#also what if i bought one of those....like what if....you know ironically...........

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

It is vital that I figure out if this works..

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cz_JXsNPBkh/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

(And I wholeheartedly blame you for negatively influencing my phone)

SCREAMING--

[aurasy3ag3r]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐂.𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

☆ summary : Its finals week your stressed so you call the only person who can help you, Connie the campus plug. The same plug who you have a mutual 'crush' with.

☆ pairings : plug connie x blackfem reader.

☆ wc : 800

con I'm outside.

You stared at the message that lit up your phone screen. It's finals week, so why not treat yourself to some bud? So who else do you call.. Constance—Connie for short—he has been your plug for about a year and a half now. You met at one of Erens Frat parties; he's also Sashas best friend, so you were bound to meet him at some point. He's also the man who introduced you to weed

Past

"You want some?" You shook your head; weed was something you told yourself you’d never try. "First time?" You nodded, and Connie chuckled. "Ain’t nothing to worry about mami. This weed is all good." Connie took one last hit before holding it near your mouth so you could take a hit too. Maybe just this once? It can’t hurt you that much, and this man was very convincing. Fuck it. You inhaled the smoke and immediately started coughing. Connie took the blunt out of your mouth and began softly patting your back. "It’s okay mama, just breathe." You continued to cough, and Connie handed you his cup so you could take a sip. "Fuck… how long until it starts to hit?" Connie exhaled while chuckling in your face. "You barely took a hit, so you’ll be fine." You drank the rest of Connie’s juice while he continued to softly pat your back. "Connie, what’re you doing to my roommate? She’s a good girl." Connie rolled his eyes at Sasha’s comment. "I’m not gonna ruin her; she’s still a good girl." You rolled your eyes, and Connie patted your waist.

Present

You walked out of your dorm in your pajama shorts, ironically wearing Connie’s hoodie and some slides that he bought you. Connie was on his phone, not paying attention until you tapped on his window. "Open the door, it’s so cold." Connie unlocked the door and immediately locked it again once you got in. "Maybe because you’re wearing those little ass shorts, got your whole ass out." You rolled your eyes, and Connie went back to rolling up a blunt. "I haven’t seen you in a while, what’s up with you?" You shrugged, not knowing what Connie was talking about. "Connie, I saw you like two weeks ago, and it's finals week you already know." Connie copied your actions and shrugged his shoulders. "So? You only wanna see me when you want weed". You giggled and connie rolled his eyes licking the blunt, making sure it was perfect for you. "How much do I owe you?" Connie handed you the blunt and his lighter while shaking his head. "We’re sharing it, so it’s free." Connie studied you as you lit up the blunt and took the first hit.

"You’re so far. Com'ere." Connie patted his thigh, so you climbed over to him. "This my hoodie?" You nodded, and Connie smiled; he loved seeing you in his clothes. Connie’s hand snaked around your waist, giving you a light squeeze. "You gonna be at Eren’s party this weekend?" Connie nodded, handing you back the blunt. "Gotta sell some product." You hummed, caressing Connie’s soft face. "I don’t wanna go, Eren’s parties are wack." Connie chuckled. If it wasn’t for Eren’s wack parties, you wouldn’t have met. "Stay in your dorm; I’ll come stay the night after I’m done there." You hummed while Connie caressed your waist.

"How are your finals going?" Connie lifted your head from his chest, giving you back the blunt, but you shook your head, signaling him to put it out. "They’ve been okay. I was studying for my last one when I texted you. How are yours going?" Connie took a minute before he replied. "I’ve been stressed mami, but I know that I can pass." You smiled, hearing Connie talk about himself and his abilities that way. "When we pass, let’s celebrate and get some ice cream." Connie kissed your lips repeatedly while you giggled in between each kiss. "I gotta get back to studying." You and Connie pouted like little kids, but he let you go without a fight. He opened the driver’s door for you so you didn’t have to climb back over to the passenger side. "Bye, papa." You gave Connie one more kiss before closing his door. Connie rolled down his window to hand you another pre-roll because why not. "Connie, I ain’t paying for this." He chuckled while rolling his eyes. "I wasn’t planning on charging you, but if you don’t kiss me again, you’re gonna have to pay."

"You’re so annoying." You gave Connie a few more kisses before walking back to your dorm building. Connie stayed parked until you walked in and texted him that you were inside your room.

yn I’m in my room.

Thank you.

con Of course mama.

I’ll see you this weekend.

☆ an; HAVENT WROTE FOR AOT IN A WHILE and ik this is short but gonna post p3 of love talk soon but will also be deleting 90s love from all platforms since I don't know where to take it sorry yall

[dalishious]

Zevran Arainai is an Underrated Delight

There is so much depth to Zevran Arainai’s writing that is often overlooked in favour of either sexually objectifying him or ignoring him altogether… which is kind of ironic, considering that’s how so many people in his life have treated him within universe. And then, of course, there’s the biphobia directed at his character back when Dragon Age: Origins first released. He was a joke in many Gamer Bro circles about how they killed him for flirting with their male protagonist. It’s such a shame, really. Because personally speaking, Zevran is one of my favourite characters in the entire Dragon Age franchise.

Zevran’s introduction to the game immediately sets him apart from every other character who is capable of joining the party. He first appears as an enemy; an assassin hired to kill the Warden by Loghain, the Warden’s political opponent. You immediately have the option to either kill him, or add him to the party roster. Zevran does not initially join the Warden’s cause out of the goodness of his heart; he does it because he knows that the Antivan Crows who essentially own him – which we’ll get to – will kill him for failing to assassinate your character. This really paints his original placement within the group’s dynamics in an interesting light. No one really trusts him; Alistair and Morrigan both outright voice this. Zevran himself believes he is only safe with the Warden so long as he makes himself useful, per how he sells his worthiness to the Warden when trying to convince them to let him join. There’s tension there that really makes getting to know him extra interesting, because before anything else, you need to build trust. So, when he’s finally ready to start revealing parts about his personal history, you the player really get to feel like you’ve earned something special from his character.

Zevran’s mother was Dalish, but fell in love with an elf from the city and left her clan behind. Unfortunately, Zevran’s father was assassinated, leaving her with nothing but his debts to pay. She turned to sex work, until she died giving birth to Zevran, and all that debt fell onto him in turn. Zevran was raised by the sex workers in the brothel his mother worked at, until the age of seven, when the Antivan Crow Guildmaster Talav Arainai bought him for seven sovereigns; one of eighteen children made into “compradi” (recruits) that year. In his training, Zevran was tortured in a variety of ways, and in his own words, “taught to know nothing else but murder”. Of those eighteen, Zevran was one of two who survived the training, the other being a human boy named Taliesen. Then, a woman named Rinnala (“Rinna”) was placed into House Arainai from the Azul Contract that dictated the Crows were to take in unwanted bastard children of the Antivan Crown. For a time being, Zevran, Taliesen, and Rinnala worked well together as a professional and romantic trio. But when Zevran and Taliesen were tricked into believing Rinnala betrayed the Crows in an internal Crow scheme, they killed her. When they learned otherwise, Zevran took it particularly rough, combined with the realization of how little he himself mattered, too.

The trauma that Zevran has experienced is something he often makes jokes about, or speaks detached from. I’ve been called out many times on doing the same thing with my own trauma, and I know it’s a pretty commonplace response in others as well. That makes it feel all the more real; his responses are so authentically relatable. It’s also in a way, I find a little therapeutic to get to comfort a character whose survival mechanism has been to downplay his trauma for so long. The Warden is able to tell Zevran that what he’s been through sounds horrible, and even though Zevran tries to excuse things as not being that bad, you gain significant approval from him, just for showing him sympathy. Sympathy is something he’s severely lacked in his life. For all Zevran jokes about his traumatizing experiences, they clearly left a mark on him. Zevran eventually admits to the Warden that he did not actually anticipate being able to kill them, and that what he really wanted in taking on the job was to die. Again, sorry to get personal here for a moment, but I too have attempted suicide, and honestly I still struggle with ideation sometimes. And yet again I must say that I find something really beautiful in a character like Zevran, who is able to find peace and happiness on the other side of surviving such a thing.

As for Zevran’s romance… oh, Zevran’s romance path is such a delight. He is so multidimensional in that he’s very flirtatious and fun, while also showing genuine vulnerability in time. He admits that his role as a Crow meant he was encouraged to use seduction as a tool. His only experience with a true relationship ended very poorly, with Rinna’s death and a wedge forming between him and Taliesen, who he is eventually forced to kill too in the game. One of my favourite moments in the entire game, is when you invite him to your tent and he says no… and if you accept his consensual rights, that is what changes everything for him and the Warden’s relationship. Zevran feels safe and loved, and he gets to be happy. As of Dragon Age: Inquisition, a romanced Zevran is still at the Warden’s side, too, if they’re alive.

I love Zevran Arainai so much. He truly is an amazingly well done character, and deserves so much more respect and interest than he gets.

*Sourced from in-game dialogue and World of Thedas vol. 2

[sluttywonwoo]

collision || h.js

pairing: virgin!fratboy!han jisung x best friend!reader

summary: jisung's fraternity brothers decide to pool their money and surprise him with a stripper for his birthday! nice gesture and all, but that stripper just so happens to be his best friend...

warnings: swearing, a little bit of mention of stigma towards sex workers at the end, smut (18+ ; minors dni)

additional warnings: lap dancing, dry humping

word count: 3k

Jisung’s blood ran cold as he stared at you from the opposite side of the room. A similar look of shock graced your features for a moment but it was quickly replaced by a smile, a fake one if Jisung had ever seen one. 

To be fair he had imagined this exact scenario- you in lingerie, standing in the middle of his living room- hundreds of times. But in those fantasies, the room wasn’t also full of a dozen or so of his friends.

When Jisung’s fraternity brothers told him they had a “surprise” for his birthday he knew it couldn’t be anything good but he certainly hadn’t been expecting his best friend to be the hired... entertainment for the party he hadn’t even wanted. 

“Should we leave them alone?” Minho, one of the older boys, teases. 

“We don’t get to watch?” Jeongin whines. 

“Nah, Hannie’s too shy for that.”

“That, and we only bought a private dance because it was the cheapest option,” Chris mutters under his breath, hopefully not loud enough for you to hear. 

“Let’s go into the other room, then,” Hyunjin says, finally drawing all of the attention away from you. “The others are waiting for us and we haven’t finished mixing all the drinks yet. The birthday boy can join us later.”

There’s some grumbling as the boys shuffle out of the room but they do make their exit, leaving you alone with Jisung. 

You’re the first to break the silence. “Happy birthday?” you offer with an awkward chuckle. 

“This is why you couldn’t come tonight?” 

“I was going to join later!” you correct him. “But yes, this is why I was going to be late.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I told you I had to work! I didn’t know it was you!”

“They didn’t... give you my name or anything?” Jisung realizes as he’s speaking that he doesn’t really know how your client intake works. Is there a form they fill out? Or do they just Venmo you and give you an address? Surely not, right? That would be dangerous. There had to be more to it than that. 

“They called you ‘Late Bloomer’,” you mutter, staring at the floor. “Said I’d know you when I saw you.”

Jisung’s cheeks burned and he scoffs. “Ironic. Yeah, that’s what the guys call me because they know, um, about...”

“You don’t have to say it!” you blurt. “I already know. That’s a really mean nickname.”

“All the pledges get nicknames like that,” he sighs. “Sometimes they don’t wear off after initiation.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You had taken a couple of steps closer to where he was sitting while you talked but you were still several feet apart. 

“Uh, well did you still want me to-”

“No!” Jisung shouts, cringing when he hears himself. “No, oh my god. You don’t have to do that.”

“I mean, it’s what I’m getting paid to do,” you point out. “Do you want your brothers’ money to go to waste?”

“I don’t give a fuck about their money.”

“So you don’t want me to?”

He’s sweating now. He feels it on his brow. “No, no. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

And I don’t want to cum my pants the minute you sit on my lap. 

You laugh. “Nothing can be more uncomfortable than what just happened in front of your, uh, friends.”

You had a point. “You don’t think it’ll make things... weird?” Jisung asks. 

