doesn’t want to lose you as well.

But he eventually becomes so overcome with grief and anger he goes through with the murder of his step dad and burning the house down. And Slenderman wipes his memory of everything before his moment of retribution.

You notice the flames on your way to give him the latest bit of homework. Pressing harder on the gas until you stop your car in front of the building house, leaving the car you run up to the caution tape set up by police and the fire department. Falling to your knees in grief as you sob and scream his name, one arm covering your face as the other holds onto your opposite shoulder in a desperate attempt to comfort yourself.

~~~

Years have passed yet you still hold onto the 2 Polaroids of your dearly departed friends. One was yours originally, the second was Lyra’s and the third that was Toby’s was assumed to have burned in the fire. The Polaroids were of a day you all went out and got ice cream and had fun like kids, one of the last times that happened before Lyra’s death.

Anyways you’d be well into college, perhaps junior or senior year? Focusing on studies has been hard for the past few months due to feeling like you’re being watched constantly. And quite honestly it’s starting to affect your grades. So you go out to the woods, to a part where the hiking path leads to a small clearing with one or two picnic tables. Settling down at one with your books and notes you try to let the sounds of the woods envelope you in peace and quiet to focus. Only for it to get a little too quiet and set off that feeling of being watched once more.

After a while you realize you’re not going to get much of anything done like this. You try to leave but as you get to the start of the path that leads home you find yourself stuck to a tree. Back digging into the harsh bark of the tree, a strange man with orange tinted goggles over the eyes and a strange mask covering the lower part of the face. You can hear the man breathe heavy, only one arm of his presses into you and holds you still.

Something in you tells you to keep quiet, an almost primal urge to make yourself as small as possible. You try to shrink into the tree behind you. Noticing the 2 deadly weapons fastened onto his hips, a small whimper escapes you as tears form in your eyes. He reaches down into his pocket and brings out a folded piece of film, unfolding it and showing you it. It’s crumpled around the edges and worn but you can still make out the smiling faces of a young Lyra Toby and you.

“H-how do you have that? It should’ve burned…” you ask in astonishment as tears threaten to fall from your eyes at the memories of your deceased friends.

The man’s neck twitches so hard you worry it’d snap, he doesn’t say anything and just points at young you in the picture. You nod your head and say “ye-yes that’s me..” assuming that’s what the man was asking. Using his free hand he tugs the goggles off his face and lets them rest in the messy brown hair atop his head.

Eyes crinkled in a sort of joy or maybe excitement as he finally speaks up. “F-f-found yo-ou”

[fortheunsungheros]

Out of curiosity- How much do you know abt ur fav character in The Outsiders?? My fav is Dallas, who was the sixth character to be introduced by pony in the book- hence my blog name lol

Dally’s full name was Dallas Tucker Winston (as we know)

was 17 (also as we know) and died just two months short of his birthday, which is November 9th, meaning the book begins in September on a Friday

got his disc memorized- you know the drill with him so I’ll keep it shortish: described as tow-headed with an elvish face, with high cheekbones and a sharp chin, small sharp animal like teeth and ears like a lynx, his hair was almost white it was so long, but he didn’t like haircuts or hairpins either so it went over his forehead in wisps and kicked out in the back in tufts along the nape of his neck and curled behind his ears. The shade difference between a greaser and a hood wasn’t present in Dally, he was a wild as a brumly boys, like Tim Shepard’s gang. He had pale icy blue eyes, cold with a hatred for the whole world- he didn’t have anything specific to hate. (So much for short- Read it 217 times since 7th grade)

gave pony the letter from soda and didn’t want to get beat tf up by Darry for giving pony the money and the gun

bought pony and Johnny food at Darry Queen :D

he showed up to the rumble with his arm burnt tf up and fought anyhow

Took Ponyboy to see Johnny because he knew he was dying in the hospital and wanted pony to seem him one last time too

he was born in 1948- since the book was finished in ‘65, I just subtracted 17 from there- so he would’ve been 76 this year :,(

on a lighter note, S.E. Hinton confirmed that he was most likely out of the gang to be scared of spiders- had me rolling 🤣

Lmao it got to the point where I gaslit myself into thinking he lived and Johnny lived based on a fic I read years ago and when I reread it this past month my whole reality with him shattered- please send help I can’t be the only one obsessed with a character to this degree🫠

Wow I think you’re more obsessed with this book than me 😭 HOW HAVE YOU READ IT 217 TIMES? I’m on my 3rd reread in the past 8 months or so.

