#but I still wish they could have done something

[crabs-nonsense]

My mom once emailed the museum we were going to asking about how they made taxidermy because she's afraid of it and thought learning about it might make it less scary. The guy who did all the taxidermy stuff there gave the two of us a tour of a bunch of behind the scenes stuff while we were there of how he does the taxidermy and where storage stuff is.

Literally the worst that happens if you contact people is you get no answer or are told they can't help you. And sometimes you get a really cool behind the scenes tour that no one else gets and learn a bunch of new stuff and it's more memorable that the rest of the museum trip.

[s4kura-tr3]

Could you make a crybaby reader with JJK men? Like just an overly sensitive/nice reader? It’s okay if not! Have a good day!

Sensitive!

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Megumi, Yuji

Gojo Satoru

Gojo Satoru never meant to upset you—he rarely ever did. But today, his usual playful teasing hit you harder than usual.

You were sitting on the couch together, scrolling through your phone while he flipped lazily through the channels on the TV. Out of nowhere, Gojo chuckled and said, “You know, you’re so dramatic sometimes. It’s kinda cute, but it’s like everything’s the end of the world for you.”

You froze, his words hitting a nerve. Dramatic. That’s how people had dismissed your feelings for years. You tried to brush it off, but your chest tightened, and your vision blurred slightly as you blinked back tears.

Gojo didn’t notice at first, still flipping channels and humming to himself. But when you didn’t respond with your usual witty comeback, he glanced over and saw your downturned face.

“Wait,” he said, sitting up immediately. “Did I say something wrong?”

You didn’t answer right away, biting your lip to keep your emotions in check.

“Hey,” he said more gently now, setting the remote down. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Finally, you looked at him, your voice quiet. “You called me dramatic. Do you know how many times I’ve heard that? It’s like every time I feel something, people just… dismiss me.”

Gojo’s eyes widened as realization dawned on him. “Oh no. No, no, no, that’s not what I meant,” he said, scooting closer to you on the couch. “I wasn’t trying to dismiss you. I swear, I just—ugh, sometimes I don’t think before I speak.”

You didn’t reply, still feeling the sting of his words.

Gojo reached for your hands, holding them in his warm, large ones. “I’m really sorry,” he said softly. “You’re not dramatic. You just feel things deeply, and I love that about you. It’s one of my favorite things about you, actually. You care so much, and that’s rare. Honestly, I wish I was more like you sometimes.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice.

“I mean it,” he continued. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that wasn’t a good thing. It is. You’re amazing, and I’m lucky you put up with my dumb jokes.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, despite your lingering hurt. “You really think that?”

Gojo grinned, his usual playful energy returning as he kissed your knuckles. “I think you’re perfect. And I’m perfectly terrible at saying things the right way. Forgive me?”

You sighed, the weight in your chest easing. “Okay. But maybe think before you speak next time?”

“Deal,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll even let you pick the movie tonight as a peace offering. But only if it’s not boring.”

You laughed softly, and just like that, Gojo had you smiling again, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close.

Geto Suguru

It was late in the evening, and you and Geto Suguru were sitting together in a cozy café. He had insisted on taking you out to unwind after a long week, and for a while, the warm atmosphere and his gentle company had done just that. But then, the conversation took an unexpected turn.

You were talking about a project you’d been working on—how much effort you’d put into it and how nervous you were about how it would turn out. Somewhere in the middle of your rambling, Geto chuckled softly and said, “You really overthink things sometimes, don’t you?”

His tone was light, and you knew he didn’t mean it maliciously, but the comment stopped you in your tracks. Your heart sank, and your chest tightened as those familiar insecurities reared their heads. You looked down at your tea, your appetite for conversation disappearing.

Geto immediately noticed the shift in your mood. He tilted his head, his dark eyes softening with concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked gently, leaning closer.

You shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing,” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “Did I say something wrong?”

You hesitated, but his steady gaze encouraged you to speak. “It’s just… when you said I overthink things. I know I do, okay? I hear it all the time, and I hate that about myself. It feels like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough, and people just see me as… too much.”

Geto’s expression shifted immediately, a flicker of regret crossing his face. “Hey, no, that’s not what I meant at all,” he said softly, his voice full of sincerity.

You looked away, but he gently reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours. “Listen to me,” he said, his tone warm and steady. “I wasn’t trying to say that in a bad way. I know you overthink because you care. You care so much about everything, and that’s not a flaw—it’s a strength.”

You blinked at him, his words catching you off guard.

“You put your whole heart into what you do, and yeah, sometimes it makes you nervous or unsure, but that’s only because you want things to be perfect,” he continued. “And honestly? That’s one of the things I admire most about you. I could never think of that as a bad thing.”

The tightness in your chest began to ease as his words sank in. “You really mean that?” you asked softly.

Geto smiled gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Of course I do. And I’m sorry if what I said made you feel like I didn’t. I’ll be more careful with my words next time.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you.”

He chuckled softly. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s my job to remind you how amazing you are when you forget.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and the tension that had settled between you melted away.

“Now,” he said, his tone lightening as he leaned back in his chair, “how about I make it up to you with dessert? I hear they’ve got a mean matcha cheesecake here.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “Fine, but you’re paying.”

“Always,” he said with a playful smirk, raising his hand to call for the waiter.

Nanami Kento

Nanami Kento had had an exhausting day. Every step he took up the stairs to your shared apartment felt heavier than the last, and all he wanted was to come home, see you, and let the warmth of your presence melt away the stress.

When he opened the door, you greeted him with your usual enthusiasm, rushing over to pull him into a tight hug. “Kento! You’re home!” you exclaimed, your excitement practically radiating off you.

He managed a small smile and placed a hand on your back, but the weight of his day still hung over him. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice tired.

You didn’t seem to notice his exhaustion as you began talking a mile a minute. “I missed you! You won’t believe the day I had—oh, and guess what? I tried that recipe you love, and I think it turned out amazing! Oh, and Louis did the funniest thing today—”

“Can you give me a second?” he snapped, his voice sharper than he intended.

The room fell silent, and the warmth in your expression dimmed instantly. You stepped back, your arms falling to your sides. “Oh,” you said softly. “Sorry.”

Nanami immediately felt a pang of regret as he saw the hurt in your eyes. You weren’t upset because he was tired—you were upset because he’d made you feel like your excitement didn’t matter to him.

You turned away, mumbling something about letting him settle in, but he quickly reached out and gently grabbed your hand. “Wait,” he said, his voice softer now.

You hesitated, looking at him but avoiding his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s not your fault I had a hard day. I… I was looking forward to seeing you all day, and then I let my frustration get in the way.”

You blinked, your lips trembling slightly. “I just wanted to make you happy,” you admitted quietly.

“And you do,” he said immediately, stepping closer to you. “You’re the best part of my day. Always.”

Your eyes met his then, searching his face for the truth in his words. His expression was soft, full of remorse and affection.

“I don’t deserve to have you greet me with so much love after the way I acted,” he said, gently pulling you into his arms. “But I promise I’ll do better. You’re everything to me, and I should have treated you like it.”

You rested your forehead against his chest, feeling his arms tighten around you. “I just got too excited,” you murmured.

“And I love that about you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Your excitement, your energy—it’s what makes this place feel like home. I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate it like I should’ve.”

For a moment, you stood there in his embrace, his warmth and steady heartbeat easing the lingering hurt.

“Do you want to sit down and tell me about your day?” he asked after a moment, pulling back slightly to look at you. “I want to hear everything.”

You hesitated, then nodded, a small smile creeping onto your face. “Okay. But only if you let me heat up dinner for you first.”

He chuckled softly. “Deal. But don’t rush—just being here with you is enough.”

And as you led him to the table, the weight of his day began to lift, replaced by the comfort of knowing he was home—with you.

Toji fushiguro

Toji Fushiguro wasn’t the type to watch his words. His bluntness was just part of who he was—sharp, quick, and sometimes careless. Most of the time, you brushed it off, knowing he didn’t mean to hurt you. But tonight, it cut deeper than usual.

The two of you were in the kitchen after dinner. You were putting away dishes, humming softly, while Toji leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, watching you.

“I’ve been thinking about trying something new,” you said, your tone excited. “Like a cooking class or maybe painting—something creative. I think it could be fun.”

Toji grunted in response, not looking up from the dish he was drying.

You hesitated but kept going, trying to draw him into the conversation. “What do you think? Would you want to try something like that with me?”

Toji sighed and set the dish down a little too hard, the sound making you flinch. “You don’t stick with stuff like that, do you?” he said, his voice flat. “You get all excited and then drop it a week later. What’s the point?”

You froze, his words hitting harder than you expected. You knew he had a point—sometimes you did lose interest in things quickly. But hearing him say it so bluntly, so dismissively, made your chest tighten.

“I…” Your voice wavered as you set the plate in your hands on the counter. “I just thought it’d be nice to do something together.”

Toji finally looked up, his brows furrowing when he saw the way your shoulders slumped. “Hey, don’t get all upset about it,” he said, his tone softening, but it didn’t help.

“I’m not upset,” you said quickly, though the slight tremble in your voice betrayed you. “I just… never mind.”

You turned away, trying to hide the tears that were already welling up, but Toji wasn’t one to let things go.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now as he stepped closer. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, but when you tried to brush past him, he caught your wrist gently.

“Look at me,” he said firmly, his tone still low but insistent. You hesitated, and when you finally met his gaze, he could see the hurt in your eyes.

“Damn it,” he muttered, his grip on your wrist loosening. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You didn’t have to say it at all,” you whispered. “You make me feel like I’m… not good at anything.”

Toji’s jaw tightened, guilt flashing across his face. He wasn’t good at this—at saying the right things or fixing mistakes—but he hated seeing you like this, especially when he was the one who caused it.

“You’re good at plenty of things,” he said, his tone softer now. “And… I’m an idiot for saying that to you. I wasn’t trying to put you down. I just… I don’t know how to say things without sounding like a jerk sometimes.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he admitted after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “The cooking class or whatever. And I’d do it with you if that’s what you want.”

“You don’t have to just say that,” you murmured.

“I’m not just saying it,” he said, stepping closer until he could wrap his arms around you. “You’re trying to do something fun, and instead of supporting you, I ran my mouth like an idiot. I’m sorry.”

His arms around you were warm and steady, and you could feel the sincerity in the way he held you.

“You’d really go with me?” you asked, your voice still small.

“Yeah,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Even if I suck at it, I’d go. For you.”

Your lips quirked up into a small smile, the sting of his earlier words starting to fade. “Okay,” you said softly, leaning into his chest.

Toji smirked, holding you a little tighter. “Good. But don’t expect me to wear an apron or anything. That’s where I draw the line.”

You laughed, the sound lightening the room, and he sighed in relief, grateful to see your smile again.

Sukuna Ryomen

The Heian era was a time of beauty and chaos, and life with Sukuna Ryomen was no exception. Known as the King of Curses, Sukuna was feared across the land, but to you, he was something else entirely. His presence, though intimidating, had always been a source of strange comfort. However, his sharp tongue often betrayed him, and tonight was one of those nights.

You had spent the entire day crafting something special—a delicate embroidered cloth featuring patterns of crimson and gold, colors you knew he favored. Each stitch was precise, your fingers aching by the time you finished, but the thought of presenting it to Sukuna filled you with anticipation.

When you brought the finished piece to him that evening, you entered his chambers with cautious excitement, kneeling before him as he sat on his throne-like dais. “My lord,” you began softly, holding out the cloth, “I made this for you. I thought you might like it.”

Sukuna’s four crimson eyes flicked to the offering, and for a brief moment, there was silence. Then he spoke, his tone as sharp as ever.

“You spent all day on this?” he said, his voice laced with disdain. “What use do I have for something so… trivial?”

The words hit you harder than you anticipated. You had poured your heart into the gift, hoping to please him, and now your efforts felt meaningless. You lowered your hands, clutching the cloth tightly as your vision blurred with tears you desperately tried to hold back.

“I… I just wanted to give you something,” you murmured, your voice trembling.

Sukuna’s brows furrowed at the shift in your tone. He could sense your emotions as clearly as the tension in the air, and the sight of you so visibly upset stirred something in him—something he wasn’t used to feeling.

“Tch,” he muttered, leaning forward slightly, his gaze fixed on you. “Why are you crying? I didn’t tell you to do something like this.”

You shook your head, your voice breaking. “I know. I just… I thought it would make you happy.”

Sukuna let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t good at this—at softening his edges. But seeing you like this unsettled him in a way that battles and curses never could

“Look at me,” he commanded, his tone firm but quieter now.

Reluctantly, you raised your eyes to meet his. His gaze wasn’t as harsh as before, and for a moment, the room felt less heavy.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “I’m not good with… things like this.” He gestured vaguely at the cloth in your hands. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it.”

Your breath hitched slightly. “You… you do?”

“Yes,” he said, almost impatiently, but his tone lacked its usual edge. “I’m just not someone who knows how to handle… thoughtful gestures. But that doesn’t mean they’re wasted on me.”

You blinked, the sting of his earlier words starting to fade. “I just wanted to give you something that reminded you of… us. Of me.”

Sukuna’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk. “And you think I could forget you?”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and he chuckled lowly, clearly pleased with your reaction. He reached out, taking the cloth from your hands, his fingers brushing yours briefly.

“It’s well-made,” he admitted, running his thumb over the intricate stitching. “Better than I expected.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, and Sukuna leaned back, his gaze softening just slightly. “Next time, don’t exhaust yourself for my sake,” he said. “You don’t need to prove anything to me.”

“I just wanted to make you happy,” you said softly, your earlier sadness melting away.

“You do,” he replied, his voice quiet but steady. “Even without this.”

The warmth in his words made your heart ache in the best way, and as he set the cloth aside carefully, you knew that, in his own way, Sukuna was trying.

Megumi Fushiguro

Megumi Fushiguro was in a foul mood. Gojo had been pestering him all day—constant teasing, unnecessary tasks, and endless comments that pushed his patience to the brink. By the time he walked through the door, his mind was racing, and he felt like he was ready to snap at anything that moved.

You had been waiting for him to come home, your excitement bubbling as you thought about sharing the small surprise you’d planned for him: his favorite snacks arranged neatly on the coffee table and a cozy spot on the couch waiting for him to relax.