You shrug. “Things are already weird, aren’t they? But if you don’t want me to, I'll go get dressed and we can join the rest of them at the party.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to!” Jisung clarifies. “I mean, I’ve always been curious about... how your sessions go, like what happens and stuff, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to or that I want you to if that makes sense. Like I don’t want you to think I’m a creep-”

“Jisung.”

“Huh?”

“Instead of a real dance, why don’t I just demonstrate for you? Show you what I do, like you said?”

That didn’t sound too dangerous. 

“O-ok. You don’t have to do it on me, though. You can just, like, use a chair?”

You give him a small smile and nod. “Sure.”

There are lots of chairs to choose from but you pick the closest and drag it in front of where Jisung is sitting. You spin it so that the back is facing him and then run to get something from the bag that you’d dropped by the door when you came in. 

Jisung tries not to look at your ass as you bend down and rifle through the tote, training his eyes on the ceiling instead. He’d already been struggling not to get hard this whole time and it was about to get a whole lot harder, metaphorically and literally. 

You come back with a speaker and set it up on the floor under the chair. 

“Usually I put on some music,” you explain. “I’ll sit on the guy’s lap and ask him what he likes to listen to.” You sit sideways on the chair and cross your legs, pretending like there’s a man underneath you. “Whatever he says doesn’t matter to me, though. I just pick whatever I want to dance to and pretend his answer influenced my decision so he feels like he gets to have a say in the matter. Men like to feel special like that.”

Jisung nods along. You look up to check that he’s following before moving on. 

“Then I’ll stand back up, like this, and start dancing. Most girls dance in front of them first, to make them want it more. I used to get really self-conscious about that part because it feels silly to me but it really pays off in the end.”

Jisung gulps and nods again. He watches you sink to your knees and arch backward, spreading your thighs wider as your back touches the floor. He had no idea you were so flexible, no idea you could move like that, though he supposes he should have assumed considering you literally do this for a living. 

“And then right before I get back on his lap I’ll take off my top. Usually, it’s like a bra or something but sometimes I’m wearing a bodysuit and I’ll just pull it down.”

He doesn’t expect you to actually do it but you do. You reach behind yourself and pull on the ribbon holding the corset you were wearing together until it unravels and you can take it off. 

Jisung immediately averts his eyes, going as far as shielding his vision with a hand.

“Oh my god!” 

He hears you laughing. “They’re just boobs.”

Yeah, your boobs. 

“I thought you wanted me to show you how I usually do it,” you chide. 

Jisung hesitantly turns his head to face you again. He stares you right in the eyes, pointedly ignoring everything below your neck. “I didn’t think you would actually, um, strip.”

Your teasing smile falters. “Do you want me to put it back on? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No! You don’t have to. I’m not uncomfortable.” You look like you don’t believe him so he adds, “I just wanted to be respectful and stuff, you know?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re sweet. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t seen me topless before. We’ve known each other for so long.”

Jisung is in so much pain. “Haha, yeah me too.”

You approach the chair and straddle it like you would if someone was actually sitting there. Since there isn’t, you fold your arms on the back of it and rest your chin on your wrists. 

“I always lay some ground rules before I start, even if they’re a regular.”

“Ground rules?” Jisung asks. 

You nod. “They’re not allowed to touch me whatsoever. I’ll touch them unless they request otherwise, but only on the face and the shoulders, sometimes the chest. I’m not going to grope them or anything like that, even though I am grinding on them.” You demonstrate with the air, pretending to cup someone’s face and bring it closer to yours before pushing them away. “The whole thing is essentially just teasing someone for however long they booked me for.”

“Are there any other rules?” Jisung asks, trying to seem engaged and eager to learn more about your profession instead of focusing on how you’re riding that chair. 

“Yeah, one of my biggest rules is that the client has to stay fully clothed the whole time. There are exceptions like if they’re wearing a tie, I might loosen it or undo it. I’ve worn their ties myself once or twice.”

“Has anyone ever, um,” he pauses. 

You cock your head to the side in intrigue. “Has anyone ever what?”

“Has anyone ever like, cum? While you’re doing that?”

“It’s happened before. But they usually try not to because they’d have to pay me more. It’s in my contract. It’s also really embarrassing for them and it’s unsanitary- I won’t get into the details but it’s not very common.”

It definitely would have happened to Jisung if he had gone through with it. Honestly, it would probably happen if anyone were to give him a lap dance, but if it was you? He wouldn’t stand a chance. 

“But it’s normal for guys to get, like, hard, right?”

“Oh yeah, that’s pretty much guaranteed. Anyone would get turned on if someone was grinding on them. Sometimes it happens before I’m even on their lap, like you’re hard right now and I haven’t even touched you.”

“Wha-” Jisung’s neck snaps as he looks to confirm what he already knows to be true. He rushes to cover the bulge in his pants with his hands even though it’s way too late for that. “Fuck, I didn’t- it doesn’t-”

You brush it off. “Don’t worry, Ji. It’s a perfectly normal reaction to seeing something arousing. It means I’m good at my job.”

“No, but I’m your best friend! God, you must feel so objectified and weird...”

“Jisung, I promise I don’t feel weird or objectified. Is this too weird for you? Do you want to stop?”

“I- uh, I don’t know,” he admits. Obviously he likes what he sees, his hard dick pressing against the zipper of his jeans is proof enough of that. But he’s also never felt so embarrassed in his life. It feels so... wrong of him to be taking advantage of the situation like this. He should have taken up your offer to go join the rest of his brothers at the party because now he’s fucked. He’s a weak, weak man.  “Are you sure you’re okay with... it?” 

“Of course,” you assure him. “That’s the point of this birthday present anyway.”

Maybe, but it wasn’t supposed to be a present from you. Jisung is so overwhelmed by thoughts and emotions that he can’t even focus on what you’re doing anymore. He zones out, willing his erection to go down until he remembers that he’s supposed to be paying attention. He’s supposed to be learning. 

“So I go back and forth between grinding on the guy and dancing in front of him so it doesn’t get too intimate, and then towards the end I usually- fuck, it’s kind of hard to do when there isn’t someone actually here.” He watches you stand up and approach him. “Do you mind if I just....” you trail off expectantly. 

Are you asking what Jisung thinks you’re asking? Is whatever it is you’re trying to show him so important that you need to torture him further?

“If you just what?” 

“If I sit on your lap for this part? It’ll be quick, I swear.”

“Go ahead,” Jisung says before he can argue with himself. 

He had already dug his grave, he might as well bury himself too. 

You take a deep breath before placing a hand on each of his shoulders for balance and lowering yourself onto his lap. His legs are spread a bit so they’re kind of awkward to straddle but you’re used to it so it’s easy to adjust. 

“Wow, you are hard,” you breathe out, laughing a little. 

Jisung wants to die. He takes a deep breath of his own and steels himself before asking, “what was it that you wanted to show me?”

Your eyes light up like you had forgotten why you were sitting on him in the first place. “Oh, right. I put the music on a timer to fade out at the end of the session so when that happens I’ll grab the guy’s face like this,” you take Jisung by the cheeks and squeeze so that he’s forced to open his mouth. 

He wonders briefly if you’re about to spit in his mouth but to his disappointment you make him bite down on a piece of paper instead. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion and reaches up to pluck whatever it is from between his lips.

“What is this?”

“My business card!” you exclaim. “Smart right? I wanted to do something memorable and so far it’s gotten over fifty percent of my clients to become repeat customers.”

Jisung snorts. “Yeah, it’s definitely that and not the fact that you’re hot and have your tits out.”

“It’s all part of the sell,” you joke.

“Well, I can see why you’re working all the time,” Jisung quips. “You’re very good at what you do.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Of course I do.”

“I’m just sorry I ruined your birthday present,” you sigh. 

Jisung frowns. “What do you mean? You didn’t ruin it.”

“Yeah, I did! If your friends had hired someone else you would have gotten a real lap dance, not... an instructional.”

“I didn’t even know that’s what I was supposed to be getting! I didn’t know they had hired anyone!”

“Still, it could have been fun.”

“No, this was fun. I’m glad it was you.”

The worry line between your eyebrows softens and you smile fondly at him, making Jisung’s stomach do a somersault. Out of everything that had happened tonight, that was what affected him the most. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes but suddenly your expression changes. Your gaze shifts from relaxed to focused as you sit up and lean in, closer and closer until your nose is pressed to his. Jisung doesn’t want to speak. He doesn’t want to break the spell. His fists clench and unclench repeatedly at his sides. He’s desperate to touch you, to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to him, but he won’t break your rule unless you give him permission. 

You break it for him, grabbing his hands and placing them on your hips.

“Is this okay?” you whisper. 

He nods, his forehead knocking against yours. “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive.”

You swallow hard, eyes searching his for something he isn’t sure he has. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Jisung has fantasized about this moment countless times and not a single one compares to it. Your lips are soft and warm and you taste like that chapstick you always keep in your pocket. Jisung recognizes it immediately because he’s borrowed it more than a few times. 

You moan and run a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends. It’s gotten a lot longer recently but you seem to like it. In fact, part of the reason he hasn’t cut it yet is because you keep complimenting the way he’s been styling it. He wonders if you like how it feels between your fingers. 

To his own surprise, Jisung is the first to use tongue. He feels your lips part and uses the opportunity to slide his tongue between them like you had with your business card. You moan again and this time you grind down on his lap for real. 

It catches you both off guard. Jisung’s hips follow the movement of yours, chasing your heat even when you lift yourself off of him in a panic. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t be,” he murmurs, trying to hide a smug grin, “it’s a perfectly normal reaction.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “I guess I deserved that.”

“Mhm- mph!” You kiss him before he can get another word out, this time shoving your tongue in his mouth. 

Now that you know it’s okay to grind on him, you don’t hold back. You seem so eager. If Jisung didn’t know better he’d think this had been your plan all along. 

“God, baby,” he whimpers, shocked at how shattered his own voice sounds. “This feels so good but if you don’t stop I’m gonna-” he can’t bring himself to say it. “I’m not going to last.”

You slow down and lift your head from the crook of his shoulder. “Do you want to stop?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know how far you’re okay with going but...”

“We can go as far as you want, Ji. You’re the one...” you don’t finish the sentence but Jisung knows what you’re implying. It isn’t hard to guess. It’s why he’d been given that stupid nickname freshman year. 

“You’d... you’d want me in that way?” he asks. He’s almost afraid of the answer because he doesn’t think you feel the same way about him. Even if you are down to fuck, he doesn’t think it’s because you have a big giant crush on him like he does you. Maybe you’re just horny or maybe you’d be doing it as a favor.

“Of course.” It’s not an answer that quells the burning questions he’s been holding onto since he met you but it does enough to temper the flames a bit. You want him. It’s enough. “But... you don’t care that your first time would be with a stripper?” 

He knows that’s not what you mean. He knows you’re worried that he feels like it’s inorganic. That it’s part of the job you had been hired to do. But he knows the truth. That isn’t what it is at all. 

He shakes his head. “My first time would be with my best friend. There’s no one else I’d rather it be with.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

[risuola]

ENTRY #4 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // Your fingertips brought me back from the death.

contents: arranged marriage!au, slight hurt-comfort — wc. 921

series masterlist

„It hurts, Satoru.”

Pain. Agonizing, paralyzing pain was something Gojo had to teach himself to live with. He wouldn’t tell anyone, he’s the strongest, the honored one, he’s… a human. No matter how trained he was, how much control over his own body he had, how efficiently he managed his cursed energy, he never learned how to deal with the side effects of the cursed blessing he inherited.

It felt like he’s dying. Every time his six eyes were put to work for more than enough, a part of him was begging for an end to the suffering he had to endure. He felt like his head was splitting open from the inside out, like his brain was bleeding, his eyes were burning. He could feel the pounding of his heartbeat, fast and uneven, in his temples, ears and neck; he was sweating and frowning. He was miserable. Vulnerable. He couldn’t focus on anything and every move he made only made the anguish worse. It was a misery. Excruciation. But then–

“What do you think you’re doing?”