But seriously wow! I’m glad I found someone who is as obsessed - if not more than me lol. Dallas is probably my 3rd favorite character (ik don’t come and find me lol) behind 2. Johnny and 1. Darry

Darry has always been my favorite character ever since I read the book for the first time. He just stuck out to me and I love his character so much. He also is played by Patrick Swayze and he is the finest man to ever walk the earth sooo. (Like seriously I’m obsessed with this man I’ve watched almost every movie he’s in please send help)

Even though Darry’s my favorite character I don’t know everything about him off hand lol. I’m just gonna make a list of everything I know off the top of my head about my favorite character (yes out of every book I’ve read he’s my favorite character, secondly being Katniss Everdeen if you would like to know lol)

• He’s 20 years old

• His full name is Darrel Shayne Curtis Jr (I say this at least twice a day idk don’t ask why)

• Don’t quote me on this but I think he was introduced last in the book

• He works as a roof repair man person

• His birthday is January 5th

• He’s the oldest brother (obviously)

• He is said to not be a greaser if it weren’t for his brothers and the rest of the gang

• Darry was a MESS when Johnny and Pony were at the church (DARREL STAYS UP ALL NIGHT LONG, TILL HE FINALLY FALLS ASLEEP BY THE TELEPHONEEE - Sodas Letter from the musical)

• Also he was the football captain in high school and was voted boy of the year

• Don’t ask me how I know this offhand (I need a hobby) but in the book Darry is one of the tallest if not the tallest greaser but Patrick Swayze isn’t crazy tall so in some of the photos you can see him standing on bricks to make him look taller lol

Okay that’s all I remember right now but I know more will come to me later lol. And also I sincerely believe also that the events in the book are fictional (well no shit) but like FICTIONAL in a FICTIONAL way. Like Ponyboy definitely just needed a good grade so made up a bs story lmao. I really have tricked myself into thinking both Johnny and Dally are alive and well and the gang is still partying in Tulsa.

ALSO thank you for this ask it was really fun to do!

[crayzkrypto]

Just some thought's I had abt the current situation: (Tw: political thinking & some existential thinking.) (This is the ONLY time I will say smthn like this I promise. (I don't really like politics in general or rlly at all >_<))

-Kat's: "Oh shit, we're doomed." thoughts-

You may share, repost, and spread this post around ONLY IF YOU DO NOT SUPPORT TRUMP. Please do not do so if you support his greedy ass, thank you for understanding in advance. IN ADVANCE TO ADD ON AS WHAT WAS SAID BELOW ORIGINALLY, DO NOT REPLY IF YOU SUPPORT HIM, THANK YOU.

If trump gets the dictatorship he wants we are all royally fucked.

If trump wins he WILL remove the rights of minorities, he WILL ruin the progress people have already made in terms of equality for minorities.

I ain't stayin if this place is being ruled by a cheeto king (Not my fault he made himself look like a cheeto ✨)

Trump is to say the least- I wouldn't put it past him in turning around and backstabbing our country as soon as he gains control over it.

As someone related to the big H man in history, I gotta admit, I don't rlly want a dictatorship.

Having a xenophobic and racist president would be hell for quite a lot of people.

Having a transphobic, sexist, ableist, and homophobic president would be hell for many.

Having a dictatorship is like erm, going back to the older days if you know what I mean, and it feels icky and disgusting in every way possible istg.

A rich person who only supports other rich people and treats non-rich people shitty; would not be such a great president, no offense to people out there.

If I were 18 rn I'd be voting for the poc presidential candidate, who's a woman, and supports minorities, and supports the people currently in very bad living situations.

Trump only cares about HIMSELF, he wants to live like a king, that is quite the opposite of what America was built on.

