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frenchkisstheabyss · 3 months ago

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♡ Wondering ♡

♡ Pairings: frat boy!mingi x chubby!fem!librarian!reader

♡ Genre: angst/fluff/smut

♡ Summary: While working your job at the campus library you find that the most popular guy on campus has developed quite the crush on you. Thinking that it's some sort of prank, you dismiss him completely but Mingi has his heart set on making you his and isn't content to give up that easily.

♡ Word Count: 4.5k-ish

♡ Warnings: mingi really develops a thing for chubby girls, reader has body insecurities, body worship, kissing, male masturbation, porn, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, a lil hair pulling, a lil rough sex for a sec, technically cum marking, pet names (baby), but otherwise fluffy

♡ A/N: This is a fic I wrote for a super adorable anon and as always I'm super honored that you even asked me to write this my love. I truly hope that I did your idea some justice and you enjoy it. To all the chubby babes out there who may read this, you're a bad bitch, I swear to you, and if anyone tells you otherwise I'll swing on em. Kay, love you, bye - xoxo

Nothing. Mingi strokes his cock—his palm gliding up and down his length, his thumb circling the rim—and he feels absolutely nothing. Lying in the darkness of his bedroom, the warm glow of light emanating from his phone illuminates the frustration on his face. His gaze lazily dances across the screen where a woman lies naked, a sex toy vibrating between her thighs. She’s in his favorite position, making his favorite noises, but he can’t get off on it.

Giving up, he lets out a groan, throwing his head back on his pillow. It’s been weeks of this. He’s been too horny to function but when the time of action comes he can only get halfway hard and nothing feels the same as it used to. Maybe a different video will help. Bringing his phone in close to his face, he scrolls through the recommended videos. His cock still in his hand, he feels it soften into a sad, floppy thing the further down he scrolls.

Just as he’s about to call it a night, prepared to at last put himself out of his misery, something catches his eye. An image of a naked woman spread across a bed, her plush body fully exposed. She’s bigger than other girls he’s seen naked in porn, even in real life. She’s chubby and soft with shimmering gloss on her lips and stretch marks on her thighs. His breath hitches at the sensation of the blood rushing down his length as he takes her in.

His interest officially piqued, he clicks into the video and watches her in action. He’s hypnotized by the way she bounces and jiggles, every motion of her body too perfect to comprehend. The skin pulls tight around his cock, beads of arousal rolling down the tip as he quickens his movements. His bottom lip catches between his teeth, an attempt at choking back the low groans fighting their way up his throat at the sight of juices moistening the woman’s soft thighs.

Seeing her hits him with a rush of something unfamiliar. Something that has his stomach muscles contracting and his mouth watering. His mind goes wild with thoughts of what it’d be like to touch her, to feel her body trembling against his. What he wouldn’t give right now to grip a belly like that or drag his tongue across the plush of her ass. It’s exhilarating, unlike anything he’s ever felt before. His cock grows so sensitive that he’s twitching with every stroke.

Any care for if his roommates can hear him flies out of the window as a dizzying heat washes over him, the veins along his length throbbing as a waterfall of white shoots up onto his stomach. His phone drops onto the bed and he lets out a pitiful whimper, his eyes clung shut as he gives in to an orgasm so strong it makes his muscles weak. He’s so high from it that he fears he’ll never come down. Breathless, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, he sits up in bed and flicks the light on to see what a mess he’s made of himself.

His eyes drift back to his phone where a suggestion for a similar video calls him. He takes a deep breath, feeling his cock stiffening again so soon. Mingi picks his phone up, his thumb hovering over the Next button. It’s 3am and in a few hours Yunho will be banging on his door to go to football practice. He should get his shit together, clean himself off, and go to sleep. But that rush was so unexpected, so utterly delicious. He slips back down into bed, hitting the Next button. He needs more.

“Whoa, there’s so many books here” Mingi gasps, staring up at the tall cherry wood shelves of the sprawling library.

Mingi’s seen this place in pictures before—this marble palace with its sky high shelves and expertly crafted pillars—but in all his years on campus he’s never stepped foot in it. Nothing in this literary maze ever interested him enough to require a visit. His college career has always depended more on athletics and frat politics than it has books.

Most of his professors were more than content to give him a passing grade simply because of who he is. A stroke of luck that ran out the moment a new Women’s Studies professor stepped foot on campus. She’s set out to challenge him, to make him work for his grades if he actually wants them. A true tragedy if he’s ever been faced with one.

“Duh, it’s full of books. It’s literally a library” Yunho laughs, plopping a small stack of books into Mingi’s arms. “I grabbed everything you need except one. The Vagina Monologues. You’re gonna have to go ask one of the librarians for help.”

Mingi winces at the thought of the title leaving his lips and falling on a complete stranger’s ears, “Why’d it have to be called that?”

“Oh, stop being a child” Yunho huffs, catching a glimpse of a young woman pushing a cart of books past the aisle. “There! Go ask her!”

Mingi hesitates a moment but Yunho shoves him forward, “Off you go.”

Stumbling his way down the aisle, Mingi traces the sound of squeaky cart wheels a few rows over, stopping dead in his tracks when his gaze finds the woman pushing it. She wears a flowy, pear colored dress with white lilies printed all over it. It’s long enough not to scandalize the other library staff but short enough to get a glimpse of where her thighs begin to kiss. From behind Mingi can clearly make out her shape in it, the plushness of her figure bringing to mind things he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about in the library.

Humming along to a song in her head, she turns to place a book on one of the shelves and Mingi’s cheeks begin to burn. She’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. He’s said that about a lot of girls and never meant it but with this one it’s different. She has eyes that twinkle like sunshine dancing on the surface of some gorgeous lake. The curve of her nose is nothing short of perfection and her lips look like they taste of the sweetest sugar.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask. The way he stares at you makes you feel more like an animal in some zoo than the object of his affection.

Mingi shakes himself out of his daze, lowering the stack of books down to cover the slight rise in his jeans. “Uh…I…yeah…um” he stutters.

“Uh, I, yeah, um?” you tease, grabbing another book and sliding it onto a nearby shelf, “I don’t think we have that one.”

“Who are you?” he spits out as if that’s a completely normal question to ask someone when you’re the one who approached them.

“That’s a really weird question to ask someone, Mingi.”

“Wait, you know me?”

You giggle at the absurdity of such a question, “Of course I know you. Everyone knows you.”

Mingi thinks about it for a second, the reality of his popularity setting back in. “I guess you’re right. I am pretty popular.”

The grin on his face makes you nauseous. Of course you know him. And of course he doesn’t know who you are. Mingi’s from a whole different world and you’re positive girls like you don’t exist where he comes from. Rolling your eyes, you grab back onto the handle of your cart, “If there’s nothing you need…”

“Vagina!” he says, leaving you both stunned to the core, “I mean, monologues. Vagina Monologues. It’s, like, a book or whatever. Fuck it, are you busy tonight?”

A whisper of laughter drifts down the aisle, giving away Yunho’s presence. He’s never seen his best friend crash and burn this hard. Keeping a straight face isn’t an option. Yunho’s laughter may not be meant for you but it feels like it is. The first time a guy like Mingi talks to you and of course it had to be a joke.

“Second floor, in the Plays section, under E for Ensler” you snap, turning your back before you die of embarrassment right before Mingi’s eyes.

“Wait, can I at least get your name?” Mingi calls out but you’re already pushing your cart down the aisle, disappearing around the next corner without another word.

Yunho slaps a hand on Mingi’s shoulder, shaking his head in disappointment, “Who’s your new friend?”

Mingi sighs longingly, his gaze still lingering where you once stood, “I don’t know but I plan to find out.”

Sometimes when you find yourself working nights at the library you feel like Cinderella. A slave to these old dusty books, forced to clean and organize them until your manicure begins to chip while other girls are out at bars or parties. Only there’s no fairy godmother to come wave her magic wand and turn your pumpkin into a carriage. There’s no glass slipper and certainly no Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet.

Still, you need the extra money so there’s nothing to be done about it. Taking a seat at the front desk you check the time, it’s almost time to close up shop and the last few stragglers are packing up their things to head out. Once they’re gone things should be peaceful. No questions, no interruptions, no one getting on your nerves.

“Have you been avoiding me?” Mingi asks, popping up in front of your desk.

“Oh my god!” you gasp, clutching your chest, “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Kill you? How could I ever hurt a girl as pretty as you?” he says in that cocky tone you’ve become accustomed to.

It’s been weeks since your first run in with Mingi and he’s been relentless ever since. He stops by every shift to ask you some silly question that somehow always turns into yet another attempt at flirting with you. You shoot him down every single time but he never seems offended or discouraged. He just keeps coming back all bright eyed and full of energy like a golden retriever. You’ve gone home every night wondering what his motivations are. Why’s he being so persistent?

Sometimes for the hell of it you let yourself play with the idea that he might actually be attracted to you. Mingi is drop dead gorgeous after all and, even though you refuse to laugh at any of his stupid jokes, you find him pretty charming. For all his cockiness, he’s sweet in a way that makes you wonder what it might be like to be truly adored by a guy like him. This little fantasy of yours is always disrupted by the vision of Yunho laughing at the two of you. It’s a joke, that’s all, a stupid joke that Mingi’s cruel for not knowing when to give up on.

“Aren’t you sick of coming here?” you ask, pretending to be busy on the laptop, “There must be something else you can entertain yourself with.”

Mingi smiles down at you, fawning over how your skin glows in the shreds of sunset that peek through the windows. “There is actually. I’m having a party tonight and I want you to come.”

Your eyes shoot open, an involuntary burst of joy hitting you. “A party?” you ask, sounding more excited than you intended to. Catching yourself, you reel back the excitement but it’s too late, Mingi’s already caught it.

“Yeah, a party” he says, reaching behind the desk to grab a pen and a sticky note. He scribbles down the address and sticks it to your laptop screen. “Tell me you’ll come.”

He sounds so genuine when he says that. It’s almost as if he’s truly desperate to have you around. You look up at his face and feel the butterflies in your stomach go into a frenzy. You’ve heard the way other girls talk about him, the way they swoon over him like he’s this magical thing. You don’t want to be one of them, just another girl pining after Song Mingi but here you are.

You clear your throat, snatching the blue sticky note from your screen, and putting it aside. “I don’t really know if I wanna spend my Friday night with a bunch of wasted pretty boys.”

“Ooh, so you do think I’m pretty” Mingi blushes, batting his eyelashes.

You pick up a stapler, threatening to throw it at him, “Leave now and maybe, just maybe I’ll consider coming to your little party.”

Mingi throws his hands up, carefully backing away from the desk, “Fair enough. I’m wearing all black by the way. In case you wanted to, ya know, match or something.”

You wind your arm back, placing it in perfect formation to hit him in the head with the stapler. Mingi gets the message and scurries out of the door, leaning his head back in for a split second to whisper, “See you later, beautiful.” He winks at you and you groan but he’s gone now and there’s no one left to take your anger out on.

As the last few visitors trickle out you find yourself sitting in the silence of the library, that blue sticky note calling your name. You pick it up, swearing you’ll toss it in the trash but you only stare at it, reading the address over and over again. Some stupid frat party with a bunch of stupid boys at some frat house on the edge of campus. Why would you ever waste your time going to something like that? And who does he think he is insinuating that you’d even want to match with him? Anyway, you only have one good black dress and you’re sure it doesn’t even fit anymore. It isn’t even worth trying…is it?

“I’m telling you, this girl’s gorgeous and she’s super smart too. She knows everything about books and stuff, like, you can ask her anything and she just knows” Mingi rambles, grabbing another beer from the fridge.

“Because it’s her job” Yunho teases, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Mingi pops the beer open, flicking the metal top into a nearby trash can, “And how did she get that job? Because she’s smart.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve seen him like this over a girl…ever” Jongho says, stealing Mingi’s beer for himself.

“Well I think it’s cute. Mingi’s got a girlfriend” Wooyoung sings, making cute little hearts with his fingers.

“She’d be his girlfriend if she didn’t hate his guts” Yunho mumbles half heartedly.

Mingi gasps, taking offense to that, “She doesn’t hate me, she just hasn’t fully warmed up to me yet but she will.”

He looks around the kitchen and his friends all eye him skeptically. Mingi didn’t say that with nearly enough confidence for them to believe him and the truth is that he barely believes himself but how does he tell his friends that? He’s the one who girls drool over. He’s never the one doing the drooling. He has a reputation at stake and here he is ruining it for a girl who probably won’t even show up tonight. But he can’t bring himself to give up on you yet.

That first night after he met you he couldn’t get you out of his head. He kept imagining that face, that body, under him, on top of him, next to him. Just the thought of you made him hard enough that touching himself was mandatory to ease his need for you. And the more he showed up to bug you the more fascinating he came to find you.

Yes, you were snippy but never enough to directly chase him away. You let him stick around long enough for glimmers of your true personality to show. You’d made the terrible mistake of showing him how sweet you could be, how funny of a girl you are, and it only made things worse for both of you. More than having sex with you he wants to kiss you and hold your hand. He wants to tell you how pretty you are and not have you threaten him with a blunt object for it.

“Not to be that guy but when did you start liking…ya know?” Jongho says, hoping that the others will know what he means without it coming off rude.

“Chubby girls?” Wooyoung asks, making Yunho almost choke on his beer.

“You can’t just say that” Yunho coughs, grabbing a paper towel to wipe the beer from his lips.

Mingi’s eyes narrow, the question not quite setting right with him, “What does it matter?”

“I mean, it…it doesn’t. I swear it doesn’t” Jongho stammers, looking anywhere but at Mingi.

Wooyoung shrugs, coming to Jongho’s rescue, “In his defense, we’ve never seen you with one. She’s not your usual type.”

“So, what? Just cause she’s not my ‘type’ it has to be weird?” Mingi presses.

No one says anything, not a solitary word. They only stare at the doorway, their faces drained of any color. In the next room a party rages, in the kitchen an argument is ready to erupt, and there you stand in between the two hearing something you shouldn’t have at a time you shouldn’t have heard it.

“Hmm, well, thank you for that. I’m so happy everyone knows what I already did” you say, laughing to avoid tears, “Thank you for the invite, Mingi. Really.”

Something’s said, you’re sure it’s by Mingi, but you can’t hear it. You’ve gone numb to everything. Even the music blaring from the speakers a few feet from you feels like it’s playing from miles away. Desperate to outrun the tears stinging the corners of your eyes, you rush through the crowd of partiers in the living room and make your way outside.

The autumn air blows against your cheeks, cooling your tears as they begin to escape. You wipe them away, doing your best to look normal as you pass people headed into the party, but you can’t seem to stop them from falling. You feel so stupid for ever believing that Mingi’s feelings for you were anything but a joke he could laugh about with his friends. His words ring in your ears as you approach your car, frantically digging through your purse for your keys. Not his type? Well he isn’t yours either. You’ve never been too fond of assholes anyway.

“Shit” you hiss, the keys in your hand tumbling from your grasp the second you pull them out. You bend down to pick them up but someone snatches them away before you can. You spin around to find Mingi standing there, your keys jingling away as they twirl around his fingers.

“Give them back” you demand, grabbing for your keys but he holds them up high just out of your reach.

“You’re crying” he says and you can almost see his heart shatter, “Come back inside.”

“Why? So you and your friends can make fun of me to my face this time?” you ask, still fighting for your keys back but to no avail.

Mingi frowns, “Make fun of you? We weren’t making fun of you. I’d never let anyone do that to you.”

“So, what? Just cause she’s not my type it has to be weird?” you mock, feeling childish but justified considering the circumstances.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant that just because I’ve dated smaller girls that doesn’t mean I can’t like you and I do. I really, really like you” he swears, “I love your body. I think it’s beautiful. Everything about you…I’m just obsessed with and all I wanna do is show you how special you are but you won’t let me and I don’t understand why.”