–then your soft, warm palms planted themselves on top of his closed lids oh so gently and Satoru realized that he held your wrist in an iron grip – a defense mechanism he couldn’t control whenever anyone got too close to his eyes. With his infinity turned off, he felt helpless against your touch, but submitted himself to your mercy and it tingled. An odd sensation that seemed to envelop his head in a protective hood of something he couldn’t understand slowly soothed the torment inside his skull. The pounding mellowed and the muscles between his brows and in his shoulders began to relax underneath the calming influence of your doing.

Satoru let out a shaky breath, one that he just noticed he was holding in, and his fingers that once wrapped around the fragile bones of your forearm now shifted to the top of your knuckles, greedy to hold your hands there longer. His senses were calming, coming to the sharpness he’s used to have and slowly he started registering more than just the balm of your hands. Slowly he became aware of you. The subtle, sweet scent of your perfume mixed with equally pleasant, slightly flowery note of washing detergent you bought recently – the one he had to carry for you the other day because you had enough bags in your hands and texted him for help. He felt the softness of your stomach against the top of his hair as you stood behind the couch on top of which he was sitting, with his head tilted back.

“You’re hurting. I’m helping you,” and the melody of your voice, quieted and gentle that now he was finally able to hear clearly once the echo of his own heartbeat stopped deafening his eardrums.

Satoru couldn’t tell what you were doing. He felt the very distinct signature of your cursed energy flowing through your palms but it wasn’t something he could recognize. He also couldn’t tell what gave away his suffering – was it the way he entered the house that day? After a week-long job outside the city, he dropped his coat and kicked off the shoes and then, without acknowledging you he nearly collapsed onto the couch. It wasn’t the first time he ignored you and surely it wasn’t the first time he was in pain in your presence. Maybe the grunt he let out when dropping his weight onto the cushions made it too obvious that he was in agony?

“How do you know I’m hurting?” He asked, too curious, too unsure to let the question go.

“You’re always hurting after those longer jobs,” you replied and he hummed, perplexed to realize that you’ve been seeing his misery before. “It’s the six eyes, right? Your head hurts when you overuse it.” Your words made him speechless; the tone you used – full of care and concern, it got him frozen for a moment or two. “You saved me many times, so I learned this to save you.”

“You learned this for me?”

“I did,” you let out a soft chuckle, the kind that flows on top of a breath without much sound to it. You moved your hands a little, resting your thumbs on top of his skin and moving them in little circles, rubbing the tension away from his forehead and temples. It felt intimate in a way and Satoru wasn’t used to stripping his infinity off to connect with other humans in such private level. “I wasn’t sure if it’s even going to work. I couldn’t test it before because it only applies to you.”

“A technique that works only on me?” He repeated the words that didn’t make sense in his mind. Why would you go so far for him? He wasn’t a man you chose to spend your life with, he wasn’t even good to you. “How?”

“Well, it’s a little mix of my cursed technique and yours and subconsciously you allowed my energy to enter your head and release the tension that built up after you overused your eyes. It’s not really reversed cursed technique, I don’t know how to explain this… but all that matter is that it works,” you concluded with a soft sigh of relief.

“Why?”

“Because I’m your wife, Satoru. Because you carry enough weight on your shoulders to pay the price of saving the world. Because you don’t have to be the strongest all the time and you don’t have to do this alone.”

taglist: @kinny-away, @anan-baban, @lotomber, @netflix-imagines, @kawliflo, @nishloves, @ghostfacefricker6969, @thejujvtsupost, @yozora7154, @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @ae-mius

[cornyforjk]

Drive you crazy | Day 4 | jjk

⤷ SUMMARY In which you are stuck living with an arrogant rookie racer who thinks of you as an obstacle, ready to ruin your glory, but things get heated when he has a pervy smile hidden under that pretentious attitude. Emotions that are complicated. You could never fall for your enemy! He's sabotaging you.

Pairing: racer!jk × racer!oc

Genre: angst and pure filth smut

Warnings: trash language

taglist: @tatamicc @jwnghyuns @nono13bnd @hagridshaircare @tatzzz-25 @suashifts

A/ note: Hello hello hello,,,, ik it's been like,what? 10 days. More than 10 days infact. But I was kinda stuck somewhere 🥴 and I did post part 4 one day but idk why it's format wouldn't be the way I wanted it to be,,, like ykwim. Anyways, I'm trying again and I hope it works today 🤞🤞 hope you guys enjoy 💕 (Added links for the first time thank you so much @redcherrykook ily💕)

___________________♡____________________

"What's with all these boxes?" I heard a sigh coming from the living room. Walking out of my bed I look over the commotion with a smile.

"Chocolates," I answer.

"Why?" He seemed pained looking at the bundle of sweets all spread out on the table. "Can't you keep them in your room?"

"But it's for you."

"Me?" He points at himself, innocently with huge bubbly eyes of confusion.

"But I hate chocolates." He points with disgust, ignoring my judging eyes and internal screams at his horrible taste.

Not only has he got a bad attitude but also bad taste buds.

"Why would you hate chocolate?!" I screech, "it's chocolate for fuck's sake! The only saviour at sad times."

"I don't like it. Who even sent it anyway?"

"I did!" My voice was wavering with panic. "I thought you liked chocolate...so I bought it as an apology." Watching his curious face drop into a sulky one didn't help my beating heart which probably pumped out my anxiety rather than blood.

"Where did you even get this information?" He arches his eyebrow in question.

"I googled it." My honest answer has him parting his lips as he tries to form words. "You are a famous rookie. The website has your likes and dislikes listed."

Jungkook dismissively waves his hand, "you had one job..." his voice lowered. "I will always hate chocolate." Those last words were barely a whisper. My eyes shot up towards his face, the quick vulnerability flashing back into his cocky self.

I clear my throat.

"It also said that you wear your special iron man socks while racing and in bed."

Subconsciously Jungkook crosses a leg over another trying to hide his redand yellow socks that look like the character.

"Well, you wear mismatched socks." He bickers, hands on his hip.

I shut my mouth tight, holding in a laugh that burst out sounding like a chicken having asthma.

"Ha-ha, very funny," the tall guy rolls his eyes walking out of the place.

"I still hate chocolate as much as I hate you."

___________________♡____________________

With a beaten body and tired scowl, I walked into my room slamming the door shut, feeling his eyes on my back, the stare leaves me frozen still staring at the wooden door trying to burn it as an escape option.

He doesn't question me. Doesn't ask me where I have been.Shows that he doesn't care.

And a part of me feels empty without his bickering, like half of our conversations depended on our arguments.

I tightly fist my hand towering over Jungkook, boring holes in his face watching him keep his motorsports book aside. He reads, has a hidden tattoo covering his left arm, shows respect towards invasive paparazzi...what all am I yet to know about him? It's like every time I feel like I figured him out he pulls out an Uno reverse card.

"Why won't you just let it go? I know where I went wrong and I am sorry I didn't listen to you. Fairly I didn't know what Alex was like and all you said was 'don't race' so it didn't help." I confess, fiddling with my fingers. He shuffles, getting on his legs and fleeting into the kitchen without answering.

"You didn't even answer-"

He turns around tearing a piece of tissue and stuffing it in my mouth as I gag. The taste of dried woody papermixing in my mouth.

"What the hell?!" "If you don't want me to permanently shut your porthole, then you better walk out of this place."

Storming out of the room I walk straight into someone's chest, wobbling back with a dizzy head, my eyes trail to his face. His familiar smile with dimples in view with his shiny golden brown hair.

"Mr Joon!" I exaggerate his name, trying to smile back but a pressed thin line forms.

"Is it about him?" He raises his thick eyebrow, uncertain to meet my eye as he scans the door behind me trying to gaze through with the help of a mere peephole.

"How do you know?""It's a small controversy going on around here. No wonder the cheerleaders are jealous." He blurts out, batting his eye whilst taking a step back. "Plus...you could say I know him a little too well."

"Should've seen that coming, no wonder he threw you that funny look in the hallway on our first day and pretended to not know you."

Namjoon chuckles, "sounds like our Jungkook."

"Our gang can help you with his bratty attitude, we have been in your position too many times." He smiles with glinting eyes, pulling me across the hallways behind the inn where the pool resides.

Namjoon waves over a group of young-looking men huddling around the patio, my eyes feel blessed at that moment when we make our way towards them, gaze residing on their flawless faces.

"Y/n, meet our gang. The bangtan boys." Namjoon lightly shoves me forward as all the boys create circle around me, my eyes glinting with excitement as each of them start questioning me with the same excitement.

"Hi! I am Jimin, the 'wanted' one," his orange head wobbled as he smiled sideways, coming over for a side hug that I returned with gratitude. Jimin was a well-known racer in the industry with millions of fangirls behind him almost all the time.

I turn around squealing when I find a mint haired guy waving at me with his boxy smile, "KIM TAEHYUNG AND SUNSHINE HOBI!"

"Sunshine what-" He's startled by my sudden outburst, my face reddening as I second-hand embarrass myself.

"It's a name given by your fans..." I kick the floor, whispering in a faint voice.

Hoseok chuckles with Taehyung, removing the leather gloves covering their hand as they bring it forward to shake with mine.

"Call us Tae and Hobi, it's cute coming from your mouth," they gigglechildishly, warming my heart.

"Operation win Jungkook over is in the process!" Hoseok's fist pumps in the air as everyone starts discussing a perfect plan to make up for my foolish mistake.

"He likes sugar mallows." Suddenly behind me appears Min Yoongi and Seokjin, the oldest racers here. My heart suddenly jumps out as I stare at them holding a few boxes of cereal.

Taehyung scoots over, Jin and Yoongie sit over smiling at me as I return with a nod. "He likes those marshmallow cereals? Wow-" I am left speechless at his selection of food.

"Trust me, he will go head over heels for this." Jin squeals, winking towards Namjoon which leaves me questioning.

___________________♡____________________

I take a deep breath ready for war. It's about to strike midnight as I walk back to my shared room, glancing back and forth at the dark hallways waiting for some kind of jumpscare, breeze from open windows letting out a hollered noise that has my skin shivering. I quicken my pace, slamming the door behind me to see Jungkook standing in the balcony with the wind ruffling his hair as if praising him.

I stopped in my tracks when my eyes landed on his broad back with muscular shoulders that turned me on, my fingers wishing to grab onto them leaving a trail.

Peeking into the open box of cereal given by Jin I wholeheartedly pour in some milk, my heart leaping as I think of offering some to Jungkook.

With two bowls in my hand, I make my way to the open porch. Jungkook hangs his head between his shoulders, grasping the railing tight with visible veins running across his arm.

"Are you alright?" I whisper, mostly startling him as he lifts his head with an alarmed expression. "I bought vousome cereal?" With uncertainty I raise the bowl in thin air waiting for his eyes to pool with excitement, maybe he would be jumpy on his feet at the smell of sugary soggy cereal, but no. He didn't move an inch.

He just let out an exasperated sigh of defeat. "Go away," Jungkook mumbled slowly, looking away from my eyes.

"What's on your mind Jeon," I placed the bowl aside, trying to take a look at him from behind and for the first time I felt his huge bulky body standing tall beside me. He seemed so big and strong, the intimidating expression being a compliment to his looks. He looked even more beautiful at night.

"You don't have to share, just have this with me." I gesture over towards the milk-filled bowls with a pressed smile full of hopefulness.

"Fine." He harshly grabs a bowl scooting over to sit on the floor casually with his legs crossed. "But you can sit in the chair!" I exclaimed but he shook his head. "I like it here." He meekly said.I have no choice but to sit facing him, watching the beautiful view of California that left me breathless, it just seemed like a dream, but what felt even more surreal was the man sitting in front of me with his midnight black bangs covering his doe eyes, slurping the milky marshmallows with content.

"Feeling better?" I quietly ask. Earning a hum.

We sat there quietly with comforting silence, little squeals of pleasure and sugar kicking in our bodies. Raking our spoons in the milk scooping up the crunchies while playing with loops.

"How'd you know I like this?" He questioned.

"That will be my secret." I wryly smile, shoving the empty bowls at the back, making room for my feet to spread comfortably.