Do we really want someone as greedy, untrustworthy, selfish, and cruel as that in control- (To say the least I am genuinely a bit worried abt him potentially winning the election...) (Do not reply to this post or interact with me at all if you support Trump, are homophobic, ableist, transphobic, sexist, racist, etc, thank you. Idc that you support him or think that what he is doing is at all right, because it isn't right, I will remove your message if you come attacking me for saying what genuinely think abt this situation.) (And before people come in saying this or that is "perfect" or "the right way": * Keep in mind, nothing in this life is "perfect", there are always imperfections, there is always something uneven or not perfectly lined up, absolutely nothing is set in stone, nothing is a perfectly carved edge, there is always a crack somewhere, always a dent here or there, always a mistake in one place or another, I will never believe that anything in life is truly perfect, not for as long as I live. Because the truth about life, is that it will always be; wild, unpredictable, random, and imperfect. No one controls the outcome, every variable influences the hands of time, every variable is a random chance to affect. * Technically; nothing is "the right way to do things", since all things are technically just made up from this person, that person, or our ancestors, the "right way" you believe in is usually based on opinion or what you have been taught, heck, every word in the dictionary has been made up by someone else, somewhere else, at some point in time or history. It's all just opinions, beliefs made by those before you, and things you have been taught, people make their own choices in life and that is how it goes. You may believe in one thing, and support this person in life or that person, but do not expect or force everyone to do the same. ) (DO NOT: attack me for anything on this post, I mean it. Ty for understanding ^ ^ ! (Includes forcing opinions abt if you support Trump, and why you think I should think the same as you, listen: I DO NOT CARE! I won't support him, and never will, for various reasons, end of story.))

You MAY repost this post and spread it around IF, and ONLY IF, you do not support trump !

[wormswurld]

Hiii, casually stalking your blog- could we have more cattonquick piss stuff pls. Love ya!!

hiiii stalker 💖💖 love you too!! and of course you can! happy to oblige...

i feel like the piss power-play dynamic would rlly fluctuate between the boys,, like on one hand can i see ollie getting pissed on? yes. of course i can. if that man can drink some cummy bathwater what makes u think he wouldn't want a good ol' golden shower from The Felix Catton BUT.... i really think ollie is the main perpetrator for the piss endeavors lol like ollie is highly aware on how felix has a small bladder, especially when they go out to the pub, constantly keeping and eye on him whenever he goes to the bathroom...

one time when they were out at the pub with felix's friends oliver was sat between felix and farleigh ordering felix to keep drinking and drinking and drinking until he inevitably has to use the restroom,, though lucky for oliver poor felix can't sneak out of the booth so easily ultimately forcing him to hold it in..."ollie, mate, i needa get past you i gotta take a piss" he states pleadingly, oliver noticing him gripping onto the sides of his jeans, slowly digging his nails into his thighs. how cute. "no" oliver coldly shut the desperate boy down as he takes a swing from his beer.

did felix hear that right?? did ollie just say no to him about going to pis? surely that cant be right,, shocked by oliver's command he pressed him more "w-what do you mean no? i need to take a fucking piss ollie" felix protestested, attempting to nudge the smaller boy out of his way. silly felix. firmly poking his index finger into felix's sternum oliver smiled slyly, there was no way felix was getting out of this easily. "i said no felix" oliver insisted, slowly dragging his finger down felix's chest, stopping just above his belt.

what the fuck? so many things were going on through felix's head, mainly him needing to piss but ollie telling him he couldn't...and that turning him on? why was that turning him on? fuck, he really needs to go now. "please ollie knock it off..." felix begged the younger boy, he didn't exactly know where this was going or how it was going to end, yet, he did know he didn't want it to stop anytime soon. this was going to be fun, thought oliver. steadily leaning near the warm shell of felix's ear he murmured the most dangerous thing of the night "what is it felix...gonna piss yourself?" and felix just loses it. heavy breathing, red flush crawling its way up his neck, and the cherry on top: oliver's forceful unmoving finger, harshly digging into the tip of his weeping cock.

nervously shaking his head felix turned his gaze to the bathroom then quickly back to oliver. "n-not here ollie" he breathed nervously, eyeing his lively surroundings. "there's people.." he trailed, attempting so very hard not to buck into oliver's commanding touch. "fine" oliver said abruptly, swiftly making his way towards the bathrooms, leaving a leaking felix in his wake. two can play at this game.

shoutout all my cattonquick piss-enjoyers! this is dedicated to ya'll! always i've literally never written abt piss before but this was....😵‍💫🫠

taglist: i think y’all would fuck with this @fuckingwoodfuckingpaneling, @mcr-and-coffee, @coldblooded-angel, @pr0fessional-cunt & everybody else i could have forgetten this is for you!