When he walked in, you greeted him with a bright smile. “Megumi! Welcome home! I set up—”

“Can you just give me a second?” he snapped, not even looking up as he kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag with more force than necessary.

You froze, startled by the sharpness of his tone. “Oh… I didn’t mean to bother you,” you said softly, your voice already trembling slightly.

Megumi sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not about you, okay? I just need some space.”

Your chest tightened at his words. He didn’t even glance at the effort you’d put into making his evening better. The snacks, the cozy setup—it all felt meaningless now. “I just wanted to help,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you turned away, your shoulders slumping.

The sound of your soft, hurt tone stopped Megumi in his tracks. He looked up and finally noticed the care you’d put into the room—the snacks, the cozy setting, and the clear effort to make him feel better. Guilt hit him like a wave.

“Wait,” he said, his voice gentler now as he stepped closer to you. “I… I’m sorry.”

You didn’t turn to face him, your hands nervously fiddling with your sleeves. “It’s fine,” you said, though the crack in your voice betrayed your true feelings.

“It’s not fine,” Megumi said, his tone firm but remorseful. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

You glanced back at him, your eyes glistening. “I was just trying to make you feel better,” you murmured, “but if you don’t want me here, I can—”

“No,” he cut in quickly, shaking his head. “I don’t want you to leave. Please.”

He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “It’s been a rough day, and I let my frustration get the better of me. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You were trying to do something nice for me, and I acted like an idiot.”

You stared at him for a moment, his rare vulnerability catching you off guard. “You mean that?”

“I do,” he said, stepping closer and gently taking your hand. “I see what you did here. It’s thoughtful, and it means a lot to me. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”

Your lips trembled as a small smile broke through. “I just wanted you to relax after your day.”

“And I’m lucky to have you,” he said, squeezing your hand gently. “Let me make it up to you.”

You hesitated before nodding, letting him guide you to the couch. As the two of you sat together, Megumi reached for one of the snacks you’d prepared, a small but genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“Thank you,” he said softly, glancing at you.

“For what?” you asked, tilting your head.

“For being patient with me,” he said. “And for always knowing how to make things better—even when I don’t deserve it.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned against him, letting the tension of the evening fade away. Megumi might not always get it right, but moments like this reminded you why you loved him so much.

Yuji Itadori

Yuji Itadori wasn’t the type to snap at people—he was always upbeat, kind, and quick to laugh things off. But after a long day of missions, training, and dealing with the stress of being Sukuna’s vessel, he’d finally managed to steal a rare moment of relaxation, engrossed in a video game he’d been trying to beat for weeks.

You, excited to share some news with him, entered the room without realizing how deeply focused he was. “Yuji! Guess what happened today?” you said cheerfully, walking over to him.

“Not now,” he muttered, his eyes glued to the screen, fingers flying across the controller.

You hesitated, unsure if he’d heard you properly. “It’ll only take a second! You won’t believe—”

“I said not now!” he snapped, his tone sharper than you’d ever heard before.

The sudden harshness of his voice made you stop in your tracks. Your excitement vanished, replaced with a sinking feeling in your chest. You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before mumbling, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Your voice was so soft, Yuji almost didn’t catch it. But when he heard the hurt in your tone and turned to see the way your expression had fallen, his stomach twisted with guilt.

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean—” he started, but you were already backing away. “I’ll just… leave you alone,” you said quietly, heading toward the door.

Yuji quickly paused the game and jumped to his feet. “Wait! Don’t go!”

You stopped but didn’t turn around, your arms crossed tightly as if trying to protect yourself from the sting of his words.

Yuji rubbed the back of his neck, his face filled with regret. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice softer now. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. That was really uncool of me.”

You glanced over your shoulder, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I just wanted to tell you something. I didn’t think it would make you so mad…”

“I wasn’t mad at you,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “I was just so caught up in the game, and I got frustrated. But that’s not an excuse. You didn’t deserve that.”

You bit your lip, unsure if you should say anything, and Yuji reached out, gently touching your arm. “Hey,” he said, his voice warm and sincere. “I’m really, really sorry. You’re way more important to me than some stupid game.”

His words made your heart ache in the best way, and you finally turned to face him fully. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he said, giving you that familiar, boyish grin that made it hard to stay upset. “Tell me what happened today. I want to hear everything.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want to interrupt…” you trailed off.

Yuji shook his head quickly. “Forget the game. I want to spend time with you.”

The sincerity in his voice melted away the last of your hurt, and you let yourself smile again. As you started sharing your story, Yuji sat beside you, listening intently, determined to make up for his mistake.

And when you laughed at one of his playful comments, Yuji silently promised himself to never let a moment like that happen again. You were his safe place, his reason to smile, and no game—or anything else—could ever compare.

[bunny-jpeg]

burnin' tire

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, masturbation, fantasies, mad!max, post-dutch gp, mechanic!reader

love the fic? leave a comment! really love the fic? suggest your own!!

second.

second was first place for losers. that was what he had been told his entire life. second, seconde, secondo, however he could slice it, it still looked bad. so when he stomped back into the paddock with fire in his heart and a storm cloud over his head, the mechanics scattered.

they even went as far as to push you, their newest addition in front of max so they could get a head start away from mad max.

he looked down at you, something in his gaze left you a little shaky at the knees. this was your first race with the team, and you couldn't secure a win for max. it was almost embarrassing.

"i'm sorry, mister verstappen!" you pouted, "i'm really sorry! we tried to move as fast as possible, but i guess we couldn't keep up to mclaren." you worried about your job! you had just started, you were far from home and this was your dream to work for, "i'm so sorry!"

you almost had tears in your eyes, which deflated the anger from max's stance. he dropped his arms and looked at you. he replied, "there's nothing to be sorry about, it happens." as if he hadn't been on a losing streak for some time now.

your bottom lip quivered and your eyes grew watery, "this was your home race. and i'm just so sorry! i just wanted to do good, i wanted you to win!" a few tears fell and max was dumbfounded.

he was used to tearing into the mechanics and the engineers. he was used to snapping his words and letting rage consume him. instead he reached out for you, "hey, it's okay! don't cry. it's alright.'" he even wiped your tears away as your lip wobbled.

you got into his arms and gave him a bit hug. you looked at him and said, "i promise we'll win the next one! i promise!" even in those baggy coveralls you looked cute. if not beautiful.

max felt the anger disappear in his gut and he smiled at you, almost warm, "yes... yes we will." and when he patted you on the head and turned away and out of the paddock.

the other mechanics were in as much shock as you were. and while max would've loved to continue holding you, even reassuring you about the race in monza the following week. max was painfully hard from your brief interaction. it was like all the anger went to his cock and he needed to get out of there before he caused a scene.

back in the red bull motor home, max thought he was going to burst a blood vessel in his head. it was a pain to get into his jeans after he got out of his racing clothes. everything felt like a live wire, to go without masturbating for that long felt painful. especially when the source of his erection was playing in his read.

you smell like motor oil and warm vanilla, your touch was soft when you hugged him and that pretty face. even with the smear of grease on your face and the red bull cap on your head.

"mister verstappen." your voice rang in his head and he didn't even make it to the bed before his cock was in his hand. his palm covered in his spit as he sat on the couch and stroked himself still clothed.

he knew that the team had hired a new mechanic, but to see you in action made his brain feel almost rotten from the lust he felt. he barely paid attention to who was working on the car during the race but he knew you weren't working alone. and yet, you still carried all the responsibility for the team on your shoulders.

you poor thing. he continued to stroke his cock and he panted heavily at the feeling. thoughts of you were in his head as he pleasured himself. he wished you were there to do it for him. even if you wore you coveralls and covered in grease, if you were on your knees in front of him, your mouth on his cock as you pleasured him.

he wondered if you had even done that before. if you had any partners, or even one at the moment. he tried not to let the jealousy curl in his gut. he wasn't even sure, but he wouldn't have been surprised. you were beautiful, and who didn't love a gentle soul. you wanted max to win and max in turn felt towards you that he felt towards no other mechanic. he wanted you to work on his car, but also taking you out to dinner. to show you the finer things in life.

he wondered what colour panties you wore, and what cut. he knew you weren't wearing a thong, no when you were lifting heavy tires all day. he imagined something red, maybe a boy short. something that moved with the curves of your hips and thighs. he thought excited him, it really turned him on. made his face as red as he hoped that your panties would be.

how they'd curve to your ass, when you ran around the pit stop. how you would lift tools around. the strength to you. max liked models, but there was something about you the captivated him. and you didn't even know. you were just a humble mechanic, and you drove max wild.

he continued to stroke his cock heavily. he panted heavily as he felt his dark t-shirt cling to his back. his pace was quick up against his cock, he even spat on his hand once more to just to get the right friction. it was a head rush. he was not immune to masturbation, max did it almost daily if he had the time.

but to picture you in your bra and panties made him excited. hungry like a dog as he fucked his hand. he wished it was your pussy. he wished that he could bully the tip of his cock against you. he wished he could bend you in half and fuck you with a vigor that there were no other words for.

he wondered if you were loud, if he'd have to silence you with your panties. if he's have to cover your mouth or gag you, or would you just burst into tears like you did in the garage. the wet eyes,staring at him, promising that you'd do better next time. it made max want to fuck you even more. he wanted you every way he could have you.

"shit." he groaned through grit teeth as he continued to stroke his cock. he could feel his heart beat in his ears as he continued to masturbate. you were just a little thing, even with your skills as a mechanic, you were still so small. max felt he need to protect you.

he wanted to make sure you needed for nothing. he wondered if you'd have him as your lover. as your partner. the thought made him shudder as he continued to stroke his cock. he felt the head rush it all, he panted heavily as he stroked his cock.

his pace continued and he let himself get lost in the feeling. when it got overwhelming, he finished all over himself. your words rang in his mind, the promises you made. next time will be better. he'd win next time! and as cum dribbled all over his hand, he panted heavily with the head rush. he panted heavily and felt a shudder through climax. he wondered if you were touching yourself tonight, which made his cock twitch in his hand.

he was covered in cum at the waist and he felt hot all over. he rubbed his face with his free hand and for a moment felt in the post-orgasm shame. but it didn't last long.

with the after shivers of euphoria, he knew he had to do something. he couldn't be jerking off in private anytime he saw you. max was a man of action so after he cleaned himself off, he texted horner,

"i was wondering if i could properly meet with our new mechanic, show her the ropes. i think things will be promising with her." he tried to sound as professional as possible, but as thoughts of your watery eyes filled his mind. he knew he'd have to get himself off again soon. <3

[almondmilkcleanser]

when I made a little mess, he told me to clean my act up....

└ 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 `

synopsis - your friends are seeing less and less of you and all you can give them as an excuse is that between school and Sukuna your schedule is filled to the brim. Is tonight going to be any different? pairing - ryomen Sukuna x reader

content -Daddy dom sUkuna listening to - positions x ariana grande minors do not interact a/n - happy holidays everyone <3

Ping!

Come out with us for drinks! Its been so long since weve seen you since you started dating this guy. Whats his name again?

Ping!

Oh come onnnn! This is like the third weekend in a row that youve bailed on us. Sewriously, who is this guy anyway?

Ping!

Y/nnnnn! We miss you! Why dont you tell your little boy toy that you cant sit on his lap this weekend and actually come out with us~~~ love you talk to you later!

Ping!

Are you okay? We’re worried. Whats really going on? Everytime we try to invite you out you say youre with this Sukuna guy. Seriously who is he? Ugh! Call me later. Love you bye!

Ping! Ping! Ping!

“Tsk. you dont need those kinds of friends anyway. Nothin’ but a bunch of jealous girls. Isn't that right, beautiful?” You wish you could reply, but you were stuffed - practically down to your rib cage - full of Sukuna. He crossed his flexed biceps behind his head, a smug expression slowly creeping across his face.

Aggressively pressing the lock button on your phone, he tossed it clear across the room. He read the plethora of messages between your friends, how they complained about their boyfriends/dates - both seemingly interchanged between each other in some, very odd, sort of fashion - and how they were going to form a man hating group. Just for you to turn around and meet Sukuna. Mean old Sukuna. Curse destroying Sukuna.

Sukuna, your Dom. Sukuna, your boyfriend.

Sukuna, the one training you to take his entire dick down your throat as your first lesson. 

He chose your hairstyle, two low ponytails that hung daintily down your back. He didn’t give a shit if you just got your hair done. He’ll pay to get it fixed once he’s done with you. He kept you pampered; your hair was done, nails were done, fresh pedicures, the works. So to hell with messing up a hairstyle, daddy Sukuna took care of it all.

The new choker he bought you complimented your skin tone perfectly. You always voiced your concerns on how the BDSM community never catered to darker skinned women as far as color selection, but he pulled the appropriate strings, so nothing on your beautiful brown skin looked washed out or ashy. The metal heart brightly polished - almost spit shined - and neatly rested on your throat. That pretty fucking throat that he had grown so acquainted it. 

He hmm’d to himself as he reminisced, his eyes never leaving your innocent face as you stared back at him. Your plush, glossed lips, encircled around his dick. As you swallowed him whole, he thought back to the first time you rode him.

 Your hips bouncing up and down at a hungered pace, his large hand wrapped around your neck, and his engorged dick french kissing your gripping walls, pulling him in deeper, deeper, deeper into the depths of your love nest to welcome his seed home.

Thank fuck for birth control. A mutual agreement between you two - but it was, in all honesty, the best thing you could have done.

His dark eyes flashed something so lustful, so salacious, that he almost sounded giddy upon sharing it with you.

“Y/N, sweetheart, Mmh, I have an idea.” your soft tongue flicked the pre-cum clean off the tip of his head, your eyes innocent and wanting. With your hands still wrapped around his dick, you continued to lick the head, your ears perked at his idea.

“Yes, daddy. What’s your idea.” Sukuna loved your obedience. If half of the idiots surrounding him on a day-to-day basis had half the brains and even a fraction of your pussy, then his days would go a lot smoother. But until then-

With an ever growing smile, he jerked his head to the side of him, making your eyes wander over his direction. In the corner was the suspension rig that he put together for play time. 

The metallic poles glinted brightly under your living room lights - they almost mocked you, ready to hoist you in the air for all of Sukuna to see and galore in his own self of triumph - its black lapels sturdy, strong, shining. For you. 