"You do know you just served me cereal in the middle of the night?" he whispered playfully.

"Think of it as a midnight snack." I wink."Jungkook...I am sorry." I breathe in, "I hurt people, that's what I am good at. Unfortunately." A bittersweet chuckle leaves my parted lips, guilt seeping in when I try forming words. "We didn't start on the right foot, why not try the left this time?"

Bringing my hand forward, I wait for Jungkook to shake it. Just give me a chance. We are just racers ready to come at each other's throats, But, Why not try to get along?

For once.

"I don't need a protector Jungkook, just a friend."

He brings his hand forward, hesitant when our warm skin grazes together, I feel him enveloping my hand in his, a wave of satisfaction gushing over me.

I never want to let his hand go. It feels safe and soft like a newborn. But they don't fit together perfectly.

We are two different people, with different views. Being friends witheach other is hard for us, hard to understand. No wonder they don't fit perfectly.

"Don't tell me you use baby lotion now," I smirk. He looks away, trying his best to hide the small curve rising atthe edge of his lips.

Maybe Jeon Jungkook knows how to smile after all.

He silently grabs the bowl behind me, stuffing his mouth with cereal and continuing to stare at me. Even in the dark, I could make out his droopy eyes, dark circles, that were carrying all the unexplainable tension he didn't share.

"Go to sleep, grinch, or would you like me cuddling you till you've fallen asleep," Nudging him with a teasing tone he smiles, a little toothy grin that fogged my brain.

He snorts, "You need therapy Y/n."

"Therapy is just paid gossip my boy."

I pat his head, going in for the ruffle when he swats it away, his facial features tensing with a line between his eyebrows."Tomorrow's the race. "

I stop in my tracks. Glancing back from my shoulder, This sudden unexplainable tension filled the air, my heavy breath visible.

What got me so nervous all of a sudden?

I start tapping my foot, fiddling with my nails, biting the inside of my cheek.

"And...?" I felt the back of my neck warm up, tiny beads of sweat sliding down my back.

He wouldn't do anything to hurt me tomorrow in the name of race? Would he?

Jungkook just sighed, standing tall, his dark silhouette walking towards me whilst I stood frozen. I feel his eyes staring into my soul, his hand slowly placed on my shoulder. I stiffen at the small strokes he skims on the sides of my neck.

Everywhere he touched my skin would burn with fire, hitching breath stuck atthe bottom of my throat. But my eyes clung to his illuminated skin under the moon.

He's beautiful...

Jungkook pulls me out of his trance with a throaty cough, pulling me closer as I squeak. "If they overtake your path then turn to the side and let them. Their desire to win is unquenched, and people do anything to satisfy their thirst."

"Don't come in their way, Y/n."

___________________♡____________________

Day3 | Day5

DM me or send an ask if you wanna be added to the taglist.

[she-is-ovarit]

Please hear me.

Being tired isn't normal. It doesn't matter that you're aging. Being fatigued is a serious sign.

It might be difficult to judge "normal tired" from "bad tired". Rule of thumb is that if you notice that other people seem to be on another plane of existence with alertness, you're not "normal tired".

I slept for 10-12 hours a day at least and still was tired for most of the day but "functioned" (went to work).

It turns out it wasn't just one thing. It was a lot of things. I went on liquid vitamins first because that's all I had energy for—to throw money at something that can be delivered to me. And it was crucial. I went off my heart medication after my doctor let me know my active heart rate was way too low (prior to the vitamins). I felt super improved and this went from feeling super improved to extremely improved after I began to eat more healthy fats (avocados, eggs, nuts, vegetarian-friendly animal products). I cannot emohasize the eating more fats thing enough. Did you know that due to our biology women are supposed to have way more healthy fats than what we're typically told?

I had struggled with other symptoms I brushed off as normal too. My hands and feet being cold all the time. Turns out this wasn't normal. How many women and girls have cold hands and feet constantly? I was "adoringly clumsy". Balance issues from vitamin B12 deficiency. Foot cramps. Magnesium deficiency. Generalized anxiety disorder. Still have it, but significantly improved because my body isn't fighting for it's life. Lack of focus/concentration issues to the point where I worried I had ADHD or something since that's all I know about that mental health condition.

Constant cravings I blamed on emotional eating. Increasing my healthy fat intake all about cured this—helped more than protein. I began to lose weight when I increased my healthy fats because I was no longer seeking out sugar or bad fats. Iron deficiency and vitamin D3 deficiencies were also confirmed on blood tests before I started liquid vitamins.

When I went off my heart med and bought those dumb electrolyte packets for my water, my arrhythmia is now hardly noticeable physically.

And to circle back—I am awake. And I sometimes break down and cry because I can't believe how I was functioning now that I understand what having energy feels like. I didn't know. I didn't know there was even anything wrong with me. I thought I was just a tired person. That being tired was normal to being female and aging.

Chronic fatigue is extremely serious. It's not normal. You're not just a tired person.

[solar-wing]

⚣ Domestic Living With Jason 🩳

⚣🩳 A/N → I'm physically incapable of writing anything under 500 words. But, this was inspired by my love of compression shirts (especially the Under Armor ones and how I would do exactly this if my boyfriend tried to walk out wearing one). May start a series off this, we'll see. Warnings: Domestic Vibes. Married Energy. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing. Petty Jason.

⚣🩳 Summary → Domestic life is something. Domestic life with Jason Todd is another thing. One moment, you're ready to fight this man. Next moment, you're ready to fight this man. *wink wink* Wait, hold up. Jason, what the hell are you wearing?!

⚣🩳 Words → 1.5K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🩳

“Jason, hurry up! I need to get back so I can finish this essay.” Y/N yelled from the living room of his and his boyfriend’s shared apartment.

If you asked him a year ago what he figured living with his boyfriend would be like, he’d more than likely answer with a lot of freaking sex. Of course, other things came with it, but that was the first thing that always came to mind.

It also came with a lot of stay-at-home dates. Jason was unsurprisingly a natural homebody and loved to spend his evenings when he could with his lovely boyfriend cuddled against his body while watching a movie or playing a game and munching down on some takeout.

Truthfully, it was nice seeing how Jason was in a domestic situation. It served as a reminder to Y/N that under all those scars, grumpiness, and tough exterior was just a boy who wanted to be loved.

On the other end, living with Jason made Y/N take a long, hard look in the mirror and reflect on all the bad habits he had when living at home with his parents and starting college. For example, time management…

Before he started dating Jason, Y/N was the kind of person who waited till twenty minutes before he had to leave to start getting dressed. Whenever someone would text him and ask for his location, he’d respond telling them he was leaving the house now.

Then, when he was actually leaving the house and they’d text him again, he’d respond saying he was on the freeway. Truly, the best example of what not to do when he wanted to be on time somewhere.

After he started dating Jason though, and especially when they moved in together, Y/N sent a long apology to his parents who had tried for years to teach him better time management. The crazy thing about that was when they asked him why he was apologizing and he explained that Jason’s time management made him look like an angel, they didn’t believe him!

In their eyes, Jason was a saint who could do no wrong. Which was ironic considering Y/N’s dad promised to castrate any man who dared even look his son’s way. And his mom, well, not sure that’s really appropriate to mention.

Yet, when it came to Mr. Jason Peter Todd, he might as well have been hand-delivered from God himself. Maybe it was because his boyfriend could and would be late to anything else in the world (Lord knows Bruce went through hell and back just to get him to be on time for family dinner), but if it was anything involving Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N, he was twenty minutes early with a gift he picked up from the local Target.

It also could be that Jason was the world’s biggest kiss-ass (when he needed to be) and used that to wrap Y/N’s parents around his finger. Either or…

But now, since they were only going to the gym, Jason was of course taking his sweet time to get ready, which, every passing second was another snap of one of Y/N’s nerves. Truthfully, he would’ve just grabbed his keys and left without him, but the last time he did that, Jason went and bought a steering-wheel clutch to put on his car and hid the keys from him for two weeks.

Another thing Y/N’s parents would never believe about their son’s beloved boyfriend; the fucker was petty as hell.

“I’m coming, babe! Be out in a sec,” Jason yelled from behind their bedroom door.

“You said that five minutes ago!”

“Sorry, I don’t recall. Maybe you imagined it.”

This gaslighting motherfu–

Y/N had to take a deep breath to calm his growing impulsive need to bust down that door and slap the fuck out of his boyfriend’s neck. It didn’t help…

“You can’t hit your boyfriend. You can’t hit your boyfriend. You can’t hit your boyfriend,” Y/N mumbled to himself while tapping his foot against the floor repeatedly to distract himself from the ticking seconds passing by in his mind.

Two minutes later, the door opened and revealed his tall and bulky man looking ever so fresh and handsome. Though Y/N was still irritated beyond belief, the sight of his boyfriend’s handsome face who grew a smile and twinkle in his eyes when he looked at him always managed to dissipate his temper.

Not by much though. Jason’s neck still looked like a very bright and large target just waiting for a good sting from the palm of his hands.

Maybe Tim was right, they were a match made in heaven just off violent tendencies alone.

“That was not a sec,” Y/N reprimanded in a grumble.

Jason’s smile turned into a self-satisfied grin while he walked past his boyfriend to their coat closet, grabbing his abnormally large gym shoes. Seriously, what size is this man’s foot?

“Hey, it’s not my fault you waited till the last day to finish your homework.” He replied while tying his shoe.

“Um, actually it is. Every time I tried to sit down and work on it, you’d either start complaining about how I wasn’t paying any attention to you or you’d get randomly horny and start touching me in ways that shall not be named and I’d end up with your dick inside me.”

Y/N immediately regretted his words when he saw how Jason looked up from finishing his last shoe, a lustful blown look on his face as he eyed his body up and down. Thankfully, he didn’t seem like he was about to act on his impulses as he kept tying his shoe without looking before standing back up.

Why was that hot?

“Sounds like you need to practice self-control, sir.”

Oh, no he didn’t.

“Sir, I was already tempted to smack the back of your neck before. I beg you to not increase that urge.”

“Do it. I dare you,” Jason challenged, standing right in front of him with his towering frame. The tone in his voice and the look on his face were signaling something that Y/N was very tempted to answer, but he had to keep rationality in the forefront of his mind.

“You not worth it,” He responded, side-stepping him while going to grab his jacket.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Sir, don’t get fu–”

It was at that moment Y/N took a full look at his boyfriend, specifically what he was wearing. And while the sight was something he wouldn’t mind staring at, he definitely didn’t want other people staring at him.

“Excuse me, but what in the hell are you wearing?” Y/N asked, still looking him up and down.

Jason looked confused for a moment, also looking at his outfit, not seeing what the problem was.

“Um, a shirt and sweats? Is this a trick question or,”

“Why is it so tight? Who are you trying to show off for?”

This man was wearing a black compression shirt and gray joggers like it was just a regular Sunday. The Lord is watching, how dare he?!

Jason’s smirk immediately came back when he realized what he was really about, “Oh, what? I can’t wear tight clothes now to the gym?”

“Not unless you want me to fight bitches. Because, just in case you forgot, I do fight bitches.”

“Language, or I’m telling mom. And I like it when you fight over me,” He said while grabbing at Y/N’s waist.

He immediately popped the vigilante’s hands off him, “Don’t involve my mother in and hands off mister.”

“Our mother, thank you,” Jason corrected.

“It’s giving incestuous, and last time I checked, there is no ring on this finger and my last name is not Todd.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Y/N was sat.

“I-, that was really hot and we’re gonna move on from that,” Y/N responded, and Jason once again had a cocky smirk on his face. Lord knows this man was more than likely dead serious. He’d drop everything and drive to a ring shop right now.

“Anyway, you need to go change sir. I don’t need them dirty, mud-bathing rats staring at what is for my eyes only.” Y/N responded, pointing back to their bedroom waiting for Jason to move.

“Oh, so I need to go change, but when you were wearing those tiny shorts, showing off what’s supposed to be for my eyes only, I got told to mind the business that pays me,” Jason asked with a laugh.

“Are you on my payroll?” Y/N questioned.

“No.”

“My point still stands.”