Folding your arms across your chest, you stand on the sidewalk staring at Mingi like you hate him but it’s not him that you hate. It’s the fact that you believe him. The tears have slowed now but your cheeks are still wet, black streaks of mascara beginning to run down your face. You drop your head, embarrassed by your mini breakdown, and Mingi swoops in, giving you a chest to lay your head on. His long arms wrap around you, locking behind your back to keep you close. It’s your instinct to pull away but his embrace is too comforting and warm to abandon.

“If you want me to leave you alone forever I promise I will. I’ll let you go and you’ll never have to see me again” he whispers, “But if you stay I promise I’ll be good to you.”

Your stomach sinks at the thought of never seeing him again. Day after day all you’ve done is tell him to leave you alone but it never occurred to you how much it’d hurt if he actually did. “I don’t want you to leave me alone” you admit, your face emerging from the black abyss of his shirt, “That’s, like, the exact opposite of what I want you to do.”

Mingi cups your face, his thumb stroking the curve of your cheek, “Good because I wasn’t actually gonna leave you alone. How can I when you look like this? You’re even a pretty crier. How’s that possible?”

You’ve always managed not to blush when Mingi’s said things like this—at least not when he’s around—but you don’t stop yourself this time. You don’t even make the tiniest attempt at hiding how utterly giddy you are over his comments.

“Ooh, is that a smile I see?” he gasps, immediately making you regret it. You motion to hit him in the arm but he grabs you by the wrist, slipping his hand into yours as he leads you back towards the house. “Let’s go upstairs and I’ll clean you up then we can talk more, okay?”

Mingi looks back at you and you could swear that time stands still. This isn’t where you thought you’d be on a Friday night, walking through a frat party hand in hand with one of the most popular guys on campus—with Mingi. He’s guiding you up the stairs, looking at you like you’re the prettiest girl in the world and for the first time, somewhere deep down inside, you’re beginning to feel like it.

Before you left the house tonight you swore that you wouldn’t become some frat party cliche. Mingi’s hot, there’s no doubt about it, but there was no way you’d wind up bent over some bed with your panties around your ankles.

You were actually right about that. You’re not bent over some bed, you’re laying across it, and your panties aren’t around your ankles, they’re tossed off to the side of the bed, blending in with the pile of black clothing you collectively shed before you found every inch of Mingi’s cock stuffed inside of you. You came up here to talk, that was it, and in your defense you did talk. You were vulnerable with each other, you opened up about your feelings, and the next thing you knew your tongues were so far in each other’s mouths that you could feel it in your throats.

Mingi’s kiss is sweeter than you imagined. It’s the kind of kiss you could get lost in it. Even now, after he’s been kissing your lips raw for the last half hour, you find yourself wanting more. You’re so wrapped up in him, so completely consumed by the ecstasy of having him inside of you, that you aren’t even focused on the fact that you’re naked. You can’t begin to care if you look good or not when your body’s flush with heat, feeling the best it has in your entire life.

But you do look good. Nothing in Mingi’s wildest dreams could compare to how beautiful your body actually is. His hands explore your curves, discovering those spots he knows will come to be his favorites. That squishy belly of yours that pokes out just a bit more when he massages your sides. Those pillowy thighs that seem even thicker when he presses them to your chest. Those breasts that bounce softly against his face while he’s sucking at your bud.

“You’re so fucking amazing, baby” Mingi whispers, licking his way over the hills of your breasts to bring his lips to yours. “I do have a type. You know it’s you, right?”

“Is that so?” you tease, trembling at every stroke of his cock between the slickness of your walls. You run your fingers through his hair, your back arching against the mattress so much that you’re sure you’d float away if the weight of Mingi’s body weren’t pinning you down.

Mingi kisses you like a starved man whose hunger can only be satisfied by the taste of you. “Mmm, can’t you tell?” he hums between sloppy kisses, “Can’t you feel it?”

He snaps his hips into you and you let out a moan that makes you grateful for the loud music blaring downstairs. Keeping his lips locked to yours, one hand gripping your hip and the other cradling your face, he thrusts into you harder. Hard enough to make the bed creak. Hard enough to make your walls clench tighter. Hard enough to have you tugging his hair, moaning between his lips while your decadent juices drip down his length.

Mingi groans, holding you even tighter as the head of his cock rides the ridges of your sweet spot. Your insides are so spongy and wet, clenching around him just right. There’s no way he can go back to masturbating after this. The thought of you won’t be enough. Fantasies are absolutely nothing compared to what it’s like to truly feel you under him and around him.

“Mingi, mmm, gonna cum” you whimper, your eyes wide and glossy as you look up at him.

You sound so cute when you say it that he loses his sanity for a second, his hips stuttering before picking up the rhythm again. Mingi slips both hands behind your neck, deepening the kiss as he bottoms out completely. Heat pools behind your belly, spreading through your body until you’re sure flames are dancing at your fingertips. Your body tenses, a weak little moan falling from your lips before your vision goes blurry and your high washes over you.

“That’s it, good girl” Mingi coos, basking in the warmth enveloping him, “So pretty when you cum all over my cock. Always so pretty.”

Your walls are pulsing, fluttering wildly around his swollen cock. Your cum just pours down him, making every movement slippery wet. He can’t take it anymore. He couldn’t hold back even if he tried.

“Aah, fuck” he hisses, pulling out of you just in time to paint your inner thighs in white, leaving ropes of cum dripping dangerously close to your core.

Completely destroyed by your orgasm, you’re plastered to the bed and can only watch as Mingi catches his breath, immediately going to work planting kisses all over your body. He kisses the places you love and the places you hate. He worships them all with his lips because to him they’re perfect in every way.

You surrender yourself to the reality of that, letting the lingering adoration from each kiss sink into your skin. Mingi’s yours, he has been since he first laid eyes on you in that library, all you ever had to do was let yourself have him.

#ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez angst #song mingi x you #song mingi x reader #mingi smut #mingi angst #mingi fluff #mingi x reader #ateez x chubby reader #ateez x female reader #ateez x you #chubby reader #plus size reader

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ddejavvu · 3 months ago

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i love love love your work you’re so talented!! ☹️ got me checking for updates everyday omg

can i pretty please request mean!logan x crybaby!overstimulated!reader who can’t stop squirting lolll 😭 love u!!!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni. mean!logan, crybaby!reader, squirting, oral sex (f receiving), don't like don't read.

You can't quite figure out what's different about this time than the others. Logan is always good at what he does, but maybe it's because this time he hasn't shaved for a few days, leaving his lower face covered in a thick layer of rough stubble. Maybe it's because you'd had a dream about Logan last night that had you waking up in a sweat, pussy throbbing and stomach clenching. Maybe it's because you'd spent all day thinking about it, remembering the way it had felt, the things you'd seen, the way it had driven you so close to the edge of an orgasm even in your sleep with no contact. You really, truly needed Logan today, and now that he's feasting between your thighs you feel yourself coming to a climax that you fear the intensity of.

You've cum hard before, but never like this. It's a full-body experience, white hot tension spreading outwards through your limbs like a live wire sparking and burning anything it can reach. It's all-encompassing like the way Logan's hefty muscle envelops you so easily, and your fingers dig what you're sure are painful, crescent-shaped marks in Logan's scalp as you latch onto him and tug him closer.

You realize halfway through your climax that there's something more happening- and for a half-second your heart stops as you think you're letting out more than you'd intended. But Logan groans, licking a long, languid stripe over your spasming cunt and pulling back to watch.

"Logan-" You gasp, mortified as he studies your pussy. His face is messy- more than usual, and you realize that you're squirting. You're still squirting, aided by Logan's fingers that replace his tongue as he stares hungrily at your release.

"Shit. You're like a fuckin' fountain. That good, huh?"

"Aah!" You cry as Logan's long finger bottoms out in your cunt, still sensitive but uncontrollably gushing impossible amounts of your release. He dips back down to lick at your pussy again, catching more in his mouth, and your body finally decides it's run dry, leaving you panting as Logan cleans your sensitive sex.

When he draws back you watch him scrub a hand over his beard, the short, stiff hairs mangled with a thick layer of your slick. He's always been a messy eater, but you certainly didn't help by squirting in his face.

"That was good." He notes gruffly, casual to the point where you're not sure if he's on the same page as you; he just watched you squirt, right? He's acting casual, save for a hunger in his eyes that lingers longer than usual, and you wonder if he's forgotten that your release had hit the back of his throat like his so often hits yours.

"I'm sorry." You feel the need to babble out an apology, still struck dumb from your own orgasm, "I- I didn't mean to- was that, is that- normal?"

Logan snorts, still staring at your puffy, sensitive pussy. He runs his already-sticky finger down its slit and you hiss from the overstimulation, wriggling away from his touch.

"Normal when you feel really good, sweetheart." He hums, dragging his hand up over your bare abdomen and leaving a glistening trail of your release there, "Now, clean off my hand- that's good, that's right." He hums, tucking his long, thick fingers into your mouth and letting you suck the slick off of them, "And when you're done with that, I'm gonna see how many more times I can get that pussy to squirt tonight."

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #logan howlett blurb #logan howlett drabble #logan howlett oneshot #wolverine x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine smut

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seongsgirl · 24 days ago

Text

— your girl.

; no smut in this, but my blog is nsfw, so please, mdni.

— I dedicate this work to @starryjake <3 me and jake love you so much.

You laid flat on your bed, eyes fixated on the tiny glow in the dark stars that you insisted that Jake help you stick to your ceiling. They glew dimly in the dark, not getting enough sunlight during the day to make the glow to their full capacity; it didn’t help that you had the curtains drawn closed all day.

The room was dark, not feeling like getting up to turn the light on and opting to sit in the dark, the only light coming from the sticky stars and the little sliver of light peeking through the crack in your doorframe that shone from the hallway.

You sighed softly and turned to your side, eyes landing on the framed picture of you and Jake on your desk. He was slightly crouched and your chin rested on top of his head, both of you adorning the cheesiest smiles you have ever wore. Jake’s glasses were slightly crooked and his cheeks were tinted red, much like yours.

The photo was taken during some event that was happening on campus a little under six months ago. It was one of the happiest moments of your life and you silently thank Jungwon daily for capturing that moment perfectly.

Then again, any moment you spent with Jake was a happy one. He knew just what to say every time you needed reassurance, knew the perfect remedies for a broken heart when Heeseung left you with one. He knew things about you that you didn’t even know about yourself, he knew everything and more.

Jake was essentially everything you have ever dreamed about, the person you always dreamed of being with. And you were with him, but not in the way you truly wanted. He was just your best friend and roommate, nothing more, nothing less.

And that made falling in love with him even harder to deal with.

You sighed again and rolled over to your back again, looking at the stars. They began to dim even more, losing their charge as the night progressed. It reminded you a lot of yourself and your current state. You were so bright, so full of energy and ready to show the world what you are capable of. But something shifted within the last few months, and your spark was dulling. Nothing quite felt the same anymore, and you didn’t know what was changing, but something was.

Maybe it was the unrequited love and stress of masking it for so long.

You took a deep breath before looking over at your desk again, searching for your desk clock. The digital clock read nine-thirty and you mentally prepared to see Jake any second now. It was a Saturday night, your usual night to spend with Jake in the living room, a movie on the television and snacks and drinks littering the coffee table as you both caught up with each other from the events that occurred over the week. But you really couldn’t be bothered to partake in the weekly ritual tonight.

Almost like clockwork, you hear a faint knock on your door and a familiar voice saying your name. You didn’t respond.

There was another quiet knock before the door slowly creaked open. The hallway light shone brightly in your bedroom and burned your eyes, groaning as you clamped them shut.

“Y/n?” Jake says slowly, as if he’s scared. You slowly open your eyes and look at the boy standing in your doorframe, his head tilted like a puppy.

“Sorry, Jake.” you started, a puzzling look taking over the boy’s face. “I don’t think I’ll do movie night tonight.” you mumbled.

Jake took a couple cautious steps into your room. It wasn’t like you to skip movie night, in fact, you’ve never skipped one in the entire two and a half years that you two lived together. Jake licked his bottom lip before speaking. “Is everything…are you okay?”

You chuckled. “Not really.”

You could practically hear Jake’s heart shatter in his chest. There you were, his best friend in the entire universe, laying in a dark room while blankly staring at the ceiling and he had no idea you weren’t okay.

You heard Jake take in a breath before shuffling through your room and sitting on the foot of your bed, your head close to his thigh. You looked over at him to see him already looking down at you. His hair was scruffy and he had his glasses on, really bringing together his nerdy boy image. His eyes were full of worry, yours full of nothing.

And you both sat there, looking into each other’s eyes in silence for a moment before you turned your attention back to the now dim star stickers.

“What do you do when you love someone, but they don’t love you back?” you said abruptly, breaking the silence.

Jake looked back over at you, eyes slightly wide. “Huh?”

A sad smile crept onto your lips. “You know what I’m talking about, Jake.” you turned back to him, “When you feel like you can’t love someone even more than you already do, but you know that those feelings aren’t reciprocated. How does someone get closure with something like that?”

Jake’s eyes turned glossy, and his lips scrunched to one side of his face. “I-I don’t know…” he said softly. “I wish I did, because I know exactly how you’re feeling.” Jake put a soft hand on yours that rested on your stomach.

You sighed. “It hurts, knowing that he’s exactly who I always dreamed about but knowing that he’ll never love me the way I do with him.”

“Do I know him?” Jake asked.

Your lips fell into a straight line. “Yeah, you do.”

Jake hums, acknowledging your response. “Well, I hope he finally sees what’s in front of him and stops being stupid.”

You chuckle softly. “I hope your girl realizes that, too.” and silence falls upon you both again.

Minutes feel like hours and years before you speak again.

“Jake,” you mumbled, not letting your vision stray from the stars, but you see Jake shift to look at you in your peripheral. “That’s his name.”

You hear Jake’s breath catch in his throat and you feel your eyes glaze with tears, a single one slipping out and falling down your face.

“Y/n…” Jake whispers, taking his thumb and wiping away the stray tear. “That’s her name.”

And suddenly the ever growing pit in your stomach doesn't feel as big.

You look over at Jake, and he’s still looking at you. You sit up and come face to face with him. Jake’s hands come up to your cheeks, holding your face gently, and you melt into his touch.

“I’m sorry I never told you…” Jake whispers, your noses brushing and foreheads pressed together. “Me too,” you reply, your lips ghosting over his.

“I’ve always wanted you to be my girl. From the day I met you, I knew I had to do whatever it took to get you.” his thumb brushed your cheek.

“Jake,” you press your lips to his softly and you feel him immediately melt into the kiss. You broke away and looked at him with a soft smile.

“I’ve always been your girl.”

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen scenarios #enha x reader #enha imagines #enhypen imagines #enha jake #jake enhypen #jake sim #jake sim x reader #jake sim imagines #sim jake #sim jake x reader #enhypen fluff #enha fluff #jake x reader

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muxshwriting · 3 months ago

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alone together

Seth Clearwater x reader

summary: your boyfriend doesn't realise his own strength. it doesn't usually bother you until you realise that he's leaving something more permanent with his hugs || warnings: bruises, being loved to death, mentions of insecurity (like one sentence), characters aged up to like 18ish || word count: 921 || masterlist

The moment Seth imprinted on you, he knew the rest of his life would be perfect. He'd heard from the others how amazing it felt to find your imprint but no one truly prepared him for when he first saw you. You'd been friends before he shifted but when he saw you again months after that, when he truly saw you, it was like nothing else in the world.

You spent almost every evening at the Clearwater's, your own parents understanding how much Seth meant to you. He quickly became your everything, your day was never good unless you saw him. And your day was never perfect until you were wrapped up in one of his hugs.

"Better?" His arms wrapped around you until they were pressing into your skin. Sometimes you needed to feel like your body wasn't yours, that you and him were one and the same so that his perfectness might rub off on you.

You hum in response, burrowing further into his neck and relishing in his warmth. The pair of you are sitting on the sofa at his house, simply taking time to be with each together without needing to do anything else. "Just a rough day."