Sukuna read your eyes with triumph. Partial sadism and partial perversion intertwined themselves into one, forming at the root a creation that would sit-pretty in the back of his mind. Of course, you would look up at him, mouth stuffed with his girth, with such an harmless stare. You blinked - pleading almost - that his mind wasn’t affixed to the sight of you dangling there, helpless and pleading, pussy pretty, raspberry pink, and wanting to be split down the middle. 

“Remember what daddy talked about last weekend? How if you didn’t get that A in your organic chemistry class that we’d be setting up our next little toy?” In what world was that fucking contraption little?!

“Y-yes, Daddy.” you stopped giving him head to look deeper into his eyes. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his upper thighs. He traced your bottom lip and smirked. His sadistic eyes shimmering brightly.

“I saw how you tried to turn that ‘C’ into an A. So I logged into your school account.” his voice simmered a mixture of amber and sweet tobacco. But you and your pussy knew that he wasn't anywhere near pleased. He fed you his thumb, and like an obedient plaything you opened your mouth, letting him rest on your tongue. 

You suckled down, lapping your tongue around it, taking in the hints of your own juices from this morning’s requested “stuffing session”. You were a greedy little thing. Begging him for one finger, then two, all four, and finally his thumb. Your mind was still recalibrating from that orgasm even to this second.

“Baby, tsss, why did you lie to me?” he used his other hand to tiptop to one ponytail, then the other. Holding both in his hand, he tugged gently. You had no reason outside of being a brat. You hated organic chemistry. The teacher didn’t offer extra credit. And Sukuna, as hungrily devilish he was, he didn’t fuck around when it came to your education. You still remember how many times he edged you because you forgot to turn in a huge presentation for your English class. You already had an A in the class! But Daddy didn’t care. 

You held his wrist with both of your hands, putting extra care into teasing his thumb. Taking it a step further, you nudged his hand to welcome two more of his fingers. You could taste yourself. A specially formulated nectar that practically oozed from your pussy, all dried up on his fingers. He knew what you were trying to do. But by fucking God did he enjoy falling for it.

He pulled on your ponytails, popping his mouth off of his hands and upwards at him. 

“Sweetie, I asked a question. Why did you lie about your grades?” He took those same two fingers in his mouth and purposely slobbered on them. He scooted off the chair, his torso still towering over yours, and repositioned himself on his knees in front of you. He snaked his hand behind you and popped those same two fingers in your slicked opening. You welcomed him cheerfully, making him tsss at the sudden wave of wet warmth sucking him in.

He had to keep his composure. He had to keep his vices in tack. Otherwise he would turn you around and fucking throttle you for hours.

“Speak, Y/N.” he growled.

“B-because I didn’t want you to be mad, Suna~” you clenched your teeth, swallowing down a moan. “I fell asleep studying and didn’t remember half of what was on the test. But I won’t do it again- ah- I p-p-promise.” Sukuna stuffed you with a third finger but refused to move. He shook his head disapprovingly.

“Tsk tsk tsk. All you had to do was tell me the truth. But now-” the pressure of his thumb as it pressed against your asshole sent shivers across your body. 

“We’re going to have some fun.”

✥✥✥

“Mmmm… look at that pussy.” Sukuna took a few steps to admire his work. You were dangling in midair, your ankles held up by two suspension straps and your arms held behind your back by another set of suspension straps. Your body lazily rocked back and forth in midair, everything exposed to Sukuna. 

“And you were protesting this idea so much, Y/N.” Sukuna snorted, bunching all the straps in his hand to rock you back to him. “Look how wet she is,” with one finger, he scooped the inside of your pussy, whistling in wondrous regard at how sticky you were. “She’s fucking ready, princess. Are you?”

Your body was hot. You’ve never been this exposed by anyone in your life! If your friends were to get a glimpse of you - Ms. high-strung, always punctual, studious and practically perfect - strung up like a holiday ham about to get the shit fucked out of you, what would they say?

Sukuna pulled the holsters back, guiding his thick dick into your slicked entrance with precision. He growled aloud, seeing you so helpless as he stretched you open sparked something carnal inside of him. His pretty pillow princess, hanging in the air, submissive and so fucking sexy. All for him.

All for me

Slap! He moved his hips back and forth. Palming your beautiful ass, slapping each cheek as you rocked back and forth. Swallowing him whole.

All for fucking me.

Your pussy gripped around him, making him moan aloud. “F-fuck, baby. Your pussy isn’t letting up today. She’s a g-good girl~ she’s a good fucking girl~” he slapped your ass again, upping the pace. He gripped the holsters so you’d stay in place as he slammed into you. He made your pussy his home, claiming each available space as his. Your sloshed insides coated his dick with an opaque film that glistened every inch of him from tip to base, even dripping down his balls. 

“S-s-suna-a-a-a~” Your pitched whines fed him. He fucked you harder, and harder, and harder. Your slutty pussy let him in each and every time. Its warmth enveloping his massive girth and nestling him home. With a grit of his teeth, he tried his damnedest not to cum, but you were just-

“Dammit, she’s so fucking good baby. Your pussy l-loves this”

“‘Ts so fucking tight.” He spit on his thumb, guiding it in your forbidden hole. “Sucha nasty fucking girl.” He pulled himself out of you to admire you. Your open pussy, slicked, wanting, welcoming. “Does daddy’s girl want to come?” He licked two fingers and pressed them on your clit. The electric shocks sending your back into an arch and your moans into a frenzy.

“Hm? I don’t think i hear you, doll~” he slapped your clit with those same two fingers, chuckling under his breath. Your eyes caught a flashing light in the corner of the room. It was your phone. Your friends were calling you again.

“Oh, that’s a shame.” his hand wrapped around your neck. He smiled into your neck, biting playfully on your shoulder. “Looks like others want your attention as much as I do.” He guided himself back into you. Your quivering pussy clenching down, refusing to let him go. 

“How’s about this-” he kissed your cheek. “You give me a good orgasm and I’ll let you go. And you can go make up lost time with your friends. Sounds good?” he didn’t really wait for an answer. Instead, he stood back up, grabbed your hips, and proceeded to pound into you.

“F-fuck! You like this, huh, sweetheart?” You did. You fucking did. Being so vulnerable and open to him from all angles drove you fucking insane. Your body rocked back and forth as his hips met your ass. The ripples of your ass sending Sukuna in a daze. He loved watching your almond-coated body glazed with sweat. You needed this fucking more than you admitted. And he was more than happy to give it to you.

His thrusts increased in force. So much that he had to cinch onto your hips so you wouldn’t fly forward. But Daddy Sukuna knew you. He knew you would take it. With a fucking smile. Your moans escalated to a near animalistic pitch. He loved seeing you let loose. To hear you curse, whine, and groan your frustrations made him proud to be yours. To be your release. To be-

“My pretty fucking girl. Taking all of this dick for daddy, huh? Fucking come on me, princess.”

“That’s-” stroke “An-” stroke “Order.”

Your hips buckled as he pushed forward, kissing the end of your cervix. You felt his fluid coating your walls, glistening each surface area of you with his cream. Even when you were stuffed, droplets of his cum littered the floor, streaked down your thighs, and pooled underneath you.

“Suna~” you whined, “These are going to stain my stockings, again.” he responded by kissing your shoulder again. 

“I’ll just buy you another pair, doll. ‘Ts nothin’ when I get to see your pretty face like this.” and then, another devilish idea sparked in his head. He held the holsters again, turning you around to face his pelvis.

“How’s about one more round. And then you can tell your friends to meet you wherever you decide. My treat~” 

As you looked up at him, his dick jumped to life again. Both sides equally veiny, moistened, and waiting for your plush lips to wrap around them.

You didn’t say anything, all you did was smirk and latch your soft tongue around the base.

“Nnh-” Sukuna squeezed the holsters. “Good girl.’

“Good fucking girl.”

END.

Please leave a reply, like and reblog it really helps

[wolfgirlcoven]

Technically Theriomythic, but I prefer the term Were. When it comes to my Werewolf, Kitsune/Multi-Tailed Fox (or maybe a multitailed Enfield?), and Ambigous Big Cat types,

My Primary theriotypes are Werewolf, Kitsune (or some kind of multi-tailed fox or Enfield, which to be fair is basically a fox with wings) and Winged-Lion I think. Still figuring out the feline self, and I'm pretty sure both types are winged for me.

Im pretty much in a constant state of phantom shift at any given moment in time. Lately it's been wings, tail, and fangs. I do get the occassional horns and ears, but good gods THE WINGS ARE EVERPRESENT.

My alterhumanity is inherent to who I am as a person. If i were not a Were, I would not be me. Simple as that.

I don't really involve myself with the community as much as I wish I did tbh. Mostly due to some shitty experiences and toxicity within it.. I have a lot I could say about the community BUT i wont spill it here. Though a lot of it boils down to the definitions of words getting muddied, alterhumanity treated as a trend rather than something integral to oneself, and general toxicity.

Honestly my Phantom shifts are what make me the most comfortable and euphoric in my alterhumanity. The fact they're there is a reminder of what I am, what I TRULY am.

Honestly yes, I do experience species dysphoria. So much so that I do genuinely have to fight the urge to fall back into the P-Shifting community, as I started out as a P-Shifter back in 2012-2015. Obviously P-Shifting cannot be done, but the urge to try again JUST IN CASE is strong.

Please please PLEASE Do Not get involved with P-Shifting groups or anything adjacent, such as Supernaturals or Mythicals. I know because I WAS ONE. I was a proud Mythical back from 2013-2015. The sheer amount of damage it did to my very impressionable formative teenager brain was horrendous, and it lead to some really messed up shit happening.

I have gear! Though my collection has shrank over the years unfortunately due to going through multiple moves. I need to rebuild my collection.

Im honestly unsure as to the cause of my wereness, but I do theorize it could be one of, or a blend of, the following: A) I was meant to incarnate into a timeline where things like p-shifting and mythicals exist and as such was meant to be a winged werewolf. B) Generally having an animalistic soulform or something along those lines. The main thing I know about my Therianthropy is that it's spiritual in nature, HOWEVER my brain operates in a way that is more animal than human, with my neurodiversity strengthening it.

Not tagging anyone but if u see this and are alterhuman itd be cool to see ur answers

If you are a alterhuman, reblog and answer these questions!

(don't be afraid to write a lot, do what you want ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)

3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

5/ What do you think of the community?

6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?

9/ Do you have/want to have gears?

10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈

[thesecondhandwoman]

Omg I love the domestic caitvi and their kid😭

How about one where cait or vi was so stressed and tired from work or something and reader just wanted to play but instead cait or vi accidentally lashed out on her and she ran out of the room to her bedroom and started crying and started to think that maybe her mom doesn’t love her anymore or something, in the end cait or vi apologize to reader, they made up and cuddle or play together

A LOVE THAT STAYS

Caitlyn x Vi x kid f!reader

Synopsis: Being Vi and Caitlyn’s little kid had some difficulties, especially when Caitlyn was already tired with work, while you were a little bundle of energy wanting attention. Sometimes leading to some needed apologies.

Request: Anon 🤍

A/N: Part two of Motherly Love.

The sun had barely dipped below the horizon, painting the house in soft, dusky light. Dinner had been eaten, dishes half-done, and the usual hum of warmth filled the home. But something was different tonight. The weight of the day had settled heavily on Caitlyn’s shoulders, her normally pristine posture sagging ever so slightly as she worked through a pile of paperwork at the kitchen table. Her brow was furrowed, her movements sharp, a quiet tension radiating from her.

Vi wasn’t home yet, stuck with her own share of responsibilities. That left you, five years old and bursting with energy, darting around the living room with Bunny in one hand and a superhero cape tied around your neck.

You didn’t notice Caitlyn’s tight jaw or the way her sighs grew heavier each time her pen scratched across the paper. You only saw your mommy—your kind, brilliant mommy who could do anything—and you wanted her attention.

“Mommy!” you called, skipping into the kitchen. Bunny bounced against your side, his floppy ears trailing behind you. “Mommy, look! I’m a superhero!”

Caitlyn didn’t look up. “That’s wonderful, darling,” she said absently, her tone clipped.

Undeterred, you twirled in place, your cape fluttering behind you. “Mommy, did you see? Did you see how fast I can go?”

Another sharp sigh escaped her lips. She set her pen down, finally glancing at you. Her smile was thin and tired. “I see, sweetheart. But I’m very busy right now. Why don’t you play in the living room for a while?”

“But I want to play with you,” you insisted, bouncing on your toes. Bunny jostled in your hand as you held him up toward her. “Bunny wants to play too! Please, Mommy?”

Caitlyn’s patience, already stretched thin, snapped.

“For the love of—darling, not now!” she said sharply, her voice louder than you’d ever heard it. “I have so much to do, and I can’t focus with you underfoot! Just go to your room for a little while!”

Her words hit you like a gust of cold wind. Your small frame stilled, your wide eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Bunny dangled limply in your grip.

“Go on,” Caitlyn said, her tone softer but still firm. “Please, darling. I just need some quiet.”

Without another word, you turned and ran. Bunny’s ears trailed behind you as you bolted down the hallway, your small feet thumping against the floor. Caitlyn called your name only a minute after you ran, but you didn’t stop.

In your room, you curled up on your bed, Bunny clutched tightly to your chest. The superhero cape now felt silly, like it didn’t belong to you anymore. You buried your face against Bunny’s soft fur, the first sob breaking free as your mind spun with unfamiliar and frightening thoughts.

Mommy’s mad at me.

She doesn’t love me anymore.

Maybe I’m too annoying, maybe she wishes I wasn’t here.

The tears came faster, soaking Bunny’s fur as you squeezed him tighter, your chest heaving with hiccupping breaths.

Back in the kitchen, Caitlyn sat frozen, her head in her hands. The echo of her raised voice played on a loop in her mind, each repetition sharper than the last.

She sighed deeply, rubbing her temples as guilt clawed at her chest. What was I thinking, snapping at her like that?

Vi walked through the door moments later, her boots clunking softly against the floor. She took one look at Caitlyn’s face and frowned. “Hey, cupcake. You alright?”

Caitlyn shook her head, her eyes tired and full of regret. “I-I snapped at her, Vi. She wanted to play, and I just, I yelled. She ran off crying, and now—” Her voice wavered.

