#and don't even get me started on his expression

[sugoroo]

# PUT ME IN A MOVIE!

ʚɞ summary. in which the jjk men decide to send a snippet of your fun in the sheets to a friend, so you better be ready to put on a good show. . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + nanami.

warnings. fem!reader, exhibitionism, filming of sex, oral (m receiving), facial, fingering, pussy slaps, penetration (p in v), doggystyle, spanking + brief choking in toji's, squirting, handjob, 18+ minors dni.

SATORU GOJO

"yeahhh, stay just like that for me, baby," satoru croons as he peers down at your patiently waiting form, raising the phone slightly to get the best possible angle of your position knelt between his legs. "suguru's gonna dig this."

"isn't he gonna be pissed at you for sending him something like this while he's on a mission abroad?" you inquire curiously, raising an eyebrow as your boyfriend quickly dismisses your question with a simple wave of his hand.

"nah, i'm sure he'll appreciate having some... material to keep him sated during that boring ass assignment." the white-haired menace grins unapologetically, reaching down with his free hand to push some loose strands of hair out of your eyes. "—not to mention, he's always going on about how pretty he finds you. he should be honoured i'm willing to let him see this, honestly."

"if you say so, toru," you hum sceptically with a small shrug, earning yourself a fond head pat from the aforementioned man as he returns his attention to the view from behind the screen. "and what do you want me to do, exactly?"

"just do what you usually would before sucking me off," satoru instructs, before pausing to scratch the underside of his chin thoughtfully. "but add a little more teasing just to make him squirm when he watches it, heh."

"that's so mean! poor sugu." you tease lightly, running your hands over his toned thighs through the material of his sweatpants. there's already a visible tent growing at the crotch; no doubt from the mere idea that his bestfriend is going to be witnessing this exact moment in a few hours, too.

"oh yeah, he's just sooo mistreated by getting a video of my hot girlfriend putting her mouth on my dick." he gasps theatrically, before erupting into a small fit of laughter at his own antics, causing you to roll your eyes in response.

"now now, don't go getting ahead of yourself." you tut chidingly, punishing him with a sharp flick to his pelvis through his trousers and causing him to yelps dramatically in pain — however, the sound quickly morphs into a soft moan when you soothe the sting by nuzzling your nose against it.

purposefully teasing him just as you were told, you drag your face from the side of his hip to the unmistakeable bulge pressing against the fabric of his pants, brushing your lips over it and gazing up at the camera lens of the phone through your lashes.

"mmm. look at her, suguru," satoru groans deeply, using two fingers to zoom in on your expression as you start gently mouthing at his clothed erection. "bet you wish she was doing this to you right now, huhh?"

but his plans to utter mocking comments to his friend throughout the duration of the video quickly unravel once you've gotten his lower half bare, the only sounds leaving his lips being broken whines and moans of pleasure as you work him over with your mouth and tongue.

"f-fuck, baby, that's—" he attempts to speak, bright eyes rolling back so far in his head he swears he sees the pearly white gates of heaven when you start fondling his neglected balls in time with the practised bobs of your head. "so goood."

"yeah?" you murmur once you slide your mouth off the end of his saliva-coated cock with a lewd pop!, blinking up at both him and the camera with a mischievous smile. "or maybe you're just feeling even more sensitive than usual because you know suguru's gonna be watching this later, hmm?"

"h-hey!" satoru whisper-shouts in embarrassment, pale cheeks visibly staining a deep shade of pink behind the phone as a little trickle of gooey pre-cum oozes from his angered tip as a result of your words. "don't say stuff like that, he'll never let me live it down."

"oh, come on," you chuckle in amusement, slowly lolling your tongue out to lick a long, teasing stripe across the underside of his veiny shaft. "like he isn't gonna be jerking one out to this exact part of the video imagining what you looked like behind the camera while i did this to you."

"shit— y-you really think he'll do that?" he breathes out shakily, cock twitching from both the visual image you've conjured up in his head and the feeling of your pleasureful ministrations against him.

"oh, i know he will," you purr in a low, sultry caress of a tone as you flick the tip of your tongue over his leaking slit just the way he likes it. "he'll probably even cum at the same time you do, just from hearing your sounds."

"oh god... baby, ngh!, i'm g-gonna—" and satoru can't even finish his sentence before he's throwing his head back in ecstasy, thick ropes of milky cum spurting from his cockhead and splattering across your features.

"hm, i think you might've been right after all," you muse as you collect some of his release from your cheek, delving it into your mouth and making direct eye contact with the camera while sucking it from the digit. "suguru is gonna dig this."

SUGURU GETO

"ah ah, c'mon, pretty, none of that," suguru scolds as you try to snap your legs closed again, prying them right back open with his free hand while the other brings the phone closer to your dripping cunt. "gotta make sure satoru gets a good view, don't we?"

you whine in embarrassment, bringing your own hands up to cover your heated face as your boyfriend uses two of his slender fingers to separate your puffy pussy lips, a low groan leaving his throat as he does so.

"such a cute little pussy, aren't you?" he croons, seemingly having no reservations about talking to it as he trails the pad of one of his fingers down your leaking slit. "yeahh, i know you are. and so does satoru now, too."

"s-sugu, stop it!" you squeak quietly, peering down at him between the cracks of your fingers with an involuntary pout. he only chuckles at your display of shyness, the edges of his violet eyes crinkling with amusement as he reaches up to gently tug your hands away from your face.

"and why should i, baby?" suguru hums smoothly, trapping both of your wrists in the grip of one of his large hands while he props the phone up against your thigh so he can continue playing with your cunt. "i know you secretly like it, otherwise she wouldn't be so soaked."

"t-that's not—!" you huff in protest, quickly trailing off when he abruptly punishes you for lying in the form of a sharp smack! against your tacky folds.

"what have i told you about telling me fibs, hmm?" he tuts, soothing the sting of the slap by rubbing the heel of his palm over your twitching skin. "you're making me look bad in front of satoru. and you don't want that, do you, sweet girl?"

"...no." you mutter meekly, feeling your body once again betray you by oozing more webby arousal onto his fingers at the mere thought that satoru is going to be watching this video later tonight.

suguru releases yet another rich laugh as he carefully scoops up some of your translucent juices with a finger, waving it around in front of the camera lens before sinking it into his mouth with a satisfied hmph. "i bet he's gonna wish he was here get a taste of you too. you know how much he loves sweet things."

"y-yeah?" you mumble breathlessly, hips weakly bucking up in search of some friction as his words sink straight down into the already coiling spool of pleasure buried in the depths of your stomach. "and would you let him?"

he taps the bottom of his chin in thought for a few moments, a cat-like smile spreading across his lips as he leans over you to whisper in your ear, hot breaths brushing against the hairs on the side of your neck. "only if he took it from my fingers... i wouldn't let him drink from the source — no, that's for me only."

a small mewl of pleasure escapes you at his words, and that's when his eyes flicker down to notice that you've sneakily managed to wriggle one of your wrists from his grip and ease one of your own fingers into your fluttering hole while he was speaking.

oh, you're in for it now.

suguru rips your hand away from your cunt, pinning both above your head this time before lowering his own between your writhing thighs and making direct eye contact with the camera from beneath his dark lashes. "now you're gonna see what happens when my girl misbehaves, satoru. hope you're strapped in for a bumpy ride."

TOJI FUSHIGURO

"c'mon, mama, i know y'can do a better arch for me than that," toji huffs impatiently as he delivers a sharp slap to your raised ass, making your entire body jolt with a mix of surprise and arousal. "don't ya wanna impress shiu, hmm?"

his words fly straight past your brain, shooting directly down to your stuffed cunt as you bend the front of your body even further down into the mattress, pushing your rear back against him with renewed vigour.

"ohhh, look at that," your boyfriend chortles amusedly, soothing the red handprint where he'd slapped with a gentle pat as a form of reward for your obedience. "looks like my girl is gettin' off on putting on a good ol' show for for my handler, huh? cute."

"shut up, toji," you mutter in response, voice slightly muffled by the material of the pillow as he continues to pound into you in full view of the phone propped up on the bedside table. "like you're not enjoying this too."

"heh. never said i wasn't, baby," he grunts from behind you, rough hands spreading the globes of your ass apart further to give the camera a better picture of the way his thick girth disappears inside of you with each thrust. "i like the idea of showin' him somethin' he can never have."

"you— mmph! — you wouldn't consider letting him join in?" you squeak out through the haze of pleasure he's put you in, hips halting their wriggles backwards as you unsurprisingly fail to keep up with his vicious pace.

"nah," toji hums casually, the only sign of him tiring out being the small tremor in his voice when he feels your spongy walls tighten around him in response to him hitting a particularly deep spot. "wouldn't be opposed to havin' him sit and watch us, though."

he can tell how much you support the idea by the way a gush of arousal drips out of you as soon as the words leave his mouth, dripping down his cock and splattering lewdly against his heavy balls.

"ohh, you like that, dont'cha?" he rumbles, reaching a large hand around to wrap around the front of your throat, giving it a light squeeze. "like thinkin' about shiu sat right next to the bed and jerkin' one out to the sight of me fuckin' you good, huhh?"

a wanton moan spills from your lips at this, pussy almost cutting off the blood circulation in his cock with how tightly it squeezes him when you cum. his darkened eyes flicker down, groaning when he sees the way your translucent juices spray the sheets beneath the two of you.

"hot damn, baby," toji growls, swiping up the phone from the bedside table and bringing it closer to film the mess you've caused where your bodies are connected. "ya see this shit, shiu? think we might have'ta organize a little cucking session some time soon, don't you?"

CHOSO KAMO

"s-so who are you planning on showing this to again?" choso utters sheepishly from his position splayed out across the bed, cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink and twitching cock standing to attention between his legs as you aim the phone in his direction.

"just yuki," you hum casually, peering over the top of the device and giving him a small, reassuring smile. "are you sure you're okay with this? because we can always stop if—"

"—no! i-i mean, no thank you," he squeaks hurriedly, shy chestnut eyes darting to the side in embarrassment as he registers just how eager he sounded. "i'm fine."

you release a soft laugh at his shyness, reaching down to cup one of his rosy cheeks in your free hand give it a teasing squeeze. "aww, is thinking about yuki seeing you like this making you all flustered, baby?"

choso lets out a quiet whine at how easily you read him, bare body squirming slightly against the mattress in response to your words. "i-it's just... sometimes she can be so mean. what if she makes fun of me for this?"

"oh, she won't," you purr seductively, trailing your fingers down from his cheek to his plump pectorals that rise and fall with each heavy breath he takes. "she'll be too busy... taking care of herself after watching this video."

his mouth falls open into a comical little 'o' shape at the mental image your implication alights in his mind, the flushed tip of his cock spurting out a trail of translucent pre-cum as a result. "she'll really be doing that because o-of me?"

"of course, pretty boy," you hum amusedly, giving one of his pebbled nipples a soft tweak with your thumb and forefinger and relishing in the little yelp the action earns you. "you have no idea how delicious you look right now, do you?"

choso shakes his head meekly, back arching off the bed as he needily pushes his chiselled torso into your touch. "n-no. but... can you tell me? how d-delicious i look?"

"mhmm," you coo softly, propping the phone up against one of his thick thighs so both of your hands are free to play with his quivering cock. "you look good enough to eat, cho. such an obedient boy, all laid out for me like this."

your boyfriend whimpers pathetically at your praise, messy tresses of dark hair sticking to his forehead with sweat when you finally wrap a hand around his girthy base. "k-keep talking to me, pretty girl. please?"

"...and it's not just me who thinks you're perfect, either," you continue as you begin to stroke him languidly, other hand snaking down to gently fondle his heavy balls and making his legs tremble either side of you in response. "bet yuki's gonna be soaked just from watching this video."

"s-shit—! can't... gonna cum already," choso cries out, hips frantically bucking up into your fist like a teenager receiving his first handjob before his cock twitches violently beneath your hold, thick stripes of cum oozing from his reddened tip.

you quickly stop the recording so you can pull his shaky body into your arms, comforting him through the aftershocks of his intense orgasm as he buries his head into your clothed chest with a content mewl.

"...m-maybe we should do that more often." comes choso's soft, barely audible mumble as he peers up at you from between his messy bangs once a few minutes of comfortable silence have passed.

and oh, if that's how worked up a simple bit of filming is going to get him each time? you definitely agree.

KENTO NANAMI

"hopefully this video helps hiromi relax a little bit," nanami muses as he sets up the phone against the pillow next to your head, angling it so the lens of the camera has the perfect view of your sprawled out form waiting for him. "he's been ever so stressed lately."

"you're so considerate, ken," you hum affectionately as he settles himself between your legs, reaching up to caress his cheek with the pad of your thumb. "doing all of this for your friend."

"mmm," he hums warmly, leaning his angular face into your touch slightly as he places his large hands either side of your body. "and you're the perfect wife, agreeing to let me film such an intimate moment. i love you so much, honey, you know that?"

"i know," you respond with a gentle smile, eyes flickering down to watch as he aligns his leaky cock with your awaiting cunt. "i love you too, kento. always."

he returns your smile with a loving one of his own before slowly, with the utmost care, beginning to ease himself inside of you. he relishes in the way your arms fly to the back of his neck for support and your legs wind around his waist as each inch makes its way home — but most of all, the way the camera catches every moment as it happens.

the thought of hiromi watching this later and growing hard in his work slacks, paired with the heavenly feeling of bottoming out within the familiar coziness of your spongy walls, has nanami groaning in pleasure.

"you feel utterly divine, love," he whispers tenderly against the shell of your ear, quiet enough so the phone won't pick it up but loud enough that the words will send a shiver rippling down your spine. "taking me so well."

as the two of you move together in a well-practised dance of passion, nanami makes sure to cast his eyes towards the phone every now and again, picturing hiromi's dark eyes dilating with pleasure when he inevitably watches this video later tonight.

"close, sweetheart—" he rasps a few moments later, a few strands of blonde hair hanging over his glistening forehead as he returns his focus to you lying beneath him, holding himself up with one hand while the other reaches up to cup one of your breasts in his palm. "inside?"

"m-mhmm." is all you can manage to get out through your haze of pleasure, ankles digging into the muscles of his back to pull him in impossibly deeper as he twitches with need inside of you.

and when his heavy balls contract against your ass, thick cum spilling straight into your womb where his cockhead is buried, nanami can't help but wonder what hiromi will think when he sees his expression of bliss as he orgasms, head thrown back and jaw slack in ecstasy.

oh dear — he's starting to realize that just sending this video won't be enough... maybe he should invite hiromi into your bedroom next time so he can more efficiently help to remove the other man's stress.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[vivwritesfics]

i desperately need more fratboy!lando

so if you don't already have any requests, could you write something where him and the reader is like studying and he's actually paying attention, but it's because he's touching her in some way? could be her thigh or just his arm touching hers. doesn't even have to be smut i'm just very needy for something with fratboy!lando 😔

18+, cockwarming, public stuff, pathetic lando

it was hard to study around lando. he was incredibly needy, you knew this going into it. you knew this from the time that you were just fucking.

but now you were in a relationship with him. you loved your needy boyfriend, until you started study. you know, when you needed to concentrate.

lando sat there quietly for maybe five minutes. you got some notes down, made some flashcards. he was sitting so quietly, so still you almost thought it wasn't him. just sitting beside her, tapping away at his phone.

but then lando got bored.