[lunatic4toji]

YALL SAW TOJI IN THE NEW TRAILER???

his va is the same as dio’s i’m going insane

made me think some thoughts abt my man…….. minors dni

cw: dbf!toji x f!reader, tried adding some plot so it wasn’t straight up porn but i don’t like it, age gap (reader early 20’s, toji late 30’s/early 40’s), unprotected sex (wrap it irl), pet names (sweetheart, baby, princess, pretty girl), praise, fingering, vaginal sex, size difference, creampie, abrupt ending because i said so, this is definitely ooc toji but i don’t care it’s my smut my toji.

your dad was having another barbecue with his work friends today. you always hated them when you were younger, but it’s your first one since you’ve graduated high school, and you’re on spring break from college, so you’re kind of excited. your dad has been talking about how everyone was excited to see you because you were always so nice to everyone and they’ve missed you.

day of the bbq, you wake up, take a shower, and put on a tank top and some shorts. you don’t bother with hair or makeup because you’ve known these guys your whole life, so what do they care? right? wrong. the second you walk outside to say hi to everyone, your breath hitches in your throat when you see a man you couldn’t even conjure in your dreams. you certainly would’ve remembered him. even in the spring heat, he’s wearing a black compression shirt and grey sweats. his scar going down his lips moving as he talks is becoming increasingly attractive. he glances at you when you walk past and raises his beer bottle to say hi, then goes back to talking to your father. you continue around the porch saying hi to your dad’s friends, but you hesitate walking over to the grill where your dad and the beautiful mystery man are.

“hey, kiddo!” your dad says, and you say hey back and nervously look over at the man standing beside him. “oh, hell, where are my manners?” he says, his black hair glistening in the sun. “i’m toji. i don’t believe we’ve met before, but i might as well have from all i’ve heard about you from your dad and everyone else here.” toji. toji. you were already thinking about how you’d moan his name. once toji finished his introduction, you introduced yourself to him and your dad left the grill to check out what the other guys were doing and left you alone with toji. “they said you were a cute little thing, but i wasn’t expecting all this.” he looks down at you, and you somehow keep your composure and say, “my dad didn’t say much about you either.” you wanted to go on about how much you wanted him to take you inside and fuck you right now, but you could save those comments for after everyone left. toji downs the rest of his beer, and while he does so you can’t help but stare at his jaw, his neck, his adam’s apple, his veins. oh how much you wanted to bite him. he throws his bottle in the trash can beside the grill, which snaps you out of your trance. “i’m going inside, sweetheart. catch ya later.”

it wasn’t until now you realized just how many people were here. you couldn’t find toji the rest of the day (4 long party hours) and you thought you had gone so long without romantic or sexual interaction that you thought you made him up entirely. you went to sleep dreaming about him and all the things you wanted, no, needed him to do to you. that was until you woke up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water. you were only in a t-shirt and underwear, because that’s what you normally sleep in when you’re home. you walk into the kitchen, turn on the faucet, fill a glass with water, and take a few sips before peeking in the living room. no fucking way. he’s just sitting in the couch and watching football like he doesn’t know what all he did to you in the few minutes you were together. you faintly choke on your water but recover quickly. toji looks over, confused, but his face rests into a soft smile when he sees it’s you.

he says “hey, you,” and beckons you over to him with two fingers. i know a better place for those. you smile back, sit your glass on the table, walk to the couch, and sit down beside him. “i was just thinking ’bout ya. how pretty you looked earlier.” you can’t do anything but smile. you’ve never felt like this over a small compliment, especially not one of your dad’s friends. well, none of dad’s friends are ever this hot. “what’s got you all shy, pretty thing? haven’t said a word to me since ya sat down. somethin’ wrong?” he looks over at you. “uh, no, just.. uh,” fuck. this is the worst time to trip up on words. he looks at you, worried. “uh, what? you alright?” you smile at him, “yeah, it’s just i’m not used to seeing a guy in my living room when i go to get some water.” toji chuckles and you wish you could take a picture of his smile right now, his face illuminated in the glow of the tv. “that’s fair, sweetheart.” he sits his cup on the coffee table and turns to you.