Vi’s face softened. “Hey, hey. We all have rough days. But you know what you gotta do, right?”

Caitlyn nodded, already standing. “I need to fix this.”

Your sniffles had quieted, though tears still clung to your lashes when Caitlyn pushed open your bedroom door. She found you curled up on the bed, your little body trembling slightly as you hugged Bunny close. The sight made her heart ache.

“Darling?” she said softly, kneeling beside your bed.

You peeked at her through red-rimmed eyes, your lip trembling.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Caitlyn whispered, reaching out to gently touch your shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. I had a hard day, but that’s no excuse for being unkind to you.”

You sniffled, your voice small. “You don’t love me anymore?”

Caitlyn’s heart shattered. She scooped you into her arms, holding you close as tears filled her own eyes. “Oh, no, my darling. Never. I love you more than anything in the world. You are my sunshine, my heart, my everything.”

Your tiny hands clung to her shirt as you buried your face in her neck. “Really?”

“Really,” she promised, her voice firm and full of love. “I’m so sorry for making you feel otherwise.”

Vi appeared in the doorway, her usual grin softened into something warm and comforting. “Hey, squirt,” she said, stepping inside. “You okay?”

You nodded slowly, still snuggled against Caitlyn.

“Good,” Vi said, ruffling your hair gently. “Wanna know a secret? Your mommy’s a superhero too. She just had a tough mission today.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at Caitlyn with wide eyes. “Really?”

Caitlyn smiled, wiping a tear from your cheek. “Really. But the only thing I want to do now is spend time with my favorite hero. What do you say? Forgive me?”

Your bottom lip wobbled again, but this time it was followed by a small, teary smile. “Okay, Mommy. I forgive you.”

The three of you ended up back in the living room, the paperwork forgotten. Caitlyn and Vi worked together to build you a brand-new superhero cape out of an old scarf, complete with Bunny-sized accessories so he could join in your adventures.

When bedtime finally rolled around, you were nestled between them on the couch, Bunny tucked safely under your arm. Caitlyn smoothed down your hair while Vi traced gentle circles on your back.

“Love you, Mommy,” you murmured sleepily.

“Love you, too, darling,” Caitlyn whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Love you, squirt,” Vi added, her voice soft and warm.

And in the safety of their arms, you drifted off to sleep, knowing without a doubt that their love was as strong as ever.

A love that stayed, no matter what.

A/N: yes, this part also had another falling asleep ending, but only because I wanted to tie the last line with the title.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

too young / too dumb / to know things like love

katsuki bk. x f! reader

when perhaps one of the most heartbreaking and stressful relationship of your entire life comes to an end, katsuki can’t resist having you for one more night. angst/smut, breakup sex, y/a katsuki

@crushmeeren the snippet i left in ur inbox 🫧 thank you for all your love

another big kiss for u, 5sos nation 🤍 inspired by ghost of you

7:09 am.

katsuki wakes up, still pushed to one corner of the bed. he has the entire king size to himself, but remains unable to sleep on that side of the bed. your side.

he groans when he sits up, pain in his shoulders and a dull throb in his heart. red eyes flicker over to the leftover coffee mug on the beside. as time passes, your lipstick stain fades. but he doesn’t need the satin red makeup left on your favourite mug to remember how your lips felt, the way they tasted.

he wishes to go back to sleep, to dream long enough for you to tell him he’d be fine. he wants to believe that, to hold onto it. even if you know he’ll find himself drowning out his pain, dancing through his house alone, he hopes you’ll lie to him.

worst of all? so many saw it coming. but you both hoped, foolishly so, that you could defy the odds.

you didn’t.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

“so thats it?” you ask, but its more like a statement than anything. the finality in your tone isn’t lost on katsuki. the plates in the sink are left unwashed, dinner cold and neglected. the couch mourns the couple that once embraced on it, floorboards preparing to only creak for one.

years of training, of self doubt, surviving a war and becoming a hero, and the hardest thing katsuki has ever done was walk away from you.

“i have to do this.” he chokes back tears. “you’re not happy. i’m not either

and you want to lie and tell him he’s wrong, but he’s not and that what makes you so fucking angry. he’s hoping his absence will give you the peace his love couldn’t.

“i’ll give you your sweaters back.” you say, not knowing what else to add. you’re hoping he’ll say no. keep them. there yours. they’ve always been.

instead: “thanks, babe.”

“don’t fucking call me that!” you snap, tears spilling like a broken dam.

its at that moment when it sets in for him. when he realizes this’ll be the last time he sees you, or hears your voice. that from now on, he’ll have to drown it out, dancing through his apartment with nothing but the phantoms of what was.

“…sorry, [y/n].” he hesitantly steps closer. he wishes he could yell, be the asshole you know him for. but he right now, he’s wounded, returning only half his weight. he was losing his favourite part of him.

almost pathetically so, you jump into his arms, sobbing into his chest despite the anger you feel in your bones. he doesn’t think twice before wrapping his arms around yours, pulling you into him like its the last time. it is.

“fuck you, katsuki.” you cry, and he takes it. “yeah, fuck you too, [y/n].”

he says right before kissing you, but its different this time. there’s desperation in it, to feel you, to make this goodbye count.

as much as you try to, you know you love katsuki when you can’t hate him for breaking your heart. you tug him in by his collar, dragging the two of you to the couch. cries turn into moans, pain remains more or less the same.

he’s already shirtless, something he was always comfortable doing around you. he’s so hot it makes you mad, almost wishing you wore something nicer than his old zeppelin shirt thats too big it pools at your waist.

but he doesn’t care. katsuki will fuck you no matter what, evident by how he doesn’t even bother to take it off all the way, impatient. he grabs the hem, dragging it just above your chest. its no secret he wants to see your tits bounce and face flush when he’s buried deep in you.

your morning him, and the fact that from here on out you’ll never get a dick this good.

he rubs circles on your clothed clit, rough, hypnotizing you. he has to resist the urge to slam himself into you right away. he’s already breaking your heart, he doesn’t need to hurt your pussy in the process.

but maybe you don’t care anymore, whispering in his ear. “c’mon, kats, i want you.”

his breath hitches, red eyes looking concerned. “you sure?”

“just fucking do it.”

normally, he’d tease you, tell you to be patient. but he’s not patient either, moving your panties to the side before sliding himself into you. you both moan in relief. it doesn’t take long before he starts thrusting.

“i’m sorry. i’m so fuckin’ sorry.” he almost cries, kissing his apology into your skin, his cock deeply embedded into you. he normally likes it rough, getting you on your knees and pressing you into the pillow. but right now, he needs to see you- all of you. he knows this might be the last time.

“fuck, you feel so good, katsuki.” you whisper, cupping his face while he takes deep, intimate strokes. even on the verge of destruction, even as forever falls apart, he’s still able to make love and pleasure blossom from your heart and mind. he has that hold on you, that even if you married another man the next minute, he’d still have the key to parts of you you never knew you had.

hearing his name roll off of your tongue already breaks his heart. he swears that in another universe, this works. that right after he plants his release deep in you, kissing you through your orgasm, blurring the lines between fucking and making love, he’d hold you close and wake up to your face the next morning. and when that morning comes, he’ll head off to his agency after kissing you goodbye. he’ll think of you, of protecting you, of putting you at the centre of everything he fights for. even after this all ends, he still thinks that’ll be true. even if you lose your love for him.

“where do you want me to finish, baby?” he grits out, knowing he won’t be able to call you baby anymore. for a second you think of correcting him, but resign.

“just.. do it in me.” you cry. “i don’t want you pulling out.”

“fuck, you sure ‘bout that?” he grits, but he’s not complaining. he can’t give you forever, or even proper love, but if you want it, he can give you this.

you muster out a nod, his forehead pressed against yours. he feels that your close and so is he, his pace not faltering for even a moment. this really is the last time.

and when he releases, your mind whites out in pleasure. he makes sure to get as deep into you as humanly possible, wanting every lewd drop of him nestled deep in you. he groans into your ear, riding out your pleasure with a few more thrusts before collapsing next to you.

he pulls you in, almost on instinct. tomorrow it’ll be over, but you gave him tonight.

“you fucking idiot.” he whispers, though you’re not sure if he means you or him. either way, it’d make sense. idiot was his rude, endearing nickname name for you. idiot was also how he felt about himself, losing you.

“i love you.” you say, not knowing whats next, but knowing that whatever it is, it can wait till the sun rises.

“i love you so fucking much.”

and he’s happy that those are his last words to you, because the next day, he wakes up alone.

he pats the spot where you laid on the couch. he’s hurt, but not surprised. all his things are there, but its empty. haunted.

and he’ll find other girls, models, pro heroes, names he can’t remember. he’ll lay them down on his couch, hold their hands, kiss them or even love them. you’ll find other guys to unbutton your blouse, to lend you sweaters and promise you forever. but theres a deep understanding between both you and katsuki.

it’ll never be the same like what it was with you.

[starburstminibot]

Ok, seeing the post about the playlist, you mentioned how Breakdown only gets his act together after finding out that Bee was carrying

So it got me thinking (and this has actually been in my mind since i first came across the au tbh), but how was it while Bee was like, carrying?? There's the fact that, at first, many of the bots probably don't like Breakdown too since, well, he was not the best bf let's be honest.

Idk, I'm just curious to how things were before Breakcheck came to see the world

(Im going out of town for a week and cant draw so im just answering this with a straight up fanfiction-esk paragraph I’m so sorry wish I could be artistic for you anon)

Long story short: the Autobots are very forgiving but they can also be petty motherfuckers.

I mean they welcomed Megatron among their ranks and treat him (for the most part) as an equal and sometimes even a friend. Of course, Megatron earned that trust after years and years of repentance.

I imagine Breakdown is going through a similar arc. He’s never really been THAT loyal to the Decepticon cause. He just… kinda ended up there and didn’t care enough to do anything about it. He views Autobots as these goody, righteous people that he doesn’t feel like he belongs with. So really… what’s left besides Decepticons (considering yourself a neutral at one point was pretty much a death wish. A faction was the only way to acquire any sort of Energon or medical attention. Something Optimus tried hard to avoid, but the reality was safety in numbers.) the only kinship Breakdown ever felt was with the Stunticons… and they’ve been scattered to who knows where… if they’re even still alive.

Except he did have one friend. A friend he’s somehow managed to keep despite being on opposite sides of the war. He tried to convince Bee to join the Decepticons a few times but it was never with genuine intent. Bee was too good for the Cons; Breakdown knew that. He asked to get a rile out of him more than anything. Of course Bee would retort with his own argument of why BD should defect. He was serious about it… but Breakdown knew his place. He’d already done too much…

Now the war is over. And the leader of his faction doesn’t even believe in the cause anymore. Now, Breakdown’s never been a fan of Megatron anyways, but he sure as hell is pissed off when he abandons them to go be buddies with the Autobots. Maybe Breakdown is a little jealous (Of course, he’d never admit it) That Megatron, possibly the cruelest and most unforgiving of them all, is allowed to be redeemed.

He feels betrayed. All the Decepticons do really… He feels like he was led down a path that would only end in self destruction and at the last moment, the one who was paving the way jumped ship, leaving them all to suffer the consequences alone.

He never even wanted this.

But it’s way too late now. He dug this grave and he’s going to see to it that he’s buried in it. But despite the betrayal, and most of the Decepticons now stabbing each other in the back, trying to claim whatever power they can while holding on to this flimsy cause they can barely call a functioning faction, he still has Bee… who is maybe more than just a friend at this point but that’s a lot of feelings Breakdown isn’t ready to unpack.

And he still runs every time it feels a little too good to be true. Still proclaims his loyalty to the Decepticons because he’s too stubborn to admit he’s on a sinking ship. And he still keeps his distance because he refuses to take Bumblebee down with him when it finally goes under.

And maybe they’ve got a fling going… and maybe the autobots start to catch on. It doesn’t matter though, Breakdown doesn’t stick around long enough to see their sneers.

Until… he finds out Bee’s carrying that is… because damn he may not be the best bot in the galaxy but he’s not a complete deadbeat.

And when it hits him… that he’s going to be a sire… well maybe… he start’s sticking around to see the sneers. He hears the mumbles of disapproval. And boyyy does it make him so angry at first. How dare these holier-than-thou bots. They don’t know him or what he’s had to do to survive. How many comrades he’s lost thanks to them. They don’t know what Bee means to him. They don’t know just how much he loves Bumblebee. How he would lay down his spark for him in a klick.

Then Breakdown questions… Does Bee even know that?

From then on… Breakdown realizes, preserving his ego isn’t worth this. He has a chance now. A real honest chance. To do better… to have the life he actually wants… with the one bot who hasn’t ever given up on him.

He wants it so bad.

So he puts up with the comments and the obvious distrust. Because he’s willing to put in the work it takes to earn it. He’s going to prove how much he wants this. He’s going to prove how much he cares. He’s going to prove he is capable of doing better… and maybe along the way he’ll learn… he’s deserving of better too…

Breakdown is lucky Bumblebee has always been a little spoiled because it didn’t take too much convincing for the autobots to give him a shot. To attempt to accept him into their ranks.

He thought Optimus would be the worst of it. The one who practically raised the bot Breakdown knocked up. And for a while it is. Optimus lectures him every chance he gets. Any small hiccup, any little mistake. He doesn’t go easy on breakdown. Optimus at least pretends to be polite about it, or at least professional.He doesn’t yell, or make unnecessary insults. His words are always very honest (which makes them that much harder to hear) but Breakdown will take it… he’ll sit through it, no matter how hard he has to bite his tongue against saying something he’ll regret. He knows how thin the ice is. But he’ll do it for Bee.

The others are a little more brutal… Elita especially so… they are more sharp with their words (and sometimes their blasters) letting him know just what they think of him.

But no… the worst of all… is Megatron. Because Megatron is probably the only bot in the whole faction who looks at him and empathizes. Breakdown doesn’t want empathy. Especially not from the damn bot who betrayed him. Megatron doesn’t give lectures, he doesn’t verbally or physically abuse him when he steps out of line. He barely even raises his voice. And it pisses Breakdown off more than anything. Sometimes he slips up in front of Megatron just to push his boundaries, just to see if he can break this peaceful facade the ex-brutal-dictator seems to be taking. He’s witnessed the warlord beat bots into scrap for far less… and yet… Megatron won’t. Megatron seems to be attempting to guide Breakdown, to offer a new start to their relationship, and Primus Breakdown wants nothing to do with it. He’d rather be lectured and assigned extra training.