"baby," he whined and wrapped his arms around you. you tried to ignore him, tried to keep making flashcards to study with later. "baby, please," he tried again.

you rolled your eyes as you looked at him. "let me study, lan," you mumbled. a sad expression crossed his face and you shook your head at him, leaning in to kiss him.

he sat still for two more minutes. but then he was grabbing your hand, trying to get you to touch him in some way. it wasn't sexual, he just wanted to be close to you. annoyingly close.

you threw your pen down and stood up. "right," you said and took his hand, pulling him up. "sit," you said and pointed to the seat that you had just occupied. lando obeyed. he sat in your seat and looked up at you with wide eyes.

it was that usual pathetic expression he wore whenever he wanted something you weren't giving him. the puppy expression, you had named it. named so because he looked like a puppy waiting for its dinner.

you sat on his lap and freed him from his grey sweats. "baby," lando whispered, eyes wide as he looked from side to side. making sure that nobody in the library was watching. you pulled him from his underwear and turned in your seat, facing your flashcards yet again.

pushing your underwear to the side, you sank down onto him. lando released a sigh and sat back in the chair, his hands on your hips. "you gonna sit there and be quietly now?" you asked and lando nodded, dropping a kiss onto your shoulder.

touching you, being inside of you, was all lando needed. he sat there, hands on your hips, watching as you made notes on your flashcards.

towards the end of your study session, you sat back against him and wiggled your hips. lando groaned, tried to muffle his noises. "good boy," you said and patted his head.

he whimpered as you began packing up, rutting his hips against you. only slight movements, still keeping it hidden in the library. fuck, he couldn't wait to get you back to the frat house.

[daisymbin]

Mingyu x fem!reader

Angst - 18. "i thought you were different." with reader saying that.

Also happy ending pleeeeaaase 🥺👉👈

thank you for requesting! 🥰

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist!

angst prompt #18: "I thought you were different."

you sat on the edge of the couch, arms tightly crossed as you tried to process the whirlwind of emotions racing through you. mingyu stood a few steps away, looking like he was caught in a storm, his expression somewhere between panic and heartbreak.

“it wasn’t what it looked like,” he started, his voice trembling. “please, baby. you have to believe me.”

you let out a bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the tense silence. “believe you? mingyu, i saw you with her. do you even know what that feels like for me?” your voice cracked, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded.

"baby, i wasn’t—it wasn’t like that,” he stammered, taking a hesitant step forward. “she’s just a friend. she was crying about her boyfriend, and i was just trying to comfort her.”

you shook your head, the image of him leaning close to another girl still fresh in your mind. “you don’t get it,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i’ve been here before. i’ve seen this before, mingyu. my ex…” your words faltered as you swallowed the lump in your throat. “my ex used to do the same thing. he’d tell me it was nothing, just a friend. and the whole time, he was—” your breath hitched as the painful memories resurfaced. "I thought you were different," you whispered timidly, mingyu doesn't miss the disappointment and heartbreak in your voice.

mingyu’s face crumpled as he took in your words. “sweetheart…” his voice was barely a whisper, thick with emotion. “you think i’m like him?” his words were soft, but the hurt behind them was unmistakable.

“i don’t know what to think,” you admitted, your hands gripping your arms tighter as if to shield yourself from the pain. “when i saw you with her, it felt like i was right back there again. it felt like—like i wasn’t enough. like i never will be.”

“don’t say that.” mingyu’s voice broke, and suddenly he was kneeling in front of you, his hands reaching for yours but stopping just short, unsure if you’d let him touch you. “baby, you’re everything to me. everything. how could you even think—” his voice cracked, and he dropped his head, his shoulders trembling.

you looked down at him, his vulnerability catching you off guard. he wasn’t angry. he wasn’t defensive. he was hurt—deeply hurt—and it made your chest ache in a way that felt unbearable.

“i know what he did to you,” mingyu continued, his voice barely audible. “i know how much he hurt you. and it kills me that you’d think i could ever… that you’d see me like that.” he lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, glassy with unshed tears. “do you really think i could do that to you? to us?”

you hesitated, his words slowly sinking in. the mingyu you knew wasn’t like that. he wasn’t manipulative, or mean, or sneaky, or cruel. he was open, loving, and kind, and he wore his heart on his sleeve. you’d let your fears and insecurities cloud the truth, and now you could see how much it had hurt him. because mingyu would never intentionally hurt you.

“mingyu, i—” your voice faltered as you tried to find the words. “i don’t think you’re like him. i just… i got scared. i saw you with her, and it felt so familiar, and i panicked.” tears of vulnerability now stream down your face.

his hands finally found yours, and when you didn’t pull away, he clung to them like a lifeline. “i understand,” he said softly. “i just… i don’t ever want you to doubt how much you mean to me. you’re not just someone to me, my love. you’re it. you’re everything.”

the sincerity in his voice, the raw emotion in his eyes, made the remaining walls around your heart crumble. slowly, you nodded, your grip on his hands tightening. “i’m sorry,” you whispered. “i shouldn’t have assumed the worst. i should’ve talked to you.”

“no, don't apologise," he said, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “i should have been more aware, i should have been my careful especially knowing what you’ve been through, and i hate that i made you feel like this. but i promise, i’d never hurt you like that. i just couldn’t.” his hand reach out shakily to wipe your tears away.

"I trust you,"

and that was all mingyu needed, the relief that washed over mingyu’s face was immediate and overwhelming. he let out a breath he didnt know he had been holding, and his hands moved to cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. “thank you,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. “thank you for trusting me.”

“can we… can we just go to bed now?” he asked, his voice soft and almost shy. “i really want need to hold you.”

your chest tightened at his words, and you nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “yeah,” you whispered.

he stood up, pulling you gently to your feet and wrapping his arms around you in a way that made you feel safe, cherished. as he led you to the bedroom, you felt the weight of the misunderstanding lift, replaced by the steady warmth of his love.

when you finally settled into bed, mingyu pulled you close, his arms tight around your waist and his face buried in your hair. “i love you,” he murmured, his voice laced with exhaustion but full of certainty. “so much.”

“i love you too,” you whispered back, your fingers tracing soft patterns on his arm.

[iwasntstable]

n.s. | is it true?

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summary: Always stubborn, Noah refuses to take a break when he's sick, but everyone's convinced you can persuade him.

content tags: fluff, like a smidge of angst, slight miscommunication.

word count: 3.1k.

note: I started this in September and have been thinking about it ever since so it was about time I finished it 🖤

All the text from Jolly said was, “Hey, can you come down to the studio?” And the first thing you hear as you approach the door is raised voices. 

“You tell him!”

“Tell who what?” You ask, entering into the chaos as the hum of noise is reduced to silence and every face in the room turns to look at you.

“Tell Noah he needs to stop pushing himself and go home and rest in bed,” Matt is the first to speak up.

"I don't need to fucking rest," Noah sighs, rubbing his brow.

"And why do I need to tell him that?" You ask.

"She doesn't need to tell me anything!"

"Noah, you're going to make things worse,” Jolly stands with his arms folded like an impatient father.

“Make what worse? What’s going on?” You look between the men in the room, searching each of their faces for answers.

“He’s sick, but he keeps pushing himself even though he can’t sing properly right now. He needs to go get some fucking rest at home or he’ll fuck up his voice!” Jolly explains.

“It’s fine!” Noah protests from his desk chair. Though he was only half facing you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes and the greyish pallor to his skin. “If I need to re-record it, I will, but it’s fine right now,” he continues, and you can hear the hoarseness in his voice. Matt pulls off his hat and runs his hand through his hair in frustration, then replaces the hat back on his head with a sigh.

“Noah, you’re not going to be able to re-record anything if you lose your fucking voice,” Jolly turns to you and states your name firmly. “Tell him.”

“Again, why do I need to tell him? Why would he listen to me if he’s not listening to you?" You know they’re right, but he’s stubborn; you don’t understand what would make your instructions different.

“He'll listen to you because he's fucking in love with you!" Matt shouts.

It was like the air suddenly became thick, and nobody says a word more as your eyes widen and flick straight to Matt. Then to Noah, where he sits wearing what you guess is the exact same expression as yours. Your eyes lock, and you can feel the panic radiating from him. Just as you’re about to speak, the question on the tip of your tongue goes left unsaid as Noah abruptly stands and shoulders his way past the other men. “Noah,” you try, but he’s steadfast in his pace; his shoulder brushes yours as he passes, and not once does he look back.

You watch as his silhouette grows smaller through the window in the door, watching even as he disappears around the corner and out of view. You only turn when Matt calls your name quietly.

"What the fuck was that about?" you all but shout. The men shuffle awkwardly on their feet and struggle to meet your eyes.

"He's sick and losing his voice, but he keeps pushing anyway. We kept telling him to go back home and rest, but he wouldn't listen." Jolly tries to avoid the question.

"Yeah, I get that,” you cast a glance at him. “What did you mean?" You ask Matt directly.

"What?" He responds like a deer caught in headlights.

"What did you mean when you said he'd listen to me because..." You couldn't say it; just the thought had your face growing hot.

"Look, Dierkes, you go. We're gonna go talk," Jolly nods at his friend and spins around the desk chair Noah was sitting in, taking the seat for himself at the computer.

Matt enthusiastically makes his exit. Gathering his bags, he all but runs out of the studio, out from under the weight of your gaze. When the door closes behind him, you sit in the chair next to Jolly, and he turns his own chair to face you.

"He's crazy about you," he starts without hesitation. You pick at the leather of the armrest as your heart begins to race. "He talks about you all the time. Honestly, I don't know how you haven't noticed. He's liked you for months."

"You're serious?" You ask, meeting his eyes, which hold nothing but sincerity.

"You can't say you haven't seen it even a little!” He tilts his head and leans back against the chair. “The way he looks at you, he drops everything for you. Always coming to your side whenever some weird guy flirts with you. He hasn't gone on a date in ages because he's waiting for you!" You bite your lip, unwilling to believe what you're hearing, until Jolly says quietly, "I know you feel the same too."

"What?!" you raise your voice automatically, wishing immediately that you didn't when you see him smiling knowingly at you.

"I see the way you look at him too, when he's not looking. You go bright red when he teases you. Just like you are now. You know I see everything.” You press your hands to your cheeks, and they feel like ice compared to the heat from your face. "You should go talk to him. At least convince him to take a fucking week off," he spins around in his chair, waving his hand and going back to the piece he was working on before all this.

You sit frozen to the spot for a moment trying to process what he'd just said. Noah likes you. He likes you back.

Jolly's voice rings in your head as you stand. "He's liked you for months." You head for the door, out of the building, and into your car on autopilot. Taking a deep breath before turning the key in the ignition and pulling out onto the road in the direction of Noah’s house.

The whole way your mind is racing. "He's crazy about you." You had no idea what you were going to say when you got there. "He talks about you all the time... the way he looks at you." You were telling yourself it wasn't true; it couldn't be. The man you've admired and apparently not-so-secretly adored all this time felt the same way? It was crazy. It couldn’t be true. And yet the concept still makes your heart race, and that treacherous heat makes your skin flush.

You find yourself parked outside his house, your car neatly on the drive right next to his. For several minutes, you go back and forth on whether to go in or just leave. The idea of really confronting him about this situation brings you nothing but anxiety, but the fact that he’s unwell and pushing himself so hard, the need to check on him and at least make sure he’s okay, brings you to his front door.

When you knock, there’s no answer. You wonder if he's watching you from the doorbell camera and choosing to ignore you. After knocking again, you decide to just use your key instead, hoping he won’t be too mad.

Inside, you find no signs of life. All the lights downstairs are off, and the house is statically silent as though it were totally empty. You’d think it were empty if not for Noah’s car parked outside.

You finally figure out where he is when you head upstairs and see the glow of purple LEDs leak from underneath his bedroom door. Your hand hesitates in a fist before you pluck up the courage to knock. No response. You knock a little louder, but still, no response.

Pushing the slightly ajar door open, you peek into his room, finding him lying in bed. Curled up under a blanket, fast asleep. You can’t help but smile at the peaceful sight. He must’ve been exhausted to fall asleep so quickly and deeply. You back out of his room and close the door softly, treading lightly as you go back down the stairs to the kitchen. 

You jump up to sit on the counter and rest your head back against the upper cabinets, closing your eyes. How could you be in this situation? You were content to never tell Noah about your feelings for him, and never ever did you expect your feelings to be reciprocated. You’re still convinced this is all some joke or a misunderstanding. He ran from that studio because he was humiliated by the thought of liking you. There’s no way Noah could want you the way you want him. But after what Matt and Jolly said, you’ll never be content until you know the truth. Even if he denies it, you still have the chance to salvage this friendship that’s so dear to you. He doesn’t know how you feel. It’s not too late to save this, and if he confesses... Shaking your head, you can’t even entertain that thought.

To distract yourself from the feeling of impending doom and to make yourself useful, you decide to cook. Pulling your phone from your pocket, a quick Google search suggests chicken noodle soup as a good option for someone who’s unwell. Warm, high in protein, easy to digest. You slide from the counter to rummage through the kitchen, mentally thanking whoever went grocery shopping recently for having everything you need for the simple recipe.

Following the instructions on your phone, you work quickly, having the food prepared in just over thirty minutes. After preparing a serving in a bowl and buttering some bread too, you balance both on a plate, almost forgetting the spoon before you go carefully back up the stairs.

You weren’t expecting him to be awake yet, but when you knock, he answers.

"Yeah?" His voice is hoarse and quiet even through the door.

"It's me," you say.

There's a brief moment of silence that has anxiety clawing at your throat before he replies, "Go away."

"Noah, please. I just-"

"Just go away," he rasped louder. "I don't wanna talk."

You sigh, feeling the urge to run, but you suppress it. "But I made you soup," you try, but he says nothing. "Can I at least come in and leave this for you?" Again, no response. You can’t help but sigh quietly. He can be stubborn as a bull at times. "I'm coming in. You better be decent," you try to joke. Once more, no response.

You toe the door open gently, stepping into the dim room to find Noah now rolled over in bed, his back to you, still cocooned in the blanket. Moving over some of the items on his desk—a coaster, a book with a dollar bill sticking out as a bookmark, a half-empty bottle of water, the TV remote—you set the food down. Seeing his phone next to him on the mattress, you take it and check the charge, 12%, and a text from Matt that read, “I’m sorry man.” You crouch down by the bed and put it on to charge, then replace it next to him on the mattress.

You stay there for a moment. Internally warring with yourself on whether you were really about to broach this topic. Ultimately, you decide you just have to know the truth.

"Noah, I know you don't wanna talk, but-"

"Good. Go then," his coarse words sting. True or not, sick or not, he had no right to snap like that. 