His touch sooths you as his comforting weight around your midsection deepens and calms the feeling crawling through your chest. "You wanna talk about it?" His voice is muffled against you but the concern in it has your heart melting.

"No. It's getting better."

"Happy to help."

Almost a week later you're helping Leah bake some cookies for the pack at her house. Seth's out on patrol with a few of the other boys. You lean against the counter before going back to upright with a hiss of pain.

"You okay?"

Your eyes widen as you turn to Leah. "Yeah. It's fine."

"It doesn't sound fine."

"It's just a bruise."

Leah seems to relax that it's not serious. "Oh. How did you bruise your side? Fell off the bike or what?"

You laugh at her suggestion but don't answer the question.

"How'd you do it?"

"Um... It's from Seth."

"From my brother Seth? Your imprint? My little brother Seth?" Leah's face turned cold as her mind ran to the worst possibility.

"Not on purpose!" You're trying to reassure her but it only makes her more suspicious. "I had a rough day at work and stuff ad I just needed him to hold me. But with his wolf strength I guess he hugs a little too tight. I didn't even notice until a couple days ago."

Leah ran her hands through her hair, pulling at it slightly as she processed what she heard. "Does he know?"

"I don't want him to worry. Or not hug me because of it."

"Show me."

Slowly, you pull up the hem of your shirt, revealing the bruised and inflamed skin of your side and bottom of your ribs.

Leah has a sharp intake of breath as she sees the extent on your injury. "We might need to tell my mom about this."

You pull your shirt back down, gently wrapping your arms around you as if to shield yourself. "It's fine." You dismiss.

"It's really not." Leah argues. "Just let her check."

She's not giving in anytime soo so you concede. "Okay. But I don't think she can do anything about it. She's just gonna tell me to put a heat pack on it, which is why I have Seth."

Seth, at that very moment, comes back from patrol and waltzes in. "What do you have me for?" He presses a kiss to your forehead, wrapping an arm around your waist. It takes everything in you to not hiss as he rests his hand on the bruise as Leah raises an eyebrow at you.

"Don't worry about it." You kiss him back, letting you senses be surrounded by him for a moment before Leah clears her throat.

"It's not nothing. Tell him."

Seth, ever oblivious, asks "Tell me what?"

You sigh, reaching for the hem of your shirt but not lifting it yet. "You know how I had a rough day last week?"

"Yeah..."

"And you hugged me really tight cos I asked you to?"

"Yeah."

"It kinda left a bruise. But it's fine! Leah's making it out to be a much bigger deal than it is and all I need is my personal hot water bottle and it'll be healed in no time." You lift the hem of your shirt to show him and Seth immediately starts fussing.

"Babe, this is a big bruise."

"It doesn't hurt that bad." Just at that moment Seth rests his hand on top and you can't stop the groan you let out. "...Only when I touch it."

"I want my mom to look at it."

"That's what I said!" Leah cried.

The two siblings started talking over one another about the best thing to do, whether they should go right now, whether you should even move or if it's best for you to go to bed. Their voices grew louder than just talking and you felt yourself shrinking back from them.

"I'm sorry."

Seth's mood immediately charges as he cups your face. "You don't need to be sorry for anything, okay? I'm sorry I did this to you."

"I don't want you to be sorry."

"Why don't we just go upstairs and cuddle, yeah? More gently this time."

You nod in response.

"Mom can have a look later. Let's just do nothing."

"Do nothing together?"

"Of course."

#seth clearwater x reader #seth clearwater #twilight #twilight x reader #muxsh #muxshwriting

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seiwas · 1 year ago

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ari i'm going to share some of my favourite lines from this but i apologise in advance if i end up copy pasting like 80% of the things you wrote 😭 i had so much to say with each passing paragraph i swear

ari your writing in this is impeccable, the vivid imagery you inject into it all. you go from specific to broad and it's so... how... like your brain!! i swear!!

the colour red flooding his subconscious. that cold, cold sensation — a jarring shift, chilling and ruthless, going from everything to nothing. tiptoeing the line between life and death.

another thing i noticed about your writing is that you use a symbolism and carry it through as a theme to the rest of the sentence and that's!! also!! just so big brain... it's so beautiful and so so satisfying when you catch it

clinging to the weak flutter of his heart, a dying butterfly. clawing his way up to the skies.

now on to...everything else. honestly ari i don't think i've seen a lot of fics recounting this moment of gojo specifically (or maybe i just avoid it because it makes me sad) but for some reason, the way you've written this doesn't make it sad at all. the sky motif you weave through gojo's dying moments is peaceful if anything and i like the message that that conveys, that dying for gojo isn't scary, it isn't bad, it's... peaceful and maybe even comforting in all the blue that he sees.

gojo doesn’t think he has it in him to feel fear, anymore.

when you say that line i think about the many reasons for it: how maybe being the strongest makes him that way, or maybe just that he's become a bit desensitised to it all.

then you bring us to the airport. the afterlife. another place i haven't really seen other fics explore yet, and you tie everything so neatly, so beautifully.

gojo feels young, too, he realizes — the weight on his shoulders a little less heavy, the familiar black of his sunglasses obscuring his vision. but he can still see the flicker of suguru’s cursed energy clear as day. as if he never left.

feigning a mild displeasure, gojo makes a face. he hears himself speak, but his mind and six eyes continue to spin in circles, trying to comprehend the sight in front of him. trying to make it understandable, figure out what’s going on.

your introduction of suguru will always ache for me. the callback to his six eyes and how it will never comprehend how real suguru feels despite him being gone—like a part of him will always live so long as satoru exists, wherever he goes.

suguru is there, right next to him, and he’s speaking. breathing. like something out of a dream, the kind that always haunts gojo in his sleep.

another thing i truly admire about your writing is your characterisation, not just through dialogue and descriptions but also through actions. you get them so well, it's crazy. the mannerisms and interactions you write for them are insanely accurate (at least to me) and i can truly see satoru and suguru (and anyone else) doing or saying whatever it is you make them do or say.

the white haired boy stretches his limbs out and huffs, pretending the sight in front of him doesn't send a tremor running through his very soul.

but what i love most about all this, is your take on satoru. you touch on so many parts of him that i love exploring and adoring, one of them being the things he values—what truly makes him happy? if he could live a life made from his own decisions, what would it look like?

the sight in front of his eyes is perfect, he thinks. absolutely perfect. a glimmer of spring, one he never quite managed to forget. a vibrant flicker of blue, one he thought he’d lost forever.

...

with a sigh, gojo stretches idly, smiling a little to himself. his joints don’t ache, his head isn’t buzzing with fatigue, and his heart feels lighter than it's been in recent memory.

“now i’m hoping this isn’t a dream,” he hears himself mutter, allowing his eyes to flutter shut at last. he can still see suguru’s cursed energy, and everyone else’s. he isn’t alone. what a nice thought.

i think it's so nice that you've given him this moment of rest, even when we know it won't last. the way you've dug deep into him to reach for the parts that humanise him—that allow him to want things for himself.

and i love this line:

him, and suguru, in the corner of an airport too precious for words. that one decisive slice of heaven.

that one decisive slice of heaven is such a pretty line, ari. the ache i felt in this line was the perfect preview to the heartwrenching yet heartwarming dialogue that ensued between suguru and satoru.

however you crafted this dialogue between them, the set-up, the scene building, the conversation itself—i was completely immersed, ari, i had to remind myself that this isn't canon (though i hope it could be). there are so many layers to it and so many reasons why i love it (that i'll try to explain as i go on but just know that i don't think anything can fully capture what i felt reading it).

i like the role you've established for suguru in satoru's life—almost like his voice of reason, maybe even a moral compass; and you emphasise it so much in lines like this:

suguru opens his mouth, and speaks, and his voice has a finality to it that fills gojo with a mellow kind of dread.

as if suguru is the bearer of bad news because he's the only one who can deliver it gently; in a way that will make satoru listen. i like how you make him firm yet kind, doing what's necessary but in ways that aren't cruel (like ripping the band-aid off for satoru).

“they’re no match for him,” he continues, unperturbed. “all of them are going to die. every single one.”

suguru leans back in his chair, still looking straight into gojo’s eyes. seeing through him, gaze filled with a certain sharpness. a little cruel, but there’s a kindness there, too. as if he’s simply ripping the band-aid off, trying to make it as painless as possible.

...

“.. damn,” he grins, weakly. leaning back in his chair, slumping against the soft leather. “couldn’t you have kept indulging me for just a bit longer?”

suguru smiles. a soft thing, in the flicker of the light. a little too good to be true. “sorry,” he chimes. “but the plane is leaving soon.”

and the banter you included in their conversation was amazing ari, i really felt the fondness they have for eachother through it. the held back smiles, the playful bickering, how much suguru believes in satoru and knows him, to a point that i think might even be better than how he knows himself.

”haah.” a heavy exhale, fatigued. gojo slumps even further into his seat, squeezing his eyes shut. running a hand through the soft strands of his hair. ”oh, gimme a break. and here i thought i could finally relax for once.”

a chuckle flows from suguru’s lips, amused. ”you aren’t the type to go down like that,” he murmurs. ”c’mon, satoru. there are still things you need to do.”

”how?” gojo scoffs. ”i’m split in half. and i’m too exhausted to use my reverse cursed technique.”

”eh,” suguru shrugs. ”you’ll manage.”

gojo shoots him a dubious look. ”you’re acting like it’s a papercut,” he huffs, crossing his arms. ”my guts are on the fuckin’ pavement.”

”oh, quit your complaining already," suguru rolls his eyes, and shoots him an accusatory glance. "i died with a hole through my chest. at least your heart is still intact.”

the white haired boy gapes at him, offended. ”i wanted to make it painless for you!”

”well, it hurt like a bitch. so thanks for that.”

gojo pouts, fighting back a smile. he thinks suguru must be doing the same. and it’s juvenile, a little twisted — but then again, weren’t they always?

suguru cocks his head. beckoning gojo into taking action. ”you’ve still got some fight left in you,” he says, and there’s a fondness to it. ”you always do.”

...

”get up, satoru.”

there's also a line i really liked because i found it so pretty: placebos; memories ghosting his subconscious. & the way you used symbolism again to carry through a sentence: the words taste salty, on his tongue. an ocean breeze. a whisper. ”we could just stay like this.”

another thing i really liked was how you included a lil bit of the whole god theme when it comes to him. not that he has a complex, but more of the flipside of it—how do you make a god human? and i love exploring that about him. when you talk about that gap, and the solitude that comes with it. you write his yearning for love, for connection without fully saying it and i love it ari! i love seeing gojo through a lens that he can truly never escape wanting very human things.

”you want me to go back,” he hears himself say, somewhat bitter. ”you want me to go back, and then what? there’s nothing i can do. i’m not the strongest, anymore.”

...

”there’s always been a gap between you and everyone else. that’s what you said, before. aren’t you tired of it?”

gojo closes his eyes.

that’s right. that aching gap. the solitude that comes with absolute strength — a weight he’s borne all his life. doomed never to connect with others, never to be understood. doomed to always live in the sky, far away from the earth and the ocean.

...

suguru’s voice fills his mind. the flicker of his cursed energy is gentle, like an ocean wave rolling in right before the sun sets. ”you said it yourself, satoru.” gojo can hear the smile in his voice. ”you love everyone.”

love. it always comes down to that, doesn't it? the greatest curse of them all.

(but he could never bring himself to fully throw it away.)

you also manage to say the unsaid, that i think maybe a lot of us might feel when it comes to gojo. that even he knows himself. i think he really is so important that no matter how unfortunate it may seem to drag him away from this rest, people still need him. and it speaks so much to who he is that he still chooses to be that person; that he still heeds that call even when he might not want to anymore.

not just that — the world itself is waiting on him. waiting for him to pass on, so it can crumble away. waiting for him to make it, so he can stitch it back together.

and you deliver this absolutely heart-crushing line that cements how important suguru is to satoru, like i mentioned, the only person he might listen to:

”i’ll listen to you,” he elaborates, tapping the edge of his chair, absentmindedly. eyes shining with a glimmer of something tender. ”so… it has to be you.”

serious scenes with satoru are tricky, i feel, because his character is naturally a lot joyful and teasing, a bit annoying and playful, but you manage to balance it so well while still retaining the kind of humor he does. you have such a skill, ari, really!! i'm stuck in awe!!

”so much for finally getting a vacation,” he huffs, frowning as he casts a jealous glance at his best friend. ”you dead people have it easy, you know that?”

suguru’s still smiling, but he’s not getting up from his seat. the pa system sounds, again. a little louder this time.

suguru stays right where he is. young, dead. smiling. the same smile he wore when gojo killed him, framed by the setting sun. the same kind of sunset that’s beginning to form outside the translucent windows of the airport, nostalgic and sweet, dyeing the clouds in a soft pinkish hue.

i also love the little changes in their physicalities!! what that represents to the passing of the scene!! and i think it's so healing to see them interact this way knowing full well that we didn't get to see that in the manga (suguru being kenjaku and everything).

over his shoulder, he looks back at suguru. the boy has a hand raised, and his grin is playful, brimming with warmth. except he’s no longer a boy — now he’s wearing traditional robes, hair much longer, face a little more hardened. but that grin is still the same as ever. gojo thinks he looks almost proud.

”go get ’em, satoru.”

gojo blinks.

the grin that breaks out across his lips, then, is wide. bright, brimming with youth, lighting up every corner of his face. almost overwhelmingly sweet. it envelops his very being, as he stands there, clad in his black compression shirt and baggy pants. hair a little less messy than it was in high school, face a little more hardened — but he hopes his grin, at least, looks the same as ever.

and then!! you add this little reference too: ”—, — —.” + the literary and real world tales that you parallel to akin his story to a legend, or a tragic hero. ugh! i love it: (buddha left the royal life behind him at 29 years of age, he recalls. and then he sought out enlightenment.)

and this line:

twelve years of living in the sky, and now his feet meet the ground, at last.

i love it so much because it ties in his story so beautifully. your take on what could happen is honestly so cool and so big-brained to me—a binding vow. like. wow. taking away what is most valuable to become the most powerful, just for this moment, and to bring him back down from all of it.

a part of me wonders if this is punishment or a reward, and i think that's what makes your storytelling so wonderful, ari! leaving room for the double-meaning of it, just ugh! perfection.

thank you so much for writing this ari, it was truly. truly. beautiful.

oh my destiny, how far you have sprung now ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru gojo chooses north.

word count; 5.2k

contents; satoru gojo, canon divergence, HEAVY jjk spoilers (for chapter 236!! but also kinda 237), fix-it fic, me coping w/ the manga for 5k words straight, canon-typical violence and death, implied stsg, probably non-canon compliant use of binding vows (but do i care? no), gojo satoru lives.

a/n; yeaaa this is literally just me coping <3 needed to write this for my mental health. he’s fine guys trust me

the experience is not altogether unfamiliar, on its own.

he’s felt it before. even now, he can still vividly recall it; a girl he failed to protect, a boy he failed to save. a man with a scar on his bottom lip.

that sickening numbness, as he lied in a pool of his own blood. sticking to his hair and tattered clothes, the colour red flooding his subconscious. that cold, cold sensation — a jarring shift, chilling and ruthless, going from everything to nothing. tiptoeing the line between life and death.

emptiness. sinking deeper into the abyss, that all-enveloping darkness. that awful feeling of pure helplessness.

he could never forget it.

back then, though, gojo is certain he didn’t feel this way. all he could think about twelve years ago was survival — clinging to the weak flutter of his heart, a dying butterfly. clawing his way up to the skies. anything to escape that harrowing sensation, a kind of desperation all humans feel in the face of certain death, spurring him on. but now —

he almost welcomes it. nearly content in its approach. it should frighten him, but it doesn’t.

through half-lidded eyes, vision blurred by sweat and blood and dust, gojo watches the sky.

it's beautiful, he thinks. as beautiful as ever. peaceful, unchanging, soothing in an eerie kind of way. that clear blue, fading a little at the corners as his muddled mind grows just a little darker, a little more fatigued. he can barely gather the strength to keep his eyelids open.

yet he keeps his gaze on that endless sky, as if it’s all he’s ever known.

with every passing second, the world grows just a little more blurry. pale dots spread around the corners of his vision, like grains of stardust in an ever-expanding cosmos, clouding his senses. there’s a buzzing in his head that won’t go away. everything looks as if it's spinning, and he can barely tell left from right, north from south. everything is growing darker, so fast that it’s alarming, and gojo can’t seem to even think clearly.

but he can still see that blue, blue sky. bluer than he ever remembers it being. even as snow begins to fall, descending upon shinjuku as if bidding him farewell. the sky takes on a gray hue, but that shade of blue is still all gojo can see, as he takes shallow breaths and half-heartedly attempts to remain conscious. willing himself not to give in just yet, choking on his own blood.

and it's an odd feeling, really. one he never thought he'd meet again, but here it is, it's back — and it's all-consuming. beckoning him into a place he’s never been before. the unknown.

it's not scary. gojo doesn’t think he has it in him to feel fear, anymore. but it's a strange sensation, as death kisses its way up his neck, sending shivers down his spine; as the numbness spreads, devouring him whole.

it’s unknown. thoroughly and wholly. and that unknown is overwhelming, all-encompassing, it’s all he can see before him, it's —

ah.

gojo takes a deep breath. the air burns his lungs.

everything's ending, isn't it?

it would be so easy. to simply close his eyes, let them flutter shut as that all-encompassing sensation takes him down to earth. to allow himself to simply rest, for a moment. wouldn’t that be nice?

it would be so easy.

gojo watches the sky. it's all he can do.

the numbness keeps spreading throughout every cell of his body. he can barely feel the blood trickling down his chin, or the harsh bite of the winter cold, his skin buzzing with ache. he can't feel his arms or his legs, and he knows exactly why. everything in the world is closing in on him and god, he just feels so fucking tired.

ah. ah. more darkness. more numbness.

everything and nothing, all at once. slipping away into oblivion. the snow keeps falling but he can't see anything, can't hear anything, can't feel anything, anything at all.

nothing. nothing. less than nothing.