And it takes a long while… longer than Bee’s carrying term, and a little while into Breakcheck’s sparklinghood for the Autobots to really start to come around to him. Optimus’ lectures seem to have a bit of fondness to them. And perhaps Breakdown listens a bit more earnestly and takes to heart some of the genuine advice the Prime gives him. And maybe the sparring with Elita has turned less from a one-sided fight and into an enjoyable workout. And MAYBE… he doesn’t intentionally push Megatron as much, and has come to a realization of his own that his Megatron… is nothing like the one who betrayed him… and perhaps there is more in common between them than he’d like to admit.

And when people look at him now, he’s not just the Con Bumblebee has been sneaking around with. He’s a Sire… and a devoted Conjux…

And maybe this is what he’s always wanted. And he can be deserving of it too.

[lesbiancharliedalton]

I've been editing this write-up for literal weeks now and I still feel like I can't get in everything that I want to convey, but I'll try.

It's officially been one year since I stayed up ALL night (like, til 10-11 AM) editing this, my very first full-length music video. All in one sitting. To most, it's probably just a regular character edit or fan-made music video. To me, it's something else. It's catharsis, love and and an explosive expression of myself. To this day, I still can't quite explain what I went through when I was making this. I had just heard this song for the very first time about 24 hours prior and I immediately knew I had to make this music video. I listened to the song, and immediately thought of Charlie. I knew I had to make this. When it was done, I broke down crying and didn't stop for about 2 hours. I came to a lot of conclusions about myself and my life and I had never felt simultaneously more vulnerable and more accepting of myself.

I was crying, partially, because I realized that I was feeling real, genuine love for this fictional character who had been living quietly inside of me and influencing me for years and years. Which is an insane and crazy thing to say. And at first, I felt shame, because I knew it was crazy, and also because it made me realize I had never romantically loved another human being before, and certainly not to this extent. This revelation first made me feel scared, isolated and embarrassed. I thought it was really sad that I was only able to feel this way, feel this level of understanding and love for someone who would never exist and who could never hurt me. I thought I had matured past that way of thinking. It was embarrassing to know that I could spend hours upon hours crying and expelling all my emotional energy just trying to craft a love letter to someone who could never reciprocate because they quite literally have never existed.

But then I realized that it felt right. I had spent my life with all this pent-up energy and love and emotion and I kept putting it in all the wrong places. Nothing seemed to work for years and I felt disconnected from most of society. I realized that night that it was my own doing. I had been hurt and beat down so many times that I detached myself entirely. I repressed my passions that others dismissed as frivolous, I refused to acknowledge or show my feelings or admit to others how I felt about them and I lived a life that I was absolutely miserable in due to fear of being embarrassed, made fun of, or alienated.

In my fear of becoming alienated, I had alienated myself.

And for the first time in years, things made sense. Through rewatching this movie, through seeing this character again, my eyes were opened. I don't know why or how, but through loving Charlie I started the long and arduous process of loving myself. I saw parts of myself in him and his journey, parts that I had been repressing for years and years. And I saw parts of myself that I wanted to be in this character. I was seeing clearly for the first time.

And somehow, through this movie, this character, through crafting this love letter set to lyrics that I wish I could tell him to his face, I found myself. I realized I didn't need to pretend to be someone else anymore. I realized that by trying to be what everyone else wanted to be, I was making myself miserable and further isolating myself. I realized that I finally wanted to be myself, whoever that is, for the first time in years. It seems like an extremely obvious conclusion to make, but for some reason it took me seeing Charlie for the first time in ten years to really, truly realize it. It also made me realize that through the process of connecting with myself instead of running from it, it would become easier for me to connect with others around me too. I've become much more emotionally open and even braver when it comes to other people. I've done things I would have never done just a few years ago. I make connections with all sorts of new people constantly, and not online.

I still can't explain how sitting down and manically crafting a music video helped me come to all these conclusions that had been banging around in my head for a couple of months, but sometimes personal epiphanies come to us in unexpected ways I guess.

As ridiculous as it sounds, through Charlie Dalton, through loving him, I found and learned to love myself. And it doesn't matter that he isn't real, because the impact that he's had on me is very real, and personally I've stopped believing that it's cringe and now I think it's kind of beautiful. For years, I had convinced myself that I was incapable of love--giving and receiving. Through making this, I realized that I had plenty of love to give, I just didn't know where to put it. I poured all of it into this video. How beautiful to love something so much and have it change you.

Charlie Dalton - VIENNA

[revelboo]

I love Everything Is Alright sm and GOD i feel so bad for Megatron in such a specific way. Imagine you're in charge of a group of astronauts and they keep running off to go fuck the alien fauna, like bestie I'd be losing my shit too.

That’s pretty much what’s going on. 🤣 Poor guy is having a breakdown over all of his followers being deviants. I feel almost bad about how much fun I’m having in traumatizing Megatron- I swear I really do like him. I just also love making it worse. 18+ content

Everything Is Alright Pt 92

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Choosing to ignore the furious Seeker, Megatron turns his attention to Soundwave and curls a lip. “For Primus’s sake, cover yourself,” he growls. Hand lifting to run over his face, he gestures at Starscream. Hears the Seeker actually hiss at him, wings flared and he ignores that, too. “That isn’t a pet.” Or maybe you are. A pet they frag. It’s not like this mess can get any worse. “Are both of you bonded to it?”

• It?! Spike still buried inside you, he’s aware of your little hands clinging to him. Of your fear and the way the bond amplifies it. “Keep away from my sparkmate,” he snarls. Stiffening as Megatron turns his stare on him, those cruel optics narrowing in calculation. Trying to figure out how to use you against him. To hurt him. Spark aching when you hide your face against his neck. Painfully aware of how fragile you are and that his frame is all that’s shielding you from Megatron’s anger. So it’s a surprise when Soundwave stands and moves between him and Megatron.

• “My sparkmate,” Soundwave says, hating the lie even as he makes the claim. Knows it’s necessary, though. Because if you only belong to Starscream, you’re as expendable as he is. Aware of Megatron’s dislike for the Seeker and that it isn’t wholly unwarranted. Starscream’s deliberately invoked his wrath so many times with so many plots and schemes. So Soundwave lies to keep you safe. And because he wants that, wants to keep you, hold you in his arms. If keeping the self destructive SIC on a leash is the cost, he’s willing to pay it for you.

• Why does it have to be like this? Holding onto Starscream as Soundwave lies to their leader, you just wish suddenly there was somewhere you could run away to with them both. Just the three of you. But you know how incredibly selfish the thought is as soon as you have it. To ask them to leave everything they know just for you? Star’s spark is still connected to you, tendrils of energy snaring you like he’s trying to hold onto you despite the threat looming over him. The feel of him wrapped around you helping calm the terror, because in his arms you want to believe it’ll be okay as foolish as it is. That feeling of safety singing through you despite the danger.

• “Of course, it is,” Megatron mutters. Two of his commanding officers both sparkbonded to an organic alien. The same alien. Why not? It’s not an epidemic of xenophilia, it’s an epidemic of insanity. “I understand having impulses, but this?” Sees Soundwave stiffen slightly as he gestures at Starscream and the human. His communications officer at least having the decency to look slightly embarrassed about it, the Seeker still glaring and defiant. “You understand that just because you’re fragging it, doesn’t mean it changes anything. You’ll bring me the… pet before reporting to your duties.” And he can try to figure out what you’ve done to both of them. Some sort of pheromones? The interfacing can’t just be that good. So, it must be something you’re doing- some strange human mind control making his Decepticons all crazy. And Shockwave can figure it out since Hook is also compromised now.

• “You think I’m going to hand over my mate?” Starscream snarls, ignoring the warning look Soundwave shoots him. So furious he’s shaking as Megatron stares him down. Not again. Please. He can’t just give you to that sadist. Before Megatron had only thought you were a pet, but now that he knows you matter? Knows what you are to him? Tries to lift up, intending to fight and you cling to him. Hook a leg over his hip. Hears your frightened, little ‘don’t, please’ and his spark hurts with it. Because he’s still connected to you, can feel that fear isn’t for yourself it’s for him. And it tears through him, the unfairness of all of it. That he can’t just have this one thing, the only thing that really matters. “You’re not invincible,” he growls at Megatron, not carrying if the warlord hears the threat there. Because to protect his mate? He’ll burn the world down around him.

Previous

[joongieology]

Muse | Jung Wooyoung

Pairing: Artist!Boyfriend!WooyoungxReader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Warning: mention of naked body

Sypnosis: Your boyfriend has been busy with his gallery, leaving you missing him. One thing you didn't know though, he had a surprise waiting for you.

Note: This is the first ever fanfic I've written. English is not my first language so please bear with me. If you have any feedback, please let me know! I swear I tried ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

You've been dating Wooyoung for a few years now. Everything is well, better than you could ask for, but you wish you could move on to the next stage. You've always dreamt of getting married in a church since you were a little girl. Striving hard so you can save up for a grand wedding, wanting you and your future husband's day to be extra special. And now, you finally found the man you want to marry.

You met Wooyoung through your college friend, San. You went to get coffee at your usual hangout place—a café near the university—when you saw San with someone. You proceeded to where they were sitting and San invited you to sit with them.

That was the day you met Wooyoung, and that was also the day you started liking him. He was very chatty and he always made you laugh that you started to have a little crush on him. The three of you began to hang out more often, and then one day, he asked you out. You said yes, of course (who wouldn't), and you've been dating since then.

He had always been fond of art. Painting, photography, and even sculpting. He wanted to have his own gallery one day, to show off his works, and it is about to come true.

Wooyoung found a decent place where he could set up the gallery and renovate it to his liking. He was the one who worked on everything, claiming he wanted everything to be perfect. That meant, you don't see each other often because he got busy with his gallery. He never told anyone the location, not even you, which you found a little odd, but never questioned him.

You just finished eating when he showed you something on his phone. It's a map with a picture of what looks like the outside of a gallery.

"It's done. The grand opening will be tomorrow." He started, gauging for your reaction.

"Already?! Does anyone else know about this? What if I'm the only one who shows up?" You flooded him with questions, more nervous than he is.

"Don't worry, I already sent out invitations to friends and family." He said with a chuckle while piching your cheeks, clearly amused.

You sighed, relieved that you wouldn't be the only one to witness this. You want the world to see how talented your boyfriend is, and he worked hard for everything to get to this point. Even though he said this was just a small achievement, you were still so proud of him. He can finally show off his love for art.

"You're here." Wooyoung said as he leaned in to kiss you on the cheek. You came a bit earlier than the time of the opening so you could be by his side.

"Finally, you got your own gallery. I'm so proud of you, Woo." You gave him a peck on the lips, earning you a small genuine smile from him.

You straightened the collar of his button-up and fixed his hair a bit to make him look more presentable. He smiled at you but you noticed that he looked a bit nervous. You held his hand and squeezed it, comforting him. He intertwined your fingers and guided you to the entrance.

After a while, people started to arrive one by one, family and friends, and even some random people who had taken an interest in what was happening in this new place.

Everyone was in awe at the simple yet elegant interior. The walls were off-white and the art pieces were placed perfectly. Everything is in the right place, the way they were arranged was pleasing to the eyes.

You looked around and noticed that the art pieces consisted of pictures and paintings of places very familiar to you—they were places you've been together before. There are also pictures and paintings of events that have transpired in your life. The memories came flooding in as you looked at each art piece. You looked around once more, you noticed a black screen in the middle of the gallery. It's off, what is it for? You asked yourself but brushed it off. One thing stood out though, it was a pink door leading to a room. It had its own spotlight, it also had a name on top, just like every piece here.

"Y/N." You read out loud. Why did it have your name on it? Also, why is it pink, your favorite color? And why does it have the word 'Private' beside the door?

Wooyoung was greeting everyone and thanking them for congratulating him when he noticed you looking at the pink door. He walked over to you and put his hand on your lower back.

"Wanna see what's inside?"

"Yes." You responded, curious as to what could be inside.

He took out what seemed like a remote from his pocket and pressed something on it while guiding you inside.

There were at least five of what you assumed were art pieces covered in red velvet blankets.

He removed the cover of the one on the left, revealing a painting of you grinning from ear to ear, holding a pack of your favorite gummy bear, with the name beside it, 'The most beautiful v(you).' This must've been the time he brought you your favorite snacks, that made you all excited.

Then, he removed the cover on all of them except the one in the middle. There was a picture of you sleeping, a painting of you gazing at the stars, and a sculpture of you, as in you, in your wholeness, naked body.

"Oh my god, Woo." You said, your voice small, overwhelmed with joy, and love, and—everything.

"Do you like it?" He asked, nervousness obvious in his tone.

"I love it!" You exclaimed as you hugged him.

"There's one more." He ushered you to get closer to it. When he finally removed the cover, you covered your mouth in shock.

It was a sculpture of him, on one bended knee, holding a small black velvet box. Woo took the box and copied the stance of the sculpture.

"Y/N, will you make me the luckiest man and marry me?"

It's finally happening. The man you love is proposing to you.

"You've given me all I could ever ask for. Yes, baby, I will marry you." You utter with tears in your eyes.

He carefully puts the ring on your ring finger, and yes, he bought your dream ring, he still remembers it even when you mentioned it only once, he remembered, like he always did.

He hugged you so tight you thought you would burst, and whispered, "I love you so much, my love. Thank you for everything."

"I love you more, Woo."

You went out of the room and everyone's congratulating you both.

Huh?

When your eyes caught the now turned-on screen in the middle. So that was what the remote was for.

"Woo!" You hit his arms slightly. Terrified of the thought that they must have seen the pieces inside.

"It only showed us, don't worry, I won't ever show those pieces to anyone, especially that one." He chuckled while jokingly shielding himself from your playful hit.

"Finally, Woo, you prepared so long for this. Congratulations." San said with a big smile, holding a glass of wine.

"You knew?" You asked San with one eyebrow raised.

"Yup, everyone knew, except you." He uttered with slight amusement in his tone.