"Stop being so fucking harsh with me. I didn't have to come here for you, I didn't have to spend time in your kitchen making food for you, but I did. The least you could do is say thank you.” You wait for him to respond, waiting for an apology, but he says nothing.

The urge to run like Matt ran from the studio was strong; your legs flex under you, and you almost stand, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. More so, you don’t want to leave him when he's unwell.

"What they said back there," biting the bullet, your voice is quieter now. "Is it true?"

You didn't expect him to answer, what with his commitment to silence. So when that silence stretched on, you resigned yourself to his will. Standing and heading for the door, hand on the handle, you're stopped by his voice, "That's not how I wanted you to find out."

You pause, waiting to see if he'd continue, but he goes quiet again. "So, it is true?" But he returns to his silence. You go back over to his bed, crouching down again. "Will you talk to me? Please."

Noah doesn’t yield.

"I'm not mad or upset. I just want-" You cut yourself off, struggling to say the words out loud. "Jolly told me he sees the way you look at me, how you go out of your way to do things for me and talk about me all the time," he curls in on himself a little tighter under the blanket, hiding from your words. "He also said... how he sees the way I look at you when you're not looking... and how flustered I get when you tease me..." you trail off. Feeling your heart hammering so hard inside your chest that you can hear it in your ears. You honestly can't believe you just said that out loud.

Noah shifts under the blanket, straightening his legs and rolling onto his back, arm over his face, obscuring his eyes. "You're just saying that," he mumbles.

"Noah, I'm here in your room with homemade chicken noodle soup, even after you told me a million times to leave. Who else would I do that for?"

"You'd do it for Nicholas."

"I would not let Nicholas talk to me like that and walk away unscathed."

He laughs, rubs his eyes, and moves his arm, finally looking at you. He has a despondent expression on his face, but somewhere underneath is a slight smile. You smile softly, happy to finally see his face.

"I'm sorry," he tries, but you shake your head.

"Don't be,” you say, taking a deep breath. “I'd probably freak out too if you found out I love you like that."

"You- What?" He sits up a little straighter.

"Don't make me say it again," you groan and rest your forehead on the mattress.

Feeling the bed move, you look up to see him sitting upright and staring down at you. You move too to sit on the end of his bed. Silence once again fills the room, neither one of you knowing exactly what to say next.

Noah closes his eyes and runs a hand through his already messy hair. "Jolly told me so many times to just tell you, but I convinced myself there's no way you felt the same," he confessed.

You almost felt sick from the adrenaline racing through your veins. Looking down at your lap and playing with the sleeves of your hoodie. "Well, I do. He said the same to me too," you let out a bitter laugh. "Seems as though Joakim has been playing cupid." When you look back up, he still seems tense. "Noah, I'm not lying," you hold out your hand to him, which he takes and laces your fingers together. "I was never going to tell you because..." you hesitate again, but it’s too late to turn back now. "I never thought you'd like me back. I thought you'd laugh in my face. I don't deserve you."

"Don't say that. It's me who doesn’t deserve you. You're always so kind and generous,” he glances at the bowl of soup. “Even when I really don't deserve it."

"You do deserve it. You deserve kindness because you give so much kindness. Jolly was right, you do so much for me even when you don't need to. You drove me everywhere before I got my car, even when you were busy. Which I felt so fucking guilty for because I knew you had enough on your plate as it was."

"You know, I hated when you got that car," he smiled shyly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I wanted to drive you everywhere, all the time. Whenever you needed. I loved those times when we could just... be alone together," he sighed, not in sadness but in relief. A small smile on his lips.

You don’t think you could handle your heart racing any faster than it already was and decide to change the topic slightly. "How are you feeling, anyway?"

"Terrible, honestly. My throat is fucked. I don't know how I'm gonna finish recording."

"Yeah, you're not," you state. "You're gonna eat the delicious soup I made you, and you're gonna rest. No recording vocals until you're better. I’d say no producing until you’re better, but I think we’d have to detain you. Lock you in the bathroom or something,” you sadly break your hand apart from his and reach for the food on the side table as he chuckles under his breath. "What's so funny?" You ask.

Shaking his head, he says, "nothing. Just, they really were right, I do listen to you.”

Handing him the bowl, you smile teasingly at him, "because you love me."

"Yeah, I do," he smiles genuinely, caressing your hands briefly as he takes it from you to set it on his lap. "Can you stay?” he asks quietly. “I don't want you to go away. Will you sit with me?"

Your heart warms at his sincerity. “Of course I will.” You climb onto his bed and rest back against the headboard next to him in the space he made. A comfortable, familiar setting you’d both been in numerous times before. He leans over to the side table and tosses the TV remote onto your lap.

“Find something for us,” he says. You press the power button and load up Netflix to scroll through the categories as he eats. “Mm,” he hums with a mouthful of food. “This is so good, I should get sick more often. I didn’t know you could cook like this.”

“Yeah, don’t you dare,” you smile as you continue to scroll. The options turn into blurs as they pass by on the screen. Your mind was well and truly wandering at the thought of what was going to come next for you and Noah. Were you dating now? Did he even want that right now, or would it take time? These were all questions that would have to be asked and answered tomorrow. For now, you settled with the contentment that your current relationship wasn’t completely ruined and felt thrilled at the prospect of it becoming something more. 

“Oh!” Noah’s exclamation breaks your train of thought. “Remind me to beat the shit out of Matt the next time I see him.”

You break out in a laugh and lean in closer to his side. “Not if I get my hands on him first.”

This fic was inspired by the following randomly generated prompts, from this post!

꒰ 2 ꒱ “what they said back there. Is it true?” ꒰ L ꒱ relief ꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ the bedside of someone who doesn’t want you there

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✉ C:/SYSTEM/APP/TAG

ᯤ 𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗦 (28) :　 ⌞⬤ 10 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning | @english-fucker @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard | @seven-glass-kids @runadaggerthroughmychest

@lma1986 | @shayzillaaaa | @madamaaubergine @thewrstinme | @amourtoken

⌞⬤ 9 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒⌝ @livingdeceasedgirl | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @thecoyotescry | @romanreigns-supreme | @slutforcoffein

@dethroneackerman | @bluestdai | @fadingangelwisp @broken0mens

⌞⦵ 5 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻⌝ @ferduttini | @fadingintothegrey | @lovesick-evangelist @missduffsblog | @anything-more-than-human

⌞◯ 4 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ @thisbicc | @sadbitchenergy | @iconic-taurus @queen-foraday

　+[MSG : join the taglist!]

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[murdrdocs]

a slow life with lucius; fluffy smut; mating press; lowk breeding kink MDNI 18+

thinking about living a life with lucius, or hanno as you know him.

spending your days living a mundane life. tending to the farm, living amongst chickens and goats, making a simple living for yourselves while keeping food on the table. there's not much excitement here, but this beats what else the two of you could be doing. when you see the marred skin of his and remember the feeling of aches that will likely never truly subside, you know what else you could be doing.

you pray to your god that when that day comes—because you both know the day will come, rome is ambitious and she will not be stopped before reaching your home—may the victory be swift or may the death be merciful.

but you don't have to think of these things when you're scolding hanno for being too rough with the crops. he'll tell you it is impossible to be too rough with crops, their deaths rarely come at the hand of the farmer and are usually caused by neglect. and while he is right in his own regard, you'll still send him a pointed look that makes him smile.

there is much time in your day for basking in the glory of the other. under the roof of your home, behind closed doors to keep your neighbors away, you stand in the center of the room, his arms over your shoulders and your arms around his waist. you've been together for some time now, you've done this with each other often, but it truly never gets old. you never get tired of hanno taking his time with you, cherishing every single patch of your skin as they all come together to make the person he loves most.

he doesn't tell you much about his past, but he tells you that you're all he has. it's the two of you, and hopefully eventually a few little others who can live in a humane world, god willing. but for now, it's just the two of you.

yet, the things hanno does to you makes it seem like he wants to increase the population of your home sooner rather than later. the way he bends you body with the weight of his own, pushing your thighs to your chest and hooking your calves over the corded muscle of his shoulders. the way he stares deep into your eyes as he gives you even deeper strokes, pushing his cock further into you time and time again until you're so sure you're going to have to start breathing for him, even when he's taking your breath away from you with each draw back.

"you're okay, yeah?" he always asks you, although in different variations. your favorite will always be the confident way he asks you, when the corner of his lip pulls up and he says, "you like this? do you enjoy what i do to you?". it's simply the way he says it, deep timber of his voice twisting the tone of the syllables until it sounds like he already knows the answer.

you cannot see how he wouldn't—with your cunt leaking around him and your moans filling up the room.

still, you always make an effort to answer him, no matter the strength of the spell he has put you under that time.

he's always so pretty above you, whether it be when the sun slips through the window and illuminates a blue iris, painting the replica color of a sea you know so well, or when the white light of the moon slips through and highlights the evidence that the sun has made on his skin.

big hands touching you everywhere, lips doing the same, but sometimes, you'll only let him get so far. at times when his hands slip down your body, heading towards a spot he has not left alone after the initial discovery, you'll have to swat them away. he's grown to expect it now, rolling his eyes half heartedly and fighting off a grin as he raises his eyebrows in an expression of insincere frustration.

"covered in dirt," you'll explain, knowing what will come next.

the way he bends down, tip of his nose brushing against yours as he tells you, "as is the rest of me ... and yet."

and he's always right. there seems to be a certain amount of the earth that both you and hanno will forever carry with you. a mark of the life you're so privileged to currently live, therefore more of a beautiful reminder than a nuisance.

so, as you let his fingers slip down to the most delicate parts of you, happily settling into the feeling of multiplied pleasure, you grin at him and echo his words.

"and yet."

[carbondioxidewater]

Make A Move (Pt. 5)

footballplayer!Sukuna x fem!reader

genre: slow-burn romance, college au, fluff, angst

warnings: none so far

word: 3.1

(-> Pt. 1) (-> Pt. 2) (-> Pt. 3) (-> Pt. 4) (-> masterlist)

On sunday morning, you woke up early, even though you hadn't been sleeping much. The events of the previous day came back to you one after the other. First, you thought about the game and Sukuna's impressive skills in it.

You reflected on the motorcycle ride with him and how he drove you to the Rainbow Bridge just so you could see the city at night. That must've been one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for you. You turned over on your side in your bed, smiling.

And then you remembered how you almost kissed and how he treated you completely different later at the party than when you were alone. A feeling of embarrassment washed over you again at the thought that everyone present had noticed Sukuna not wanting to kiss you. Not that you were dying to feel his soft lips, probably salty from the sweat - no, that wasn't it. Because even if that were the case, it was more the fact of how and why he rejected you that was bothering you.

But asking him was out of the question. After all, you still had enough pride left to not give him that pleasure. After all, he wasn't obliged to kiss you. You shouldn't let anything show, otherwise he might get the wrong idea. And with that mentality, you went to your first lecture on Monday.

After the lecture, you entered the cafeteria. Today they cooked vegetarian pasta again and it always tasted delicious. You grabbed a plate, had it filled up, and walked over to the where the silverware was. As you were putting down your tray, someone spoke up directly from the side.

"I got your message, by the way."

You weren't startled this time.

"Did you know that people usually greet each other before starting a conversation?" you expressed calmly and Sukuna burst out laughing. You always managed to entertain him.

"Sorry, hi princess."

"Hi." you said quietly, a gloomy feeling at the nickname. "What message?"

"Yuji told me he should wish me 'good luck' from you."

"So?"

"Well, I certainly was lucky, after all you really came. But..." he didn't finish his sentence, obviously waiting for your reaction. Was he really trying to flirt with you again? This man was difficult.

You took your tray and moved towards one of the tables. Of course Sukuna followed you and sat down on the opposite chair. You sighed.

"But what, Sukuna? What do you want?" you asked in annoyance.

"You should give me your number. I couldn't even make sure you got home safe on Saturday." he flashed his shiny white teeth at you.

"Why do you care? I went home with my friends." you said, but not snippy, more in a neutral tone.

"I know that." he simply returned and didn't seem to have anything else to say. He just looked at you.

Seriously? He doesn't mention what happened at all? Well, if he can act like nothing happened, so can you.

"I don't like being watched while eating." you said bluntly and Sukuna couldn't help but smile.

"Why, are your table manners so terrible?" he countered. You puffed.

"Aren't you hungry?" you then asked, whereupon he told you that he had already eaten.

"I saw you and with you the opportunity."

"The opportunity for what?" you then questioned.

"Asking you for your number."

"You have my address already, that should be enough."

You would not let him get any closer to you.

He chuckled and you ate the first forkful of pasta.

"So you don't want to give it to me?" he carried on.

"Obviously not."

"Okay, I'll find a way. Oh, and enjoy your meal." he winked at you. And then he stood up and left the table.

Finally you could eat in peace.

You didn't see him for the next few days, which gave you enough time to concentrate on your studies. It was thursday evening and you had to give in your assignment for neurolinguistics, the due date was today. You quickly finished explaining how the priming effect works, when suddenly Utahime entered your room with the mail in her hand.

"Oh, are you finished for today already?" you asked, referring to her job, to which she nodded.

"But look at this!" she said, astonished, and waved a letter in front of your face.

The letter was addressed to you, but had no sender. Strange.

You opened it and the content was a single sheet of paper with a few lines written on it.

"You're right, your address is enough. If you don't want to give me your number, I'll have to try this way ;)"

Your face immediately heated up, you never thought he would go out of his way like that. But what was he doing that for? What was his ulterior motive?

Utahime saw your shocked face and read the letter. Then she laughed.

"Wow, he's really trying. Have you eaten yet? Should we order something?"

And together, you ended the evening with a juicy pizza.

But on the next day, you found a note in your locker too. You opened the folded paper and it said:

"Meet me under the bleachers"

Oh God, your heart was pounding. Just what was he thinking?

You decided to meet him at the stands to ask him to stop this whole thing. Even though you were really flattered by the attention, it still hurt your ego that he apparently thought he could win you over like that. Was it working? Maybe a little, but he didn't have to know that. And you definitely wouldn't fall for it any further.

When you finally got there, there was no sign of him. You asked the few players practicing on the field about him.

"Sukuna? No, he's not here. As far as I know he has a philosophy class right now."

Philosophy? You didn't even know that was his second subject. But that explained why he was around you so often, because philosophy and linguistics were taught in the same building. But why did he send you here then? Nothing he did made sense and you were slowly getting fed up with this chaos.

You were just on your way back into the building when all of a sudden, you bumped into someone's back on accident. He turned around and to your surprise, it was the menace himself.

"Careful." he laughed lightly. But you were a bit pissed at him right now and just walked past him. He walked after you.

"Hey, where are you going?" he yelled.

"I don't feel like playing your games. Find someone else to annoy." you said without even looking at him.

He grabbed your wrist and brought you to a stop. When you tried to escape his grip, he blocked you with his arm and caged you in.

"Calm down. What's going on with you?" Sukuna exclaimed.