“You think you’re funny,”

“I think I’m hilarious, actually. In fact, I’m so funny, I’m going to get the extra small shorts I just got in the mail since you want to play with me.” Y/N turned around and sprinted for their bedroom.

“Oh, I’ll play all day,” Jason mumbled under his breath before throwing their gym bags down to the ground and kicking off his shoes before following his boyfriend into the room.

They did not make it to the gym, but they definitely got their workout in.

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[izvmimi]

cw: another wishful ending to bnha. about shigaraki but mostly from izuku's perspective. hint of a future healed!shigaraki x reader.

Izuku is not sure what he should wear for an occasion like this. 

Between the grueling, far too hands-on curriculum of becoming a hero, becoming the greatest hero Japan had to offer, and the aftermath of meta war that felt like ages (and probably aged him too), it was all too easy for him to forget that he is, in fact, still a teenager.

And a teenager doesn’t exactly always know what to wear when going to decide the fate of another man’s life.

Despite the fact that he’s pretty sure Hawks doesn’t actually care what he looks like at this point, Inko is kind enough to iron a suit for him and adjust the now shaggy-when-regrown mop of green curls into something professional once he’s dressed. She pats his face, letting her hand rest on the scarred side of his cheek.

“I think it will go well,” she reassures him, even though she can sense that he’s nervous. “You’re doing a good thing.”

Izuku is mostly sure, possibly 99% sure, but the 1% of uncertainty dissipates with his mother’s words. He nods.

“Right.”

—

About 5 months have passed since the culmination of the meta war. Owing to the valiant efforts of the people, with Quirks and without them, the guidance of multiple construction companies (including the Urarakas who have made not shy of hundreds of millions during this time), and heavy political support from local and abroad, the city is mostly rebuilt, to the point that it would be hard to believe that so much was destroyed in such a short time ago in recent history.

Izuku finds his way to the new Hero commission and stops at the front desk to present identification but is quickly passed through with a big smile from the security guard’s face. It’s still hard for him to get used to this treatment, but he remains polite and bows before making his way down to the conference room in the email.

A formal Hero Commission email addressed to around ten people, give or take, and he’s probably the last to arrive of those few, all of them seated at a round table once he arrives. Panicking a bit, he checks the time but before he can look at his phone, Hawks takes a moment to give him a once over and then stifle a laugh at his outfit.

“Now, don’t you look dapper?” he jokes.

Hawks is wearing a fitted suit himself, but he’s now president of the Hero Commission so it’s not out of the ordinary. All Might, offering a pleasant but weary smile next to him, is also dressed up, but he has been a fan of fitted suits in the public eye recently anyway so that’s not strange. Best Jeanist is… well, Best Jeanist… and perfectly coiffed and styled in… denim jeans. Mirio, however, is dressed down in a plaid button down and plain slacks, and bounces up to greet him pulling him to sit by him, Nejire, and Tamaki.

“Nice threads, Izuku!” Mirio cheers, while Nejire pulls at the sleeve and asks him if he bought it at the thrift store. Tamaki stares at a wall, having hit capacity for the number of people in the room.

Izuku wasn’t the last person here because Mirko and Katsuki squabble loudly as they finally enter the room, with Edgeshot in his diminutive form and difficult to see upfront trailing close behind, possibly annoyed (you couldn’t tell from this distance). Mirko is wearing athletic wear and Katsuki is wearing-

A suit.

Katsuki and Izuku lock eyes and the recognition sets in at the same time. His cheeks turn red and then he looks away before shuffling into his seat.

Once everyone has been settled and assistants have brought in coffee and pastries, Hawks finally moves to the first order of business.

A hologram shows in the center of the room with two images - one of Tomura Shigaraki taken as an aerial shot while he was screaming, in the midst of the meta war, and just beside it, an image of Tenko Shimura taken just a few days ago, at a construction site using his Decay quirk for demolition as part of a community service effort, quirk disabling wristlets in full display with the ability to be toggled on and off. The contrasts between these two images are evident - the rage distorting the young man’s features as Shigaraki as he is positioned to destroy and kill, unkempt white hair flowing in the air and a small serenity emanating from the young man’s visage as Tenko as he works to disintegrate rubble and clear land for reconstruction, dark hair cropped short and tousled slightly by fall breeze. If you look closely there is a hint of a smile in the second image, and fear in the eyes of the first.

Two very different men.

“We’re here to discuss our next steps with Shig-, Tenko Shimura.”

All Might lets out a breath no one knew he was holding. Izuku wonders if it’s by All Might’s request that Hawks has used his correct name, perhaps to honor his mentor and Tenko’s grandmother. He makes a mental note to always do the same. 

Katsuki keeps his lips pressed into a straight line and doesn’t say a word; Izuku doesn’t blame him, and in another circumstance would have never imagined being willing to sit for this conversation so easily, but he also appreciates that Katsuki is present for this vote at the very least.

“Let’s go through the facts.”

Hawks, pacing around the room, recounts the actions of the man once known as Shigaraki Tomura, as well as delineates what actions are his specifically and what actions were in conjunction with All For One. He shares testimonials from various psychiatrists who have worked with Tenko in this short period of rehabilitation before this discussion and the people who have worked with him on community service. He provides excerpts from social media influencers as well as political and religious opinions. 

The case is long and drawn out and by the time he is done, Mirko is yawning loudly and Mirio is trying very hard not to fall asleep. Aizawa, however, is asleep in the corner of the room, having shown up dead last, and not interested in a word being said.

A vote is meant to be cast by the end of today. Izuku wonders if Tenko is on the other side of that door, waiting for his fate to be decided. 

If no one can agree to rehabilitate him, he will most likely go to jail, deprived of the ability to use any Quirks possibly for the rest of his life. His best chance is now, as Izuku does not imagine any turnover in power will allow him as much amnesty as the current group here.

Izuku has spent the last few months pleading to the Hero Commission to consider his proposal, using the very fact that Tenko relinquished his OFA-related Quirks back to him almost immediately as a perfect example.

Tenko did give his inner child a second chance, and Tenko did fight back. He just needed help.

“All motions to go forth with a continued rehabilitation plan, please say-”

Mirko raises her hand immediately, interrupting.

“Aye.”

Placing both her feet on the edge of the table, she defends herself before anyone can ask.

“If he tries some shit again, I get a rematch,” she says, grinning. All Might gives her a pleased look but says nothing.

Aizawa chimes in from inside his sleeping bag.

“Aye.”

While Izuku’s eyes widen, Katsuki finally interjects.

“Have you guys forgotten this man killed me?”

“And lifted you up with his toes.” Mirko adds. “But you lived, didn’t you, pipsqueak?” she says, grinning. 

Best Jeanist, not at all pleased by the joke, raises his hand.

“Nay. This is a ridiculous idea.”

“What’s ridiculous is your outfits but we don’t-”

All Might clears his throat. “Aye.”

Endeavor takes a look at All Might, crossing his arms over his chest. His retirement is still hot off the presses, and he chooses to take a step back here too.

“Abstain.”

Izuku’s heart is racing and he’s not exactly sure why. Part of this waiting period involves Izuku keeping an eye on Tenko and in repeated conversations, he has always gotten the sense that Tenko could change but his hope had been tempered. The truth was, as much as he wanted to save Tenko, a small part of him was still a little angry for the harm he did, and he imagined that if he felt that way, it was only a fraction of what the public and his peers must feel.

But today, there seems to be a chance.

“Aye!” Mirio and Nejire say in unison and Tamaki quickly follows up. 

Katsuki rises suddenly and leaves the room and while Izuku wants to follow him, he knows that it’s a waste of time.

That’s a problem for days to come.

“And why exactly are we forgiving him?” Best Jeanist asks, as he rises himself to go after his student.

“Because we don’t plan to leave anyone behind,” Edgeshot finally admits. Best Jeanist shakes his head.

“It stays Nay for me but it’s your responsibility.” 

He files out of the room, but Hawks’ smile isn’t deterred, knowing he’ll come around. 

The majority chooses hope.

—

Four and a half years have passed since that vote.

Izuku watches his friend, a girl from the support class a year above him who isn’t Hatsume but just as good in her own realm, fiddle with tracking devices and quirk-neutralizing wristlets attached to the first iteration of Entropy’s Hero suit. Entropy’s hero costume doesn’t include a mask, but Izuku has an inkling that no one will recognize him prior to his debut as the man who almost laid waste to the entire country. There is something about a person’s soul that can permeate a vessel, it’s a reminder that beauty is only skin deep, but goodness will shine through no matter what one looks like.

Tenko is however somewhat handsome in the way that his Hero grandmother was beautiful and that helps. Wavy, dark hair frames his face to a shoulder length, and his dark eyes are actually warm now that he’s had time to shed off most of the loneliness. He’s filled out slightly with better food and less angst, which is another thing that is sure to make him more appealing to the masses. 

Izuku can still sense the trepidation however in the slight tremble of Tenko’s fingertips as he holds them out for the support engineer to readjust the gloves, and wonders if he’s projecting.

Part of the arrangement for Entropy’s debut is for Deku and Entropy to work as partners for at least a year to satisfy the civilians who still don’t trust him (with good reason) as a contingency plan in case Tenko changes his mind about being a productive member of society and needs someone to stop him a second time.

Izuku is pretty sure he won’t fall back into that dark place again by now, even if a select few will never, ever forgive him. Even Katsuki still grumbles, but agrees that Izuku might be right. 

“I feel like a leashed dog still,” Tenko finally pipes up as the engineer adjusts the literal silver collar on his neck. It’s meant to be a joke but it’s not exactly false. Izuku offers him a small consoling smile.

“It makes the commission happy, so bear with it, I guess.” Izuku says. It’s a lame response, he admits, but it’s all he has to offer. 

Between the emergency shock collar that’s stylized to appear as part of the prototype suit, a physical tracker, and internal restraints, there are a lot of things to stop Tenko from becoming Tomura again, but at least the adjustment of all of these in the homey atmosphere of Izuku’s apartment feels less like house arrest. 

Izuku’s girlfriend peers in from time to time from where she’s holed up studying for clinical examinations to check on their progress, a steaming mug in her hand. The girls wave at each other before she disappears again and locks the door, loud music with heavy bass playing from her computer speakers. 

It’s a miracle she’s not afraid of Tenko given Tomura almost killed her during the meta war too, but Izuku understands that this is a testament to how much she trusts his judgment. 

“Thank you for doing this,” he says finally to his friend. She practically beams.

“I’m just giving you the ‘your future wife is my bestie’ discount.”

Izuku goes red at the ears and Tenko stifles a laugh. She turns and gives him a look and he immediately looks away, somewhat startled by how quickly she gets into his face.

“It is however a really big favor, I just worry you’ll be somewhat accountable if something goes wrong, too.”

Tenko frowns. “I’m right here, you know,” he murmurs. He pauses before he uses her professional name, which turns out to not be so professional at all. “... Sparkles.”

Sparkles doesn’t hear him, the jitteriness of three days of no sleep in the setting of piled up audits at her security technologies company getting to her. “Just don’t forget to get me the paperwork, Izuku.” 

She then turns her attention back to Tenko finally as Izuku searches for a pen in a basket under the coffee table.

Tenko again, possibly too affected by how quickly, she moves, seems to stand up a little straighter as she sizes him up.

“Are you planning on hurting anyone?”

Sparkles hadn’t realized Izuku’s girlfriend had left the room again to grab more sugar for her tea.

“If he says yes, what exactly are you gonna do, babe?” she hollers, disappearing again before waiting for the answer. Izuku chuckles.

“I’d ask him if he meant it,” she yells back. She turns to him again, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Do you mean it? Are you planning on hurting anyone?”

Tenko tenses up and Izuku tries not to laugh, wondering if he should leave Tenko to Sparkles’ charms or allow him to rest.

Regardless, he has great aspiration for the world’s former greatest villain’s future, yet.

[wilwheaton]

I have a small part in the 1987 television movie (failed pilot) version of The Man Who Fell To Earth. Lewis Smith played the titular character. Beverly D'Angelo played my mom, his love interest. (Fun Star Trek connection: Bob Picardo is also in it).