Wooyoung sure knew how to throw surprises because you didn't expect this one bit. But you're happy he did, cause this became one of the best days in your life. The thought of marrying this man made you giddy.

Your mom hugged you and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm quite curious to know what's inside that." Your mom said, pointing at the pink door.

You and your fiancé looked at each other with knowing eyes and a huge grin.

[gingerteawrites]

BY THE HEARTH: CRACKLE

A/N: Welcome back for yet another installment of by the hearth!! As always please let me know what you thought of this chapter! Let's goooo. Read the previous part here.

Content: Royalty!AU, Nanami x female reader, king Nanami, Princess Y/N, Widower Nanami, Toddler Yuuji, hurt, angst. Not beta read

Word count: ~5.5K words (they keep getting longer...)

Banner by: @cafekitsune

ACT IX

Nanami was a man of habit. As he did every night, he peeled away his royal garments and changed into a long chemise and loose trousers. Then sat on the cushioned chair of the small study attached to his room.

Following his evening routine usually brought so much peace to the man. A time to unwind, sort through his thoughts. And most importantly, remind himself he was in control. But alas, this control was slowly slipping through his fingers. Fluttering away in the direction of you.

Opening up the notebook that served as journal, he brought his quill close to the paper. The pages were filled with mundane phrases, recounting the outcome of a meeting. Reflecting on new policies. Or on occasion, excited tales of new milestone in Yuuji’s development.

He sat there for several minutes, willing himself to write something that followed this usual pattern. Something that fit in the well-drawn lines of his ordinary days.

But his mind was only able to compute suggestions of you. The way your smile shone so brightly when you danced together. The fire in your eyes when you spoke to the people. The feel of you in his arms as you twirled by the blaze.

Nanami dropped the quill with a sigh. This was not going to do. He feared that if he forced himself, the only thing he would be able to pen down would be your name.

This is not good. At all. This world that he had carefully crafted to protect Yuuji, and most importantly protect himself was crumbling. And you were the culprit.

Fraught with frustration, he closed the book and headed to the giant bed. Still, his mind, that was not his to hold anymore kept wandering. And a repressed part of his being started to wonder. How would it feel to hold your hand. To truly have you. To kiss your lips…

Except he had already done the latter. That dreadful wedding day. The thought of it makes him groan, and that same repressed part of his being wished he could go back and fix things. Maybe offer a reassuring smile to your then trembling self. But it was too late for that. He shifted under the covers, shaking his head as if to shake the thoughts themselves out.

Sleep. I need to sleep.

The large study always seemed like a peaceful place. With its mahogany shelves lined with historical records. And the imposing desk behind which the king was sat. Yes, Nanami felt in his element in this room. He was the king, and the king could not allow himself to be troubled by trivial affections. He flipped through the pages of the proposed budget that the royal advisors had produced. But his focus was interrupted by a timid knock on the door.

The royal counsellor pushed in. Ichiji always seemed on edge, his thin body tucked into itself. But as he approached, the king noticed his advisor seemed even more nervous than usual.

Nanami raised a brow when the man stopped in front of the table. ”I am not expecting anyone today,” he flipped through another page, his eyes returning to the tedious document.

“I know, your majesty,” the words tumbled out hastily, “but our guest today is one I cannot turn away easily-”

He had not even gotten around to announce the name of this guest when two men barged in. The sound of guards arguing and trying to hold them back filled the room, but Nanami raised a hand in quiet dismissal.

Duke Gojo’s smirk was wider than usual, flanked by his courtier, ever the shadow of the white-haired aristocrat.

He plopped in the chair across from the king, who silently watched his actions. It was customary that people of lower rank extend greetings first, but the man before him purposefully stretched the silence. After a few moments, he finally bowed his head.

“Your Majesty,” the duke’s tone was far from reverent. From the corner of his eye, the king could see the ebony-haired courtier bow as well. “What a pleasure it is to see you after so long.”’

“Duke Gojo, It is good to see you have returned.” The words were mere pleasantries, devoid of any sense of sincerity. “I trust your tour in the province went well.”

“Oh quite well indeed,” he sat back, relaxed into the chair.

The duke was a fascinating man. Irritating and grating beyond belief to some, and the object of blind adoration to others. While he did not hate the man, Nanami had grown tired of his lack of consideration for customs, and constant antagonistic attitude.

Despite the duchy's history of hunger for power and strife with the royal family, their sole heir did not seem interested in the throne. He was more concerned with living without regard for conventions, which was its own problem. The one thing that Nanami’s father, the late king, had always expressed relief over was how lucky he was that the Gojo heir was a boy. Otherwise the crown would not have been in a position to refuse a political marriage between the two.

But then again Nanami found himself wrapped in another political marriage.

“Though I must say,” Satoru tapped his fingers on the material of his expensive trousers. “I am quite disappointed that I have not had the chance to introduce myself to our new queen.”

Nanami’s brows immediately furrowed. Gojo Satoru was not one to entertain pleasantries just for pleasantry’s sake. You interested him, and that unnerved the king. What was this feeling?

“I hear she made quite the impression at the festival’s opening…” He dragged on, and Nanami closed the file was holding firmly.

“So what is the purpose of you barging into my study, Satoru?” Gojo smirked.

“Addressing me by my first name, now isn’t that unusual…” He turned to Geto with an expression beyond amused. “If I could venture to guess, I would say the king does not like me talking about his darling wife.” The courtier sighed under his breath, looking straight ahead. Provocation was the Duke’s favorite game, and Geto was not willing to participate.

“If you inserted yourself in my schedule to waste my time, you will be escorted outside the palace grounds.” Nanami leveled him with a stern look, and Satoru raised his hands defensively. But the amused glint did not entirely leave his eyes.

“Alright, alright, no need to kick me out, your majesty,” He stretched his hand out, a silent invitation for Suguru to hand him a sizeable batch of documents. Gojo leaned over and placed them on the table before the king, whose sole response was a raised brow.

“Though the aristocracy seems to think my time away from the capital is spent slipping from one woman’s bed to another,” Gojo began, holding a hand to his chest dramatically “I actually do quite the investigative work.” His eyes returned to the king with a smile, who crossed his arms over his chest.

“And what is the subject of these investigative efforts?” He asked, making no move to read the documents placed before him. But he could already tell there were reports. Other things slipped out of the bundle, though. Receipts, permits, letters.

“The question is who, your majesty,” he corrected with a wag of his finger. “Things in the South have been getting more and more unstable, that is no secret.” He sighed, expression now turning serious. “And the duchy has considerable investments in that region, so it was only fitting for me to have a look. These papers here,” he pointed at the pile on the desk “Contain a comprehensive record of activities of what I believe is someone or multiple people in the royal court funding the rebel uprisings.”

Nanami’s eyes narrowed. Of course, after hearing Haibara’s reports he knew something was off about this conflict. The insurgencies kept popping up, even when the knights seemed to have wiped out the bases. And those who fought were either poor people who lived by the border and mercenaries. There were a lot of possible benefits to destabilizing such a profitable area, but for it to come from inside? The king’s jaw clenched.

“I will review all of this information,” Nanami finally pulled the documents towards himself. The nobles always tried to defend their own interests. And he couldn’t entirely blame them for that. Afterall, the royal family operates on protecting itself most of the time. But such insubordination was way beyond justification. His expression turned deadly, and even Gojo’s smirk faltered at the sight. He had to set an example. And uproot this problem.

“Thank you for the information,” the king conceded.

Gojo stood from the chair, giving another bow “The things I do for this kingdom.”

“Your majesty,” Geto finally approached the table and bowed again, “We can also provide you with more details concerning what our informants have found, at your request.” The king nodded and voiced his thanks before the pair left.

The dull ache of an incoming headache was already beating at his temples when Nanami pulled the documents closer. And with every paper he sifted through, so did quiet fury simmer.

It was late afternoon when he called out from his office. “Get me Haibara!” Startled, poor Ichiji scurried away to fulfill the order. Whoever was behind this was going to get hell for it.

Having returned from the flower festival, you remember falling asleep with a stomach full of butterflies. He said he adored your speech. Somewhere, a voice in your mind screamed out about wanting him to adore you.

You pressed your face into the pillows, groaning deeply. You could not become greedy.

Wishing for anything more than what was given would only hurt you. Your dreams were filled of images of the king, of the depth of his eyes and closeness that set your heart alight.

But the king had left. You were fully awake, eyes scanning through the paper you held for the nth time.

[I will be away for a time. Please inform Alma of anything that you may need. Kento Nanami]

Your mind raced with questions. If he had left in such a haste, something must have been terribly wrong. He certainly would not do such a thing on a whim, would he? Had you done something to upset him?

You barely had the time to figure out how to overthink the situation, when Riko burst into your quarters. The prince was sick. The maid responsible to getting him ready, Kuroi took note of a burning fever while dressing him, and the child fainted soon after, inducing panic in the experienced woman.

“He is such a healthy child, I do not even recall the last time he was sick,” Alma rambled while you hurried over his room, instructing a guard to find the palace doctor.

You found Yuuji laying in his bed, round cheeks flushed a deep pink and eyes closed wearily in restless sleep. Your heart ached at the sight. Seeing one who always jumped around with so much energy in this state was startling. And you soon found a permanent place by his bedside.

Days had passed, and your position had not changed. You wrung a small towel in the basin of cool water that laid on the night stand and wiped at the child’s forehead and neck, watching his breath shudder at the sensation of the cold towel against his burning skin. A small whimper followed and you cooed gently.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, touching your fingers against his cheek. He opened his eyes, look unfocused, before closing them again. The sight hurt you even more, wishing you could take the pain away. “Are you okay, baby?”

He took in several heavy breaths, seeming to not fully comprehend the words that left your mouth. You recalled the doctor’s words when he had arrived that first night.

He shows symptoms of the smallpox, your majesty. Though not fatal, he might struggle to regain his strength for a few weeks.

The doctor instructed that only those who had suffered from the infection before could take care of Yuuji, which eliminated the head maid and the Kuroi. You on the other hand, still had remembered how a short smallpox episode had wracked your body as a child. So you stayed by his side, adamant about being the one to care for him.

You wrung the towel of the cold water again, pressing it over Yuuji’s skin in a soothing motion.

His lips parted, “Mama?”

The simple word left your frozen in place. Oh no.

The fever probably made him delirious, he is confusing me for his mother.

While still deciding how to tell him he was mistaken, his hand reached over and his small fingers closed around the fabric of your dress.

“Can you… Lie down with me?” he pushed out with difficulty, and you lost the heart to correct the boy.

“Alright, my darling,” your hand brushed his cheek and you placed the towel down. As soon as you circled to the other side of the bed and climbed in, Yuuji clung to your side, resting his head against your chest. He seemed to relax into what was finally a restful sleep.

You breathed out a slight relief, but sleep would not find you. Your mind drifted back to the departure of the king. Certainly if he knew Yuuji was this sick, he would have hurried back. You had written a note be sent to him immediately after finding out the child fainted.

You had chosen to keep news of the prince’s sickness to only those who had initially found out. Unwarranted attention was the last thing you needed.

Pushing the thoughts aside, you told yourself that it was fine. If you could not even deal with a few days in the king’s absence, what kind of queen would you be? What you needed to focus on now was ensuring the prince was okay. Yuuji would be okay.

Wasn’t this part of the deal agreeing to be his mother? You held the boy closer.

Just getting to the Southern port city had taken a week. One long, exhausting week as the king rode undercover with some of the knights, only taking short breaks to eat and sleep. And one week of sleeping in the woods and being separated from his family was enough to put him in a sour mood.

They reached the Gojo estate, where they had opted to stay rather than the royal residence by the beach. The last thing the king wanted was people knowing he was here. Even so, Nanami did not like the idea of having to rely on the Duke. Who knew what favor the man would feel entitled to after this?

He turned to Ichiji, the only person informed of the king’s sudden departure along with Alma and you.

“I need you to make me a list of all the aristocrats with sizeable investments in this region,” he spoke, taking off his soiled outer garments “Funding an insurrection cannot be untraceable.”

Ichiji nodded, leaving for the town with a knight in tow. All the businesses would be asked to produce tax records and investor information, which the king intended to compare with the royal records. Something was terribly off, and Nanami would not wait until things took a catastrophic turn before acting.

“Haibara,” he called, and the head knight entered the room that served as office and bedchamber, closing the door behind him.

“Yes, your majesty,” he bowed in response. He knew not to tease the king when he was so on edge. “Take me to the prisoners captured from the previous uprising.” The king rose, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.

Haibara’s eyes widened slight, “We just got here, your majesty, you need to rest. And they have not yet been put on trial-”

“I said, take. me. there.” the chill of his tone shut the head knight up, who resorted to nodding tersely. Haibara felt bad for whoever was going to be on the receiving end of the king’s wrath.

Nanami’s knuckles were covered in blood, his sleeves neatly folded above his forearms. He moved his head from side to side, neck cracking as he circled the man sitting in the center of the cell. The royal guards in charge of guarding the prison watched in horror. They had never seen their even-keeled king in such a state.

He eventually came to sit on a small wooden chair facing the prisoner. The one whom all the others Nanami had “questioned” pointed as the leader of the movement, who had supposedly organized everything and gave out orders.

“I am not going to ask another time,” his voice was low. But only an idiot would believe that its quietness was indicative of anything but pure fury. He had been in this God-forsaken place for a five days now. Five more days away from his home. His patience was running very thin. “Name,” he grabbed a towel, wiping his hands in preparation for another round. The man facing him looked up, terror evident in his swollen eyes. “And location of your master.”

A few beats of silence passed. Nanami extended his hand towards Haibara, and was handed a knife. He sighed.

“I hate having to repeat myself,” he approached the prisoner, casting a looming shadow of him. “But by the end of this, you will be the one begging for me to stop.”

Three weeks had passes since the king left, and the prince’s health was finally starting to look up. You were utterly exhausted, having watched over the sore flares and nights of difficult fever. But above all, you were so proud of Yuuji for pushing through every moment of it.

The doctor returned for his nth examination, looking over the child’s condition with relief painting his features.

“The worst has passed. He just needs to eat, drink enough, and rest. The young prince is well on the right way to regain his strength,” You thanked the doctor, who thanked you in return for all the effort you spent.

You returned to the child’s side, running your fingers along his arm. Noting the small scars left behind by the rash that had littered his skin.