"No, what's going on with you? Why do you leave those notes in my locker, arrange a meeting and then don't come?"

"That's what it is about?" He chuckled. "Now do you see how complicated it is? If I had your number, you would have known when I wrote the message."

You were flabbergasted, was that really his plan behind all this? To show you the need to exchange numbers?

"Or you can just write the time next time!" you spat out.

"Next time? So you like when I leave you letters?" he smirked and upset you with his presumptuous words.

"Don't twist my words..." you pouted and looked to the side. He let you go now, you had calmed down.

"Then what do you say: We have another game next Friday. If we win, I get your number, if we lose... well, you can choose."

"Why do you want my number so badly?" you probed.

"Because I like you. You're fun to be around."

This confession knocked you off balance, but you swallowed your speechlessness. In the end, two could play that game.

"Okay, if you lose, you'll never ask me for my number again." You smiled mischievously and he followed suit, tilting your chin upwards with his big hand before responding.

"It's settled then."

You stayed at Shoko's for the weekend, since you wanted to binge-watch the new season of your series. Utahime didn't like the show and had to work anyway, so it was just the two of you tonight.

After a few episodes, however, it turned into a deep talk session. You told Shoko everything that had happened with Sukuna so far and she reprimanded you for getting into this 'pact'.

"His team will win either way, the only ones who would have a chance against them are the UOT." she explained and you thought about her words.

UOT? Of course! They say their quarterback is on par with Sukuna. They are the biggest rivals!

"Are they gonna play against each other too?" you wondered.

"I think not until the very end of the season. That's the most important game after all."

The end of the season... So in about 8 weeks. But wait a minute...

"How do you even know that?" you stared at Shoko in amazement and she looked up at the ceiling.

"A few of my high school friends are on this team. Utahime knows them too."

"What? Why am I only finding out about this now?" you shifted in your seat, grinning at her. She shrugged.

"I never thought it was important. After all, you haven't been interested in football until now."

You nodded. Then your phone rang. You took it from the coffee table and saw that it was Utahime, but before you could even pick up, she already hung up.

"Who was it?" Shoko interrupted and you told her, but you two didn't think much of it.

You thought that maybe she called you on accident, so you sent her a message asking "are you okay?" and checked her location. She was still at the hotel. A few minutes later, she finally replied and confirmed that everything was indeed alright.

"Okay she just replied, she's fine. But next time we're all together, you two have to tell me more about your mysterious old friends." You waggled your eyebrows and Shoko laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, even if there's not really much to tell."

And then you were back in the stadium, this time, on your campus. It was a home game and the people on the stands were louder than at the last game, but this time you secured yourselves better seats. You were sitting in the front row now!

At the opening, all of the players walked onto the field and turned to the audience. Sukuna waved at the big crowd, his eyes moving from left to right, and finally rested his gaze on you, a small smirk spreading on his face. And then it was kickoff. As always, Sukuna's leading skills ensured a successful first half. It was clear that the team had been a unit for a long time, as well as they complemented each other.

After the first half, there was the usual break and you used it to quickly go use the bathroom. The line was long though, of course you weren't the only one who had to go after such a long time. But luckily, it quickly emptied and after you were done, the break was almost over. While the water was tingling on your hand, you heard a few girls coming in, chattering. You recognized the cheerleaders, one of them was the blonde girl named Manami.

"So, how are things going with Sukuna now?" asked Manami's friend.

At the mention of that name, you became very wary. You felt like you were eavesdropping, but you couldn't turn off your hearing sense after all.

"I think he likes me." Manami said the words dreamily, but you couldn't listen to their conversation any longer, because if you stayed at the sink for too long, you would attract their attention. You dried your hands and then went out the door.

What was their true relationship to each other? She thinks he likes her? What is he doing for her to think that? You had a weird gut feeling on your way back and when your friends noticed, they asked if you were okay. You lied to them and, thank goodness, that feeling disappeared as soon as the second half of the game started again.

And as Shoko predicted, your team won. The others weren't bad by any means, but Sukuna isn't feared in the world of football for nothing. He once again secured a great victory and after the game ended, his teammates all ran towards him to celebrate.

They picked him up and carried him to the front of the stands while you and the others clapped for their success. Many shouted his name, others shouted for the other players, but his grinning, smug look was only on you.

His comrades let him down and the crowd slowly started to leave the stands as Sukuna continued to keep you under his spell. He stepped on a bench in front of it, leaned his elbow on the railing of ​​the stands and pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket. He pressed it between his fingers proudly and held it in front of his slightly tilted face, a mischievous smile on it, so that you could make out the numbers on the note.

You narrowed your eyes in an attempt to see more clearly and as the digits became visible, you recognized them as your phone number.

How did he-

You were about to ask him that, but Aoi intervened, jumping onto the bench and putting his arm over Sukuna's shoulder, happily dragging him into the locker room.

When you finally came down the stairs, you decided to wait for Sukuna outside. Your friends were talking about something you didn't pay attention to.

Then the door opened and you walked towards Sukuna expectantly, but he was stopped by Manami at that moment. You saw her putting her arm around his and how she walked to the parking lot with him. That made you abandon the whole plan and you went back home with your girls.

When you got there, you got a message from an unknown number.

unknown number: not even curious how I got your number?

That was definitely Sukuna. Your mood immediately worsened. You just couldn't figure him out. You threw your phone on the bed and made yourself something to eat. Cooking should calm you down, so you put on some music and started chopping. It took half an hour before you got the motivation to text him back.

you: aren't you out with the cheerleader right now?

You sent the message and threw your phone away from you again. Why had you been so direct? You were about to take your phone to delete the message, but Sukuna had already replied.

unknown number: oh you're curious about something else I see. u stalking me? ;)

you: no, I just saw you two together after the game. hope you had fun.

unknown number: yea sure had.

you: good for you.

Somehow the message came across as more bitter than you anticipated, and Sukuna also noticed the harsh tone.

unknown number: wait, you weren't seriously thinking I was after you, were you?

you: of course not? I was being genuine.

You were not. He typed.

unknown number: well then, that's good.

And then you left him on read. Asshole.

The whole weekend was spent trying to figure Sukuna out, but as much as you tried, his motives remained unclear to you. You even started listing different possibilities together with Shoko and Utahime, but for every idea there was something in Sukuna's behaviour that didn't add up. You set up three theories:

REASON NUMBER ONE: He really just likes you platonically. But then why did he flirt with you sometimes, why did he almost kiss you, why did he put in such an effort into getting your number?

REASON NUMBER TWO: He was just trying to get into your pants. Maybe there was something going on with this girl, Manami, and he didn't want her to find out. But then why did he never make a move on you like that? Apart from the teasing, he's never been disrespectful or dirty towards you.

And, this was the most unlikely one, but,

REASON NUMBER THREE: He had a serious interest in you. But then, why wouldn't he just be straight forward? Why was this girl all over him at all times? And why didn't he do something against it? Or was he keeping the both of you as mere options?

Whatever it was, it was getting on your nerves. And you decided you wanted to make clear to him that the both of you should either be friends or nothing.

You were just taking a few things out of your locker when there was a sudden bang next to you. You took the last book out of it and then looked at the source.

"Boo." Sukuna called out, pressing his lower arm against the locker. He was wearing a simple white sweater with the sleeves rolled up, but it was so tight that it highlighted his broad, big chest. His hand was clenched into a fist, which meant that you had a perfect view of his flexing muscles as well.

You gulped and tried not to let on how attractive that was to you, because you couldn't afford to seem weak in front of him.

"Wow I'm so scared." you commented and closed your locker.

"I bet you are, now that I've got your number." he claimed. Then you faced him.

"Where did you get it from anyway?" you wondered. You still didn't have a single clue.

He smiled wickedly again.

"Why don't you ask your friend Utahime?"

Safe to say that's not what you expected coming out of his mouth.

"You're lying." you doubted.

"Why would I do that?" he replied with a foxy grin.

You took a deep breath.

"Alright, I'm gonna ask her later. But can we stop with the constant banter, it's giving me a headache."

"Oh, why's that?" he came closer, but you pushed him away again.

"It was fun in the beginning, but it's getting annoying now. Let's just be normal friends." you proposed.

"Friends?" Sukuna raised an eyebrow gently, considering your words and quirking a small smile. "You wanna befriend me?" he seemed oddly delighted about that. You didn't know if he was poking fun at you or not.

"Yeah, isn't that what you wanted?" you inquired, dumbfounded by his reaction.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. Alright, let's be friends then." he stared down at you, a gleam in his eyes that you couldn't make out.

Yes, it would definitely be better to be friends. That way, he wouldn't constantly irritate you with his mixed signals.

And with that, your friendship with the star player began.

RAHHH he's so confusing!!! Wdym you send me LETTERS to contact me?!?!?! And then say you're not after me? ARGHHH

What do you think his intentions are? As always, reblogs and comments are so so appreciated! I wanna hear your thoughts about it so bad! <3

taglist: @miakxn @aureliaborea @nonamevenus @silkija @sad-darksoul @joh-ahae @mysteriaqueen @rebirthbunbun @inflatabledinosaurs19

[absolutebl]

Of My 50+ Favorite BLs these are the 10 I rewatch the most

So you could call these my favorite comfort foods. Everything on this list got a rating of 10/10 or 9/10 from me.

10 Most Comforting BLs

(for me, in order of most recently rewatched at the top)

Our Dating Sim

Korea 2023 Viki (watch the series not the movie)

This is a perfect short form KBL, an office set reunion romance featuring geeks that really suits 8 eps with no fluff and no chaff. Just comforting and yummy. I adored every aspect from the casting to the pristinely simple premise to the quietly smooth execution. Sure it’s low stakes, but that makes it high domesticity and extremely warm and gentle. This is a fuzzy blanket of a story - a cozy BL. It lives in my rewatch pile and you know what’s best about it? Every single episode is in that pile. There’s no skipping with this one, it might be good natured and calmly sweet but it’s tight and the pacing is excellent.

Cosmetic Playlover

Japan 2024 Gaga

The most recent release on this list, it came out this year and I've already rewatched it 5x. I love this little show. It's a classic office BL about the older workaholic who loves his job and the younger upstart who unexpectedly loves his boss. It’s a hyung romance where everybody is extremely earnest and sweet and pretty about everything. Except our seme, who is slightly unhinged and a little obsessed in all the ways one likes best from Japan (if one is me). Plus the kisses are good! Utterly charming unexpected gem of a show. What fun!

Jun and Jun

Korea 2023 Viki

A delightful office romance about an ex-idol who joins cubical life only to find his new boss is his first love. Other boys are sniffing around too. Operative word being "sniffing" as much of this romance involves smell. With a snappy (sometimes even raunchy) script, enjoyable sides, a pretty as peaches cast, and decent chemistry this show made up for in style what it lacked in substance. I like fluff. I loved this. I smiled every moment I was watching. My only caution is this is for fans of the BL genre only, I don’t think it’ll work for anyone else.

My Personal Weatherman

AKA Taikan Yoho

Japan 2023 Gaga

This style of live action yaoi really only works from Japan. Basically: boys who fell in love in college end up living together but are so repressed they don't realize they're in love. It's higher heat than we usually get from Japan's HEA stuff, and that aspect is also very well done, but it leaned into the "why don't they just talk for fuck's sake?" trope which is only exacerbated into undiluted frustration by the fact that they're already fucking. It's great, but watching requires more patience than usual, even for Japan. That said it's also bruisingly romantic. Emphasis on bruise.

Unintentional Love Story

Korea 2023 iQIYI

OMG the plot! Uke forced into a totally understandable betrayal, falling in love despite himself, put into a corner he can't get out of, the AGONY, the PAIN in those gorgeous eyes. Gah. Okay, so: A boy loses his job due to trumped-up corruption charges accidentally discovers his ex-boss's favorite artist, now a recluse. Evil manager offers him his job back, if he can convince the artist to rejoin society. Instead, they fall in love. I found the artist a bit stiff and reserved but Gongchan (maknae of B1A4) is a fucking GIFT - he carried this show (which I do not expect from the idol element). He was luminous with extraordinarily expressive eyes, just drown in the emoting abyss. The external conflict, social tension and pressure is complex and beautifully executed, plus Korea gave us legit side dishes (NOT a love triangle, hally-fucking-luya). All that said, when I rewatch this it's usually just the second half, but WHAT a ride.

Semantic Error

Korea 2022 Viki

Sexy older boy discovers pouty younger boy has outed him as a slacker, starts out bullying him, accidentally falls madly in love instead. Korea hits it entirely out of the Parks by doing a university BL with everything we expect from BL just done exactly right. Korea's signature quality executed perfectly with added bonus good story, great pacing, stunning visuals, and fantastic chemistry. You cannot ask for more from a BL, let alone a KBL. Another one where the rewatch is mostly just the second half.

Old Fashion Cupcake

Japan 2022

This show had me from the moment they broke the egg yolk with the chopsticks in the opening credits. It’s about a younger man with a long cherished crush on his boss (ten years older and going through a mid life crisis) who decides to save and seduce said boss with pancakes. It’s wholesome, comforting, sexy, and a very necessary narrative about still having hope, interests, and openness to affection at any age. It’s a stunningly filmed late-in-life comg of age/queerness story packaged in a subtle critique of expectations around masculinity, love, and loneliness… and it’s beautiful.

Yes yes. But the bit you know you want to rewatch is that long shot with the bite kiss. YOU KNOW you wanna.

Seven Days

Japan 2015

Ha! I faked you out 'cause this wasn't at the top but of course it's on the list! One of the best live action yaois ever made, with perfectly structured angst, fantastic characters and acting, and no problematic tropes (rare in Japanese BL). Older boy dares the hot af younger one to date him for a week. Turns out they both like it... A lot. The leads have excellent chemistry although it’s low heat there’s still some really cute mutual kisses.

Takara & Amagi

Japan 2022

I gnawed on my knuckles and squealed a lot with this show, but a rewatch is way less tense. Reserved cool kid must learn to communicate to keep the tiny disaster nugget he’s madly in love with. It is beyond charming: soft and gentle, packed with cuteness and high school angst, thirst, & yearning.

We Best Love

Taiwan 2021 WeTV

WBL successfully managed to pick up and combine the best features of Korean, Thai, and Japanese BL as it exists right now. Couple that to the insane chemistry from the leads, and we have one of the greatest BLs of all time, cooking to a recipe I doubt anyone else will ever be able to replicate since only Taiwan is this flexible. It's basically every classic BL trope bombarded at us in two parts, rapid fire, one after another. Rewatching this show reminds me of everything I love about this genre. It is the genre in pure concentrated form.

The End!

I think it's no accident that none of these are Thai, part of a rewatch for me is the brevity of the show, longer stuff does get rewatched, but not as frequently.

(source)

[dissapointu]

heyy!! can you do how arcane characters would react to a reader with bpd? I have it and its really hard to deal with

I personally don't have Bpd so I hope I was able to write for it- lmk if I got it completely wrong.