“i meant what i said. about you being pretty and all.” you smile again at the compliment. he could say it a million times and it would never get old. “you, uh,” you both laugh before you can finish your sentence. “you think i’m pretty too, huh?” you laugh again, and say, “yeah, i do. very.” the room gets quiet and toji looks at your lips then his eyes meet yours. all in one second, he grabs your hips, places you on his lap, and kisses you. finally. you just notice how you’re absolutely drenched when you feel toji’s tongue trying to pry into your mouth. you let him in and deepen the kiss. he pulls away and you whine. “shit, sweetheart. should we.. be doin’ this sorta thing?” you look at him with needy eyes. “probably not, but we’ve already started, so it’d be no good to stop now.” he smiles and kisses you again. you feel the grip of his hands on your hips tighten, and you realize he’s trying to feel you on his bulge. you allow him to move you, and he groans into your mouth when he feels how wet you are through your underwear. “good god, baby. gotta feel you, please.” you quickly nod, and he takes your shirt off while you fumble with the hem of his sweatpants. “we’ll get to that in a second, baby. wanna mark you a little first, yeah?” you nod again. “good girl, sweetheart.” you feel your clit throb against his bulge and grind down a little. toji groans against the skin where he’s leaving marks on your stomach, and you moan softly with him.

“shit, only made a few marks on ya, but we can get back to that later. gotta feel you now.” you take off his shirt while he deals with his pants, but keeps his boxers for now. he slides his hand between your thighs and toys with your clit through the fabric of your soaked underwear. “gotta prep you a bit, baby.” “no. need all of you now, please toji.” he takes a deep breath and considers it for a second, thinking about how hard he is under you right now. but he doesn’t want to hurt you. “i know, sweetheart. but i can’t just yet. let me fuck you with my fingers first, yeah?” you look at him and reluctantly nod, because you want his cock and not his fingers right now. but this’ll do. he hooks his fingers onto the side of your underwear and plunges them into your wet heat. you both hiss at the contact. he starts with his middle finger, going slow while he rubs your clit with his thumb. “so tight, baby, fuck. doin’ so good for me.” his praise makes you clench around his finger tighter, and he smiles. “you like that? like when i tell you how good you feel?” you moan, and toji adds his ring finger and speeds up his assault on your clit. you bend your head down and start kissing and biting his neck. he groans and grabs the back of your head with his free hand. he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you to his face and kisses you deeply. you start fucking yourself on his fingers and he focuses on your clit, wanting to make you cum sooner rather than later so he can fuck you. “love the way you sound, princess. want you to cum for me.” he’s fucking you with his fingers at what feels like the speed of sound, and it’s all too much. he keeps praising you because he knows you like it, “good girl. cum for me, princess, so i can feel you how we both need.” your eyes roll back and as much as he hates to do it he clasps his hand over your mouth while you cum, to make sure you don’t wake anyone upstairs. “gotta be quiet for me, baby. i wanna hear you, but you can’t be loud, okay?” you nod. “you all right, sweetheart? breathe, just relax. did so good f’me.” he pulls his fingers out of you and licks them clean. this makes you impossibly wetter. “mm, tastes so good. you gotta taste too.” your mind is still foggy so you do whatever he tells you. he brings his soaked fingers to your lips and you take them in, swirling your tongue around his digits. “shit, if i didn’t need to fuck ya so bad i’d have ya suck it.” you laugh and look down at it cock restrained in his boxers. you know you wouldn’t be able to take it all in your mouth, much less in your pussy.

toji catches you staring and brings his hand to your chin to tilt your face back up to him. “you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?” “yeah, just.. i don’t think it’ll fit.” his mouth forms a small smile at your comment. “we’ll make it fit. don’t worry.” he pecks your lips. with that, you do still worry. sure, you’ve fucked guys with girth before, but none like this. you’re still eager to get him inside you. “i’m ready.” “good girl.” you tilt back a little so he can free his cock. the angry red tip is leaking pre and you notice it has been for a while based on the wet spot on his boxers. he’s beautiful everywhere. you go to slide off toji’s lap to take off your underwear when he grabs your hips and rips them off himself. “hey!” “sorry baby, can’t wait any longer. i’ll buy you as many more as you want.” with his formidable strength, he grabs your hips again and hovers you over his cock. you grab on to his shoulders and he lets go. you look at him, puzzled. “you’re a big girl, right, princess? wanna watch you fuck me.” he laces his fingers and puts his hands behind his head. you whine at him, “toji, ‘s not gonna fit, you gotta help.” he clicks his teeth at you. “no, no. you can do it. know ya can.” you whimper at him because you need him to guide you down his cock, but you’re throbbing so bad you try yourself. you slowly start to sink down onto him and he’s just so thick. toji throws his head back in pleasure and you cover your mouth so your moans don’t wake up your parents directly upstairs to you both. “s-shit, baby,” he groans, “feel so fuckin’ good.” he takes his hands out from behind his head and grabs your face. “i can’t get over how beautiful you are, sweetheart. so beautiful- fuck, and so tight.” you make a small noise at him and he kisses you again. “my pretty girl, yeah?” “y-yes toji, ‘m your pretty girl.” he puts his hands back onto your hips and guides you up and down his cock. it stretches you out so good, you wanna stay like this forever.