“You fought so bravely, Yuuji,” you whispered, leaning down to leave a kiss on his cheek. “I’m sure papa is so proud of you.”

You had still not heard news from the king, now convinced that the note you sent never reached its destination. There was no way he would have learned that and not come back. Right?

He opened his eyes, looking at you with a small pout. “Papa is proud?” his voice was almost back to its usual vitality. You brought a hand to his cheek. “Yes, my darling, so proud.”

“Where is papa?” he asked again. “I want to see him.”

“He’ll be back real soon okay? He’s away on very important business.” You pushed his hair out of his face. “Here, you must be hungry? Alma made your favorite,” you walked to the small table behind you, grabbing the tray of food.

“You should eat too,” the child retorted when you sat down. He had noticed the way you never left his side. There was no way you could have eaten enough in that time.

“Okay, okay,” you nodded, knowing he wouldn’t eat until you conceded. “We eat both then.”

You brought the soup-filled spoon to Yuuji’s lips, who parted them without protests. Eventually, he grabbed the spoon, insisting on feeding you too. You compromised on you taking a bite for every five that he did, to which he begrudgedly agreed. Soon enough, he was well-fed and fast asleep.

You were putting the bowl away when a loud knock sounded at the door. You frowned, recalling having ordered the maids to try to be as quiet as possible around the child’s quarters. Still, you stood and headed for the door, grabbing the tray so whoever was knocking could help return it to the kitchen.

“Your majesty,” Riko rushes the moment your face appeared from behind the large door. “Alma says someone very important is here, and refuses to leave until he sees the king. He’s waiting in the courtyard”

Your brows furrowed, “Who is this person?”

You were convinced Nanami had not told many people about his departure. You had hoped for a swift return, and maybe even a word that he was well, but nothing. Radio silence. Still, you wanted to trust that he was alright.

“I apologize, I do not know your majesty. Usually counsellor Ichiji deals with these things if the king is busy. But he is nowhere to be found. Alma told me to just come find you and not worry about the king, he’s just resting. But his majesty never neglects official duty like this! Is he also sick? Oh no, that’s a terrible omen-” The maid's spiral was paused by your hand on her shoulder.

“Amanai,” you called softly, and she looked up. “Everything is fine, I will see to this issue. I won’t be long but I want you to stay around in case Yuuji wakes up and needs something.” You finally stepped out of the room. “And one more thing,” you watched Riko take your place behind the door “Not a word to anyone about any of this, understood?”

The young maid nodded with pursed lips, and you walked away in the direction of the courtyard, trying to smooth out some of the wrinkles on your dress. You had not met with anyone who did not live on palace grounds in three weeks, even sending Shoko a letter that you were feeling unwell to justify the absence. And you knew you certainly looked as tired as you felt.

On any other day, you would not have allowed yourself to be seen in any sort of disheveled manner. But the palace needed you, so you raised your head trudged forward.

As soon as you step foot in the court yard, the sight of a figure surrounded by royal guards came into view.

“Your majesty,” Marquess Kamo greeted from behind the guards who blocked the path. “It is such a pleasure to see you again.” His tone was saccharine sweet, the same one he had used at the ball for introductions.

“Marquess Kamo,” you greeted, not having the energy to muster anything beyond a polite smile. “I trust the guards have informed you of the current unavailability of his majesty,” you clasped your hands before you, “Unfortunately you will have to come at a later time.”

His expression soured, a polar shift to his previous pleasantness “I have been told that multiple times already…” he huffed “The king has already postponed two meetings with the council. If he is unable to grant me an audience at the moment, I have grounds to be worried don’t I, my queen?”

Your eyes fleeted to Alma who stood not far from the guards, lips drawn in a thin line. What was he implying?

Marquess Kamo is a cunning man, Nanami’s voice swept through your thoughts. You knew that the less you interacted with the man, the better. But you could not send him away without proper justification and let things fester. You had not been informed that the Marquess demanded an audience before. If just for the sake of appearances, you thought you should receive him.

A sudden anxious feeling crept up the back of your neck. Should you even make any of these decisions? What if all you did was make things worse in this place. You shook the thoughts away. Even if executive power had not been explicitly handed to you, doing nothing would only result in things getting worse.

“I understand, Marquess. I shall grant you a short audience in the gardens. But after today, the king will contact you when he is able to meet, so we will not expect your presence before then.” Your words were firm and the guards nod before stepping away from the aristocrat and leading the way to the main gardens.

The Marquess walked a step behind you, sending a wave of discomfort through you. The earlier this was done, the better. You sat at a small table in the middle of the lush garden, and Alma instructed servants to bring out tea and pastries. You took in a deep breath, bracing yourself for the conversation.

This is just to save face, you reminded yourself. The last thing you wanted were rumors that the king was ill or incapacitated in any way. You knew that was not what Nanami would have wanted. If servants were already thinking that, you did not know what could be going around in nobility.

“Thank you for your time, your majesty,” the man took a bite from the cake slice in front of him, making an exaggerated show of savoring it, seemingly having returned to his jolly mood.

“You are welcome, Marquess. I do not mean to sound short but I would appreciate if you would get to the point of this visit.” You forced your voice into an amicable tone, watching as the man finished the slice.

“I see you are fairly straightforward,” he put the fork down, eyes narrowing sharply. In an instant, his expression turned cold, sending a chill down your spine. “His majesty is obviously not here, so I won’t waste my time with official business.” You frowned. Had Nanami told him he was going away too? No… That did not sound right at all.

“I know you probably have many questions about this place. About the truth behind the king’s previous marriage.” He spoke quietly, causing you to narrow your eyes in suspicion. Where exactly was he going with this?

“All of which my husband has answered. I know Kaori was your daughter Marquess. I find this line of questioning highly inappropriate.” You lied.

He chuckled, a sinister sound. “Did he now? Are you sure he told you everything? The truth behind the nature of their relationship? Her death?” You went silent, eyes narrowing at the man.

“The king loved my daughter oh so dearly. Maybe that is why he is so distant now. You know what they say about losing a great love,” he recounted, timbre almost turned sappy. You could not figure this man out, but his words caused your frown to deepen.

Don’t let him get into your head.

“It is so nice of you to play nanny and try to keep appearances.” He stood, adjusting his coat over his shoulders, “I hope you don't believe the king actually cares about you. You may think yourself a queen, but you are but a glorified surrogate. A help.” The words knocked the wind out of you. The sheer audacity.

You watched him leave, escorted by the guards and leaving behind a deafening silence

Don’t let him get into your head

You repeated the mantra on your way back to Yuuji’s room. But how could you not? He had not say anything factually incorrect. Your role in the palace was to act as Yuuji's mother, even though you could never shake the shadow of the woman.

Help. That was all you were. To do what was needed for now, but destined to be eventually pushed into the background. The notion left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Pushing the chambers’ doors open, you expect to be greeted by Riko. But instead you notice Nanami sitting on the edge of the bed, hand resting on the sleeping child’s head.

“Your majesty,” you call out, staying by the door. He had returned. Finally. Relief filled your being.

“How long has he been ill?” The king did not turn around, his tone harshly breaking the silence.

The king was home. Finally. After what felt like an eternity away, exhaustion rocked his body. Unending days of riding and questioning had yielded results. He gained critical information about the insurrection. But the time away had also chipped away at his soul. He just needed to be home. To see his son. To know everything was alright. To be reminded he still had control.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of his child, sick, with a panicking young maid when he entered the room. He ordered her out after listening to her unprompted ramblings about Yuuji being terribly sick. Why wasn’t Alma in there instead? Or even the royal doctor?

He had left his son. Without even the chance to say goodbye. He had neglected his duty as a father and now Yuuji was ill. What if something worse had happened while he was away? Once again he had failed, utterly so.

And in the middle of this torrent of emotions you burst into the room. So comfortably. Like you had been here countless times. Like you were the righteous occupant of Yuuji’s space. His child.

Only then did Nanami notice the small traces of you littered across the room. A pair of gloves laying on the nightstand. Your shawl draped on the other side of the bed. Your flowery scent lingering in the air.

You had crossed the line. Nanami felt control slipping from his fingers. Control over the care of his own son. The feeling only contributing to the mounting frustration he carried.

“So you’ve been in here… The whole time-”

“Could we please talk outside? I would not want to wake him now,” you interrupted, despite noting his mounting displeasure. The king tensed, but he eventually followed you outside.

You walked back to the garden where you had met the Marquess in an uneasy silence. One that sent your mind into a frenzy.

“The prince had smallpox,” you finally began when you both sat, “He feels much better now, I was with him the whole time.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you felt the need to brace yourself for this conversation. “Where were you?”

He looked up, tired eyes still holding what looked like hostility. “Away.” The curt response made your heart squeeze painfully. “Thank you for taking care of him but this ends today. I am back to take care of my son.”

You frowned at the emphasis of his words. How did he expect you to just scram after having seen Yuuji in such a state? You bit your lip, refusing to roll over and take it. Not this time.

“What does that mean? You cannot just dismiss me like this.” you tried to keep your voice even, but found it shaky. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the past few weeks. Or remnants of your previous conversation.

He sighed, rubbing at his temples. He felt a headache coming. One too many, and he did not have the patience for confrontation at the moment. “I can. And I am. Y/N I did not ask for you to do what you did.” His eyes found yours, sharp as ever. “You overstepped. And I am asking you to step back. I am his father, and you-”

“Are just a help” you finished his sentence, chuckling humorlessly. "I understand, your majesty," you said, rising to your feet, the sting of dismissal sharp in your chest. "I’ll return to my quarters, then. Should you think of any further errands befitting a servant, do let me know."

This place would never be your home. This was a political marriage after all. One you were traded into. And as you stepped away, willing yourself to not look back you reminded yourself. Beggars could not be choosers. You could not desire more than was given. And that included a place in the king’s heart.

whew this was a hefty one. As always, do let me know what you think!

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)

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@lazypostfandomer

[starlightomatic]

this thing (the christmussy) appears and you slide down it

mazel tov you're now in an alternate universe.

you go on facebook and you see a post in the group for an app you have. every month there's a new theme announcement, and you see march has just been announced. it's cherry blossom themed; a cherry blossom dress for your avatar, a backdrop of cherry blossom trees for your virtual room. you think it's beautiful and really well-done.

you glance down and see the comments. there are many people upset that the theme isn't purim, with others reassuring them they can still get purim items in the shop and explaining that the app already did purim for the march event two years ago and doesn't want to repeat. but people are still upset, because they'd been saving up their in-game currency to buy purim items. this doesn't totally make sense because the event items don't cost any currency. but it's clear everyone expected a purim event, and that they feel a cherry blossom event would have been more appropriate for april because flowering trees are more of a pesach thing. a couple commenters mention that they don't celebrate purim and so they really appreciate that the team chose an inclusive theme, and that they think the cherry blossom theme is beautiful.

one thread goes something like this:

chana: ah, i was hoping for something more silly and purim-y

maryam: sorry, but not everyone celebrates purim. besides there are actually five different holidays celebrated in march, including purim. even then, not everyone celebrates those holidays. it's not all about one group of people. everyone needs to feel included.

chana: i'm fully aware, thanks. the silly purim is not the same as the religious purim, anyway. hamentashen are not in the torah. i know muslims who celebrate the commercial purim. i'm a jew who has done lots of interfaith work, by the way.

you notice it seems like several of maryam's responses aren't showing up: facebook glitch or were they deleted? or maybe chana is just so worked up she's commenting many times?

chana: in short i was asking for a springtime theme not a full-on megillah reading. you could have sought to understand before jumping to that conclusion. peace.

chana continues in this vein, even accusing maryam of "attacking her," and also makes a weird dig about maryam's islam.

golda: try not to let this person upset you. you should be allowed to make such a statement without being lectured on religion -- this is not the place for that, or at least it shouldn't be. people are here to encourage and support each other. i also wish it was a silly purim theme. hope you have a great day :)

elkie: i agree. i would love to get a grogger.

rachel: admin! this is stressful.

tamar, the admin, jumps in. she doesn't mention chana's weird comments about maryam's islam, but merely asks for the conversation to stop. it doesn't.

ari: there is a grogger from one of the previous march events! it'll be in the shop all month. my family celebrated purim and mardi gras, so i have an outfit with a grogger and mardi gras beads!

chana: rachel, i'm so sorry.

chana: tamar, thank you and my apologies for my part in this.

zelda: chana, you can still buy jewish purim/wiccan ostara/mardi gras/etc type items in the store :) even a pineapple costume! lmao! your outfit can be as silly as you'd like it to be :)

katie: hi chana! i hear you saying it's disappointing there isn't a silly purim theme, and it's frustrating that anyone would push back on that because it's not religious so there's no way anyone would feel left out. i do just want to gently mention, for a lot of folks who are from other faiths and cultures, silly purim also isn't something that we celebrate. if the app had gone that route, we would of course understand because that is what the majority wants and we respect it, but it's true we would still feel left out. the app isn't obligated to change anything for us, of course, but the fact that they did is very sweet (well -- i'm not sure if inclusion was the intent, but it was the result!)

chana: just checking you've seen this. *includes screenshot of tamar's admin comment*

chana: can i also clarify one final time that i mentioned nothing of religion, nothing about faith, nothing about megillah, esther, or anything. i was simply hoping for a silly theme with funny hats and a cotton candy machine. the first person to mention anything to do with religion was NOT me. my initial comment has been taken wildly out of context and i am deeply upset that this conversation is continuing despite admin asking for it to stop. i'm done.

chana: tamar, i really don't want to leave this group, but this is past unacceptable at this point.

you don't see what happens next because you decide it's time to log off. you close your computer and go outside and touch some grass. you're free.

It's Black Friday and you know what that means: It's Christmas discourse season!

There's a disconnect that comes up every year in these conversations, and I've never seen it illustrated as clearly as in the conversation below.

Context: This is a community group for an app that involves themes and items, and this year's December theme is winter-y but decidedly not Christmassy.

Some people were upset about that, which isn't unexpected, and then this conversation ensued:

What is.... what is going on here? Why is red so upset? Why are they struggling to understand that "cozy" Christmas is still not universal? Does it feel threatening to them?