— and then, suddenly, an airport.

"yo."

gojo blinks.

a boy. a boy with black hair, tied into a small bun. a dead boy. his best friend.

suguru stands before him, and he looks exactly the same as gojo remembers. young, bright, with those awkward bangs still hanging over his face. grinning boyishly, and greeting him with youthful cheer.

but he doesn’t succeed. because it’s impossible to understand. and, really, that’s answer enough.

huh.

so this is what the afterlife is like?

he inhales through his nose, basking in the clear air, and it doesn’t burn his lungs. his chest feels lighter than it’s been in years.

that seems a little too good to be true.

"you’re kidding me. this sucks.”

suguru makes a kind of face like he’s pouting, plopping down in the seat right next to gojo’s. the white haired boy stretches his limbs out and huffs, pretending the sight in front of him doesn't send a tremor running through his very soul.

suguru continues to speak and gojo continues to listen, all while observing the scenery in front of him.

the airport looks familiar. through the glass windows he can see a glimmer of the blue sky, and a plane waiting to take flight into the clouds. the air smells of summer and jet fuel and new beginnings. it’s pleasantly cool, a light breeze caressing his skin and coaxing a hum from the confines of his throat.

(he remembers this airport. remembers having his arms full of vending machine snacks, trailing after suguru as he dealt with all the annoying technicalities. amanai was there, too, watching a plane soar up into the sky with childlike wonder. a little anxious, as she boarded the plane to okinawa, and then back to tokyo.

her first and last flight.)

suguru is there, right next to him, and he’s speaking. breathing. like something out of a dream, the kind that always haunts gojo in his sleep.

he breathes in, and then out.

suguru is there. and not just him – nanami and haibara are, too. all young, all dead. all somehow breathing; he sees them inhale and he sees them exhale. he hears them speak and it’s like nothing ever changed.

they speak of regrets, of south and of north. nanami doesn’t seem to regret a single thing, and gojo is glad. even yaga is there, he notices belatedly. even amanai, and her maid, and a certain man with a scar on his bottom lip. everyone all together again.

the airport buzzes with warmth. nostalgia, as suguru’s laughter rings in his ears. and gojo grins, in tandem, bright and childlike. wallowing in the tender atmosphere.

the sight in front of his eyes is perfect, he thinks. absolutely perfect. a glimmer of spring, one he never quite managed to forget. a vibrant flicker of blue, one he thought he’d lost forever.

his one and only blue spring of youth, right in front of his all-seeing eyes.

a little too good to be true.

with a sigh, gojo stretches idly, smiling a little to himself. his joints don’t ache, his head isn’t buzzing with fatigue, and his heart feels lighter than it's been in recent memory.

and it’s strange, gojo thinks. it really is. he’s dead. sukuna killed him. he’s dead, his remains are lying somewhere in the streets of shinjuku, and that should bother him. he should be punching the floor and screaming, cursing sukuna’s name with every fiber of his being — it should frighten him, the realization that everything has ended.

but it doesn’t.

gojo isn’t afraid. and he isn’t upset, either. he bears no grudge against anyone, just like that day twelve years ago.

he’s with suguru, now, and his juniors. his old teacher. the people he cares for are with him, and the airport smells so nice. everyone is young, and happy, and none of them will ever have to kill or be killed again.

calling it anything less than heaven would be doing it a disservice.

gojo smiles, exhaling a relieved breath. one he hadn’t realized he’d been holding til now, stuck in the back of his throat for the past decade. a tiny thought makes it to the forefront of his brain, like a spring breeze flitting in through an open window.

like this, he thinks, i could die with no regrets.

“— except that’s not true.” a voice proclaims. “is it?”

gojo opens his eyes.

suguru looks at him. everything goes silent. everyone else has already gone blurry, a little faded, as if they aren’t what’s really important. as if the entire world has narrowed down to just this; him, and suguru, in the corner of an airport too precious for words. that one decisive slice of heaven.

suguru opens his mouth, and speaks, and his voice has a finality to it that fills gojo with a mellow kind of dread.

they look into each other’s eyes, and both know what’s coming.

“the students are outclassed.” suguru rests his chin on the heel of his palm. ”you said it yourself — sukuna wasn’t giving it his all when he fought you. he still has more than a couple cards up his sleeve, doesn’t he? like his incarnation.”

gojo listens to suguru speak, not saying a word.

“they’re no match for him,” he continues, unperturbed. “all of them are going to die. every single one.”

he clicks his tongue.

“and you still haven’t buried my body, either.”

a moment passes. then two.

gojo smiles to himself, rueful. a little saddened.

“.. damn,” he grins, weakly. leaning back in his chair, slumping against the soft leather. “couldn’t you have kept indulging me for just a bit longer?”

suguru smiles. a soft thing, in the flicker of the light. a little too good to be true. “sorry,” he chimes. “but the plane is leaving soon.”

as if on cue, the pa system sounds.

flight to okinawa; departing in nineteen minutes.

“it hasn’t left, yet,” suguru hums, and it sounds like an inevitability. ringing in gojo’s ears. “you know what that means, don’t you?”

he does. he does, but it still hurts. gojo looks into suguru’s eyes, and sees himself reflected in them — young, transparent. blue. fading, but not quite faded. not quite dead.

and maybe it’s to be expected. maybe he was just trying to delude himself into believing the alternative, into believing that an afterlife as sweet as this could really be waiting for him. maybe it was naive, a childish fantasy.

but still —

a chuckle flows from suguru’s lips, amused. ”you aren’t the type to go down like that,” he murmurs. ”c’mon, satoru. there are still things you need to do.”

”how?” gojo scoffs. ”i’m split in half. and i’m too exhausted to use my reverse cursed technique.”

”eh,” suguru shrugs. ”you’ll manage.”

gojo shoots him a dubious look. ”you’re acting like it’s a papercut,” he huffs, crossing his arms. ”my guts are on the fuckin’ pavement.”

”oh, quit your complaining already," suguru rolls his eyes, and shoots him an accusatory glance. "i died with a hole through my chest. at least your heart is still intact.”

the white haired boy gapes at him, offended. ”i wanted to make it painless for you!”

”well, it hurt like a bitch. so thanks for that.”

gojo pouts, fighting back a smile. he thinks suguru must be doing the same. and it’s juvenile, a little twisted — but then again, weren’t they always?

suguru cocks his head. beckoning gojo into taking action. ”you’ve still got some fight left in you,” he says, and there’s a fondness to it. ”you always do.”

”get up, satoru.”

silence. unbroken, unperturbed. if he focuses enough, he thinks he can hear the distant buzzing of cicadas, the crinkling of soda cans. the whistling of the wind. placebos; memories ghosting his subconscious.

it’s quiet, for a while. gojo stares into space, blinking slowly. then he parts his lips.

”suguru.”

the boy in question turns towards him. but gojo looks up, instead — eyes set on the roof, like he’s trying to see beyond it. into the comfort of the blue sky.

suguru hums, a cue for him to follow. and gojo closes his eyes.

”i think… i might be tired.”

silence. no one says a thing.

”i think i’d prefer to stay here,” he admits, a forlorn look in his eyes. tapping his fingers on his knee. ”in the past, like this.”

the scent of jet fuel and summer lies heavy in the air. gojo inhales it, greedy. as if savouring it. trying to make it a part of his being, filling his lungs with sweet nostalgia so it never goes away.

”we could just stay here. together,” he muses, barely above a whisper. there’s a kind of longing to the tilt of his voice, something soft. ”couldn’t we? never moving forward, or back.”

the words taste salty, on his tongue. an ocean breeze. a whisper. ”we could just stay like this.”

suguru’s gaze trails from satoru, down to his lap. his bangs follow the slow movement, silky strands falling over his eye. the chuckle that drifts from his lips doesn’t have much humour to it.

”haha… you’ve never been the type to stay in one place for too long, satoru.”

gojo clenches his fist.

”you want me to go back,” he hears himself say, somewhat bitter. ”you want me to go back, and then what? there’s nothing i can do. i’m not the strongest, anymore.”

”you are.” suguru’s voice is firm, decisive. ”you can still win. you know exactly what you need to do. there’s only one way to get out of this.”

gojo sighs. one hand in his hair, tousling it. mildly frustrated. ”… it’s risky.”

”you’re bleeding out.”

”if i do this — i won’t ever be the same.” gojo turns to look at suguru. ”i sure as hell won’t be the strongest, anymore.”

”and would that be such a bad thing?”

silence. the two boys look at each other — one dead and one half-alive, both connected to the other. for eternity. suguru’s eyes are full of understanding, as they look into the blue of satoru’s.

”there’s always been a gap between you and everyone else. that’s what you said, before. aren’t you tired of it?”

gojo closes his eyes.

the title of the strongest. a cross he alone had to bear.

(did he ever really want it? or was he just resigned to it, conditioned from the very beginning?)

the feeling of isolation that’s been haunting him for decades seeps into his skin. the cruel knowledge that no one will ever truly know him; even worse, the knowledge that it’s all for the best. you can admire a flower, and help it bloom, but you can’t ask it to understand you.

such a cruel curse to be born with.

love. it always comes down to that, doesn't it? the greatest curse of them all.

(but he could never bring himself to fully throw it away.)

”there are still people waiting for you, out there,” suguru reminds him. and gojo knows that he’s right.

he still hasn’t buried suguru’s body. that thing is still inside his head, doing god knows what. and his students — they must be fighting sukuna, right now. if he’s lucky, no one’s dead yet. if he’s lucky. then there’s shoko, of course. and ijichi, everyone else from the school.

not just that — the world itself is waiting on him. waiting for him to pass on, so it can crumble away. waiting for him to make it, so he can stitch it back together.

dying isn’t a luxury satoru gojo can afford. he knows that, he does, but —

dammit.

”suguru,” he starts, hesitant. voice more feeble than he ever remembers it sounding. ”what… should i do, from here on out?” a pause. uncertain. ”where should i go?”

suguru raises a single eyebrow, tilting his head. ”do you really need me to tell you that?” he asks, a little teasing. gojo’s reply is instantaneous.

”i do.”

the airport falls silent, again.

”i’ll listen to you,” he elaborates, tapping the edge of his chair, absentmindedly. eyes shining with a glimmer of something tender. ”so… it has to be you.”

suguru inhales, softly. breathing out in a meek chuckle, with a soft shake of his head. ”well, in that case…”

a smile. he meets gojo’s gaze. ”then i think you should go north.”

gojo looks into his eyes. a moment passes, slow, detached from space and time. their eyes meet, and in suguru’s eyes, gojo sees a reflection of their youth.

what a shame.

”alrighty, then.”

placing his palms on his knees, gojo gets up from his seat. stretching his arms with a soft groan. a sigh flows from his lips, drifting out into the clear air.

”so much for finally getting a vacation,” he huffs, frowning as he casts a jealous glance at his best friend. ”you dead people have it easy, you know that?”

suguru’s still smiling, but he’s not getting up from his seat. the pa system sounds, again. a little louder this time.

flight to okinawa; departing in six minutes.

a deep breath. air flows into his lungs, and then back out; soaking up the summer air he knows he’ll never quite get a taste of again.

it’s breathtaking.

”will i see you?” gojo asks, before he can stop himself. eyes still stuck to the setting sun. ”when everything ends.”

…

suguru chuckles, again. rueful. gojo thinks it sounds just a bit meek, a little like he’s holding back tears. ”maybe,” he breathes, shrugging halfheartedly. not meeting his eyes. ”who knows?”

it’s not the answer gojo wants to hear. but he’ll take what he can get.

and finally, suguru gets up. slowly, methodically. elegant, in the way he moves, the way he brushes non-existent dust off his baggy pants. smiling, hair swaying softly with the breeze. gojo finds his gaze, and that smile shifts into a lazy grin. one so distinctly suguru that it can’t possibly be just a figment of his imagination.

”don’t find out too soon,” he quips, teasingly. ”alright?”

a slap. gojo doesn’t see it coming, and it knocks him forward — he stumbles slightly, lanky legs moving clumsily, sunglasses falling off at the impact. his back stings, a little.

”go get ’em, satoru.”

gojo blinks.

he turns his back on suguru, and puffs out his chest. trying to hide the sappy smile still lingering on his lips, the glassiness of his eyes. his voice comes out loud, cheery, echoing throughout the airport — but still somehow so tender.

”roger that!”

gojo looks ahead. the airport is blurred, a little hazy, but a bright light shines farther up ahead. a beacon for him to follow, one that blinds him if he looks at it for too long. blue, white, golden — the colours of the sky. beckoning him forward, to a familiar place.

he takes one step north.

”ah, satoru. one more thing.”

the sound of suguru’s voice stops him in his tracks. ”hm?” gojo turns on his heel, white hair tousled by the soft breeze. a little confused. ”what is it now?”

suguru grins. the whole airport smells like spring.

”—, — —.”

…

one long, tender moment passes by. gojo doesn’t even breathe, mouth falling open slightly, in a way that must look comical to the man in front of him.

the airport glimmers like a marble in the sun. transparent, blurred, but still somehow so real. suguru’s words echo in his mind.

then gojo laughs, the sound bubbling up from his throat like seafoam on a scorching summer day. hearty and deep, coaxed out from the very bottom of his gut — genuine. a little breathless. he can’t wipe away the grin on his face, wouldn’t do it even if he could. his blue eyes crinkle, as he looks at suguru, showing off his dimples and teeth.

”so corny,” he teases. suguru rolls his eyes.

”hey, don’t blame me. this is your imagination.”

a huff slips from his lips. ”yeah, yeah…” gojo waves him off. then he meets his eyes, again, still grinning boyishly. ”i’ll hold you to that, okay?”

”got it,” suguru chirps. ”good luck out there, satoru.”