“then you can take more f’me, can’t ya?” “w-wha-“ is all you can get out before he puts one of his hands over your mouth and slams you down on his cock with his other hand. you scream, out of pain and pleasure, but it’s muffled due to his hand. “j-jesus fuck, need both hands, baby. can ya be quiet?” you nod, and he takes his hand away and you quickly replace it with biting down on his shoulder. toji starts to fuck up into you simultaneously while slamming you onto him. you feel warm tears go down your cheeks from how good and how full you feel. if you two were alone, you’d both be moaning like pornstars. but, due to the situation, toji settles with you biting him and he breathes heavily into your hair, occasionally letting out a groan when you clench around him. “not gonna last much l-longer, princess. where do ya want me?” you’re not on birth control and he’s clearly not wearing a condom, but you’ve never wanted someone to cum inside you so bad in your life. “inside, fuck, please toji, please,” he lets out a small grunt and says, “you sure? don’t wanna- mfh- get ya knocked up or anythin’.” “‘s okay toji, i don’t care. please, just-“ you bite down onto him to control your noises again. you feel your release creeping up on you, but you pay it no mind. you only care about him. “feels s’good toji, pleasepleaseplease-“ “alright, alright baby. insi- fuck, inside it is. want’cha to cum first though sweetheart. s’the least i can do.” he picks up his pace rocking your hips back and forth and you feel your clit rubbing deliciously on his pelvis. you’re so close, if he could just- “cum for me, princess. i gotcha, c’mon, been doin’ so good for me all night.” you come undone instantly, and feeling your walls close around him sends him directly behind you, almost at the same time. “good girl, baby. so, so good. fuck-“ you feel him fill you up, so warm and so much. you’re glad the couch is leather so it won’t stain, because some is definitely falling out under you. toji kisses you again, hungrily but lovingly as you both come down.

“we gotta do this again.”

[beomiracles]

hi sereneee. so, i've been thinking abt this lately, i was wondering if you could make a fic about our dearest maknaeee, kai x reader, inspired by the song 'the man who can't be moved' by the script? i've been obsessing with the song lately and i live for angst, that's all, thank youuuu💌

the sad tree

A/N stop this was such a genius idea! I listened to the song a few times and tried my best, I really enjoy reading angst but this is my first time writing it myself so my apologies if it's not quite as good >_<

pairing: hueningkai x gen!reader warnings: angsty, huening is depressed, tinyyyyy bit of fluff (cs I'm a fluffy person), very slight mentions of an ED very slight

his hands dig deeper into his pockets, burying his nose in the bright blue scarf he so preciously tied around his neck, your lingering sent on it now only a faint memory. the december breeze chills him to the bone and yet he cannot find it in him to leave just yet. leaning back against the large tree trunk he looks up, the naked branches swaying lightly in the wind. he closes his eyes and thinks back to when those exact branches had been covered in soft green leaves the color much like your eyes. he remembers how they would light up in excitement as you pointed to yet another cloud in the sky. "this one looks exactly like a duck" you would exclaim as the two of you lay side by side on the grass. "I don't see anything" huening replied with a frown, you giggled and took his hand in yours, guiding it to point at the cloud. tears threaten the corner of his eyes but huening doesn't know if it's because of the cold wind or the empty feeling in his heart. it's been long since the last rays of sunshine when he finally pushes himself off the tree and begins to make his way home. the first streaks of sun reaches the naked branches at the top of the tree and he's there again. he had long ago given up on a good nights rest, his dreams filled with painful memories. the snow crunches under his feet as he approaches the sad tree, sometimes he thinks he can hear it sigh. it's a defeated sigh almost pitiful. perhaps the tree pities him, pities him for coming there everyday, for coating its branches with his tears, for having hope. he knows it's silly to think that way but the tree is all he has left of you. the tree had always been there. he sees you sitting peacefully, back leaning against the trunk with a book in your hand. the sun makes you glow in a way he'd never seen before. he finds himself