My character was a Troubled Youth, which I gotta tell you was not a stretch for me at all. I was deeply, deeply hurting at the time we made it. I was struggling not to suffocate on all the emotional and financial burdens my mom put on my shoulders, and fully aware of just how much my dad hated and resented me. You need a kid who doesn't want to be an actor, whose eyes can't hide the pain? I'm your guy.

Anyway, one of the scenes I was in took place in a record store, where Troubled Youth steals some albums, before he is chased by the cops and saved by the Man Who Fell To Earth, who uses a glowing crystal to save his life from ... some scratches on his face.

We filmed the interior of the record store at Sunset and La Brea, in what I think was a Warehouse, and at the end of the day, I was allowed to buy some records at a modest discount.

I was deep into my metal years, on my way from my punk years to my New Wave years, so I only bought metal albums. I know I bought more than I needed or could carry (I was making a point that I was allowed to spend my own money, mom), but the only ones I can clearly remember are:

Iron Maiden - Piece of Mind

Judas Priest - Turbo and Defenders of the Faith

W.A.S.P - The Last Command

(I know this was in March of 1987, because Turbo had just come out.)

Of those, Piece of Mind is the only one I never really stopped listening to, even through all the different it's-not-a-phase phases. I still listen to it, today.

Ever since I became an Adult with a Fancy Adult Record Player And All That Bullshit, I have kept my records in two places: stuff I want right now, and stuff I keep in the library because of Reasons.

Generally, records move in one direction toward the library, even if it takes years to happen. I just don't accumulate albums like I once did, because I'm Old and set in my ways.

Earlier today, I decided that I wanted to listen to an album while I cleaned up the kitchen, and because I wanted to make my life more interesting, I opened the library cabinet for the first time in at least five years.

There was the very same W.A.S.P album from that day in March, 1987. I don't have any of the others -- I looked -- but The Last Command was right there.

Before I really knew what I was doing, I put it on the Fancy Adult Record Player and dropped the needle.

I watched four decades of dust build up with a satisfying crackle, and there was something magical and beautiful about hearing all the skips and the scratches, realizing I remembered them from before.

The title track was just as great as I remembered it. It struck all the same chords in me that it did in the late nineteen hundreds. The rest of the first side was ... um. It just didn't connect with me, and for the few moments I spent trying to find a connection, I don't think it ever really did. I would remember.

But I did remember how much I loved making those mix tapes, and what a big part of them that song was. I did remember how empowering it felt to not just spend my own money that I earned doing work I didn't want to do, but to spend it on music my parents hated, right under their noses. I did remember how impressed Robby Lee was, when I showed him my extensive heavy metal album collection.

Remembering all of that, in one of those cinematic flashes of rapid cut visuals and sped up sounds, told me why I kept this record, while I gradually sold or replaced the other records I bought that day with CDs, then mp3s, then lossless digital files, before finally coming all the way back to records, where I started.

I didn't listen to the second side. I didn't need to. I took it off the Fancy Adult Record Player, and put it back into the library, next to the George Carlin records.

[genoskissors]

Finally done! Thank you everyone for your patience!

Principal Monokuma’s Room Check!

Trigger Happy Havoc Boys

THH Girls Rooms

There are a few notes throughout to explain some things I thought most would not know (like Japanese traditions) or just to clarify things changed in localization.

Naegi-kun’s Room Edition

Sigh. It’s the private room where a high school boy spends his agonizing nights, even so, what’s with this plainness!? Why don’t you have something more shameful or embarrassing!? Naegi-kun, I’m disappointed in you!

Checkpoints: A: It’s the memo pad I prepared. It would be nice if it had Hope’s Peak Academy’s school emblem on it, to give it a rich feeling.

B: This is the key to the room. It has a key holder with the appropriate name on it. It cannot be bought and is very sophisticated, so improper usage is prohibited!

C: It’s a mock sword that was kept on the display shelf. Even though it was only decoration, it was carefully displayed, so an incident happened. Upupupu.

D: I heard that mysterious curly hair grows in boys’ rooms. An adhesive lint roller is useful for frequent cleaning! I’m so attentive! Note: Don't really know what this means, I think it might be referencing Junko's hair.

Ishimaru-kun’s Room Edition

It’s a room filled with study materials and is well organized, just as one would expect from a serious person like Ishimaru-kun’s room. Hmm~ If you spend all your energy on this, you won’t be able to focus on the killing game!

Checkpoints: A: Dictionaries and reference books are the most exciting when lined up neatly on your desk. Huh? Are you using them properly? Hee~...

B: He irons his uniform every day. Also, the armbands as well, so you know he really likes this things.

C: A New Year’s tradition, Kakizome. I suggest “In early spring, be careful of bears, as they can get ferocious!” Huh? Aren’t you going to start writing?

D: What kind of guy likes to swing around a bamboo sword even though he isn’t part of the kendo club? Do you stand on the ground, put your forehead on it, and spin around to split a watermelon? Note: This is a Japanese game called Suikawari.

Togami-kun’s Room Edition

Genuine rich people tend to seek a more modest sense of luxury rather than those who are nouveau riche. I have no clue how much Togami-kun’s room actually costs. Note: “Nouveau riche” refers to people who become rich themselves and “genuine rich people” refers to people who were born into a rich family, like Byakuya.

Checkpoints: A: It’s a violin or something. Famous ones can be worth billions. That’s more expensive than the famous Chinese medicine, bear bile, which is very pricey, roar! Note: Based on the phrase "violin or something" it's likely a viola. That's just my theory though.

B: There is nothing more difficult than determining the value of a painting. In many cases, collecting these masterpieces is not about appreciating art, but investing in it.

C: Ahaha! A red carpet laid out from the entrance, Togami-kun must be kidding me! That’s what the life of stardom is about!

D: The famous line “I will kill you, without fail!” is what makes Togami’s glasses indispensable! I can’t believe he has 10 of them, that’s quite a thorough preparation!

Oowada-kun’s Room Edition

I believe that biker gangs are a style and a fashion. That’s why it’s necessary for those who call themselves bikers to have an easy-to-understand logo or item that appeals to everyone. Upupu.

Checkpoints: A: These are the big flags put on the back of bikes, aren’t they? I always wonder if they are safe from being blown away by the wind.

B: These are all motorcycle magazines, right? I’m not going to go as far as suggesting philosophy books or economic magazines, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to open a textbook once in a while?

C: Are you really satisfied with the 5G “ Cypress Stick”? Isn’t the 1500G “Steel Broadsword” the catharsis? Note: I’m pretty sure this is a Dragon Quest reference.

D: This is the colorful banner of Oowada’s gang, “Crazy Diamonds”. Hmm, you’re only really good at difficult kanji.

Kuwata-kun’s Room Edition

Hey, Kuwata-kun, baseball doesn't even have a “ya” character! I know you don't like it, but now that you're at our school, maybe you could try to act like a baseball player, even if it's a front? Note: The Japanese word for baseball, Yakyuu (野球), has a “ya” in it, so I think Monokuma is just saying this to see if Leon will even care enough to react to his statement.

Checkpoints: A: Why do self-proclaimed punk fans like human skulls? A sea bream head has another sea bream inside, right? That's even more favorable! Note: I'm not gonna lie, I have no clue what that second sentence means. I think it relates to the saying “鯛の尾より鰯の頭”, but I still don't know how it correlates.

B: I want CDs and DVDs to come in splendid limited edition packaging, but they don’t fit neatly like this. How troubling.

C: Carrying your guitar case on your back and feeling tired as you walk around town is super cool. There was a time when I thought that way too.

D: In order to stand out and be popular, you need to have vocals. Kuwata-kun's purity is manly in a sense. I would like to hear his beautiful voice. Upupu.

Yamada-kun’s Room Edition

A utopia making the world’s geeks water at the mouth, the pink love nest of Buuko and Yamada-kun. As a despair maniac, I am driven by a desire for a room devoted solely to my hobby. Note: Buuko is Princess Piggles in the localization.

Checkpoints: A: Hey, I’m giving it everything I got to ask this question, is this what Yamada-kun is wearing? Isn’t it self-indulgent to wear it on his 170cm and 155kg body!?

B: “MARTIAL ARTS LADIES”, “This time, I’ll punish you on the mat!”.  I don’t understand why martial arts cosplay makes your heart pound.

C: Some people say these sheets and body pillow are perverted, but the desire for skin contact is neither two-dimensional nor three-dimensional.

D: Three-dimensional objects have a sense of unity because they are equipped with a three-dimensional concept. The shading of light and the convergence of existence are astonishing (The following is omitted). Note: “The following is omitted” is just a way of saying Monokuma kept rambling.

Yasuhiro-kun's Room Edition

Hagakure-kun’s love of fortune-telling is, quite honestly, shady, right? Even though he has all these tools, he still uses intuition to tell fortunes, doesn’t he? So, what in the world are these piles of junk for!?

Checkpoints: A: People with extremely dry skin tend to have a lot of wrinkles on their palms, which makes palm readers cry. It’s hard to even do fortune-telling these days.

B: Fortune-telling cards are great for mysteries and romance. If I sold "Monokuma’s Carefully Made Pure Gold Tarot", maybe I could make a profit. Upupupu.

C: If anything, Hagakure-kun has more of an oriental divination image. When I see tools like this, I want to display them in an alcove or something.

D: Come on! How many times do I have to say this!? When buying fortune-telling goods online, do not cash on delivery! This time, I was the one who paid for it too!

Fujisaki-kun’s Room Edition

Even though he’s the Super High School Level Programmer, Fujisaki-kun actually has a variety of hobbies. That’s good, science... a science student! I want to learn many things from him.

Checkpoints: A: Three monitors and a luxurious-looking executive chair. He looks like a young company president or day trader. A serious side profile would be wonderful!

B: I don’t know what this is, but it looks amazing anyway! It looks like an ancient map or some other geeky item.

C: After people learn how to interact with the romantic hyperspace of the universe, their outlook on life changes drastically. That’s what I thought just now.

D: Tada! There are hand grips on the bed! It makes me tear up to know he was secretly training.

[atinyslittleworld]

Fighting Hearts

boxer! mingi x nurse! reader

Summary: Mingi, a powerful underground boxer ensnared in a dangerous gang world, finds solace in Y/N, his caring personal nurse.

Genre: angst, romance

Warnings: description of Mingi’s injuries, none other I think

Mingi was known in the underground as a force to be reckoned with. His fists, like iron hammers, struck fear into the hearts of his opponents and respect into the eyes of his allies. The underground boxing rings, dark and humid, filled with the murmur of shady deals and the scent of sweat and blood, were his home. But beyond the ring, Mingi was entangled in a world even darker—the labyrinthine networks of gangs that ruled the city's underbelly.

In this grim world, trust was scarce and loyalty was a rare commodity, often bought and sold like a commodity. Mingi, however, had one constant in his life: Y/N, his personal nurse. She was a breath of fresh air in his otherwise suffocating existence. Y/N had been assigned to him by the gang leader, ostensibly to keep their prized fighter in peak condition, but Mingi knew it was also to keep an eye on him.

Y/N was everything Mingi wasn't. She was gentle where he was harsh, calm where he was tempestuous. Her presence brought a strange sense of peace to his chaotic life. Despite the perilous environment, she remained kind and professional, trying her best to stay detached from the violence and criminality that surrounded her. But it wasn't long before she found herself drawn to Mingi, despite her better judgment.

Their relationship started innocuously enough. A smile here, a shared laugh there. Y/N couldn't help but admire Mingi's dedication to his craft, even if it was rooted in a violent world she abhorred. Mingi, on the other hand, was captivated by Y/N's strength and compassion. He had seen countless people break under the pressure of gang life, but not Y/N. She was a beacon of light in his dark world.

The bond between them grew stronger. Y/N found herself caring deeply for Mingi, worrying about him every time he stepped into the ring or out into the streets. She tried to keep her distance, to remind herself that getting involved with someone like him would only lead to heartache and danger. But every time she patched him up after a fight, every time he looked at her with those intense, soulful eyes, her resolve weakened.