Jinx

Arguments with Jinx are a whole event. She’s already impulsive and emotional, so when you’re spiraling, it’s like pouring gas on a fire. She’ll yell, throw something (not at you, but still—chaotic), and storm off dramatically. But the second she sees you starting to crumble, her face softens, and she’s all, “Hey, hey, don’t cry, okay? I’m the crazy one, remember?”

She’ll make up for it with grand, ridiculous gestures—like painting a giant heart on the wall with “SORRY” inside it or showing up with an armful of random things she thinks you’ll like (a half-broken music box, a live rat, some Piltie trinket she swiped). Daily life with her is unpredictable. She’ll match your mood swings and throw in some of her own, but she’s always there to hold you through the aftermath, whispering, “It’s us against the world, baby.”

Vi

Vi has this big sister energy, so she tries to stay calm during arguments, but let’s be real—she’s not a saint. If you start pushing buttons, she’ll fire back, arms crossed, scowling like, “Oh, so this is my fault now?” But the second she sees that shift in your expression, that look like you’re about to spiral, she’ll stop mid-sentence and sigh.

“Come here,” she says, pulling you into a hug even if you’re still mad. “I didn’t mean it. You know I’m an idiot sometimes.”

She’s great at grounding you during bad days—holding your hand, distracting you with dumb stories about Powder or her childhood. Daily life with Vi is full of banter and teasing, but she’s also super protective, always making sure you know you’re safe with her.

Sevika

Arguments with Sevika are INTENSE. She’s not great with emotions, so when you’re on edge, she’s either trying to fix it logically (spoiler: it doesn’t work) or getting frustrated. “What do you want me to do? Tell me, and I’ll do it!” she’ll snap, her mechanical arm whirring in frustration.

But once she realizes she’s made it worse, she’ll sit beside you in silence, waiting for you to calm down. Then she’ll quietly say, “I don’t get it, but I’m trying. For you.”

Daily life with Sevika is steady—she likes routine, which can be comforting when you’re feeling unstable. She’ll bring you food when you’re too drained to eat and let you vent while she works. If you get clingy, she’s the type to roll her eyes but secretly loves it when you hold onto her like a lifeline.

Silco

Silco approaches everything with the cold, calculating precision of a chess player, including your BPD. During arguments, he’s quiet but firm, and sometimes his calm demeanor makes you feel worse, like he doesn’t care. But the moment he sees tears in your eyes, his voice softens.

“Enough,” he says gently, stepping closer. “I’m not leaving. Stop telling yourself that.”

He’ll sit with you until the storm passes, stroking your hair and murmuring reassurances in that low, gravelly voice of his. Daily life with Silco is structured—he thrives on stability and will gently encourage you to find your own, whether that’s a routine or a grounding technique. He’s not the best at expressing love, but his actions—bringing you tea, remembering the little things—say everything.

Vander

Arguments with Vander are rare, but when they happen, it breaks both of your hearts. He hates seeing you upset, especially when you’re directing all that anger at yourself. “Hey, don’t do that,” he says, his voice full of worry. “You’re not a bad person.”

He’ll pull you into a hug, even if you’re still yelling, and just hold you until you calm down. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers. “We’ll figure it out.”

Daily life with Vander is comforting—he’s patient and steady, always making sure you feel loved. He’ll cook for you, listen to your rambles, and let you cry into his chest when it all feels like too much. He’s your rock, and you know he’ll never let you fall too far.

Ekko

Ekko’s a sweetheart, but arguments can get heated because he cares so much. “Why do you always think I’m gonna leave?” he’ll ask, frustration lacing his voice. But then he sees you breaking down and immediately softens.

“Hey, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, pulling you close. “You’re stuck with me, okay? Forever.”

Daily life with Ekko is fun and supportive. He’ll crack jokes to make you laugh on bad days and bring you little gifts—flowers he found, gadgets he fixed—just to see you smile. He’s great at reminding you of your worth when you can’t see it yourself.

Jayce

Jayce doesn’t get BPD at first, but he’s trying, okay? Arguments can get messy because he’s such a fixer. “What do you mean you don’t want advice? I’m trying to help!” he’ll say, running his hands through his hair.

But after a while, he learns to just listen. He’ll apologize quickly, his voice soft and full of regret: “I didn’t mean to make it worse. I just want to be here for you.”

Daily life with Jayce is full of love and enthusiasm. He’s always hyping you up, reminding you how amazing you are. If you’re having a bad day, he’ll drop everything to take you out for a walk or snuggle up with you on the couch.

Viktor

Viktor is SO patient. Arguments don’t happen often because he’s great at de-escalating situations. “I understand,” he says softly when you’re upset, his voice calm and measured. “I know it feels like that right now, but it’s not true.”

He’s the king of quiet, steady love. Daily life with Viktor is peaceful—he lets you sit with him while he works, always making sure you’re comfortable. On bad days, he’ll bring you tea and remind you, “You’re not a burden. Never.”

Caitlyn

Caitlyn is a problem-solver, so arguments can get frustrating because she wants to fix everything, even when you just want her to listen. “I’m sorry,” she says eventually, taking your hands in hers. “I’ll try to do better. Just…tell me what you need.”

Daily life with Caitlyn is filled with small acts of love—she’ll leave you little notes, bring you flowers, and make sure you feel secure. She’s incredibly understanding, always willing to talk things through when you’re ready.

Mel Medarda

Mel is the definition of grace under pressure. During arguments, she stays calm, even when you’re spiraling. “I know you don’t mean that,” she says firmly, but her eyes are full of understanding.

She’s amazing at making you feel grounded—pulling you into her lap, stroking your hair, and whispering, “It’s okay. We’re okay.” Daily life with Mel is luxurious—she spoils you with gifts and quality time, always making sure you feel loved and valued.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa is a bit of a bulldozer during arguments, but not out of malice—she’s just used to being in control. “You’re stronger than this,” she’ll say, her tone sharp. But the moment she sees your tears, she softens.

“I didn’t mean to push,” she says, placing a steady hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to fight this alone.”

Daily life with Ambessa is protective—she’s always making sure you’re cared for, whether that’s bringing you food, making sure you rest, or just standing by your side like an unshakable force.

TL;DR: Everyone loves you in their own messy, flawed way because you’re worth every bit of the work. <3

[foodtruckery]

I've been having crazy Stancest brain rot thinking about an AU where they don't have the portal incident and instead have crazy marathon hate sex instead (Inspired by some amazing art by @CoreArde on Twitter) and I thought it'd be fun to share that with you.

They start off arguing in the lab and then oops they're fucking on the lab floor, and they really should be thinking this through but nope now they're upstairs fucking on the kitchen table and okay maybe now they'll finally talk about it nah, they're fucking in Ford's bed now.

It starts off as rough hate sex getting out years of frustration, but by the time they make it to the kitchen its become insanely desperate and cloying because they missed each other, and their bodies fit so well together, and GOD how could they have not been doing this all time? They're going at it so long that they basically end up passed out in Ford's bed by the end, and Stan's not going to be sitting down for a while after this. He's probably just happy to be sleeping in a bed, but Ford is trying to figure out how he got so far from the initial plan.

Even better if the two of them have been harboring feelings for years and never acted on it, because they get the one-two punch of all the weight of their time apart and processing the fact that OH GOD I JUST FUCKED MY BROTHER (which of course they both wanted to do but still).

I have no idea what would happen after that, but both of them waking up sore, sweat soaked, sticky with cum (some still inside Stan because of course Ford didn't use a condom this wasn't supposed to happen) after having gone at each other like rabbits in heat despite never having expressed their attraction to each other before is a hilarious and hot idea to me. What do you think?

HI THERE ANON. i am so fucking sorry that i left you waiting for so long about this, but i need you to know it's because i was FUCKING OBSESSED with this. like just absolutely beside myself over it, and i refused to respond until i had a chance to sit down and respond PROPERLY.

cause uh YEAH FRIEND i know the exact fucking piece of art (explicit) you're talking about, because it's INCREDIBLE. and in case you didn't know, the artist is over here too and shares some fucking fantastic writing and headcanons also! (seriously, go check out @/cartoonsinthemorning if you haven't. and cart, i hope you don't mind that anon and i both kinda lost our minds about your art over here! i genuinely have no idea what tag etiquette is on this site and didn't wanna bombard you, but you did this. again.)

i'll be honest, anon, this kinda got away from me (fucking shocker) and i am too tired to do any legit editing of it right now, so please forgive any typos or weirdness! i'll try and clean it up before it eventually goes up on ao3. but thank you for such a LOVELY ask because this was so hot, and so inspiring, and i hope i did a little justice to your idea and cart's gorgeous art!

--- Ford isn't entirely sure how it had started. His memory, his perception of time, his ability to follow a linear order of events -- all if it is less than reliable at the moment, so he can't entirely blame himself for losing track of things here and there. But the jump between trying to wrestle his journal out of Stan's hands to trying to wrestle Stan out of his dingey jeans is a jarring transition to lose in the dull static that's been edging around his awareness for weeks now. 

Not jarring enough to stop him, though. 

He thinks, vaguely, while he's blindly tugging at Stan's denim, that there's a concerningly high likelihood that he's hallucinating. His head is swimming in so much caffeine and adrenaline that he doesn't even feel the rough concrete of the lab floor under his knees -- maybe that isn't where he is? Maybe he'd nodded off without realizing. Maybe he's going to come to with another lapful of polaroids and a new humiliating tattoo. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe -- he can reckon with a probability model later. For the first time in what feels like months, the stability of his perceived reality is not actually at the forefront of Ford's mind.

Pressing in on him harder than the doubt, harder than the disassociation from his physical body, and harder than the threat of the creature lingering in the depths of his subconscious is anger. It feels like a beacon in the muddled, fuzzy mess inside his head, something bright and real and his. It's searing through him, slicing away all the frayed edges of his paranoia and doubt like a hot blade through so much butter. 

Ford clings to the sharp edges of that anger and feels more alert than he has in weeks. 

He can't remember how their bickering had taken this particular turn, but if he's liable to lose his eyes and his life in the next few days, Ford will be fucking damned if he squanders the opportunity. He knows he's made a mess of things, that he's made the sorts of mistakes that can't and frankly shouldn't be forgiven. 

But he also knows with blinding, white hot certainty that he's only here, now, because of Stan's mistakes.

Ford may not deserve absolution, but he does deserves this. 

Laughter cuts through the lab, rough and mocking, and Ford's attention finally falls, properly, on Stan. He has a bruise blooming on his cheek and a snide smirk twisting his lips. He's also on his back, his jeans and a threadbare pair of boxers bunched in Ford's fists and pulled so low he can see the tight curls of his pubic hair and the root of his cock. 

"What's wrong, Poindexter?" Stan asks, mocking, and it's only then that Ford realizes he's paused halfway through stripping his twin's lower half. The bite of the cold concrete under his knees still feels far away, but the rough material in his palms, and the heat of Stan's body so close to him are sharp, clear details. "No hands on experience with a dick that ain't your own? Afraid you might actually be bad at somethin' for once?" 

Ford narrows his eyes, feeling the hot point of anger cutting through him, steadying him, and he jerks Stan's clothes hard enough that he gets the material past his knees in one tug. Stan laughs at him again, but it stutters into a little 'oof!' when Ford flips him onto his stomach. 

He doesn't care that Stan's pants are still caught around his calves and his boots. He doesn't care that Stan hisses something that sounds like pain when he's yanked onto his knees and dragged backwards several inches across the concrete. He doesn't even care that, once upon a time, he'd dreamed of this, of crossing this line with the only person he'd ever really loved in any way that mattered, and it's nothing like the softer, sweeter picture he used to imagine. 

Stan's hips are soft, and the skin gives easily under the iron grip Ford has on them, holding him in place as he grinds against his ass. Even through his slacks, the heat of Stan's body is intense, addictive, and he grinds forward again, harder, watching the friction rub a pink  patch against his skin. 

Stan, shameless and selfish as always, pushes eagerly back against him. Ford has barely done anything beyond rocking the outline of his cock against his hole, but he can hear Stan panting against the ground, can see his hands curling into fists. He remembers how many times Stan had called Carla McCorkle "easy" in high school and thinks, now, that the easy one had been his brother. 

"You gonna keep humpin' me, or are you gonna fuck me?" Stan demands, rocking as firmly back as he can with the bruising grip Ford has on him. 

"What makes you think you deserve that?" Ford bites out. It would serve Stan right, he thinks, if he got himself off exactly like this, no different than grinding against a particularly firm couch pillow. Just a conveniently warm object for Ford to release some tension with. 

Stan looks back over his shoulder and flashes teeth at him. It isn't a smile. "Oh, I get it. Cold feet? Well, we can just chalk it up to one more thing ya promised and then backed out of as soon as you actually had to make a choice. Good to know some things never change, Stanford."

He's being goaded, and Ford knows that. But the anger boils in his chest, and he thinks, why should he care about what Stan does or doesn't deserve from him? This is about what Ford deserves.

And what Ford deserves is to have his dick so far up Stan's ass he'll be able to feel it in the back of his throat. 

"Do you ever shut up?" he snaps while he releases one of Stan's hips to yank his slacks open. The bruise of his fingerprints already forming against Stan's skin thrills him, almost to distraction, if it weren't for Stan laughing again. 

"'Course not," he says, shifting his center of balance to dig into the pocket of his dirty red coat. The little packet he tosses over his shoulder bounces off his own ass to land by Ford's knee, the word LUBE printed in large, bold letters across the front. He should be surprised to see it, and part of him is. The word "easy" comes to mind again. 

Ford rips the packet open with his teeth. 

"F-Fuck!" Stan curses, turning his forehead against the ground when Ford presses his slick cock into him a moment later without warning. 

Ford grabs him roughly by the waist when he twitches forward and yanks Stan back until his ass hits the open fly of his slacks. He makes a choked sound at that and turns his face into the crook of his own arm when Ford pulls back and rocks hard back into him. 

"What's wrong, Stanley?" he parrots. He pistons his hips at a punishing pace, watching his cock pumping in and out of the greedy, grasping ring of Stan's hole. "Nothing to say?" 

Stan makes a noise that's too muffled by the sleeve of his coat to understand, so Ford reaches down to take a fistful of his stupid mullet instead. The hitching gasp that escapes his twin when his head is forcefully jerked up makes him groan. "What was that? Come on, Stanley, use your words." 

"F-Fuck off," Stan says, his voice strained, almost whining. 

"I see you haven't gotten anymore eloquent since you left," Ford scoffs around the breathlessness in his own voice, feeling the anger and pleasure coiling harder in his gut. "What was it you said? Good to know some things never change." 

When he pulls Stan's hair again, just because he can, Stan moans. And when he shifts his hips, driving in just as hard at the new angle, Stan shouts. With his own knees bracketed on either side of his, Ford can feel the way his thighs tremble when he clenches around his cock, and he can feel the sweat beading up under his palm where he's digging darker bruises into Stan's side. 

Ford feels like he's on the edge of delirium again, consumed by every sound Stan makes, every twitch of his hips, every ounce of his heat. He thinks, a bit wildly, that Stan may have been made for this, made to take his cock, for how well he does. 