”pssh. who do you think you’re talking to?”

the men exchange smiles, one final time. funny, how that’s always how their story ends; with a heartfelt smile. even if it’s coated in blood, or nothing more than a figment of their imagination.

then gojo turns around, again, and takes a step forward. not looking back this time. trusting suguru to still be there, watching over him. like always.

the bright light at the end of the airport glimmers, tantalizing, mesmerizing. suguru is right — there’s only one way to get out of this. only one way to make it back alive.

and it’s risky. very much so. it’s a gamble, the greatest one gojo’s ever made, even worse than that time twelve years ago with the reverse cursed technique.

it’s a gamble, all or nothing.

binding vows are dangerous, fickle things. built on equivalent exchange. give something and get something, of equal value. sacrifice and gain.

gojo’s thought about it, before. a morbid curiosity.

what could he possibly gain by offering the greatest treasure of the jujutsu world?

he lifts one hand up, to caress his face. lingering over the skin of his eyelids, now closed. but he can still see the cursed energy around him. burned into his retinas.

the six eyes. the blessing of sight.

a blessing. a blessing he never once asked for, one he was simply born with. born with all this power, doomed to live above the rest. all for a pair of eyes that never seem to see the things that really matter.

and, really, it’s a gamble.

gojo takes a deep breath, and then one large step forward.

(buddha left the royal life behind him at 29 years of age, he recalls. and then he sought out enlightenment.)

the light comes closer, and closer. lotus flowers bless his path. he takes seven steps forward, and his path blooms out before him; one flower blooming by his feet for every step he takes. seven steps north.

i’ll give you everything, he speaks to the someone watching the world. a god, a natural order, himself — it doesn’t really matter. i’ll give you all six.

in exchange —

the light is close, now. so close he can almost touch it. it burns his skin, but he doesn’t falter. he doesn’t look away, eyes seeing through the blindness and reaching out for something. something alive.

don’t let me die, he bargains. give me enough of it to kill him.

i still have things i need to do.

one more step, out of the airport —

(and satoru gojo makes a sacrifice.)

a binding vow is made.

the six eyes dissipate, like vapour drifting off into the darkness of a never-ending cosmos.

when gojo opens his eyes, he’s met with a cold, gray sky.

the world shifts on its axis before him.

everything looks different. he can’t see, but he can, it’s just not the same as before. it’s naked, and raw, and surface-level. not enough to sink his teeth into.

he can still see cursed energy, feel the flicker of it all around him, but it’s hazy. it’s not clear enough, not enough for him to get a good grasp on — like the world lost its saturation. like everything got tilted slightly to the left. an eerie feeling that something isn’t as it should be.

and wow, okay. this is new.

but gojo parts his lips, weakly, and breathes in — and the air tastes the same as ever. cold, crispy. it fills his lungs and he exhales it through his nose. a human act. a breath of life.

i’m still alive.

it’s an odd feeling, like someone took a heavy weight off his shoulders. like someone stripped him of everything that makes him him. an strange sensation, heavy, entirely impossible to ignore. however —

the gain after the loss hits him almost immediately, embracing him with a burst of cursed energy so violently overwhelming that his sight becomes entirely irrelevant. it devours his very being.

everything becomes a blur.

— i’ll give you everything.

so, in exchange…

give me enough cursed energy to go on a good rampage.

the cursed energy within him spikes, so sudden and violent that gojo fears his skin might break open. buzzing like flies inside his veins, a vibrant burst of life, every colour in the universe. all the power one can expect from willingly casting away the greatest jewel of the jujutsu world.

gojo moves his fingers. he can feel them, finally — all limbs intact. positive cursed energy flows from his brain, no longer exhausted beyond comprehension. enough, more than enough to give him access to every possibility within his soul.

belatedly, he realizes that his sight isn’t the only thing that’s been weakened. the control he’s grown so used to having over his cursed energy is dwindling, and fast; that firm grip seems to have left with the six eyes, replaced by a set of shaky hands. gojo has experience, and for now, it’s enough. but he still has to concentrate to contain the nearly overwhelming flicker of his cursed energy, stinging his skin as if it can’t fully be contained by his body anymore. prickling his veins. it feels a little like trying to keep water from running through the gaps between your fingers.

and he feels naked, in a way, suddenly living without something that defines his very being. a little hollowed out. a little wrong, like someone reached a hand through his ribs and pulled out his heart.

but damn, does it feel good.

his cursed energy output is all-encompassing. his mind feels more clear than he ever remembers it being, and it’s like the world is at his fingertips. something similar to what he felt twelve years ago, but still so different.

it isn’t ascension, not even close. quite the opposite. but that feeling of freedom is still so abundant. it’s all he can see before him; endless possibilities.

twelve years ago, satoru gojo faced a certain man, and rose to the skies. he will never, ever forget it. that flicker of eternal solitude, the burst of overwhelming euphoria. that sense of everything being just right.

twelve years of living in the sky, and now his feet meet the ground, at last.

everything feels different. everything looks different. things won’t be the same, ever again — but maybe, suguru was right. maybe that’s not such an awful thing.

to be reborn. to be given a choice.

gojo opens his eyes, and finally takes in all the sights before him. everything happens in a blur, so fast he can barely catch up — his body acts before his mind, and suddenly he’s face to face with sukuna.

not megumi, but sukuna. fully incarnated.

and he looks displeased. almost frustrated.

”how?”

the look of pure shock on his face is more satisfying than gojo could ever put into words; the satisfaction of seeing a king fall to his knees.

somewhere in the background, he thinks he hears a cacophony of voices, awfully familiar in a way that has warmth blooming in his chest. the students, he assumes — voices of shock, and something he tentatively recognizes as relief. but he doesn’t have the time to let his guard down, just yet.

(no matter how much he’d like to look back at them and give them a self-assured peace sign, bask in their smiling faces.)

instead, he answers sukuna. ”a binding vow,” he grins, and he thinks he must look a little manic, gesturing towards his eyes with his thumb. ”gave these puppies away. didn’t expect that, did’ya?”

sukuna looks at him, for a second.

then he laughs, loud and ugly, grotesque. taunting. he looks at gojo with something that almost resembles pity, something bordering on disappointment.

”pathetic,” he spits, all teeth. ”what good is living if it’s not at the top?”

gojo simply smiles.

he recalls that one question. eleven years ago, somewhere close to the ruins of the very street he’s standing in now. the question that flipped his entire world upside down.

(are you the strongest because you’re satoru gojo? or are you satoru gojo because you’re the strongest?)

a grin breaks out across his lips. his cursed energy pulsates inside his veins, eager to be let loose, and he takes on a fighting stance. parting his lips to speak, unsure of whose question he’s answering.

”well, we’re about to find out.”

the sky is gray. even so, all he can see is that familiar shade of blue, as clear as ever. even without the six eyes.

gojo smiles.

just keep watching, suguru.

this time, i definitely won’t lose.

#everyone please read this #sincerely from the bottom of my heart #ari i tried to queue this the first time and i had sooo much to say about it both tags and comments but i think tumblr ate it #im rlly sorry if im not able to say the same things i did but im gonna try my hardest too!!#it's not an x reader and might be more gojo centric than anything + satosugu but it's such an interesting perspective #i havent really seen fics written from this pov yet (maybe i also just avoid them bc im afraid of gettng sad) but #there are so many things about gojo's position; his character; how he feels; who he is deep down and his wants that are touched on here #some of my absolute favourite things to explore when it comes to him #and ari writes everything so beautifully with imagery and motifs and themes #and references to literary pieces and stories existing around us today #the satosugu dialogue is truly heartwrenching while simultaneously healing #and it feels so real #ari how could u not tell me u were in the jjk writers room all this time #i swear and the take on what happens later on. how he lives. its so interesting im just wow #must read #ari this was beautiful #jjk #satoru #hurt/comfort

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after-witch · 7 months ago

Text

The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: You get your period and Mahito wants to run a few tests.

Word count: 3465

notes: yandere, consensual relationship, reader is on their period, mentions of other people's torture and death, humiliation relating to period, Mahito being Mahito is his own warning

It’s not often that Mahito bothers with your bathroom. Only, in the past, when you’ve been in it--naked and wet and usually mid-shower, as he apparently finds it entertaining to see what noises you make each time he surprises you.

(Once, after comparing him to the killer in Psycho, he’d demanded to then watch the film. ‘But I didn’t stab you and you didn’t bleed chocolate syrup,’ he’d said, simply, after the scene in question.)

Today, though, he’s decided that there must be something interesting in there, because he’s spent the better part of 5 minutes rummaging--you can hear the sound of items being moved--in the closet and, judging by the sound of rustling, he’s now fiddling with the trash can.

“Hey,” he says, finally sauntering out of the bathroom. When you turn to greet him, a sarcastic remark about having fun digging through the trash on your lips, your heart stutters.

In return, Mahito simply blinks at you.

“What’s this?” He asks, dangling one of your used pads from his hand.

The smear of dried blood in the center of the white pad feels accusatory, out of its proper context in the trash can. A bit of toilet paper sticks to the end of it, remnants of the ball you created to cover up your mess.

“Oh fuck,” you say, reflexively. “Put that down! That’s--it’s--”

“It’s blood,” he says, giving the pad a sniff. “Smells funny though. Why’s it in your bathroom? Why’s it on this thing? When did you get hurt? Why were you hiding it in the trash?” The questions come simply, nearly rapid-fire. He probably says them as he thinks them.

Your cheeks burn something awful by the end of his questions, and your answer comes out half-stuttered. “It’s--I didn’t get hurt. I’m on my period.”

One of his fingers is stuck to the bottom of the pad, and he peels it off deftly, holding it closer as you wish you could snatch it from his hands and forget this ever happened.

“Oh,” is what he says, eventually, with a quiet hint of curiosity. “I guess I’m lucky then. I’ve been wanting to study human menstruation for a while now.”

The word study sticks to your chest, but you aren’t able to peel it away so easily. You don’t want him to study you; don’t want to be under his scrutiny in such an obvious way. It’s easier to pretend he knows about people, about humanity, when you’re firmly playing at something closer to a normal relationship.

As if anything about this was normal.

“Can’t you study one of your… experiments?”

Experiments. Oh, what a simple, inoffensive word for what they really are--you shake that thought away as easily as a mosquito, though it never truly leaves the room.

At this, Mahito’s eyebrows raise, and the edge of a smile tickles his lips.

“Oh,” he coos. “That’s awfully selfish to say, even for you.”

He closes the distance between the two of you now, and you don’t bother resisting when he gives your chest a poke--thankfully with the hand not currently holding your used pad--and encourages you to sit back down on the sofa.

“I want to see.” Simple and clear, like most of the things he says to you. His directness with you is something that does make him stand apart from most people. If he wanted attention, he told you so; if he wanted to be left alone, the same. There weren’t mind games with him or--or hell, if there were mind games, you were too stupid to notice them and that was just fine with you, because the alternatives of your past relationships had been far worse.

“Why?” You ask, if only to delay the inevitable.

Mahito shakes the pad on his hand, smiling a little at the way it sticks, before he peels it off and sets it on the coffee table. He sighs. “Movies never show it. They always show the woman eating ice cream or screaming at her boyfriend or cuddling with pillows, but they never show what’s actually happening down there.”

You squirm without moving.

“It’s just blood.” Your tone stays flat, uninterested. If he thinks it’s boring, he might move on. “Nothing special about that.”

Mahito’s smile reminds you of an eel.

“Then show me.”

It’s not a request that you can parry off, so you don’t bother; instead, you spread your legs, pulling up your skirt so that Mahito won’t do it himself. You might just lose the garment entirely, if it was left up to him.

Mahito claps, then crouches down in front of you, getting far too close to your pad-clad underwear for comfort. He takes a sniff and you’d like to die on the spot.

He gives the pad a poke.

“Why do you put this in there? What’s it called again?”

You close your legs a little--instinct--and he holds them open for you. It’s easier that way, you think. Easier when he takes control and you don’t have to fight your instincts.

“It’s a pad,” you force out. “I put it there to absorb the blood.”

He tilts his head. “Why?”

Your nose wrinkles at the question. “So it doesn’t get on my clothes or everything I sit on.” A ghost of a memory pushes through your brain--blood stains on school bus seats and church pews--and you force it down.

Mahito tilts his head, and you think he’s about to ask what you’re thinking about, but instead he sighs and rests his head against the edge of your thigh.

“Humans are so squeamish.” His fingers reach up and climb up your leg, dancing on your inner thighs, towards the pad. You twitch--it tickles--and he smiles. “Does everyone use pads?”

“No,” you say, as he grips the top of your underwear and begins to slide them down. You do move, now, but not to oppose him. It would be pointless. Instead you hike yourself up a little, so that your bare privates aren’t touching the couch. “Some people use tampons,” you finish, as if you’re not sitting here, hunched on your sofa, while a curse pulls down your underwear to get a look at what’s underneath.

Mahito glances up at you. He wants you to elaborate.

“A tampon is like a cotton stick, I guess? You put it up--there--and it absorbs like a pad. But from the inside.”

“Oh!” The edge of Mahito’s fingers play with the pad on your underwear. “I guess some of my experiments have been on their period, then. I wondered what those were.” He pouts, just a bit. “Maybe that’s why some of my experiments haven’t been working out right. I wasn’t taking menstruation into account.”

The thought has your stomach roiling. But you don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want to think about it--what Mahito does, when he’s not here, and how what he does is just as much a part of him as the moments when he’s snuggling with you in your apartment or fucking you into your mattress.

When you look back at him, he’s grinning.

“You’re squeamish, too. About my work.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Don’t worry. It’s cute on you.”

With that, he gives up all pretense, and peels the pad away from your underwear in one swift motion.

“What are you doing?” You ask, even though you know the answer.

“Keeping it.” He sets it next to the already used pad. In contrast, the pad he’s just peeled away still has mostly brighter red blood on it, rather than the dull, brown old blood from the bathroom trash can. “I want to see how long it takes for you to bleed through your underwear. And some more things,” he adds, casually.

Oh, you think. This is too far, too weird. It’s puncturing the bubble you’ve created around you and Mahito in a way you don’t like.

“Mahito, I am not--”

In an instant, his eyes are on you. It’s a look that says, “You are,” and your lips feel like they clamp shut without hesitation. Something low climbs into your stomach and takes root there. When your shoulders slump, defeated, he pats your knee in appreciation.

“We’ll have a slumber party this week,” he tells you, voice getting more giddy as he goes on. “For three days? Four? However long you bleed.” He stands up and begins to survey your apartment, but for what you don’t yet know. “I can get a lot of experiments done in four days.”

You don’t have the heart--or the stomach--to deny him.

When you were thirteen, you once got your period in the middle of class. You didn’t know it until you leaned forward in your desk to get a closer look at what the teacher wrote on the blackboard--your needed glasses at the time, and didn’t yet know it--and one of the boys behind you let out a distinct tween boy guffaw, snickering just loud enough for everyone to hear: “Dude, that’s fucking nasty.”

And then you’d felt it--wetness clinging to the inside of your black pants. And you’d scooted back, looked between your legs, and there it was: a smear of red on the dull grey chair.

You were too embarrassed to do anything but sit back down, cheeks so hot that you began to sweat, and listened as everyone behind you began murmuring about your period. You had wanted to die for almost two weeks, and for the rest of your school career, you wore a sweater around your waist just in case you started without warning.

That incident, as life-defining as it had been, was not as embarrassing as what you’re going through right now.

“Mahito,” you mumble, voice thick from your tightened throat. “Is this really necessary?”

Mahito, seated at a folding table he’s hauled into the living room, glances up at you. You, naked as the day you were born and perched awkwardly on top of a porcelain bowl that Mahito had shoved underneath you.

“Which part? The bowl or you being naked?”

“Both,” you blurt helplessly.

Mahito smiles. It’s such a pretty, awful little smile. “The bowl is,” he admits. His eyes leer over your body, awkward as it must look right now. “I just like to look at you.”

God help you, you feel flattered; the warm flush in your skin tingles with the new emotion. Mahito’s praises never failed to make you feel like that, even in the midst of something like this.