Mingi, too, struggled with his feelings. He knew that his world was no place for someone like Y/N. He had seen what happened to those who got too close to the darkness. Yet, he couldn't deny the way his heart raced when she was near, the way her touch soothed not just his physical wounds, but the deeper, invisible ones too.

One fateful night, after a particularly brutal fight, Mingi stumbled into Y/N's small clinic, bleeding and battered. His left eye was swollen shut, and his knuckles were raw and bleeding. Y/N's heart clenched at the sight of him. She had seen him hurt before, but tonight was different. There was a haunted look in his eyes, a depth of pain and weariness she had never seen before.

"Sit down," she said softly, guiding him to the examination table. Mingi winced as he lowered himself, every movement a reminder of the punishment his body had taken. Y/N worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning his wounds with gentle hands. The room was silent except for the soft sounds of her ministrations and Mingi's labored breathing.

As she stitched up a particularly deep gash on his forehead, their eyes met. In that moment, all the barriers they had built crumbled. Mingi reached out and gently cupped her face with his bruised hand. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice rough with pain and emotion, "I can't keep pretending I don't feel this way about you."

Y/N's eyes filled with tears. "Mingi, this world... it's too dangerous. For both of us."

"I know," he replied, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "But I can't lose you. You're the only good thing in my life."

Against her better judgment, Y/N leaned into his touch. "Then let's find a way out. Together."

It wasn't going to be easy. Leaving the gang world was almost impossible, and they both knew the risks. But for the first time in a long while, Mingi felt a glimmer of hope. With Y/N by his side, he believed they could find a way to escape the shadows and build a new life, far from the violence and corruption that had defined his existence for so long.

As they started to plan their escape, the dangers became more apparent. The gang leader, a ruthless man named Jae, had eyes and ears everywhere. They would need to be careful, gathering resources and allies without drawing suspicion. Y/N used her position as Mingi's nurse to gather information discreetly, while Mingi focused on maintaining his cover, all the while training and fighting as if nothing had changed.

Nights were the hardest. As Mingi lay on his cot, he would often think about the life he wanted with Y/N. A simple life, free from the violence that had been his constant companion. He dreamed of a small house in the countryside, far away from the city's grime and crime. He dreamed of peace.

Y/N, too, found herself dreaming of a future with Mingi. She imagined waking up next to him, sharing quiet mornings and peaceful evenings. She envisioned a life where she could use her skills to help people, without the shadow of the gang looming over her.

One evening, as they sat together in Y/N's clinic, Mingi took her hand. "I've been thinking," he said quietly. "We need to make our move soon. The longer we wait, the more dangerous it becomes."

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding. "I've been saving money. It's not much, but it should be enough to get us started."

Mingi smiled, a rare, genuine smile that made Y/N's heart ache. "You're amazing," he said softly.

As they continued to plan, their bond grew even stronger. They knew the risks, but their love gave them strength. Each day brought them closer to their goal, and each night they whispered their dreams to each other, drawing comfort from the shared hope.

The night of their escape was tense and filled with anxiety. Mingi had arranged for a trusted friend to help them get out of the city. Y/N packed their few belongings, her hands shaking with nerves. Mingi held her close, whispering reassurances. "We can do this," he said firmly. "Together."

As they slipped out of the city under the cover of darkness, their hearts pounded with fear and excitement. The journey was fraught with danger, but they moved quickly and quietly, avoiding the gang's patrols and keeping to the shadows.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the outskirts of the city. As dawn broke, they found themselves on a quiet country road, far from the chaos they had left behind. Mingi looked at Y/N, his eyes filled with love and gratitude. "We made it," he said and he grabbed her from the nape of her neck to kiss her.

Y/N smiled through her tears. "Yes, we did,” she said on his lips.

[bouquet-of-flow3rs]

!Pairing: Jay x reader!

Genre: fluff

Warnings: suggestive themes, reader loves dressing up.

Synopsis: You and Jay get ready for date night. On your 3rd anniversary.

[A/n: I wrote this at 2 in the morning during soft hours but I think its adorable!]

It's date night.

You adore date night, and not just because you get to go out on cute little dates no. But because you get all dolled up! Oh and also because you get to see your handsome boyfriend, but mostly because you get to wear cute little dresses and pretty shoes. Is that a very stereotypical thing to do? Yes, but you don't care. Especially not when you get to wear a stunning white, satin dress.

Today is a special day for you and Jay because you see it's your 3-year anniversary, and you and he plan to dine at one of the fanciest restaurants in all of Seoul, which happens to be run by one of Jay's father's friends. This man is a masterful chef with incredible kitchen skills. You've heard stories from Jay's mother that this is the man who taught Jay what he knows about cooking and your man is an amazing cook, you should know he loves to cook for you, you've tried cooking but whenever you do it ends with chaos, whether that be a burnt mean that is unrecognizable, or starting a tiny fire. After many incidents, Jay banned you from the kitchen and has practically become your personal chef.

But back to date night you and Jay are getting ready in your shared room, him being in the ensuite bathroom taking a shower, while you sat at your vanity doing your makeup, you wanted your dress and jewelry to be the focus point of your look for the night so you settled with a minimal look with a hint of glitter for eyeshadow, after completing your look it was time for you to pick a lip color, you weren't sure which of your collection to go with, should you chose a luxury brand or perhaps a drugstore one? You decided to go with one of your many luxury branded lipsticks, truthfully you didn't wear a lot from your extensive collection you only bought them because you liked the packaging or received them as gifts courtesy of your wonderful boyfriend, you decided to pick a color that is similar to your natural lip shade but makes your lips appear more juicy, before applying it you dig through all of your lip liners and find one to compliment it well, after linking your lips you finally apply the lipstick and as you stare at the masterpiece on your face you are happy with the shade you chose.

Once done with the makeup look you move onto your hair, you can hear the water shut off and the shower curtain being moved. You focus back onto yourself ignoring the blaring sound of the blow-dryer being turned on as well as the music Jay is blasting from your bathroom's speakers. You decide to add slight curls to your [H/l] hair but keep them relatively lose, you too have your own music playing and the the song currently playing distracts you as you pretend your curling iron is a microphone to sing along to the catchy lyrics of Beabadoobea's ‘Glue Song’ A song that has always reminded you and your boyfriend, as you finish curling the first layer you are thankful to hear the blow-dryer turn off and your boyfriend cut off his music before exiting the bathroom, from your vanities mirror you see hot steam escape into your room, you place your curling iron onto its hot plate turning around to see your boyfriend enter your room in one a towel that is hung low on his lips accompanied by a towel wrapped around his neck, he still has drops of water rolling down his torso as he walks past you and over to your shared wardrobe opening the left side which is his, at seeing him you immediately begin to wolf whistle making him chuckle and shake his head, “Damn, babe you're looking good.” You admire him as he slips on a pair of dress pants, after sliding those on he once again walks past you but not before placing a delicate kiss on the top of your head, “Thank you gorgeous.” He smirks out watching your flushed face, as you eye him from the reflection.

Once your hair is done you make sure to shake out the curls so they are more natural looking, you pull out a hand mirror from a drawer to make sure the back of your hair looks okay, and once you see it does you blow a kiss yourself in the mirror before standing from your vanity and making your way to the wardrobe to pull out your new white, satin dress.

You take it out of its dress bag and unzip it before taking it off of the hanger, you slip into it but can't quite reach the back of it to zip yourself up, “Jay, baby can you help zip me up?” You call out for him and he emerges from the bathroom with a black button-up, dress pants buckled with a fancy belt. And his hair is freshly styled. 

“Oh my god, how did I get so lucky..” You breathe out gawking at the man in front of you. Jay takes small steps towards you admiring all the effort you put into yourself for him, truthfully you are beautiful to him no matter what but seeing you in a stunning white dress makes him dream of your future together. “Oh dove, you look stunning.” He remarks gazing at you tenderly. “Thank you, my love.” You smile dreamily.

 “Can you please help zip me up?” You question turning around and moving your hair out of the way. He trails his hands down your exposed back making you shiver at his touch and making you can't help but want more. Eventually, his hands trail down to where your zipper is located as he slowly drags it up your dress, he uses one hand to zip it up the other leaving longing touches across your exposed neck and shoulder area before eventually sliding down to hold your waist, once he's zipped you up he leaves open mouth kisses along your neck, you can feel his tongue brush against you with ever kiss he places, you hum at the feeling before spinning around and wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands drop to capture your waist “as much as I'd love to continue this, I'd really love some dinner.”

You express playfully leaving kiss marks all over his face “Anything for you my [Y/n].” He responds placing a kiss to the tip of your nose, making your heart do backflips. “Happy anniversary Jay.” You whisper leaning your forehead against his “Happy anniversary my love.”

______________________________________________________________

Please reblog and like if you enjoyed this!

[moondirti]

DEE IK THIS IS SO OFF THE BAT BUT IMAGINE RIDING MIGUEL’S ABS??!;!;?:?:? WHATS UR CRUMB ON THAT BCS IM LITERALLY ASCENDING INTO HEAVEN JUST BY THE THOUGHT OF IT😩☝🏼

SUMMARY: after the events of DOUBLE RAPTURE, we follow Mig back home and explore his less than ideal relationship with his world's version of you.

explicit (18+) | 1.5k words

part one / can be read as a standalone! WARNINGS: smut, ab-riding, handjobs, codependant relationships, submissive (?) miguel, ANGST, fear of commitment (on the reader's part), implied parental issues, drinking, anxious/avoidant attachment styles NOTES: did this take me forever to respond to? yes. have i been thinking about it every day since i received it? also yes. please have a little drabble as a sweet treat for your genius mind, anon. sorry i took it too far

This is how it is with Miguel.

Buttressed on a leather couch that isn't so much leather anymore, but cotton dotted with the flakes of black suede that've managed to hold on through the years since you bought it. It's old, unstable – somewhat an apt metaphor for your relationship to the man – and stands situated across a television with no cable. He shows up at your door on any unannounced night, where for once you wish he'd catch you with plans pre-made, and intrudes on your vain attempt to connect the old screen to your neighbour's internet.

And it's ironic that you should end up watching dated cartoons anyway, stuck inside your apartment that is a fraction the size of his, because he always opens on some variation of the same line – the very thing that woo'd you all those years ago, when you were younger and prone to any man's charm:

What's a pretty thing like you do in a place like this?

It's dark outside – night-worn inhibition being one of the main constituents to poor decision making – and his skin gleams golden in the dim lamp light. You can't refuse him for all your rationale on why, so he comes in and you pour a strong drink whose hangover tomorrow will take precedence over your guilt. He drinks too, perhaps to make your eventual rejection easier, and the two of you make-out on that tumbledown couch until your lips turn blue.

Sometimes, he comes up for air – only when he gathers enough courage to break away from you – to whisper filthy nothings and little promises on the shell of your ear. Neither are empty, you know. Miguel’s good at making good of every word when it comes to you. The push and pull gets to him, fuels his gears until he’s pouring proper work into making you happy. From what you can physically face – gonna have you creaming on my cock, cariño – to prospects that remain ever-frightening – wanna stay like this forever, you on my lap, sharing our home. 

You’ve never had a reference to ‘our’. Commitment remains a fickle thing for you, instilled by parents who didn’t have the mind to give it. He knows as much, but you don’t think he understands just what keeps you around regardless. What keeps you at the door, waiting for an acknowledged three-knuckle knock. None of the in betweens, flowers, nor the heights you reach spread-eagled underneath him. It’s always just been exactly that – his return, done every time without fail. 

(And there’s the ever-negging fear that one day he’ll grow sick of the cycle. 

On one hand, you hope he does. It hurts him more than it does you, and you hate to watch him leave. Yet on the other, more volatile hand – you pray he fucks you so well you forget your reserve, that he breeds and carries you away from this hole you’ve dug yourself in.) 

For now, though–

For now, you lift the shirt off his frame. He’s let his chest-hair grow since you met him last, and if you strain to remember, he’s gotten bulkier. Abs more pronounced, with pecs that bounce when you graze your nails down his side. It’s refined, a look that makes him appear older. You swoop down to lick his neck, moaning hotly once you reach his mouth. 