It isn't until Stan jerks under him, going hot and tight around his cock and making a strangled noise in the back of his throat, that Ford realizes he may have said part of that out loud. That Stan came over it. 

He groans low in his throat and thrusts half a dozen more times into Stan's clenching hole before he comes as well. 

It's quiet for a few minutes other than their ragged panting, but it's Stan who eventually reaches back and swats at Ford's hand until he lets go of his hair. He takes the hint and pulls out, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as his come trickles down Stan's thighs. It strikes him suddenly that he wants to follow the wet trail back up with his tongue. It's enough to make his cock give a feeble, appreciative twitch. 

He isn't sure if he's just terribly distracted or if he loses time again, because when Ford next lifts his head, Stan is on his feet, pants pulled up around his waist but still open, and he has his journal in hand. This might be more jarring than the last transition he'd lost. 

"What are you doing?" he demands, shoving himself back onto his own feet. He doesn't bother to tuck his cock back in, and he spots the moment Stan's eyes flick down. It's brief, but he'd seen it. 

"What does it fucking look like I'm doing? I'm taking your stupid diary and disappearing like you begged me to," Stan says. His voice is still a little raw, and Ford has a moment to realize how much he likes that, before the words catch up. 

He scoffs. "Oh! So now you want to actually help?! Is it always this easy to fuck the sense into you?" 

Stan's expression does a few things Ford doesn't understand before his brows ultimately slam down and he turns his back, storming towards the door with Ford's journal still in hand, and Ford himself hot on his heels. "You're fucking unbelievable, Stanford, you know that?!" 

"Me?! You're the one who came all over my lab floor and then decided he was ready to be reasonable!" 

Stan jams his thumb against the call button for the elevator several times in quick succession, despite the car already being on their floor and the gate sliding open. "Most people would just say thank you when someone agreed to help them out, but not you! What does Stanford Pines have to be grateful for? We're all just fucking lucky to get a task from ya, huh?" 

Ford crowds into the elevator with him before Stan can try to pull the gate or call the doors shut behind him. He punches the button to take them up himself, before making a grab for the journal, snarling when Stan leans back and holds it up above his head. 

"You're the one who threatened to destroy my work twenty minutes ago, Stanley! Why would I trust you with it now? Hell, I can't figure out why I trusted you enough to bring you here in the first place!" 

"Oh really? You can't?" Stan sneers, leaning in close. And when Ford takes a step back, Stan follows, backing him into a corner of the car. "I don't think you fuckin' trusted me to do shit, Stanford. I think you were all outta options cause nobody else could stand to put up with you anymore." 

Stan doesn't so much as hit a nerve as he takes a sledgehammer to it, and as soon as the elevator dings, Ford shoves him as hard as he can out into the study. Stan yelps when he stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and it's only knocking into a cluttered desk that keeps him from falling on his ass. 

Ford doesn't give him any time to right himself, storming in after him and grabbing him by the front of his jacket. Stan flinches, like he'ex expecting a punch, but Ford yanks him in and crushes his mouth against his instead. 

There's a dull thump that Ford only realizes was the journal being dropped when he feels both of Stan's hands on his shoulders. They curl briefly, grasping at him, and Ford feels his mouth starting to go soft and slack. But as soon as he presses in, runs his tongue along that loosening seam, he's suddenly being shoved backwards. 

If he weren't so damn confused, Ford would probably appreciate the picture Stan makes, lips slick and pants open, leaning back against one of Ford's desks. 

"What are you doing?!" Stan demands, like he's the one who doesn't know what day it is, and keeps losing track of events. 

"I would think even you could figure that out after what happened downstairs, Stanley."

Stan flushes, visible even in the low light of the study, though Ford isn't sure if it's embarrassment or anger. The scowl on his face doesn't help clear things up, either, though the fact that he isn't actually looking at Ford is...telling.  

"That ain't happening again," Stan states, and there isn't anything convincing about the way he says it at all. But when Ford steps forward, Stan sidesteps him and the desk. He makes a wrong turn in the dark, in a house he isn't familiar with, and flinches when Ford flips on the light in the kitchen he's walked into.

"I don't know how you expect to leave and hide my journal after leaving it in the study," he points out, frowning at the back of Stan's head. 

He isn't surprised when Stan whirls on him. He is, however, stunned still when he realizes Stan's eyes are wet. 

"What the fuck do you want from me, Stanford?!" Stan shouts, his voice cracking over his name, and it makes something feel like it's cracking inside his chest. 

Ford has to wet his lips when he finds them and his throat dry. "...I told you what I wanted," he says.

"Yeah, you did! And when I finally agreed to do it, you threw a fucking fit about it! And now you're pissy because I'm not?! What do you want?" 

The anger sparks sharply inside him again, and Ford grasps at it like a lifeline, willing to bloody his hands for that bite of stability. 

"You tried to burn it! My life's work! And you only decided you would help me after we--"

Stan cuts him off, looking towards the cabinets while he raises his voice and waves his hands. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry about the fucking lighter, all right?!"

Ford frowns. He takes a step forward and, still without looking at him, Stan takes a step back. It's the elevator all over again, but this time Ford is pressing in, backing Stan into the cabinets. He grabs the counter on either side of his hips when he tries to side step him again. 

"Stanley, look at me," he demands, frowning harder when Stan sets his jaw and stars determinedly at his shoulder. "Stanley--"

"What do you want, Ford? Just...just fucking tell me and I'll leave, all right?" Stan says, his voice tired and soft as he reaches up to rub a hand over his own face.

He wants a lot, honestly. And hasn't that always been the problem? He's always wanted -- to be normal, to be respected, to be the best, to be special. 

To be wanted. 

To be enough.

To fix things. 

"You," he realizes, watching Stan jerk his head up. His lashes are still wet, and Ford can't stop himself from reaching up and pressing his palm to Stan's cheek, skimming his thumb gently under one of his eyes. 

When he leans in to kiss him again, Stan makes a small, wounded little noise under his mouth, but he parts his lips for Ford's tongue this time. Stan's lips are chapped and he tastes vaguely of stale cigarettes, but Ford is still struck by how soft and sweet he is. 

More than anything else that had happened that evening, this is the moment that Ford knows he should suspect most of all. The way Stan relaxes between him and the counter, the almost tentative way he lifts his tongue to meet his, the careful fingertips touching the edge of Ford's coat and brushing against his loose tie. It's tender in a way Ford didn't think either of them were capable of, and it should be setting off warning bells and red flags in every part of his mind. 

It isn't. 

Ford is more certain of  the reality of this single moment, the gentle slip of Stan's lips against his own, than he's been of anything in a long time. 

And then Stan sighs between them and murmurs, warm and hopeful, "Ford," against his lips, and he's done for. 

It doesn't matter that they just fucked, that Ford's come is probably still drying between Stan's thighs -- he can't keep his hands off of him. Ford is suddenly frantic and desperate in a way that he hadn't been downstairs. He needs to relearn the new, wider shape of Stan's shoulders and pecs. He needs to feel out every new scar and take stock of all the old ones he remembers Stan collecting for him as kids. He needs to be surrounded by him again, soaking in the warmth of him. 

Ford doesn't deserve absolution, but he thinks he may be able to find something close to it in the low, shaky way Stan moans his name. 

And there's familiarity in the way Stan grabs at him in turn, tugging at his jacket and tie and surging into another, harder kiss. Ford thinks he may not be the only one looking for expiation. 

Then Stan drops to his knees between him and the cabinet, and Ford stops thinking so much. His cock is still out, and Stan wastes no time in getting his fist around the shaft and his lips around the head. He suckles and swirls his tongue, and Ford shoves the beanie off of his head to get his hands in his hair. 

"Stanley," he gasps, stroking his fingers along his scalp and fisting the strands between them. 

Stan moans around him and shuffles closer, sliding the seal of his lips further down the length of Ford's cock. All he can do is groan and try to keep from rocking his hips as more of him is greeted by the warmth of his mouth and the wickedness of his tongue. 

He keeps waiting for Stan to reach his limit, to back off and give himself room to breathe. He doesn't. He keeps leaning in, keeps taking him, and then Ford feels his cockhead slip into Stan's throat, sees his lashes are wet again, and he has to put one hand on the counter to keep himself steady. "Fuck, Stanley, you're so good at this."

Stan makes a horribly sweet sound around the girth of Ford's cock and reaches up to hold his hips as he swallows, and Ford is suddenly afraid he's going to embarass himself.  His hips twitch despite his best efforts to keep them still, but Stan simply relaxes his jaw and his throat and tugs a little to encourage him to do it again. He does, of course, how could he not? 

Despite the heat clawing its way through him and the pleasure mounting dangerously high, Ford almost feels outside of himself again. The picture Stan makes, with his eyes damp and heavy lidded, his lips wet and stretched around Ford's cock, his hair fisted in Ford's fingers and his own clinging to Ford's hips -- it's lewd, debauched, and so horribly sweet that it makes Ford's chest hurt. 

Stan gasps raggedly when Ford pulls him off. "I was go-gonna...I mean you can--"

Ford kneels down to kiss him, tasting stale cigarettes and himself, cock throbbing over the rough state of Stan's voice. "Not done yet," he manages, before tugging Stan onto his feet. 

They lose clothes and time on the journey upstairs, tripping over the steps and Ford's discarded pants, and stumbling into his wreck of a room. If Stan notices the state of things, he doesn't comment, mouth latched onto Ford's shoulder and hands all over his back and hips. 

The back of Ford's legs hit the bed and he sits hard on the mattress. Stan doesn't hesitate to crawl up into his lap. He'd lost his boots in the kitchen and his jeans and boxers somewhere on the way to the stairs, giving him ample opportunity to rub his bare cock against Ford's. 

Cursing, Ford rolls his hips and only belatedly remembers to reach up and tug the hideous red coat off of Stan's shoulders. 

"Oh, fuck, hold on. I think I have another one," Stan says, panting softly as he digs into the pockets of his coat. Ford takes the opportunity to run his hands across Stan's thighs and ass, squeezing whatever skin he can until Stan makes a triumphant sound and pulls another little packet of lube free. 

Only then does he let Ford toss his jacket aside and tug him further up the bed with him. He doesn't protest when Ford takes the packet from him, lowering his head to work open mouth kisses up Ford's throat instead, and he rolls his hips distractingly while Ford fights to get the damnable thing open. He ignores the snickering against his skin in the process. 

It stops anyway, hitching into something warm and startled when Ford sinks two slick fingers into him. 

"Oh, fuck," Stan breaths, reaching up to grab Ford by the shoulder, holding himself steady. "Y-You know you don't have to do that, right? Pretty loosened up already."

He is, to be fair. His hole is still soft and loose and fucked open. But Ford enjoys petting his fingers against the tender muscle and stroking them inside anyway. He likes watching Stan bite his lip and push himself back onto his hand. When he slides a third in after the first two, Stan's thighs tremble on either side of his own, and he makes a low, throaty sound. 

When Ford curls his fingers just right, Stan yells and grips his shoulder hard enough to hurt, and it makes warm satisfaction curl in his middle. So he does it a few more times, alternating between spreading his fingers and rubbing the tips against Stan's prostate until he's squirming in his lap. 

"I-I'm gonna come if you don't knock that sh-shit off," he gasps, slumping a bit when Ford chuckles and slides his fingers out. 

"I think I'd like that," Ford says, squeezing his slick fingers against Stan's thigh. 

He snorts and straightens back up, finding the discarded lube packet to squirt the remainder onto Ford's cock. "Yeah, I bet you fucking would," Stan agrees, but there's no malice in his voice, just warm amusement. 

His fist is warm and wonderful when it curls around Ford's cock, spreading lube, and then Ford is being held steady, Stan adjusts himself on his scuffed knees, and there's nothing else to do but hold on as Stan lowers himself into his lap. 

It feels as good as it had earlier to be inside of him, and Ford squeezes the thigh under his hand tightly, fighting against the need to buck his hips. Stan is panting softly, his head tilted back and a pretty, pink color is crawling up from under his t-shirt to flood his neck and face. 

Ford groans and leans forward, finding a nipple through his thin shirt to get his teeth and tongue against.

"F-Ford!" Stan gasps, fumbling the hand not clawing at his shoulder up into his hair, and Ford sucks hard on the firm nub,  rubbing spit-soaked cotton against it with his tongue until Stan rocks in his lap. 

Fuck, he likes that, the way his name sounds in Stan's voice, especially warm and rough after fucking his throat earlier. 

He squeezes Stan's thigh and his hip, giving him a little tug, and that's all the encouragement Stan needs before he's bouncing on his cock. Ford has that thought again -- that Stan was meant to be filled by him, that they're a perfectly matched set. But it isn't just feeling good and hot while Stan fucks himself in his lap. It's feeling like he's been missing something and he finally has it, like he's finally complete again. 

He's missed this, Ford realizes. 

Not the fucking his brother part. He'd fantasized about that for years but it still feels like a dream that it's happening, like something that's too good to be true. 

But being able to put his arms around him? To be this close to him again? 

Ford rocks his hips up, hard, and Stan says his name. He wraps his fingers around Stan's cock, and he gasps his name. He bites the same swollen, pink nipple through his shirt, and Stan shouts his name. 

He snaps his hips up to meet him a few more times and rubs the sensitive glans under the head of Stan's cock, and then there are teeth digging into his other shoulder and his fist and stomach are being striped in Stan's come while he shudders and jerks overtop of him. 

Stan goes easily when Ford rolls them over and pins one of his wrists to the bed. And despite the way he squirms and how his spent cock twitches and leaks, blatantly overstimulated, he hooks his ankles behind Ford's back and urges him on. 

"C-C'mon, give it to me. Fuck, just like that, Sixer!" 

The nickname hits him with all the subtlety of a truck and all the heat of a volcanic eruption. 

He doesn't even remember coming so much as he remembers every synapses in his brain trying to fire at once. Coming back down to reality is a little clearer, with his head spinning and pulse racing as he flops onto his back, but it still takes several long minutes before he feels fully cognizant again. 

Something makes the bed shift, and he looks over to see that Stan has rolled onto his stomach. Ford wonders if he looks half as fucked out as Stan does, with bruises blossoming across his body, his shirt rucked halfway up his stomach, and come staining his ass and thighs. Ford realizes Stan still has his socks on, and he can't figure out why that makes something twinge, hot but exhausted and halfhearted, in his gut. 

"Gonna...gonna get up in a minute," Stan says, his voice slurring and his eyes already closed. Ford watches him rub his cheek against one of Ford's pillows, and the soft sound of snoring follows soon after. 

The reality of the situation starts to settle in shortly after that, and Ford stares wide eyed up at the ceiling as if he'll find some sort of answers there. Unsurprisingly, there are no secrets etched overhead for how to reckon with the fact that he had just fucked his brother, twice, while the fate of the world was still very much hanging in the balance between his fraying sanity and Bill's looming threat. 

".....Fuck," Ford murmurs.