Mahito abandons the table and squats in front of the sofa, peering in between your spread thighs at the bowl underneath. You squirm, and he smacks the inside of your thigh sharply. You stop moving.

“I thought it would come out faster.” His tone is soft, low. Detached to everything but mild curiosity. Like a child studying an insect in a chair. “But it’s more… oozing than anything.”

“Don’t call it oozing,” you say.

Before he can answer, a timer resting on the folding table dings delightfully. Mahito doesn’t waste time and yanks the bowl out from underneath you, leaving you to land flat on the sofa with your bare ass.

“’Hito!” You whine. “It’ll stain!” Thoughts of having to get the smeary blood out of your couch override the desire to keep your whining to a minimum, lest Mahito get annoyed with you. But, you think, it doesn’t matter much now. He’s not even paying attention.

Instead, he whisks the bowl over to the table and places it on the scale to weigh.

He sighs out something like disappointment. “It’s not that much blood at all, really. I don’t know why women complain about it so much in movies.”

He wasn’t paying attention to your whining earlier, but he does hear your incredulous intake of breath at his words. He glances back at you, confusion written on his face.

“What? It really isn’t. Now, when someone loses a limb, that’s real blood loss. And it spurts out, instead of oozing.” He nods, affirming his thoughts to himself. “That would be something to complain about.”

“It’s not just the blood,” you say, half absent. Your mind drifts to when and where and how Mahito might see someone lose an arm. Did he cut it off? Or another curse? Did the blood droplets spray over his face? Did the person die right away or--

While you were lost in thought, Mahito left his post at the table and returned to crouch in front of you, now sitting flat on the sofa despite the inevitable stains.

“Go on,” he says simply, all the while pushing your thighs apart with his hands. There’s a bit of blood smeared on the inside of your thighs and he leans forward to give it a lick. The awful feeling nesting in your stomach bristles.

“Don’t.”

Mahito blinks up at you. “I want to,” is all he says, before he does it again.

The look he gives you--Will you try to stop me?--is met with you dropping your chin, just in time to see him smile. He gives another lick. “Tell me what else makes you complain when you’re on your period.”

You think about the sneering boys behind you at school, the way one of them tapped you on your shoulder and said, voice full of glorified condescension, “Aren’t you even wearing a pad? That’s nasty.”

Instead, you rest your hands on your naked stomach and murmur out the answers Mahito wants to hear.

“Cramps.” You swallow, forcing yourself to taste the ghost of your milkshake from lunch this afternoon and not the bile that wants to come up. “From the um, uterus contracting. It can hurt really bad.”

One of the girls in the class discretely handed you a pad, but your embarrassment had been so awful that you pretended not to see her, even when she waved it in front of you. “What a bitch,” she’d murmured to a friend afterward.

“Back pain,” you continue, voice cracking. “And you can get tired. You want to eat but can’t… or you don’t want to eat at all, sometimes. It’s just… a lot of stuff.”

Your body jolts when Mahito puts his hands on your stomach--he wouldn’t transfigure you, he’s said that, and you remember his words well. But it doesn’t stop you from imagining.

“Is that why women get angry when they menstruate?” The mild glare you give him is met with the most innocent of expressions. “What? It’s what all the movies say. Though the man usually gets hit with something after he says it.” He smiles, as if daring you to hit him. You don’t.

Instead, you keep talking. Maybe it’s a way to ground yourself. Maybe you just want to talk to fill the space where dead, disfigured women, corpses created at Mahito’s whim, exist.

“Your hormones can fluctuate.” You smile a little at the forced nostalgia. “Sometimes I get really upset over dumb things. Especially when I was younger. One time, I sobbed because my mom said she was going to get fast food for dinner and she changed her mind.”

Mahito rests his elbows on your thighs, digging into them harshly. His hair tickles your skin, and you wonder, idly, if he’ll get your blood on the silver strands.

“Do you want to cry now?” He asks, almost sweetly. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Do you want to cry? No. You might, though, if things keep going the way they are. So you dig your teeth into your lip and shake your head.

“No. This is just… embarrassing, I guess.” To be naked. To be bleeding. To have Mahito sitting there, your blood on his tongue.

Mahito quirks his head, then scoots back to pry your thighs farther apart so he can get a better view of your bleeding privates.

“I don’t see why humans get so embarrassed about their bodies. It seems silly.” He rests his chin on his elbow for a moment, hums, then hoists himself up and returns to the table where he’s got a few used pads and the bowl still lined up.

“Mahito?” You ask, while he’s tinkering with his findings. “Can I put my clothes on now. And a pad?”

“No,” he answers, voice light, without even looking behind him. “I need to put this inside you first.”

You do move to get up off the couch now, a pang of fear shooting through your stomach, but you stop when he turns around with a wrapped tampon held aloft. Where did he get it--the thought flickers, and turns into something more pressing: Why does he have it?

But you know the answer, don’t you?

“I don’t use tampons.” A useless thing to say, but you say it anyway.

He simply blinks at you, and crouches back down in front of you, parting your thighs like air.

“They’re uncomfortable,” you try, louder.

This time, he stops moving, and a little bit of hope flickers through you just long enough for him to furrow his eyebrows.

“But when I make my penis, it’s much bigger than this, and you don’t say it’s uncomfortable.”

Your mouth opens to answer, and your tongue sticks to the inside. It’s stupid to argue with him when he’s got his mind set on something. So you don’t.

When you don’t continue to complain, he nods, then unwraps the tampon and skims the back of the wrapper. At least he’s reading the damn instructions, you think, in the instant before he awkwardly shoves the tampon inside you--too rough and hard, and you whimper as it pinches in an entirely awful way.

Mahito’s lips quirk. He checks the back of the wrapper again, tsks at himself, and pulls it out. This time, the insertion is less chaotic. It’s still sore, but no longer painful. Just… uncomfortable.

“Aw.” He pats your thigh. “You did great. Let me start the timer!” He jumps up, hair swinging as he rushes to begin the timer for whatever phase of the experiment he’s on.

“Can I put some clothes on now?” Though you’re no longer hoping to avoid staining your sofa, it wouldn’t be awful to be a little less vulnerable in the moment.

Mahito taps his chin with his thumb, considering. Then he shakes his head. “I want you naked. But we can cuddle on your bed for this part, so you don’t get crabby!”

There’s no time to voice a complaint or offense; he hoists you up, some of the blood that had smeared against your bottom rubbing off on his arm as he carries you into the bedroom. He doesn’t seem to mind; he simply plops you on the bed--fuck, your comforter--and hops on to wrap himself around you.

Silence stretches around you, even as he wraps his arms tighter and presses his nose against your neck.

“Are… we done after this?” You venture to ask, quiet and tired.

Mahito talks into your neck, cold breath--is it even breath?--ghosting your skin. “Oh, no. I have lots of things I’d like to find out this week.” You can feel his smile pressing into you. “You’re being very helpful, you know.”

“I am?”

Mahito hums against you, and sniffs your hair. His answer is so light and sweet, the contrast makes you feel a bit sick.

“Earlier, I’d considered just grabbing someone to experiment on instead, but since you’re being so sweet about everything, I figured I’d just use you instead.”

The dread in your stomach puffs up, its sodden hairs standing on end.

“So you saved me from having to find at least one woman to test my questions on. Maybe two,” he adds, voice still light. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

“Nice?” You ask, voice hollow.

Mahito presses a smooch to your neck. “Don’t most people feel nice when they do a good deed?”

A good deed, to stand in for women who might have otherwise died horribly. For women who would have spent their time not thinking about humiliating childhood period experiences but their families--their partners, their children, if they had them.

A good deed to snuggle with Mahito, while miles away, someone was begging for death from underneath a mass of twisted flesh.

“I guess.” Your voice cracks, but it doesn’t bother him. You suppose a lot of things don’t bother Mahito and so often, you try not to let them bother you.

He sighs against you, and presses his hands lightly where you’d laid them earlier to indicate your cramps. His fingers dully stroke against the spot, and you wonder what it would feel like for his fingers on you not to bring mild comfort and the growing tingle of affection--but terror and pain and fear.

You wonder, too, if Mahito ever thinks the same thing.

#mahito x reader #yandere #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere mahito #yandere jjk #afterwitch writes

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satoruhour · 1 year ago

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On honeymoon with geto..and while you’ve had sex before, it’s the first time you two do it unprotected. His face lights up when you tell him to do it without a condom and breeding kink goes BRRRRRRRR

a/n: “Newlyweds gojo and reader having sweet romantic nasty dirty disgusting shameless honeymoon sex PLEEK” combining requests since theyre the same premise! anons u two r the biggest brained mfers and bc u all voted so nicely and promptly this is my lil present :3

wc: about 1k+ for each drabble

warnings: SEPARATE drabbles, fem!reader, soft dom!geto that turns filthy at the mention of no condoms lol, unprotected sex, fingering, clit stimulation, creampie / breeding kink, sorta soft dom!gojo but not really established, almost public sex and multiple rounds for gojo, n*sfw under the cut

✶ GETO

the first breath of fresh air is already so pleasant and different from japan, but you’re distracted again by the shiny band upon your finger, staring at it with a small smile. you had your eyes glued on the sterling silver for the whole flight here, only breaking out of your daze when suguru approaches with your collected luggages, pressing a kiss to your temple. “shall we go?” you can’t help but mumble a soft ‘i love you’ before you peck his lips, the coldness of his matching ring on your skin reminding you of your newly forged bond.

geto makes sure you feel its coldness later on your thigh, hand holding down your legs firmly when he first inserts both fingers, cunt easily sucking him in right until you feel the chill of the wedding ring. he’s rewarded with your sweet moans, s’thick and s’good leaving your lips softly while he leaves your clit untouched. it’s throbbing, and yet he tortures you more when he removes his fingers.

“suguru!”

“what?” he grins, a sick grin as he starts to remove his pants and admires the way your pussy just asks for his dick. “want ya to cum on my cock.”

“yeah, but—” you huff, although you weren’t opposed, before you hear the familiar crinkle of the condom packet and you’re sitting up to hold his hands back. now, his what was truly confused, and you bit your lip, wondering if this was really the route you wanted to go down.

you’ve always loved sex with suguru; it was phenomenal always, except the feeling of the rubber in you. it was necessary, you knew, but now that you’re bound by vows and your endless love, you’d think that . .

“can we not use it today, sugu?”

geto didn’t think he heard you correctly, and he’s asked you to repeat it even when you’ve seized the packet and threw it to the side, a hand on his hardened cock that only responds to you — you swear you feel more pre-cum on your thumb when you say it for the third time.

“are you sure, baby?” geto asks softly, hovering over you with his large stature and it’s just like the first time you were intimate with each other. caring and gentle as he always is, “we don’t have to do away with it just cause we’re married now, (y/n).”

you give him a small reassuring smile. “i’m sure, suguru.”

and he proceeds to ask you for two more times before your legs are carried up. surprised, you watch as he drags his tip along your folds, eyes darkening when he watches his pre-cum mix with your juices. and now when he’s given permission to fuck you raw? he can hardly keep his heart rate down.

“hear that, baby?” geto moans, keeping his eyes locked in yours, making you hear just how wet you were and you nod, wanting to have his hand in yours. there’s a mixture of your moans when he first pushes in, with your pussy clenching around him. a loud whine leaves your throat as your hands interlock.

“s-su! feels so—!” you gasp when he bottoms out, a feeling entirely different from the usual — you swear you can feel his cockhead and the veins along his length, and geto knows the same. your gummy walls that hug him, your warmth.

“shiitt . . god, you feel so fuckin’ good—” he grunts out, leaning forward to capture your lips, sighing when he does a light thrust and the drag of your cunt is just too good and he already feels his high approaching. “just so perfect in this pussy— t-thank you, darling.”

geto swears he goes in and out of consciousness when his hips start to move, focused solely on your hand on his cheek and the squeeze of your hand in his, alongside those hooded, drunken eyes of yours and the whimpers leaving your mouth.

“suguru— s’big!” you pant against his lips and the squelch of your pussy is only amplified by how swiftly he rails into you, driven by the raw feeling of your cunt.

“y’can take it, can’t ya?” geto hums, pressing one last kiss against your lips and comes off of you, grabbing your legs and pushing. they’re right up to your chest and suguru reaches so deep, you squeal in surprise. “good girl, takin’ me so damn well.”

you let him use your body, now hanging onto the headboard of the hotel room as his hips move relentlessly into your dripping cunt. you can see your juices splay everywhere from how wet you were and the rough movement of his hips don’t help, “g’na cum, su—”

“that so?” he mumbles, and angles his hips to hit that spot and your head digs into the pillow. although, geto doesn’t like that, “c’mon baby, watch me as i breed you.”

you whine at his choice of words, opening your eyes to see your newly wedded husband look divine. his hair falls all over his face and his lips are parted in little pants, sweat lining his torso and face but his honeyed eyes only look at you.

the way geto’s hips drive into you is carnal, feeling your ass ripple with his thrust to the hilt and the sounds that leave his lips sound like heaven, a mix between whines and moans — “look at how much cum i have f’r you—”

and for the both of you it comes so quickly you don’t have time to prepare for the visions of white; you can feel as geto cums deep in you, feeling each spurt of cum fill you up and you think you’d never want to go back to condoms ever again. geto’s head is thrown back when he shoots his load, hips bucking so much as you cum at the same time, spasming on his cock that the room is full of your lewd sounds.

geto doesn’t look at you when he removes his cock silently, watching as his tip continues to push out globs of semen while your cunt is painted white. it’s clear he’s drunk on it, looking toward you finally with a small smile. the final clench your pussy does is the last straw for him, pushing out his cum that drips down to the sheets and he’s hard again.

“you don’t know what you just unlocked in me, baby,” geto laughs breathlessly, slapping his length along your folds with obscene noises, “but it’ll definitely end in me filling you up with s’much cum, yeah?”

you giggle, wiggling your hips until he’s in you again. hot breath against your ankle and a scrunch in his expression — your pussy’s just too good.

“yeah, i’d love that, sugu. give me all your cum.”

✶ GOJO

your happiness was unmatched running down the aisle, interrupted by the smooth sweep of gojo’s arms under your neck and knees in a princess carry, moving your body up and down like you just scored the final goal of a game — except you did. you’ve captured satoru’s heart and his fourth finger, smiling with glossy eyes as he leans in to kiss you. “you cryin’, baby?” the audacity to ask that when his nose is red too — you only shake your head, hearing the camera click and your relatives cheer.

that sweet sentiment is changed later after your wedding dinner when he hasn’t even got you past the front door until he has you against the wardrobe, dinner gown and panties swiped to the side and you desperately trying not to overturn the hotel kettle.

“can’t keep me from this pussy for long, baby.” gojo’s stamina is exceptional, you were made aware of this from the first time you got into bed with him, and you still weren’t exactly used to it. from here, you only wish to memorise the sight of gojo on his knees and the chill of his wedding ring on your thigh. “looked so delicious in this dress—”

“s-satoru, we haven’t even closed the door yet—!” he hums, skillfully using his free hand to do it and he continues his assault on your pussy. you have one leg propped up on the vanity table, leaking so much juices just from having his hand on your thigh.

it’s no different later that gojo presses kisses on your neck, making you watch yourself in the vanity mirror. your cunt’s already so used to his heavy, thick cock, and yet it still reaches so deep in you, kissing your cervix. there’s a ring of white around the base of his cock from how much he’s cummed in you, pussy gushing so much around his length that he has no problem moving in and out of you.

“look at how beautiful you are, sweets,” he whispers along your skin while you tighten around him, body lined up with yours while his hips continue to ram into you. you can’t even fathom what round exactly this is as his hands knead at your lower back, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes from just how good his cock was hitting your spots. a hand to your clit is enough to get you cumming for the nth time that night, tongue lolling out in the mirror. “you cryin’?”

you whine and nod softly, head dropping from the sudden soreness and exhaustion on a particular thrust, and your husband coos, “went too hard on you, did i?”

gojo places one more peck to your neck and slips out of you, making you choke on a moan as your entrance clenches around air and you’re off the ground like you were at the front of the church. he simply laughs at your fucked out form, knowing nevertheless you loved it when you’re asking him to hurry up. and so he brings you atop him, letting you move your hips until he’s in you and you’re whining into his neck.