I mean, maybe green had a bunch of comments and then deleted them or facebook was glitching, but I can't find anything wrong with their initial comment. Is red just annoyed because it's unkind to challenge someone who's just saying they're sad? I don't think that's the only thing though because red doesn't seem to understand either green's or blue's comments and it's a misunderstanding I see every single year.

Also, I don't understand what the issue was with blue, or why that also upset red that much. Is it just because blue ignored the mod's request to close the thread?

Like.... either there's something I'm not getting or there's something red's not getting. I suspect it's red, tbh, because they started talking about how they never mentioned anything about Jesus, the nativity, or religion -- but blue actually addressed that in their comment.

Outside the context of someone getting pushback on just saying they'd wished something different had happened, which I recognize feels shitty, are there ways people like blue and green can phrase things so that it clicks for people like red, or is it a lost cause?

And what am I missing about red's perspective?

[dark-and-kawaii]

Rated M For Mature: You Look So Good On Your Knees For Him~ ♡

Toji Fushiguro, but it's him with those veiny hands of his wrapped around your delicate little neck, his fat cock threatening to cut off your air supply. A sick reminder that you belong to him and no one else.

You're just his toy, something to play with... or so he says.

He fucking loves marking you up, making sure every fucker knows you're his dirty little cumslut. Toji gets off on hearing you whimper, your nails digging into his strong, muscular thighs as you try to deepthroat him like the good little slut you are. He wants to feel you choke on his cock, gasping for air, struggling to take every inch down your throat. That's what gets him rock hard, knowing you're his to use however he pleases- whenever he pleases.

Toji knows the power he has over you, the way your body is pliant and weak in his grip. Maybe it's because he just got done at the gym, maybe it's because he's so pent up with rage that he can hardly control himself, or maybe it’s that dark, twisted fantasy he's always had to bully that sweet body of yours- to watch you break and fall apart with his name and cock on your tongue.

Your head spins, your vision blurring as he forcefully plunges his length down your throat. With each thrust he can feel how your throat clenches around him, the vibrations of your whines. It’s so damn delicious, so intoxicating… It’s enough to make his head tilt back, a satisfied- almost drunk expression washing over his face.

“Fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “Look at this mess. You can't even swallow my cock properly without crying,” his hands squeeze your neck tightly, constricting your airways fully- watching as you squirm, feeling his cock through your neck as he rams it deeper and deeper… moving your tonsils aside and wedging the head into the opening of your esophagus.

Until he finally feels it, that bulge in your throat- his tip and base pushing through it, his veins giving that stretched out throat of yours a hard, thick outline... making a perfect outline of his cock visible through your skin... Until your nose is buried against his pubic bone, your arms going limp, your eyes rolling back.

“Always so greedy for more until you have it. You should be careful what you wish for, doll. I know you wanted a taste of me, but I can tell you're getting more than ya bargained for, aren't ya?”

You could feel your spit rolling down your chin, pooling in his coarse dark pubes. He's right, this was far more than you could handle, but… the puddle between your thighs says you love this kind of treatment… Looking up at him with big teary eyes, he can see that drunk, glazed over look of yours. And you can see the sadistic gleam in his eye, the smirk curling his lip, his fingers still wrapped so tight around your throat.

And even though you can't speak, the silent plea you give him, the way your tongue runs up his length in a slow, messy way, tells him everything.

You want this.

Want him…

The pain, the pleasure, the humiliation of being used by him, abused by him, like a cheap whore.

You loved him, and he loved you.

Even if he would never admit it.

Because it was in the way his hands would grab and pinch and smack your ass. The way his mouth would bite and suck and lick every inch of your body. How he'd fuck you with the same intensity and ferocity when he fights. How he’d make sure you cum and gush and scream his name over and over. And how his cock would twitch inside you, filling you, breeding you with his cum until it spilled down your thighs as he whispers, “that’s my girl…”

Now, as you sit there, your mascara streaming down your cheeks, your throat stuffed with his meaty cock and soon a belly full of cum, you know deep down in your heart you'll never find anyone els can make you feel the same way.

[quadrantadvisor]

DP x DC, revenant!Jason Todd

Shortly after meeting, Danny and Jason have a late night conversation about what it means to come back. 1281 words

On AO3

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Danny woke groggily, in a dark place that he didn't recognize, and took a moment to get his bearings.

He felt the warning ache in his neck that came from being propped up against an arm rest. There were two sources of dim light in the room—the glow of city street lights, muffled behind a curtain, and the green eyes of the man whose lap Danny's feet were propped on.

Right. Danny hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the revenant’s—on Jason’s—couch, but they’d been talking for so long, he must’ve dozed off.

Jason had had so many questions, about ectoplasm, about the zone, about Danny’s own experiences. Danny had done his best to clear up everything he could. A revenant may not be quite the same as he was, but still, it made Danny happy to be able to pass on his hard won knowledge and maybe save someone else a bit of the hurt and confusion that he’d gone through. It was what he’d always wished someone would do for him.

Jason was slumped into the couch, but he didn’t look relaxed. Danny examined his still profile, cast in strange shadows by its own green glow, and wondered how long it had been since he’d moved.

Danny shifted slightly, purposefully producing the fabric sounds of a body against upholstery, to make sure Jason knew he was awake. No reaction. Danny gave him one more moment, then asked, “You okay?”

Jason didn’t look at him when he answered, “You told me I’m basically possessing my own corpse, and I’m supposed to not be upset about that?”

Really, Danny should’ve predicted something like that. How long had he spent, trying to pretend that death hadn’t really touched him? It wasn’t an easy thing to accept.

“What’s the difference between a body and a corpse?” Danny asked.

Jason’s eyes snapped to Danny, their glow intensifying. “I am not dealing with riddle bullshit right now, I swear to-”

“No, I’m being serious,” Danny interrupted, pulling his feet from Jason’s lap and sitting himself up. “There’s one difference between a corpse and a living body, and that’s that someone is living in it. Jason—” he reached out, gripping one of Jason’s hands in his “—you’re alive. That’s what matters. The rest is details.”

Jason’s shoulders bent inwards, his other hand raising to rub at his chest. “You don’t get it,” he said, quiet. “People don’t just come back from what they did to me. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“However you died, it’s not-”

Jason huffed an ugly sound, a short and bitter laugh that Danny hurt to hear. “Is it crazy that that isn’t even what I was talking about? I meant after.” The motion on his chest was repetitive, like he was tracing something underneath his shirt, and Danny got the sinking feeling that he knew just what sort of scar it might be. “I was gone, okay? I was gone, and this body was still here. And they took it, and they cut it open and rummaged around inside to figure out what happened. Which is—” he cut off, sniffed, and Danny gripped his hand tighter “—which is stupid, right? It’s not like it wasn’t obvious.” His fingers twitched, and he continued, haltingly, “I mean, I’ve read the report. Pulled it off his stupid files. The smoke inhalation did me in. After everything that happened, it was the smoke.”

Jasons’ hand pulled out of Danny’s, and they both rose to cover his face, cutting off the glow while he curled in on himself even tighter. His voice was slightly muffled when he said, “And then they had to ship me home, right? So they bled me dry and pumped me full of formaldehyde, and they prettied me up so they could pretend I wasn’t just some empty thing, and Bruce held the tiniest most depressing little funeral known to man and put my ass in the ground, and I had to wake up down there.” His words and his breaths were coming too quick, and Danny didn’t know how to help. He didn’t want Jason to stop, not when it seemed like he needed to say all of this, but he could see just how badly the revenant was hurting.

“But you did wake up,” he whispered.

“Woke up in my own mutilated corpse!” Jason snarled. “Everything I’ve forgotten, and that memory is still crystal fucking clear! It stank in there, like death and vinegar and mud, and it was so small, and I couldn’t even try to scream for help because they sewed my fucking mouth shut—!” He broke off into a sob, and Danny couldn’t stand it anymore, had to lean into Jason’s side and wrap an arm around him as he shook with all the emotion he couldn’t reign in.

“Okay,” Danny said. Not you’re okay, just okay. “Okay, so that’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever heard, and I regularly hang out with a guy who wants to skin me.”

Jason sniffed. “What?”

“Nevermind. It’s just-”

“No, I think we should go back to the skinning thing-”

“I just don’t want you to let it define you,” Danny interrupted. “I did that. I got into my head about it, the whole ‘being dead’ thing, feeling like I was…” Danny gave himself a second, swallowed, “like some sort of freak. A thing that didn’t belong anywhere. But I’m still alive, and you’re alive, and even if we weren’t, it wouldn’t matter, because we’re still here, and as long as you’re here you can find something that’s worth staying for.” Danny rubbed what he hoped was a soothing pattern into Jason’s admittedly impressive bicep.

Jason let out a sigh. “I must really be pathetic if you’ve gotta pep talk me like that, huh?” he said, and Danny pretended not to see him wiping at his eyes. “Sorry,” he added, “about all this. I’ve got some shit I haven’t dealt with, and this ‘revenant’ stuff brought it up pretty bad.”

“I get it,” Danny said, and hoped Jason could tell how much he meant it.

Jason sighed again, heavy, like he was trying to release something else with his breath, and said, “It still doesn’t make any sense. Logically, I can’t be alive. Where did my blood come from?”

Danny shrugged. “Do you have blood?”

“I definitely have blood. I’ve seen a lot of it.”

That gave Danny pause. “Just like, around?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Jason said, deadpan. “I’ve got a surplus, so I like to leave some here and there, make sure everyone gets a chance to appreciate it.”

“I have no idea how much you’re joking and it frightens me,” Danny told him.

“Weak,” Jason replied.

“Anyways, you gotta not think about it too much. The interdimensional goop is already logic-defying, and you’re mixing magic with it with your special soul willpower or something. Your brain will explode if you try to make it make sense.”

Jason huffed a little laugh, bouncing Danny on his shoulder, and this time it made him feel lighter. “Can I just say that I hate that I’m full of interdimensional goop?”

“Valid,” Danny said.

Even without looking at Jason, Danny could tell that he just rolled his eyes by the way the soft green light moved.

Danny had his ear pressed to Jason’s shoulder, feeling his warmth, and if he focused, he could just make out the revenant’s pulse. Personally, Danny thought it was pretty cool to be full of magic and goop and blood. Much cooler than Danny, who was way more science goop than magic goop. They’d have to compare notes on that sometime.

Maybe Jason would come around to it.

[vimse]

Ah wow it’s almost 2025, which means it’s time for the yearly art recap. Time flies when you’re struggling through your thesis, but I’m very pleased to scrounge up at least one Tech drawing per month. I’ll do a (not so) short reflection about my 2024 art under the cut if you’re interested, but for now, I’d like to express my greatest gratitude for everybody who has stuck around and shared my art. Hoping that 2025 will be a more productive art year. Byeee 🧡

Tl;dr under the cut: ramblings about my struggle in school, 2024 highlights, hopes and dreams next year

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Let’s look back at last year’s summary:

What's next in 2024?

More Tech. Some things I'd like to explore in 2024 is character drawings beyond portraits, anatomy, simple backgrounds, OCs, storytelling through short comics, TBB band au, and maybe some commission work

Well, safe to say I didn’t get too much of that done haha. The reason for that is I’ve been really struggling with my undergraduate thesis work in chemistry. I don’t really know the root cause of it, but I just can’t bring myself to finish it and I’ve been procrastinating badly, so much that I’ve missed two presentation opportunities. The third opportunity is within 2 weeks and I’m nowhere finished or ready. It has been a constant source of stress and anxiety throughout 2024. I got burned out by the end of May and went to the school counsel to hand in my resignation notice, but got convinced to stick around but to finish it at a later date, because this is literally the last thing to do before I get my degree. Then afterwards I decided to go back to my old job full time, which has been very tiring and took a long time to adjust to. This is very obviously reflected in the amount of full illustration produced during July to October, especially September when I couldn’t bring myself to draw anything beyond Tech’s hand lol.

If I don’t finish my thesis in time for this round, I think I’ll finally throw in the towel for real. Maybe I’ve doomed my future or something but…this experience has made me feel incredibly (and constantly) bad for a whole year, and it has affected every aspect of my life. I’m very tired of it. And although my current job is very tiresome and probably detrimental to my health, it pays well and the colleagues are wonderful. Additionally, it is a niche job that I have years of experience in, with good connections, so I’m not currently worrying about my future job at all. And it’s still within the chemistry industry, so all the time I spent in school isn’t going to waste. In regard to my future, I’m more worried about wasting all of it on a conventional 7-16 job, of which I don’t think a degree in analytical chemistry would help me avoid anyways.

Okay, I’ve rambled enough. If you’re still here, thank you. Now, let’s look back to some positive highlights in my art year of 2024:

I think I’ve finally reached the point where I’m content with how I draw Tech. As evident by the picture above, it’s sort of consistent too, which is a bonus.

I joined my first zine!! It’s the Pabu Days zine and I can’t wait for everyone to get their copy of it. Everybody’s pieces are amazing. I wish I did better/more, but the creation period was during the worst time of my year, mental health-wise, and I have to accept that it was the best I could do at the time.

As for the “masterpiece” of 2024, my most proudest work is the CX-Tech piece I did during the height of TBB season 3. I’m incredibly happy with how the rim lights turned out and the overall mood of it. Also the texture on the armour turned out sooo good, I can’t believe I was the one who painted it lol. I wish I could personally show the picture from my monitor, because all the details seem to disappear when viewed on tumblr. Below is the illustration I’m talking about, along with a side by side comparison to the picture I referenced the lighting from + some closeups. Looking back at it now, I wish I added a stronger frontal light source, so that the picture isn’t so dark.

Also, extra shout out to the back study series. I am traditionally not a painter (just grew up as an anime weeb) so making these this was an incredible accomplishment.

With that, I’m wrapping this very long post (sorry) with some 2025 hopes and dreams. Basically it’s the same things I wanted to do in 2024: improve anatomy, more background, work on OC, work on AUs. I want to try very hard to make commissions happen next year, if people are still interested. Something else I want to do that isn’t strictly art related is to connect more with people, especially with those who are still hyperfixated on TBB as I am. I find it hard to socialise on tumblr, but I try to be more social on bluesky. Idk, I think it would be fun to find a small active community that is maybe more focused on clones and oc stuff.

Okay, that’s all! If you’ve made it this far, thank you thank you thank you. Have a happy holiday and may your 2025 be a wonderful, wonderful year.

🧡 vimse