When the adrenaline finishes seeping out of his system, Ford expects to crash. The exhaustion certainly climbs back into his bones, but he's surprised to find himself still clear headed. Focused. 

The sound of Stan sleeping soundly beside him is as soothing as it is mocking, but he doesn't want to separate himself from it even though he knows he needs to get up. There's soft, gray light starting to creep in through the windows, and distant birdsong calling for the start of the day. He needs to readjust, to come up with a new plan, find some way to explain to Stan what's going on so they can buy themselves a little more time. 

Against all odds and his better judgment, there's a tiny, optimistic voice in the back of his head reminding him that there's strength in numbers. He isn't surprised that it sounds like Stan.

[worldcleansingdragon]

Has anybody ever talked about how Welt is immediately the first one to jump in defense of dan heng when we ask him about the express crew?

Dan Heng was, in fact, the driest and coldest mfer you could find, I'm not going to deny that (hell, when I first started playing the game I didn't care about him in the slightest because of that). But Welt, the moment we just ask him about Dan Heng, immediately jumps onto saying that he isn't like that at all! That Dan Heng may appear cold and distant on the outside, but he's a child with a kind heart and he cares! He's just like that due to everything he's been through!

(also the way that he compared dan heng to his younger self... welt please, no more honkai impacting it out. you're making me cry.)

Welt also mentions that Dan Heng "told him he doesn't know what he's running away from, all he knew is that he had to run away". You know what that means?

That Dan Heng did talk with Welt about what he went through before the Express. Definitely not his time in the Shackling Prison, but the things that he encountered after he got exiled from the Luofu. That only proves that Dan Heng really does value Welt, he wouldn't tell something like this to anyone, so Welt must've really gained his trust somehow.

And don't get me started on how Welt says that he and Himeko will never let Dan Heng get hurt! And if anybody tries, they'll suffer their wrath! They're his biological parents, your honor. First Vidyadhara recorded to have parents.

I could yap so much more about Dan Heng's and Welt's relationship... Dan Heng really sees him as an authority figure, someone he looks up to by everything he says about him.

"Mr. Yang, could you provide your insight on this?" My guy, Mr. Yang is almost your father. He will kill everyone in the universe and then himself if even a hair falls off of your head. He is fathering so hard he is mothering.

(Himeko too, btw. I need to explain my view on Himeko's and Dan Heng's relationship as well.)

[planetsandstarsandstuff]

Synastry & Composite Chart Notes/Observations part ll:

🪐༘ Moon in the 10H synastry: Moon often feels a strong sense of pride in the 10H person, even if they don't know them very well. They can become very emotionally invested in this person's success and are often highly defensive of them, particularly from public scrutiny. (sidenote: if you have Moon in or ruling your 10th house, you might that find people feel this way about you regardless of where their Moon sits in your chart.)

🪐༘ Composite 3H Uranus/Uranus-Mercury: These placements can often speak to sporadic communication - going long stretches of time without speaking and then messaging each other out of the blue, conversations lacking rhythm, communication over text feeling incohesive, etc.

🪐༘ Venus in the 2H synastry: Venus loves giving compliments to the 2H person; making 2H feel good about themselves makes Venus feel good in return.

🪐༘ Moon in 1H/Moon-asc synastry: Moon is often very attached to the way the asc person looks and can be sensitive to changes in their appearance - this synastry reminds me of when a baby starts crying after their dad shaves his beard or gets a new haircut LOL

🪐༘ Composite Libra Mars: Conflict often feels extremely uncomfortable here.

🪐༘ Planets in the Composite 12H can point to themes that the two are shy about expressing with one another:

Venus - love, affection

Sun - personality, authenticity

Moon - emotions, vulnerability, earnestness

Mercury - communication, unfiltered thoughts + ideas

🪐༘ Mars in the 4H synastry: Mars can feel a lot of anger toward the house person's family on their behalf, sometimes really resenting them. This is like when you tell a friend about your parent treating you poorly and they get 10x more worked up about it than you.

🪐༘ We might be able to see how others feel about our relationship with someone by looking at how their planets interact with the composite chart. Their Venus can tell us what they like or possibly envy about the relationship, their Mars can tell us what might anger them about it, Pluto may be able to show where they feel jealous or try to assert their power, Mercury can show where they're most curious about the relationship or what aspect of it they may discuss with others, etc.

🪐༘ Both Jupiter and Neptune can often grant a lot of forgiveness in synastry, but in slightly different ways:

With Neptune, there tends to be a presumption of innocence about the other person - it's easy to forgive them because we have a difficult time believing they could ever intentionally cause harm. There's often a lot of tolerance here.

With Jupiter, we're more likely to recognize this person's flaws than we are with Neptune - we don't view them through the same rose-colored glasses. However, we still tend to be very forgiving of them because we have faith in their overall character and ability to grow. There's often a lot of good will granted here.

🪐༘ Saturn-Moon synastry: As the Saturn person, we often feel responsible for the Moon person's safety and emotional well being - there's a strong sense of obligation here. I find that even if we don't particularly like this person, we can't help but feel somewhat protective over them.

That's all, thanks for reading!

[derww]

DEVOTIONS WEEK DAY 1: OBSESSION/HUNTING

This time he sleeps for too long – not because he gave up and not because he was not afraid, but because his too mortal body is so exhausted that he lies in oblivion for almost a day. When he finally opens his infinitely heavy eyes, Mapicc is already here. He is a shadow melted into the corner of the house, burning gaze and still posture. He's silent. His hand clutches an axe.

The situation could have been considered ridiculous, even funny, if he hadn't been so horrified.

It's not that you can't talk to Mapicc, but talking to him is a minefield: he can hear, but he doesn't want to listen. He doesn't need any apologies. He doesn't need a compromise. He needs to put an axe between the Zam's eyes, and again, and again, until the weak body gives up, peeling, crumbling, bubbling and crunching. And again. And again. And again.

He doesn't have a chance. Mapicc slowly and methodically chastises him for his weaknesses and mistakes, for his unworthiness and for his pity. He imputes him for betrayal, and Zam, really, has nothing to say, because Mapicc is right.

At this stage, the only realistic option was to give up, but what remained true about Zam was that he refused to give up. And he takes up the sword and collects a parody of a battle kit from his remains, and everything falls apart in an instant. Mapicc attacks once, twice, thrice, and very soon Zam is cornered, and Mapicc mauls him, hitting again and again, even when he stops moving, letting the splashing blood stain himself and everything around him, breaking bones and severing arteries and tearing muscles and splitting his belly open. There is not even sadism in this, there is no joy and pleasure – Mapicc is silent, keeping an unperturbed expression on his face, and just hits, and hits, and hits, and hits.

At some point, Zam starts screaming. At some point, he stops. At some point, when there seems to be nothing working left in his inhuman body, he finally dies. It's excruciating. It's a relief.

This time he wakes up instantly. His whole body is giving off phantom pains. There is inky darkness outside the window, simultaneously frightening and sheltering. He sits down on the bed, breathing heavily, and clutches his head.

To come up with. He needs to come up with something. Solution. The way out of this.

***

The castle is as beautiful as ever: only completed, solidly built, and cleaned. Brand new brewing setup, clean bed, fresh dandelions on the windowsill. The quiet idyll of a man who has run from problems, but he sees blood stains here and there – when you refuse to leave space, there are only so many places to die.

He fought Mapicc every new time. Prepared and not, sooner or later, but this is how it all was ending: Mapicc wins. Mapicc kills him. It starts all over again. No matter what he did, it was useless: nothing could equal their skill difference. He could have been prepared as much as he wanted – once he spent all his remaining time on grinding a full battle kit, and the other time – on mining the area around the castle, and in the end everything turned out to be useless anyway. Mapicc went ahead, took the blows as if they were worthless, threw venomous words and hit, and hit, and hit. This was not a battle that Zam could win. He tried, and tried, and tried – even after he realized that he was stuck in a time loop, he died over and over again, but he only had more splashes of phantom pain on his body. A couple of times he calls people for help, but they always die before him, and he stops.

It's an endless loop. He gets up, he prepares, he fights, he dies. Even if something changes, the outcome remains the same. Mapicc still looks at him terrifyingly, and his axe still easily crumbles the ridge. And then Zam wakes up choking on blood.

This is the first time he decides to run away.

And: don't get me wrong, he loves this place, truly loves and appreciates it. But even his pride is worthless if everything stays as it is. And he says to himself: I'll let him destroy the Sanctuary. That doesn't mean I'm giving up.

It's terrible, it's monstrous, it will break his heart, but if time continues to flow on, then he can – he can do at least something. Restore it. Turn it into a memorial. Anything.

He hides all his pets a hundred blocks away from the castle. He takes the horn from Walter's grave. He prepares – to the best of his ability. And when his time runs out, when Mapicc will soon find this place even with the turned-off beacon, he runs.

It's almost absurdly easy – almost the entire vast world is in front of him, and he gets lost in endless forests thousands of blocks from the Sanctuary, mourning his fate, but promising that he will do... Something. He stays away from known places, spending long hours alone and never ceasing to think about what he left behind.

And then Mapicc finds him.

Mapicc is a furious hellhound, blinded by the chase. This time he doesn't give him time – he rushes at him, barely preserving his humanity, and hits, hits, hits. Zam, of course, defends himself, but he is scared, he is terrified, he – how could this happen, he thinks in despair, realizing that he sacrificed the most important place for nothing. Mapicc is so out of his mind that he doesn't say a word. And then Zam wakes up.

He does a lot of things: he fights, he hides, he runs. In the end, he betrays all his principles, because they are worthless in a frozen world, but nothing ever justifies his hopes. Mapicc finds him even at the edge of the world, and the longer the chase, the worse he gets. Sometimes Zam remembers the second season. Was he like that then, he thinks, and starts to feel sick.

He hates it, but mostly he's scared. His ex-partner became his worst nightmare. He killed Zam so many times that he stopped counting long ago. He dragged his corpse all over the server and smeared the entire Sanctuary, a place of peace and tranquility, in blood. Zam had no hope, but he couldn't afford to give up. He never gives up, and maybe he couldn't.

The pain does not go away, and at one point, after a particularly crushing blow, which eventually hit right on his wrists, his hands begin to shake. He manages to suppress it – one cycle, another, third, fifth, tenth, but one day it becomes unstoppable.

– Look at you, – Mapicc says with disgust, – how far have you fallen.

He puts him down. Zam barely resists. For him, this is the closest thing possible to giving up.

He sleeps late, and every joint in his body responds with excruciating pain. He gets up, makes himself a cup of coffee, and drinks it. He writes goodbyes to those he values – even if they are erased the next day, something in this makes it better. he braids his hair and plays with Friend. When Mapicc bursts into the castle, bringing snow and wind from the outside, he does not even flinch.

– I miss you, – he says almost softly. He didn't give up. He didn't give up. He didn't give up. He didn't give up.

Talking doesn't solve anything, and he knows it from the very beginning. Mapicc answers him, but he is still bitter, and when he asks if Zam is ready to accept death for the betrayal, he agrees. This death, at least, comes quickly.

He wakes up and looks at the window, behind which a blizzard is sweeping. He notices that the dandelions on the windowsill seem to have wilted.

[dalliesque]

I'm On My Knees . . ! ! >//<

random things that make riize weak on their knees.

꒰ png ot7!riize x fem!reader , fluff , sillies , headcanons , established relationship , lower case intended . cw kisses, pet names . wc — (not proofread) ꒱

yu notes: MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT HC AAAA, NOT GONNA LET OT6 RUIN MY DAY 🫵

shotaro — your gaze

• it doesn't matter how long you have been dating him.

• your gaze would always melt him away, never failing to make him weak on his knees

• the way you stare at him loving, so warm, so comforting.

• he swears he'll always get hypnotised by it

• and at the end of it either staring back with a pair of lovesick eyes,

• or suddenly blurting out his dramatic plans of marrying you.

• well it could be both

"what do you want for dinner? it'll be my treat" a giddy giggle escape your lips, looking up from your phone to catch him staring. your gaze soften as you call for him in a small voice, "taro?" you tilt your head slightly. not receiving any reply back, you ask once again. "taro"—"let's get married."

sungchan — your voice + petnames

• there's just something so alluring about your voice

• it doesn't matter if your voice is sometimes soft, sometimes deep, raspy,

• even when you're not talking at all and just simply breathing

• it will always be a sweet treat to his ear.

• especially if you add in some sweet new names for him in your sentences

• he'll be kicking his feet like a highschool girl

• he's so obsessed with it, he will refuse to start a day without calling you or atleast receiving a voicemail from you.

• and obviously sleep calls when he's away are a must !!

"hello?" you utter sleepy, yawning and laying back down to your bed. you can hear shuffles through the call, confusion arising when he's not replying to your words. "pretty boy?" the call goes in one long silence as you can't hear him shuffling around on the other side anymore. "sungc"—"did you just call me a pretty boy??!!! KAKSJDJWISJSJSN WAIT I NEED A MINUTE"

eunseok — your caring nature

• idiot grin on his face

• like his smile is huge everytime your personality traits starts to show up

• the way he observes your attentiveness, your caring and kind nature

• his eyes will legit turns to hearts !!

• loves to watch as your caring mode turns on everytime you see animals, people or simply seeing,, him.

you drop down to a squat gently pushing the can of tuna towards a cute little kitten. "look at you.." you coo, offering your hand cautiously watching the way the kitten reacts before gently stroking it. eunseok smiles warmly, staring down at you and the way your expression soften whilst gently carresing the poor animal. "eunseok" you call softly breaking his trance. "yes baby?" eunseok's smile widens crouching next to you, you giggle gently reach out to fix the stray hair on his face. "can we adopt her?" eunseok swears he's fallen in love twice.

wonbin — your warmth

• wonbin lovesloooooves hugging you

• or cuddling you on top of a comfy mattress

• whether it's him spooning you or the other way around it doesn't really matter for him.

• what matters the most is your body pressed close against him at all times!

• he won't be able to function without the warmth your body provides, even if it's in the middle of summer 😵‍💫

you struggle in his embrace, trying to let go as the heat of summer slowly seeps through the window. feeling you pry open his arms, wonbin let out a whine pulling you closer as he hides in the crook of your neck. "it's so hot wonbin" you pout still trying to breakfree from his embrace. "i know im hot" a groan leaves your lips hitting his back gently. "atleast let me grab the ac remote??" wonbin sigh letting go slightly, his hand still perfectly wrapped around your wrist "fine, so this is how it is huh? you don't love me anymore." "oh shut up." you roll your eyes while chuckling softly turning on the ac before spooning him back in your arms, sighing in content.

seunghan — your touch

• blushing mess everytime your hands touch

• people might assume it would be the other way around, the way he acts most of the time proves that he wouldn't be the one clinging right?

• oh how wrong that is

• he'll make sure to keep you close 24/7

• it seems everytime you touch send such an electric feeling in his body

• and he'll never get enough of it, he will alwaaays be so flustered by it

you lean in slightly, your thumb brushing over his lips. "you got chocolate on your lips" you clarify, leaning back to your seat. sipping on your hot chocolate. seunghan quickly reaches out for your hand, placing it back to his lips. "seunghan..?" "i like your touch."

sohee — your smile

• this boy have the sweetest most beautiful smile and guess what?