“’toru . .”

“what is it, mrs. gojo?”

you stifle a laugh at that, lifting your body tiredly. even after being fucked for four rounds (he counted), you still look as lovely as you did as you first appeared at the start of the aisle, when you were crying your eyes out saying your vows, when you grinned during your first dance.

“jus’ tired baby, help me, pleasee?” the little pout you do is too cute not to resist that it gets his heart tightening up and his dick jumping.

“hang on, sweet girl, i got ya.” the first thrust up into you is euphoric, skin so sticky from the cum before that you’re sure there’s strings of white connecting your pelvis to his. the feeling of your clit brushing up against his pubes has you moaning into thin air and your hips move back on him to get more friction, “that alright?”

“mhm . .” you mumble, “s’good—”

gojo only lets out a little chuckle, letting you tangle your hands in his hair as he plants his feet down into the mattress and slams into your dripping cunt. he groans softly at the feel of your walls, still so warm and tight, muttering soft praises while your limp body moves along with his rough ministrations.

“oh— my g-god . .” you mewl out when he latches his lips onto your tits, sucking and swirling his tongue and your back arches in his arms; you simply can’t hold yourself up from the overstimulation, falling forward into his waiting arms. “s-sorry, ’toru.”

“what’re you apologisin’ for?” gojo swear when he feels you clamp down, cock twitching and you both know he’s about to cum, “my pretty girl doesn’t need to be saying sorry . . fuck—”

satoru’s his lips meet yours messily and his thrusts turn weak and sloppy while he ruts mindlessly into you with the lewd pap! pap! pap! sounds of his balls against your ass. he’s primal with his hips, with muffled moans onto your lips. there’s drool dripping from the corners of your mouths as he spills into you shamelessly, so much cum spilling from your connected bodies that you reach your climax too, body trembling from the intense feeling.

“’toru—! s-so much cum, haah . .” it’s so hot, entirely sure your womb is full of his previous loads, your mixed juices coating his still hard dick and you might just tap out, but when you feel his cum dribble out of you and down his cock, you’re already wishing for more. you merely reach for the cup of water and gulp down a large amount and your lover only watches you, amused.

“n-need more, satoru . .” you whisper, sitting up and trailing a hand down his body, making sure he can see the shimmer of the expensive ring he bought for you — it wouldn’t rust, either, he told you. eyes fluttering close, you remove yourself from him completely and lie back on the king-sized he insisted on booking, and spread your folds to show him just how needy your cunt still was.

there’s a small moan that escapes gojo’s mouth when you do that, already hovering over you with his heavy cock resting along your pussy, “give me more, baby.”

“oh, when my good girl asks so nicely,” satoru slyly grins, swallowing your whines with a sloppy kiss, “’course i have to give it to her.”

tagging my loves @hyomagiri @jabamin @shotorus @utahimeow @satohruu @na-t0 @lvlybee @slttygeto @crysugu @suguruplsr ❀

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aceof-stars · 6 months ago

Text

One thing I love about Miles Edgeworth is how realistic and practical he is, more than he is moralistic. As much as Miles cares about justice and doing what he thinks is right, he’s not fueled by belief the same way, for example, Phoenix is. And this is one of the things I feel like gets ignored or brushed aside when Miles's character is softened too much.

Both pre and post redemption, Miles puts a lot of emphasis on reality and the bottom line of what people can do in a situation.

In Turnabout Goodbyes, the first thing Edgeworth says in response to Phoenix asking him why he became a prosecutor instead of a defense attorney is: "… I couldn't let myself deny reality like you."

He also doesn't truly believe that every defendant he prosecutes is guilty, contrary to popular belief. In Turnabout Sisters, he says this: ""Innocent"…? How can we know that? The guilty will always lie, to avoid being found out. There's no way to tell who is guilty and who is innocent! All that I can hope to do is get every defendant declared "guilty"! So I make that my policy." Miles is disillusioned with finding the truth and trusting people that he settles for doing all he can hope to do.

And when you think about it, his motivation of finding the truth is an extension of his realism. After all, the truth is quite literally the most objective, realistic thing ever. In 1-3, after helping Phoenix convict Dee Vasquez, he says: "Will Powers was innocent. That he should be found so is only natural… not a miracle." The truth as a motivation is probably a grounding force for him.

When Miles comes back in Farewell My Turnabout, he calls out Phoenix's flawed motivations for becoming a defense attorney by offering realism: "We aren't some sort of heroes. We're only human, you and I. You want to "save someone"? That's something easier said than done, wouldn't you say? You are a defense lawyer. You can't run away from that. You can only fight. That's all you can do." Miles isn't saying Phoenix can't "save someone". Miles is saying that Phoenix shouldn't be so focused on saving someone that he forgets that his job as a defense attorney is only to fight for them.

Side note, I love the way Miles comforts people, he isn't exactly "nice" but he's incredibly kind. His blunt honesty digs at the heart of the matter, and he gives them an extra push because he respects them enough.

And then there's, possibly, my favorite Miles Edgeworth line: "It doesn't matter how many underhanded tricks a person uses… The truth will always find a way to make itself known. The only thing we can do is to fight with the knowledge we hold and everything we have. Erasing the paradoxes one by one… It's never easy… We claw and scratch for every inch. But we will always eventually reach that one single truth. This I promise you." This directly parallels the line he says in 1-2, and it makes me emotional every time I think about it.

The fact that Miles Edgeworth never lost his unwavering realism, in both quotes he acknowledges how untrustworthy people can be, but gained a new purpose.

#miles edgeworth I love you #very much #ace attorney #miles edgeworth #aa1 #aa2 #turnabout goodbyes #turnabout sisters #farewell my turnabout

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vrystalius · 4 months ago

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Hello so i have been craving angst then fluff so can you write scenarios with the uppermoons x reader, after a huge argument that ended up with the reader walking away from the fight then locking herself in their shared bedroom,and when they come back after duties they find out that she cried herself to sleep with her tear stained and red cheeks, she wakes up and they make up then cuddle (The argument is huge but they are both at fault and they are both right it's just different point of view since they are demons and she is a human).

Arguments with the Upper moons

You and your s/o had a huge argument wich caused you to leave and later cry yourself to sleep. How will they react?

Pairing: Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Gyutaro x reader

(Gyutaro doing his usual scratching on himself in his part, toxic-ish relationship in his part as well, angst in every part)

Kokushibo

Your arguments are mostly about how emotionally unavailable he is and how much Kokushibo refuses to speak about his feelings. He never elaborates on what he is thinking right now or what he truly thinks of you, this relationship and his feelings for you. You know that Kokushibo is mediating when he is not training, meaning he has plenty of time to think. Why is he never sharing his feelings? You always voice out loud how much you appreciate and love your husband, but he never tells you the same things. Only occasional dry “I love you’s” and some “I appreciate your presence’s”.

You try to tell Kokushibo about how you want to hear more from him and what he truly thinks of you. Sometimes, you feel like he doesn’t love you at all with the way he acts so coldly around you.

Kokushibo’s voice is stern and condescending while arguing with you. He only states the most obvious things and still doesn’t admit his true feelings towards you. This makes your heart ache even more than before. Seeing the tears form in the corners of your eyes made him scoff quietly.

“Why are you crying now? Did I hurt your “feelings”?”

That last comment made a wave of nausea wash over your whole body. Before you let yourself throw up onto his feet, you quickly rushed into your shared bedroom to hide your crying face.

You ignored Kokushibo’s demands to open up the bedroom door for almost one hour until Muzan finally ordered a meeting with him. Tears continue to stream down your face as you curled up into a small ball below the sheets. Your bed felt eerily empty without your husband beside you, but right now, you don’t want him here. You didn’t know exactly when you fell asleep, but you woke up by cold fingers brushing against your now dry cheeks.

After you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of Kokushibo kneeling beside you and gently caressing your cheeks. His bottom and upper eyes were closed. It was his unique way to show that he feels safe and relaxed around you. You noticed the soft look in his eyes and the gentleness in his touch.

“I… I should apologise for my words I spoke to you earlier. I did not mean to hurt you in any way.”

Kokushibo’s voice was deep and soothing. You could hear how hesitant he was about speaking like this. He barely ever shows his vulnerable side to you and insists to keep his guard up at all times. That is one of the many things why you two argue so much. He spend the last 500 years to perfect his fighting style and whole being. Even during his human years he forgot his own humanity, but around you, his emotions try to resurface. Your influence and affection make him softer, and in his opinion, weak. He does not want you to see him as weak, but that he is strong, powerful and a perfect being.

“Could you forgive me for acting so harshly? I do truly love you and I’d like to prove it to you.”

Douma

Douma’s lack of understanding of emotions cause a lot of arguments between you two. He continues to dismiss your feelings as just some silly moods you tend to have and never takes them seriously. Douma is listening to his follower’s woes all day every day, but he does not really pay attention to their words. He mostly zones out and then offers some loose advice based on some words he picked up while they continue to talk and talk and talk. He does the same thing with you.

When you try to tell him that you don’t like it when Douma has his meals in your shared bedroom and leaves behind a bloody mess and even some bodyparts. It’s disgusting, especially to you, who is a human. But all he hears is that he should send in a follower to clean your chambers after his meals. This was not the problem you were trying to solve, you were trying to tell him that you don’t like it when Douma eats humans in your bedroom, yet he doesn’t listen.

That isn’t even the most infuriating part. Besides him not listening to your thoughts, he sometimes mocks you for feeling emotional about it. It may be unintentional, but when you start crying during an argument, Douma sometimes giggles at your expression. It’s humiliating how hilarious he finds your crying face and in return it made you incredibly mad at him. Wich also makes him grin.

Yes, Douma may not grasp the concept of emotions, but you wished that he doesn’t dismiss them that easily.

During one of your arguments, you were trying to tell him about how you didn’t like how he disregards your emotions so easily.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do? You’re a silly human after all, your emotions are very entertaining to me!”

After Douma finished his sentence, you slapped your hand across his face as hard as you could. You knew that he will barely even feel it tickle his skin, but you wanted to demonstrate how infuriated you are with him. While your husband was trying to understand what exactly just happened to him, you already stormed off to your shared bedroom and made sure to properly lock the door. Additionally, you opened the blinds all the way and let the sun in to make sure that damn demon stays away from you for the time being. You cannot stand to see his smirking face right now.

You didn’t even notice that you started crying. There was only hoping that Douma didn’t see your tears running down your cheeks, or else he will mock you about those too, just like he does with every other emotion you have.

You fell asleep while watching the sun disappear behind the mountains and with a pillow between your arms. Long after you fell asleep, someone started slipping the pillow out of your arms and sneakily replaced it with their own body. You tried to escape out of Douma’s arms, but his grip was tighter. His face was uncharacteristically and eerily neutral, not showing any emotions right now.

“I don’t really get emotions, you know? They’re always been foreign to me.”

His voice sounded distant and detached. Who is this man that is cuddling you right now? You kept staring at his face while he spoke.

“I never really felt them. They just weren’t there then I was born. I saw them on other people’s faces and had to learn manually what they meant.”

Douma’s cold fingers slowly brushed through your hair as he leaned forward to place a kiss on your forehead. He remained in this position while he continued to speak.

“I’m sorry if I insulted you. I never meant it. You just confuse me with your emotions sometimes, but you also…kind of… make me imagine? I’m not sure. Perhaps I’m trying to talk myself into feeling something, but when you’re around me, I feel something close to happiness. Or whatever that emotion is that I’m feeling.”

His eyes soften up slightly while speaking. You can’t help but smile a little at his words.

“But hey, you stopped resisting my cuddles~ does that mean I’m allowed back into bed? Would you be a sweetheart and close the blinds? You don’t wanna wake up next to a pile of ash, right?”

Akaza

“Stop worrying” and “toughen up” are things you hear almost every day from Akaza. He hates the weak and any sign of weakness, and since you are a human, weakness and vulnerability is a rather big part of you when you compare yourself to a demon like him. You can’t help but not being able to ignore the look he gives you everytime you either hesitate about something or try to explain your feelings to him. His eyebrows furrow together and his eyes have this look of disdain in them. His jaw clenches and you can see the veins pop out a little. That look alone, intentional or not, makes you shut up quickly.

You never heard him say “I love you” to you before, ever. You tried asking him about it but all that resulted in him coming up with some weak excuse. All you wanted is for Akaza to tell you if he does really love or if he is just staying by your side for his own entertainment or pleasure. You just want him to say “I love you” at least once and admit his feelings to you, but he stubbornly refuses.

Akaza was trying to contain his anger inside him while you were talking about exactly that. His fists were clenched and his eyes were glued to a spot on the floor. Until suddenly, he slammed his fist against the wall, shattering the wood beneath it, making you jump away.

“Why do you have to be so weak? All this crying and fucking feelings, they make you fucking pathetic and weak. I’m trying to protect you and you’re too blind to see it. I’m starting to think that protecting you was a waste of my time after all.”

Those words shattered your heart in an instant. Maybe he was right. Maybe you are just a waste of time to him, he has better things to do after all. He wants to become the strongest demon after all. This is the end of you two, isn’t it? You didn’t want Akaza to see your crying face and think even less of you, if that’s even possible, so you ran away into your bedroom and hid beneath the covers as if those will shield you from him and the rest of the world around you.

Tears ran down your face silently while you slowly fell asleep, but you woke up rapidly when you felt strong arms wrap incredibly tight around you. Your heart almost stopped in fear when you felt the familiar aura tightly pressing up against you, but you couldn’t help but begin to melt into his arms.

Akaza never was good with words. The words he uses are mostly intentionally and unintentionally used go hurt others, wich includes you. You felt how he buried his face into your neck and silently savoured your smell. His rough palms were gently rubbing up and down your waist, almost a little desperate to feel your skin again. He lifted his face from your neck and rested it right beside your head. His thick fingers carefully brushed through your hair.

“I should say it. You deserve it.”

You turned your head over to face him. You noticed freshly healed skin on his knuckles and all over his hands, leaving little room to guess what exactly he was doing while you slept. A nervous frown started appeared on his face. Akaza took a very deep breath before you listened to his shaky voice.

“I like you. A-A lot. Lots. Well, I-I really… uhm… Love you…I love you.”

Gyutaro

He always has been jealous, and always will be. Gyutato fears that you are going to leave him at any time and any day. That makes him incredibly clingy and protective of you and he refuses to leave your side, ever. He follows you around everywhere and tries to hover around you at all possible times. You had to convince that demon that you are perfectly capable to use the bathroom on your own without him needing yo stand right beside you. But after you finished up and left, you found Gyutaro crouched down beside the bathroom door, waiting and listening in case something somehow happens to you.

It’s incredibly tiring to have to be so careful around him. You fear that if you stray too far from him or disappear from his sight for too long that Gyutaro might start either slashing humans out of frustration or start scratching himself again. It’s mentally extremely weighing onto you. You tried to tell Daki about her brother and how stressed he’s making you feel, but she obviously takes Gyutaro’s side and shifts the issue back onto you.

“Well have you ever considered that my brother is just being very loving, hm? You better appreciate it you ungrateful human.”

Daki’s words did certainly not help you feel any better. She of course told her brother about you confiding in her, wich made Gyutaro almost seethe in jealousy and anger. That same night, you two had the worst argument yet.

You tried to tell him how suffocating he is while he is accusing you of not loving such a like creature like him. Your attempts at telling him how much you actually love and cherish him failed.

"No matter what you say or do, I-I’ll never be good enough for you...! You’re just pr-pretending to love me because you feel sorry for me…Deep down, you think I’m ugly, dirty and disgusting…”

The gut-wrenching sound of Gyutaro scratching his own skin open filled the silence as you stared at him. Gods, you had enough. You’re too exhausted to fight against his insecurities right now, so instead of continuing this useless argument, you stormed off into your private bedroom. After turning your back to him, you heard his nails tear through his own flesh and bones incredibly slowly and agonisingly.