staring at you from afar, eyes lingering longer than they maybe should. a loud bark snaps him out of his trance, pulling on the leash he hushes his dog. looking back up at you to find you already looking at him, a smile on your lips, he shyly looks down and keeps walking. unconsciously he changes his route, every afternoon he walks past the same tree hoping to catch a glimpse of you. when he does he feels his heart skip a beat, his afternoon walk became the most wonderful thing in the world. but this afternoon is different, this is the afternoon where he will finally muster up the courage to do more than just stare. his feet lead him to you on their own and despite having practiced the conversation at least 200 times in his head already he can't get a single word out when he's in front of you. you look up, giving him that same smile you had on that first day. you introduce yourself and he feels his knees going weak, he stutters his name out as well as his dog's. you giggle and ask if you can pet her. that's how it happened, right by the sad tree. your first date, a picnic under it's leaves, your first kiss and your first fight. the sad tree was your first everything, huening never imagined it would also be your last. tears are now rolling down his cheeks, quickly turning icy cold in the chilly air. he spends the rest of his day there, sniffling pathetically against the tree as if looking for some sort of comfort from it. he leaves late and returns early the next day, he barely eats or sleeps, his body is slowly dying though he doesn't care, huening's heart died a long time ago. the snow melts, the tree starts blooming again, wildlife that had been quiet during the cold winter slowly makes it's way out again. the sun shines longer, warmer but huening doesn't feel warm. soon everything is in full bloom, just like it had been on that day so long ago. everything is the same, except it's not. as the leaves turn in to pretty shades of oranges and reds he's still there. and as the first snow coats the branches he's still waiting, hoping. waiting for you to come back to him, hoping you will remember the sad tree.

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[swiftie-as-a-coursing-river]

Hi! Heard you are Nikolai Lantsov's no ! stan. I love that man. What songs do you think would associate with him?

LMAO I LOVE THIS ASK SO MUCH OMG.

I actually have so many I associate with him, it’s a little crazy, but I’ll list some of my top ones (they’re all Taylor swift lmao)

*apologies for how long this is and how bad I am at explaining things LMAOOOO

1. Castles Crumbling by Taylor Swift- I could write PAGES UPON PAGES about this. The whole song is him but that BRIDGE?

“Smoke billows from my ships in the harbor/People look at me like I���m a monster”

TELL ME THAT WASNT WRITTEN ABT HIM?!

2. The Archer by Taylor Swift- Don’t even get me started. I’ve seen so many edits of him to this song (and I made one myself but it’s not on my edits tumblr yet). Once again, the BRIDGE of that song?!

“They see right through me”

“All the kings horses and all the kings men couldn’t put me together again”

“Cause all of my enemies started off friends”

But also a lot of the lyrics outside of the bridge

“I never grew up, it’s getting so old”

“I wake in the night/I pace like a ghost/the room is on fire/invisible smoke”

This song is insanely Nikolai coded.

3. Mirrorball by Taylor Swift- I saw the most insane edit to this months ago that lowkey changed my life. It was to the speech from the long pond studio sessions film where she discusses the song, saying:

“We have mirrorballs in the middle of a dance floor because they reflect light, they are broken a million times and that's what makes them so shiny, we have people like that in society, too. They hang there and every time they break it entertains us. And when you shine a light on them it's this glittering, fantastic thing, but then a lot of the time when the spotlight isn't on them they're just still there on a pedestal but nobody's watching them”

If this is not Nikolai I don’t know what is. Some other lyrics I connect with him are:

“I can change everything about me to fit in”

Really reminds me of how he kinda completely changed himself and his various identities to match what others wanted

“I'm still a believer but I don't know why”

“I’ve never been a natural all I do is try try try”

“I’m still on that trapeze/I’m still trying everything to keep you looking at me”

4. Dear Reader- Taylor Swift

This song has always been a Kaz song for me but is insanely Nikolai.