• his weakness is your smile.

• he's such a tease about it too :(

• would do anything to see you trying to hold in your smile, looking away while blush crept up your skin. all because of him

"so pretty." he whispers softly, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. his eyes finding yours as you try your best to keep your composure, your eyes wandering everywhere but his pair. sohee holds back a giggle, seeing your flustered state. he gently touch your chin, forcing you to look his way. "baby.. pretty.. look at me."

anton — your kisses

• your kisses are his BIGGEST and i mean BIGGEST weakness ever

• most especially a kiss on his cheeks.. oh and his lips aswell !

• he will literally drop everything he's holding and drop down to his knees

"antoooooniooooo" you call fhim in a singsong voice, running giddily towards him. anton gives you sweet smile, pulling you in for a hug. "i missed you so much" you pout, soon pulling away. "i missed you too baby"— chuu! you lean in and gives him a big kiss on his cheek and another one on his lips as soon as he finished talking. your lipgloss staining his face. anton gasps, touching the places where you leave those kisses. feeling his knees weakening. "oh my—" "anton!!" you laugh keeping his knees from hitting the ground.

2024 ©️ dalliesque

@ :: @intakstars @taroddori @reenfludfmarshmallow @enhacolor @sftsohee

[drpvnk]

people who hate the direction of kit's character because he's upset with ty while also knowing ty is autistic... are the same people who fail to realize that while kit is more knowledgable in that area than most nephilim, he was STILL only 15 years old, and while he did go along with ty until last minute even ty questioned his authenticity at some point...

(also did we all collectively forget kits entire storyline? this kid was in NO position to make any life-altering decisions... tbh the only person who might have an inkling of what he's going through is clary, cause yea not even jace and his reassurance can fully encompass kits issues...

i mean here is a kid who was abused by neglection and harsh treatment, a kid who has only ever know to crave love and never felt it. and then one day his abuser/protector is ripped in half right in front of him, and he's promptly told that he is apart of a society who he was taught to hate his entire life. so there goes his first identity crisis. but oh wait, this entirely new society has been taught to expect tragedy to happen at anytime of the day so suck it up cause your one of us now and also we're placing you in a super tight-knit family that is going through their own traumatic shit, so they won't have time to even TRY and make you feel welcomed or acknowledged... like AT ALL. (cause wow, how many times was kit left on the sidelines while the entire LA institute had a giant group hug... LOL) but then you get accepted by these twins and become apart of their little group, and now you don't want to let go, you CAN'T, because this is the closest you've ever been to being apart of a family, so you have to bury your grief and be likeable and cool and strong. but then one of the twins die and suddenly everyone is looking at you to comfort the other twin, but you haven't even been able to figure out how to grieve yourself before having to experience this additional loss of a budding relationship. but you love this boy so OK you do what you can, even if it means going along with something that makes you sick to your stomach. but your still new here, you don't know which lines to cross, you don't know whats ok and what's not, who to tell and who not to tell, you dont want this boy to hate you, you can't lose this "home" even as it's being held by the thinnest string ready to break. even as you look at yourself and can only see the same look of disappointment and hate and secrets upon secrets, an exact copy of his fathers expression when he looked at kit, a man your not sure you even love. there goes your second identity crisis. (funny how much kit hates secrets and yet thats been the only revelation of his entire existence)

you suck it up until you can't anymore, until your feelings spill over in the purest words that you can express, words that mean a lifetime to you because these are words no one has have uttered to you, because these are words you know you probably need to hear too.

except now your left soppin wet and punched by your inconsolable crush and watching as he performs a failed resurrection. and then after being kept in confinement for some days its revealed that your part faerie, another race hellbent on being hated by the world. except your not just any faerie but the one true heir to TWO thrones... and there's your third identity crisis.))) also,,, dont get me started on the short stories where we expect to read about kit healing and then we actually just see him sink deeper and deeper into this pit of self-loathing as he's continuously put in positions that have him viewed as a threat and danger to his family... i.e. his heritage, tessa and jems reaction to him holding james' gun, mina's kidnapping, etc.

yea, by all means kit be angry!

and to address kit being older and still holding this grudge years later with the assumption that he knows more and maybe understands ty's thought process better,,, he's already admitted to being mad at ty for putting kit in a position that had him looking in the mirror and seeing johnny rook... NOT at the fact that he was "rejected" or even the resurrection itself...

is kit in the right for his misplaced anger? ofc not,,, but he also went through a lifetime of trauma that you can't simply let go of just because another person might not have fully understood the headspace that he was in at the moment

kits characterization within the fandom really makes me realize how privileged many people are to never having to go through the messy process of grieving your abuser while now figuring out who you are after them, all while their shadow is still casted over your entire being... like, no kit didn't runaway from being rejected by a boy, he ran away from being rejected despite his desperate efforts to be loved, even if it meant sacrificing his own sanity by becoming someone who resembled the catalyst of ALOT of his trauma,,,ofc this is all in his pov since we the readers are aware of tys feelings)

thats all to say that kit really is good at suppressing his feelings if even the readers glossed over the multiple times his mind began to stray towards the death of his father throughout the tda series. like, we're aware of johnny's treatment towards kit and we're also aware of the envirommemt he was raised in,,, so why is it that people focus on him "knowing" about the spectrum b/c he lives in modern society than they are about the life he's personally lived that influenced his decision and thought process throughout the story?

and if it wasn't obvious this post was entirely for kit's pov, ty has a completely different view of things and where kit might not fully understand how ty processes things, neither does ty towards kit. they're both on completely different pages!!

but thats the point of their story!! theyre gonna heal together! we will explore ty's pov and see what he REALLY saw during that time period and maybe kit can finally love himself the way he wants others to love him,,,,

[sugurouge]

— cozy : sendo shūto x f!reader

content warnings! suggestive content, pet names (brat, pretty, princess, sweets), teasing

summary: a relaxing self care night to pamper your boyfriend

wordcount: 1.2k

You always enjoyed your self care nights. You love them even more ever since you got together with Shuto. Why? Well, simply because of the intimacy you feel as you get to take care of him. It's the only time where Shuto will let his guard down and relax, melt into your pampering touches, and turn into the most adorable version of himself.

All the intriguing layers of his big ego have been shed to let the real him come through; a big, spoiled prince you love to call your boyfriend. Nothing beats this time together when you sit in his lap and this wonderful tension starts to build up as you try your best to really take care of him.

You make it your mission to restore the silky shine to his hair and the glow on his skin before another exhausting week begins. But how could you stay focused if neatly trimmed fingernails push into your bare thighs, if they drag along your skin absentmindedly while deep sighs escape Shuto's lips and fan over your exposed neck.

The mask on his face feels like heaven, and the way you work the hair oil into his strands has shivers run down his spine. The adorable hums of content bring a smile to soften your concentrated expression, and even in a state like this, is he still so handsome. How could you not feed his confidence?

“You know you’re really cute, right?” you whisper into his ear once Shuto appears almost passed out from your spoiling touches. “The cutest around.” There is a cocky ring to his remark and a confident smirk spreads over his lips—which just so happens to cause the drying face mask to crack.

“Shuu! You’re making a mess…” Yet the pout on your balmed lips is one of Sendo's favourite sights. You’re simply too adorable while concentrating, especially so when it is on nothing and no one but him. “Only want to make a mess of you, pretty,” he cheekily murmurs as you attempt to carefully squish his cheeks. The best solution was to cradle his face to stop the mask from breaking further and falling all over your sofa.

Yet, ultimately, it only brings you to lean closer and push your breasts against his chest. “That wasn’t exactly your brightest move, princess.” A victorious glimmer swims in his eyes as with one swift tug he brings your hips down to meet his. The audacity of Sendo's remark has you crease your brows and squish his cheeks harder, as you retort a feisty “Shut up, brat!” which falters in intensity as a soft moan tumblrs past your lips.

Oh, don't tease him. Sendo cocks an eyebrow at you, his smirk only breaking the cracks in the mask further upon feeling a certain challenge arise. "There's only one brat in this room," he quips back quickly, upon which you attempt to add your two pennies, try to tell him "Yeah, that's yo—" If it wasn't for his fingers to roam underneath your loose-fit shirt until he cups your ass and brings your hips to grind against himself, makes you drag along his growing erection. The movement steals a yelp from you, interrupts your little quarrel and forces you focus on more prominent things at hand. "Behave~" you try to reprimand him, attempt to remind him of your messy situation, yet your voice sounds too needy for Sendo to take it seriously.

The pressure of his devious grin against the palms of your hands is evident, and Shuto effortlessly leans forward to place a kiss on your neck. “What do you like to say…?” he muses, orange eyes staring up into your own as you watch recognition flash in those beautiful orbs. “Ah, make me,” he breathes before his lips attach to your neck to mouth along your pulse point. His tongue flicks against the prominent vein before nibbling on your skin right below your ear until he hears your sweet moans for him.

Sendo leans back again to proudly examine the result of his little attack on you, eyes shameless raking over your pretty features to land on your pleading eyes. He deems you tempted enough. The way your thighs press against his legs and the heaving of your chest are great indicators of how close he has gotten to his goal.

Surprisingly enough you’re still so utterly affected by his lust-filled gaze resting on your body, you can't keep yourself from growing a little shy. Murmuring a weak “Don't look at me like that,” as Shuto seems lost in you. It's impossible to not want to claim your lips all over again. “Come here,” are the last words you hear him whisper before giving yourself away to pleasure.

Your stained hands drop from his face to his shirt. Successfully spreading the half dried mixture over the dark fabric while your tongue brushes against his, lips moving in perfect sync as Sendo swallows your moans. But his stupid grin breaks the kiss once he notices the voluntary and utterly needy roll of your hips against his cock. You're just so perfect at applying the right amount of pressure to have him crave you more and more.

Unfortunately, Shuto makes you aware of just how soaked your panties have grown to become when the hand on your ass guides your hips to push down harder against his erection, Effectively keeping you grinding against him. “Shuu…” you sigh and navigate his hand along your body. All the way down from your neck over your tits, stomach and thighs until you feel his cool touch gather the thin fabric of your panties and tug on them.

Sendo loves hoe you react to him and just him; how wet you get for him. He loves the reassuring grip of your hands in his hair or shirt when you try to ground yourself from drowning in the waves of your pleasure each time he has the joy of listening to your sweet voice.

But really, it is your own fault your boyfriend is this cocky and full of himself. Just a few hours with you and he is a man reborn; confident and convinced of himself. “Yeah? What is it, sweets? Want me to take care of you now?” he teases, holding himself with the confidence of a man who isn’t wearing a cracked mask on his face.

You bend down and steal a swift kiss from him. “We should clean up. Take a shower or something…” you sigh and kiss him again, clay clad hands running through his oil-laced hair to make a point. “Together.” Sendo much more feels the word against his lips instead of hearing it as you refuse to bring distance between your bodies and already wrap your arms around his neck for him to carry you to your bathroom.

dividers by @/cafekitsune + @/strangergraphics

[locomoqo]

Hello! just came across your blog and i absolutely love your work<3

Could you maybe do jake x reader where the reader is his wife:33 maybe crack or fluff depends on you:3

(loved the gitae fic with wife Reader✨)

fancy footwork

— jake kim x reader

details: pure fluff, established relationship, jake is ur hubby

A/N: i hc that jake is good at sexy dancing (i bet he was stiff af at first but got better overtime)

One of the promises Jake has made to himself is that he’d never end up like his father. Especially when it comes to his love life, especially when it comes to you. He’ll make sure that every minute, every second, you know how much he loves you. Every moment is precious to him, no matter how small or insignificant they may seem—like nights spent cooking together in the kitchen. 

Tonight, you and Jake are making dinner, you’re focused on slicing vegetables while Jake stirs a pot at the stove. The playlist goes on softly in the background, blending into the evening—until one song in particular comes on, catching Jake’s attention and making him pause.

He recognizes the first few seconds as one of your favorites, a song that instantly brings a playful glint to his eyes. He glances over his shoulder, that familiar, mischievous smile forming as he looks at you. “Wait, isn’t this one of your favorite songs?”

You barely glance up from your chopping. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” he replies, his grin widening. With a playful sidestep, he’s right beside you, giving you a light hip bump that makes you stumble a bit, almost cutting off your steady chopping. A small smile creeps onto your face, despite your efforts to stay focused on dinner. You roll your eyes, though it’s clear you’re not annoyed—just amused.

Jake raises his eyebrows and starts rolling his shoulders, leaning into the beat with that funny little dance he always does to make you laugh. It’s half shoulder shimmy, half confident strut, and he exaggerates it with a serious face like he’s performing for a grand audience. You can’t help but laugh, and the sound only seems to encourage him further.

“You’re ridiculous,” you giggle, trying to concentrate on the vegetables.

“Maybe, but I’m ridiculous and on beat,” he says with a wink, adding in an even more exaggerated shoulder move, trying to coax you into dancing with him. “Come onnn, dance with me.”

“Jake, we’re cooking! And I am not dancing,” you insist, though the laughter bubbling up makes it hard to sound serious.

He shrugs, “Fine, I’ll just dance for the both of us then.” But before you can protest, he reaches over, setting your knife aside and gently pulling you away from the cutting board. His grin only widens as his moves get increasingly dramatic with every beat.

“Just one dance,” he coaxes, holding out his hand. “The last time we danced together was at our wedding, don't you miss that?”

You narrow your eyes, trying to stay composed, but a grin starts tugging at the corners of your lips. “Fine,” you sigh dramatically, slipping your hand into his.

He pulls you close, and the two of you sway together to the music, moving in sync with a bit of silly exaggeration and a whole lot of warmth. You let him twirl you once, twice, until you’re breathless with laughter, stumbling as he dips you unexpectedly. He lifts you back up with a smile and a wink, making it all feel so natural and lighthearted.

At one point, he holds you close, swaying gently with a tenderness that softens his expression. “See? Told you it’d be fun.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help grinning back. “Fine, maybe I will admit it was fun.”

“Only maybe?” he asks, his voice low and playful as he dips you once more, bringing you back up only to spin you again. He’s savoring every second of this, holding you as if you might just float away if he lets go.

You shake your head, feigning exasperation, even though you’re clearly enjoying every second of it. “Alright, you win. I’m having fun,” you finally admit, laughter laced in your voice.

“Look at that smile,” he teases, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face. Before you know it, he’s leaned in close, his gaze dropping to your lips. He pauses, just long enough to see you smile, before pressing a playful kiss to your cheek.

“You’re impossible,” you murmur, though the warmth in your voice betrays you.

He laughs, the sound wrapping around you like a soft blanket. “Only for you,” he whispers, pulling you close once more.

You feel a warmth settle over you, one that has nothing to do with the cooking. Because with Jake, even the simplest moments—like a silly dance in the kitchen—feel like they’re exactly where you’re meant to be.