“You been working out, Mig?” 

“For you, hermosa. Figured you’d like me better like this.” He groans, kneading the flesh of your thighs. His fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, snapping it on your skin in an explicit plea to take it off. 

“And who told you that?” You say, acquiescing, working the lacey strip off your hips. Your cunt sucks at it, belligerent in letting go now that it’s soaked the fabric through. 

“A couple I met. They remind me of us.” His head follows yours when you draw away from an attempted kiss. It’s unintentional, done to stand off and strip completely, yet his reaction to it sends little tremors of pleasure to your core. “Of what we could be.” 

“Shhhh.” Once you’re completely bare, tits freed from your tank top, you straddle him again, a little higher this time. His waist is cinched enough to allow you to do so with little fuss, tendons at the top of your thighs aching only slightly. “Make me feel good, please.” 

“Of course.” 

His thumb presses down on your swollen clit, holding it in place while you arch your back and trap it underneath you – sandwiching it between your mound and his midriff. The pressure is electric, charged to fervency, buzzing as it lights every nerve ending from your waist below. And three thrusts forth and back see to it that he’s slick, lubed with the juices that gradually seep from your needy slit. 

The sight, the sensations, the thought that he’s putting effort outside of this room for you – they all make you exceedingly weak. Your legs wobble, practically jello, spine made out of sand and unable to support you fully. Miguel stays firm, one large paw squeezing your breast and the other at your pelvis. You’d ask him to help, to move you against him until you see stars, but a stone lodges in your throat and prevents the words from finding clarity. 

It’s guilt, of that you’re familiar, but for a number of things; the fact that he would help you seek pleasure in spite of his own – his erection left abandoned under the confines of his pants. The idea of desecrating his hard work, those muscles made pronounced, with your filth without fully appreciating it first. For everything, everything, and it’s so crushing that you stop moving altogether. 

“No, no. C’mon, pretty. Keep going.” He begs, pelvis thrusting up with need. You shove your arm behind you, seeking out the zipper keeping him from you, palming his hard length with clumsy assurance “Don’t worry about me. Wanna feel you cum on my abs. Gonna lick you clean after. We have forever if you’d let me. There’s no rush.” 

No rush. It’s far from the typical Miguel sentiment, and you blink in perplexed contemplation. But he just grins, brows knitting up with reverence. 

“Did these people also teach you to take your time?” You struggle to say patience, because he’s always been patient with you. 

“Something along the lines.” He mutters, suddenly sheepish. His fangs always intrude when his tone is quiet, like they’re intentionally making him difficult to understand. He knows he’s special to you when you try to decipher it nonetheless. 

“Don’t be making me jealous, now.” You taunt, dipping to bite his lip. It’s fun to pull up, up, until he whines and shoves you harder onto him. Achingly empty and close to cumming on his abdomen alone. Slowly, you start to gyrate again, riding unrelenting sinew. And in the meanwhile, you manage to get his zipper undone, sneaking your hand beneath his briefs.

“I’ll explain lat… later, p-promise.” 

“I don’t doubt it. F-Fuck,” Somehow, the pleasure is simultaneously heavenly and not enough, this little game you decided to engage in tiptoeing the line. He’s good even when he isn’t trying, just laying there, pinching pebbled nipples with enough callousness that it aches in the best way. On your first date – which wasn’t really a date, but a happenstance meeting at your father’s shady bar – he’d been hesitant to hurt you like you wanted. The best he could do was pepper your neck with sore hickeys, pocketed in the back alley, touch kinder than any you’d experienced before. “Oh my god.”

“Y-You’re so soft. My gorgeous girl. So soft and… and pretty when you do that.”

“Mig.” You wail, useless in properly pumping his pulsing cock. It’s all you can do to palm the head, smearing prespend all over his velvet tip. And it’s hard, like smelted iron, throbbing hot and heavy. It’s been so long since you’ve had it in you that you’re sure it’ll take some effort to fit. The abstraction fills you with desperation so poignant that you start moving faster, rougher, seeking an end where you’re stuffed full yet doing nothing to actually achieve it. 

That is, until–

“What do you need?” He asks.

Your hole clenches. Your guts knot together. Your orgasm gathers, full and sloshing wet, trapped behind the wall he’s been breaking down since his arrival. 

“You!” You finally admit. “You.” Softer. 

And when you cum, soaking his middle with shameless indulgence, all he does is flip you over to settle beneath him. The couch rocks with the sudden upheaval, threatening collapse, so he keeps a firm hold of your shoulders, kneeling between your quivering thighs. His breadth bobs from over his pants – you don’t recall taking it out – purple with restrained pain and just waiting for your cue to allow him entry.

“I’ve got you, cariño.” Miguel hums, positioning himself onto the divet of your cunt when you give a frail nod. “I’ve got you.” 

And you know, of course you do. He’s never backed away from a promise before. Because that is how it is with Miguel.

[hellenhighwater]

Do you get a lot of use out of your soldering iron? It's one of those craft tools I've had my eye on for awhile but haven't been able to justify the cost

I have a couple, and yeah. One I mostly use for basic electrical work, like repairing power cords or making cables for stuff, which I bought in high school. I have another one I use for stained glass leading, inherited from my mom, and a third that is for woodburning--technically it can also do soldering but I just use it for that, which I've had for at least ten years. All three of them get semi-regular use, but I do have more hobbies than is advisable; it's going to depend on what you want to do.

I do consider soldering one of those basic, versatile skillsets that's worth having no matter what you do. If nothing else, you will be far more able to conduct basic repairs on stuff you own if you know how to solder. If you don't expect to do a ton of soldering, or not much high-precision soldering, you can probably get away with a cheap one.

However, I'm of the opinion that money spent on a good tool is always money well spent. The more tools you have and can use competently, the more stuff you can make; as you learn to understand what your tools are capable of, you'll find yourself coming up with projects that would not have even occurred to you before you learned the skill. It is a blessing and a curse.

[jay-m3]

Role-playing

Scenario: You get them to role-play as your favorite characters in the bedroom

Male reader! Warning* Language, NSFW themes (Heavily implied), Implied cross dressing Characters: Alastor, Adam, Lucifer, and Vox

Alastor

It was a hard feature to get Alastor to agree to do role-playing. Even worst as you suggested for him to dress up. But with a lot of obeying orders like a good boy and batting your eyelashes, he finally caves in.

"If I do this...role-playing, you will owe me a favor." Alastor states, taking the clothing that you bought just for him. He looks at the suit, making sure not to wrinkle it even though, it will soon be tossed away as the role-playing progress.

"Uh huh, yeah. Go put it on!" You say dismissively, wanting to see how he looks. You spent a lot of money for this.

Giving a silent sigh, he makes his way behind the screen room divider to change.

"And who am I dressing as?" Alastor asks, stepping around the divider to show you the outfit.

"Sebastian Michaelis!" You squeal out, rushing in front of him to look how the outfit fits. Which was perfect! Of course, going to the tailor that Alastor usually goes to was a smart plan since they already know of his measurements.

"The one in your comics, yes?" He asks, basking in your attention. He won't admit it though the outfit may be for a lesser person of power, it was comfortable and formal. The only thing he was not appreciative is the gloves. Instead of his black gloves that reaches his mid forearm was white wrist gloves. White was not his color.

"It's called Manga and yes. Sebastian is a very powerful butler demon. He's very cunning, manipulative, and charming. So I don't think you'll have any trouble fitting that role." You hummed out, adjusting his tie that was perfectly in place but you just wanted to touch already.

"Well then," Alastor pulls you in by the waist, "as a butler I should start doing the task that is wanted of me." He takes your chin in his hands, lifting your face to make you're eyes make contact with his own. His natural red eye color a perfect match for Sebastian.

Adam

"I feel stupid." Adam whines out behind the closed door. He's hiding in the bathroom after taking the costume with him to change.

"Oh, I'm sure you look amazing. Just come out!" You encouraged, sitting down infront of the bed where it was facing the door that Adam was behind.

"I don't look nothing like the guy." He complains before a thud is heard and the door shakes a little.

You sighed, knowing that he must have tapped the door with his head, a little bit too aggressively.

"So? I didn't look anything like Misa Misa but I still wore it last time." Last time was his choice of what you guys do in the bedroom. He picked out Misa Amane from Death Note. Apparently, he has a thing for goth chicks, also stating that your dick in panties was a bonus for him.

"Ugh! Fine. Just don't luagh. I swear, the things I fucking do for you." You were in mid eye roll when Adam opens the door. The sight of him makes you hold in your breath. There he was, in a Iron Man costume that you and him worked hard in finding. It wasn't amazing like those cos players but way better than the Halloween version.

"Go ahead. Luagh-" Adam didn't get to finish as you start to kiss him. Immediately, he holds your waist, pulling you close as you both make out. Your hands cupping his face, feeling the freshly styled facial hair that he formed to a goatee for this day. This man let it all grow just for you.

"Fuck." Adam gasps, pulling back to take a breath. Looking down at your flushed state, a smirk forms on his face.

"I'm Tony Stark and I've saved my best weapon for you."

Lucifer

You and Lucifer are in the beginning of love making. Kissing each other passionately, clothes already thrown to who knows where. His hands running up and down your sides, sending thrill of arousal mixed with tingles that supposed to make you luagh from the ticklish sensation. As it progress, you pull away, looking down at him from your place straddling his lap.

He quirks a brow at you, wondering why you pulled away, leaning back with a shy look instead of attacking his neck with love bites.

"Is something wrong?" He asks, running his hands down your thighs to soothe you and himself.

"I just...I want to try something new." You mumble out, looking away from him. The heat that's spread on your form rises. Making your skin fill in goosebumps from the thought in your mind.

"Oh? Tell me baby. I'm all up for it." Lucifer states, feeling warmth flood his system at the idea of you asking him many things that he can provide. This whole sex thing is nothing new, nor kinks. He has done many things in the past, some questionable but when you have centuries of free time, one gets bored.

"You know how you can shape shift...right?" You ask like it was something new to him even though it's one of his powers that he usually uses just cuase he can.

He nods staying silent, letting you keep the pace with your thoughts. As he sees you struggle, you lean over to the bedside table and grab your phone. You type in Voogle and show the image to Lucifer.

"...You want me to shape shift to Lucifer Morningstar in that TV show?" You groan, throwing the phone to the side and cover your face in embarrassment.

"I know, I know...but at least it's still basically you." You mumble out, more to yourself before you feel a slight shift under you. Uncovering your eyes, you come face to face with the Lucifer that the TV series betrays him as.

"Now then..." Lucifer purrs, getting into character before he flips you both over so he was now on top.

"Tell me, what do you desire?"

Vox

Role-playing wasn't something that was talked or thought about in your relationship. Until Vox noticed your obsession with a character that you'll bring up time to time. Even collected figurines and posters.

He hasn't payed much attention to it but the more you obsessed over this fictional character, the more thought of just figuring out what gift he can give you about this character for your birthday. You basically have almost all the merchandise. A room dedicated for your obsession, filled and nicely decorated.

As he enters the room, he takes a picture and image search this bitch. Immediately, he gets taken to many sites and other images about this character. Which leads to a deep dive of cosplays.

"Vox?" You call out, walking in the bedroom to find your boyfriend. You already searched the whole penthouse except here.

"Hey." A familiar voice that wasn't Vox makes you perk up. Turning around, there leaning on the door frame acting cool and nonchalant, arms crossed is your boyfriend dressed as the one and only Kakashi Hatake.

"How did you do that!" You rush toward him, a big smile plastered on. You don't know if to luagh or fan boy.

Vox takes in your reaction, feeling out of his comfort zone but the stars in your eyes makes him relax. He's sure you're referring to his screen. Instead of his usual face, he digitalized his screen to form Kakashi's face or half of it since the mask was in the way.

"A whole team of animators and lots of replacements." Vox even changed his voice filter to sound like the ninja.

While you admire him, he takes a step forward to lean close to your face, seeing how you hold your breath.

"Would you like to act out a scene from my book, Icha Icha Paradise?" He asks seductively, pulling out a replica of the book from his back pocket and taps your head with it.