“Dear Reader, get out your map/pick somewhere and just run”

“Dear Reader, burn all the files/desert all your past lives”

“And if you don’t recognize yourself/that means you did it right”

All of these make me think of how Nikolai grapples with self image and identities throughout the books. The second part makes me think of Sturmhond, the demon, and also lowkey Isaak.

And then the BRIDGE?

“So I wandered through these nights/I prefer hiding in plain sight”

“These desperate prayers of a cursed man”

“You wouldn’t take my word for it if you knew who was talking”

“To a house not a home all alone cause nobody’s there”

“No one sees you lose when you’re playing solitaire”

That’s all I’ll be talking abt for now but there are so many more. Some honorable mentions are:

The Lucky One

The last great American dynasty

You’re on Your Own, Kid

Bejeweled

Anti Hero

epiphany

And so many more. I’ve actually made edits to a lot of these at @to-assess-the-equation-of-you and on tiktok @cassles.dazzles! I could talk about this all day and sorry for how long this was 😭

[minkieater]

tace omg omg new lore abt my fav boy (kicks legs giddily)

gahdamn I KNEW i had read moirai somewhere but this and joong referring nana as supernatural beings oh wow... this reminds me there are 3 goddesses in three fates, and they also are called triumph of death? or the three times joong met (sort of interacted?)or nana tweaked his brain chemicals in a way, they can be the three sisters, clotho the spinner, lachesis the alotter and altropos the cutter of life thread. MAYBE im reading into the symbolism too much but literature is about each interpretation to its own and reading between the lines (im more worried abt sounding confusing and dumb but MEHHHH i wanna talk abt this so i will) you really ate with the symbolism (im a whore for that istg)

okay them sharing the same universe gives me hope because the last bit showcased immense mental strength of hongjoong despite the regression. and his values are so similar with captain irl i cant help but really really keep this story close to me.

ZORO ZORO ZORO DHEHAKGDJDHDJBR I JUST REMEMBERED JOONGIE BOY HAD HIS EYE ON HIM ALWAYSHDGEHVEBE YOURE SO EVIL WITH THAT i was like searching wikifandom who the hell is noa then gave up.

i think if joongie boy had confronted nana, which would make his walls fall more further than he wanted to. far from his comfort zone to even build it back up, and i can agree with that because sometimes i would just pschewww away from a situation because confronting it just another mental breakdown.

i was eerily content with the ending maybe thats why i never pointed out that they should've just talked about labels and all that jazz. (am i stupid, or am i single tune in to find out).

MY JOONGIE BOY IM SOS SOSKDO PROUD OF HIM ☹️☹️ I SEE MYSELF IN HIM😞😞😞😞💘 THANK YOU TACE FOR WRITING THIS (scoops up melted heart matter and gives it to you) 🫂 city boy!joongie will keep me company for the rest of my adulthood

you’re not reading into the symbolism too much at ALL its all about your take on it and what makes sense to you 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

i’m obsessed with how much you ARE reading into it genuinely this message literally made me want to giggle like a school girl im so happy omg

when i first got into atz mingi immediately pulled my ass under (i am a simple woman i love one man) but hongjoong… i am obsessed with him. my soul sister i see so much of myself in him sometimes, the big sister in me can’t help but read into everything he does and pick apart every part of his personality, i have no outlet except writing to bring all of these scenarios i think up about him into fruition. captain joongie is so layered i adore him i need to sit down and have a conversation with him to unravel each one, my feelings for him pour into each piece i write abt him (ill shut up i can talk about him forever)

i am also still a simple woman with my love for zoro, i love big man 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ he follows me everywhere and i keep him close to me always (so valid for searching for a noa. i couldn’t name him zoro its too OBVIOUS)

i honestly wonder if joongie ever would talk to nana, im unsure if it fits his personality to leave himself so vulnerable, to inevitably admit his feelings through what could be a simple conversation 😔 i was also comfortable with the ending i feel like it made sense but they also work together, they’ll see each other often & there’s no way they just ignore each other in the hallways 😭 at least i hope not tbh joongie might end up walking past her like he did in the lobby IDK

i also see myself in him we are similar and it makes sense that we both feel so many things toward him!!! thank you so much for reading it and loving my boy as much as i do<3 city joongie will live inside me forever