You laid down on top of your large bed and faced away from the door, trying not to think about his words or the sound of Gyutaro’s blood gushing out of his flesh wounds. You were so concentrated on trying to think about anything else that you didn’t notice how you slipped into a deep slumber. You only woke up to the sound of bones cracking and crushing together.

Lifting your head, you scanned the space on the bed beside you. Empty. As you sat upright, you managed to glance over the edge of the bed, spotting Gyutaro being curled together on the floor. He looked like a very unnaturally bend puppy that wasn’t allowed to sleep on the bed. After calling out to him, he silently lifted his head to look at you.

Even looking at him caused a wave of nausea and guilt wash over you. Not a single inch of his skin was left unharmed by his own doing, and he seemingly refused to let them heal. His blood started to soak the carpet beneath him. Gyutaro slowly started to sit back upright, his spine cracking and breaking.

“Mh… mrrm.. am I-I allowed.. to la-lay beside you?”

💠

This took me multiple days to write so it may feel a little off. I loved writing this so much!! I always read the comments and reblogs, so don’t be shy to leave any! I appreciate every single one of you and the love you leave behind on my posts <3 I am currently working through my inbox, so expect more asks to be published over the week.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

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anantaru · 6 months ago

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Sethos and spit kink?

・✶ ｡ synopsis — sethos just loves claiming you with his spit <3

warnings — spit kink, praising, petnames used: good girl, my dear, baby, fem! reader <3

the air surrounding your nostrils was thick and heavy with the scent of desire and the sound of ragged breaths looming above you. in the middle of all of it, you found yourself beneath sethos, his body pressed firmly against yours and moving, the weight of him grounding you in the most delirious way possible.

his eyes roam over your body freely and inspect your every reactions, taking in every inch of your exposed skin with an intensity that made your heart race as his hands clasp around your hips hard, firm and demanding, holding you in place as he moved within you, each thrust rippling through you as your back arched into him.

"you're so beautiful," sethos was quick to jump right into telling you what he's been thinking all night, his voice rough and filled with a rawness he couldn't possibly explain, "every single part of you, my dear."

flickering your stare to his eyes, your fingers dig into his shoulders as you attempt to hold yourself onto him harder, the intensity of his movements filling you completely as it was almost too much to bear for you.

regardless, you relished in it, truly, in the way he made you feel so utterly consumed, starting from your wet cunt getting stuffed full and your nipples getting played with by his digits twisting and brushing over them.

in a trice, sethos slants down until his breath brushes against your ear, his lips quirked up into an amused smirk, "open your mouth for me, yeah?" he whispers, "you know what to do," as his voice alone was almost enough to tip you over the edge.

naturally, you obey without hesitation, parting your lips as he hovers above you— you're cute when you're this obedient, sethos believes, and as his eyes locked onto yours, he slowly, deliberately, let a string of saliva fall from his mouth into yours, the messy drool perfectly hitting your tongue and bottom lip.

"swallow, show how much you like it," he commands, and something about the nerveless confidence in his choice of tone made you clench around his shaft which was completely stilled inside you now, his tip pressing deep into your mushy sweet-spot and coaxing out goosebumps all over your chest.

as always, you do as he asks, the taste of him filling your mouth as you swallowed his spit without hesitation. of course, the act was both degrading and thrilling at the same time, a testament to the trust and passion that existed between the two of you— not only that but it made you feel closer to him, more connected in a way that words could never fully capture, even if you tried.

sethos lips curve into a satisfied smile as he watched you moan after you swallow his saliva, "such a good girl, fuck— baby," he praises you with hearts in his eyes before slowly moving himself in and out of your warm cunt, "you take everything i give you so well, huh?"

your arousal messes him up as he resumed to his thrusts, each one deeper and more forceful than the last, his body moving with a relentless rhythm that left you breathless as his hands roam over the slopes of your body, his fingers tracing the contours of your skin.

each one of his grinds and hard thrusts were like a sting to your beating heart, his hips fucking you relentlessly as his tongue flickers out his mouth to taste the sweat that had gathered on your chest and erected nipples, the messy lap of his muscle sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"mine," he growls, "all mine," as his teeth graze at one swollen nipple, the point of his nose bumping against your skin as he deliriously inhales your scent;

"every damn inch of you belongs to me."

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #sethos x reader #sethos smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #sethos x you #genshin impact drabbles #genshin drabbles #sethos drabbles

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shuenkio · 2 months ago

Text

Glass of Water | 엔.하.이.픈 ۶ৎ 제이⋆.˚ 🎃

Paring: Jay X M!reader | Genre: Heavy Smut

Synopsis: just a glass of water, take you back to your nightmare again.

Cw: size kink, cursing, rough play, mentioned of cum, unprotected séx(dni), cum inside, bad language(this fic), crush trope.

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st

A💀N: I hate to be that person, but hey Jay fic is rare especially with the m so why not drop another Special Halloween gift~ (language is so bad in here so bare with me 😭)

Having those party friends was like being a kitten in a dog's cage, and as a nerd too, you were suffocating however at least you got friends to cure your boredom's life.

The sky shifted from gold to violet as the sun dipped below the horizon. Where in a club, you were drinking, dancing your ass out with your friends, forget yourself for the night just throw away all the worries.

However, it unfortunately happens when you are unconscious about yourself, last night until now, you find yourself in bed, an unfamiliar place In front of your face, not to mention there's someone else also in bed with you too. Panic sent down to your spine, as you get a closer look at that guy, seems familiar before you pull out the blanket out of his face, then it hits you like a bang of bullet, Jay? ... The senior that everyone loves on campus? What is he doing here? No way.

Feeling vulnerable and exposed, you dig your eyes down under the blanket to see you are actually naked, no this can't be happening. Not what you were thinking about it was right now. The atmosphere grows jarring, the silence inside the hotel room was so loud you could hear your own pounding heartbeat, it's very wrong. What happened last night, you can't recall, think head think. Epiphany, your body wide awake when you remember what's truly happened. You just having sex with your senior.

Couldn't take it anymore, you left the bed pulling the blanket off from the sleep jay, wrapped around yourself like a burrito before letting out a shriek.

Good thing the room is soundproof but Jay's ears are not. He jolted awake by the sudden screaming.

"HWAT WHAT? WHAT'S GOING ON" Starlet, he yells back out of panic, asking what is wrong but all he sees is you were there, wrapped around in blankets and immediately understands the situation.

"I see, let me explain M/N I swear" Jay rubbing his temple, already having a hard times to solve this. He was calming you down but before that, he soon realized he was exposed too in the sight. But soon cover by a pillow as his quick hand reacts. You slow down your heart and keep calm for a bit, giving him one last chance to explain, since all the events had happened last night are blurred in your head, and Jay was also responsible for this situation.

Later you discover, both of you and Jay are not at fault or else? By hearing his story side, it's actually an accident. Jay drinks too much vodka and also in heat at the time, while your story is also similar to him, your friends feed you too much alcohol until you lose control of yourself and boom, they put you guy in the same room out of prank, they know you had a huge ass crush on the senior.

Not to mention, The club is across the street of the Hotel which makes a lot of sense that this, happens on purpose.

"F-for real?" You spoke.

"I'm telling the truth. I know it's hard for both of us and I'm willing to take anything to make it up to you just k-keep it low alright?" Desperate of him, he asked for a favor in return for his responsibility, which he is willing to do as you wish just so you won't do bad to his image, and the priority was, the campus.

Biting your bottom lip, frustrated is not the word to describe how you feel for now, as if your world doing backflip from being bad to fine. lucky enough you were just a dude and not some of chic, wouldn't that be a disaster if that came true?

Taking time to catch his breath, Jay was thirsty from explanation and his sort of theory, oblivious as he took a full sip of glass of water on the night stand without knowing it was actually an aphrodisiac mix with water.

You are still in deep thoughts, thinking what would you do next after all of this thing happening all together. Unexpectedly, you glance at Jay who was looking out of the blue, uncomfortable on his feet.

"Are you okay there? Why are you fanning yourself? T-the ac is still on" stare at his body and began to tense and uneasy. You asked, It's really concerning at his state right now, why did he look like he was in heat,... Again?

"I'm i-m not sure I just drink this glass of water, n... Now I feel everything is burning ahh help m~me" unable to react, overwhelmed by the sudden hit of the mixing pill, to your surprise he lunches at you, as his strong hands harshly ripped off away of the blanket, wrapped around your body. The next thing you know, you were naked again. Now that's fuck up.

"Jay!! What are you doing HaHH waait what no—" taking a pleading sight In front of him right now, his intentions are clear as day what he wants to do, by the time you could figure what's wrong with him, you were already under his pair of arms, as he spread your legs apart like a pro, lifting you up in mid air. So then when Jay's hands finally found a comfortable place behind your nape, he quickly entranced himself on your vulnerable pink tint hole, he won't fear that he might break your hole again, cuz he was already done last night, before bucking his hip upward brutally, giving you no warning.

The nostalgia pleasure flashbacks again, this feels almost like what you recall last night, his long colossal length thrusting in with no mercy, fucking you out of your brain repeatably.

"FUCK JAY ST-OP WA-it I need to process AHHHHH" You cry out an arousing guttering pleasure, his fatal pace making you dizzy each time he thrust his hip inside out of you, giving you no room to fight back for what you want.

*Always so good, M/N you're so fucking TIGHT just like yesterday 𝗡𝗴𝗵 𝗡𝗴𝗵 𝗡𝗴𝗵 yeah just like that, taking my cock so well, why is your damn body react to 𝗠𝗲 when you don't hah?" His voice was alluring inside the soundproof room, dangerously and full of lust beneath those sounds. At each of his moan instances he would be pounding on you with his powerful hip, your body would bouncing along with your dick too, the sticky wet precum jumping, as he abuse your pretty hole again.

Meanwhile, on the other hand, you were low-key enjoying it, his god damn cock just hit the right on your sweet spot, silence you from whining again when you feel like you seen a shooting star in the bright morning sky.

All at once, jolt hitting on, spread over all your body and system, signaling you would need to release soon but before you even react and inform Jay, he was one step ahead of you greatly, chasing for both sides climax.

"JAY please h-Harder I will...come soon ermm AH"

"wanna cum? Hah? As you wish my prince, but let's do it together shall we" growling darkly under his hitch breathless air suppliers, Jay picks up the pace already lost in the deep sea, fuck your ass in a motion you can't even catch up. As your body continues to wear thin, in one last forceful arching, Jay finds himself empty inside you, extremely.

"Holy my Father, SHIT SHIT SHIT—"

"FuCk EheH..."

Both bodies shudder, choke up for air, you finally spill on the floor with your clear liquid. Your legs shake uncontrollably, the black pupils were nowhere to be seen in your eyeball which explains how much this makes you feel.

Jay crumbles down with you in his arm still, flop down on the bed exhausted, nothing much different from how you experienced, while the pill of the aphrodisiac slowly wears off.

"I fucking knew it I figured it out now Jay, all because of that glass of water"

"I'm sorry I'm sorry"

Ps; Happy Halloween day y'all, I just want to thank you for 600 followers 🥹🫶🏻 it's a milestone for me mwah mwah.

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thedeskofaltoclef · 18 days ago

Text

How I became The Desk of Alto Clef.

My response to a SCP Group designed around Hate and Bigotry who have targeted me and others in this community.

Nah, man, my daughter is dead.

It has been brought to my attention that there is a group of people on the internet who are fascinated with my fascination of Alto Clef and Meri. Hurtful and yet cute in a way so I think now I'll choose this time and these screen grabs from their discord to explain how I came to be 'The Desk of Alto Clef'.

My Daughter died six years ago and it sent me spiraling deep into the bottom of whatever bottle I could find.

I was completely prepared to take my own life and even had the things to 'finish the job' because my life had no meaning at that point. What was another statistic going to matter anyways, right?

It was in one of these dark, drunk moments with a gun when I fell across the Volgun's video on 'reality benders and you' and fell into a rabbit hole.

Drunkenly I fumbled around the wiki and learned more about this broken man known as Alto Clef.

A man whom I could relate to in my own way. A man who, no matter what he did, could never see his daughter as I will never be able to see mine. So thus, I became a very, very shitty cosplayer.

I like to believe that over the past four years my acting ability has increased to a sustainable level and as much as I joke about things I do try to stay humble about it. Though I like to think I've become better but I digress.

I love the lore of Clef and Meri, on or offsite, to the point that I am weird about it I know, but that's how I stay connected to my daughter. Writing the Deskverse is how I stay connected to my daughter.

I am also autistic which causes me to hyper fixate on Clef as a coping mechanism.

Because of this group of people I have greatly considered leaving the community and going back to my own personal solitude. Acting, Voice Acting, Cosplaying as Clef gave and still gives me something to live for again. I may not be this group's cup of tea but I do like to believe that I have helped others. My main goal has always been to uplift those who need uplifting. I do not want anyone to ever feel how I felt in my lowest and darkest moments.

The main story in the deskverse is about a father and a daughter torn apart by the actions of an abusive mother. My real life story.

I also have ZERO clue as to why I am being involved with misogyny or yuri things. If I have offended you in any way I do apologize.

I do not plan on posting the more 'suggestive' or 'lewd' responses they have made. Overly sexualized content does make me extremely uncomfortable.

This group of people have broken my heart into pieces. Seeing this list of images and names dragging me through the mud has already smashed my unstable self-esteem as it is.

At this time I do not plan on releasing any names associated with all of this because I am honestly tired of reliving the most horrid event of my life over and over because I, for whatever reason, do not fit what this group feels is acceptable of an actor/writer/fan.

I cannot say the same for the others in which they were assaulting.

In summary Alto Clef is an outlet for the pain I live with every day. I can never see, hold, hear, smell, or speak to my daughter. I have scars on my body from her mother that will never allow me to forget that life I had. I will always remember the taste of gunpowder but thankfully my drunk ass was too weak. If your going to be bad at something, be bad at that I suppose.

I will leave all of this with a final image from the copious list and the one that honestly hurts me the most. I am honestly a shy and reserved person and frankly it takes a lot for me to get out of my comfort zone. Not long ago I went to another SCP discord server because I wanted to meet new people and someone in there was awesome. I truly enjoyed my time with this person and just found them amazing. They were kind, open, willing to listen to my ideas, and gushed over Numberonedoggo. I thought I had finally made a new friend on my own. I was apparently wrong.

Art, from some of my favorite artists, was made for the sole reason of mocking me specifically. To laugh at me for finding joy in something that gives me purpose. Something I use to drive away the darkness.

No age, disorder, illness, or reason at all can be acceptable for anyone to act in this way. You are all a mockery of everything the SCP community should stand for.

-TheDesk

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iwaasfairy · 7 months ago

Note

dilf iwa bday sex !!!!

YeA YEA YEAAAA

just a quick lil thing for mY LOVE THE FIRE IN MY LOINS THE BEAT OF MY HEART Idk it’s so early I will revisit this w actual thoughts latER

tw daddy kink, breeding, implied age gap

“Happy birthday, Daddy.” Your grin is as coy as it is genuine, grabbing his bicep to teasingly squeeze, as Hajime’s brows furrow.

“Stop that.” He’s too busy finishing the French toast to look at you proper, but a slight blush still makes it’s way onto his ears. He looks so good with his shorter hair, undercut exposing more of his neck. Instead you place kisses onto his arm and repeat it, a few times — until those pretty olive eyes find your face when he finishes up cooking. “Stop calling me that. Go sit.”

“But you are,” you pout instead, picking one of the strawberries from the bowl to go lean against the table instead. “I can’t think you’re sexy anymore because you’re so much more mature than me now?” Hajime follows you with his eyes, before crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Want me to make you a daddy for real, daddy~?”

His Adam’s apple bobs, before he walks over to before you and towers like he does. His broad frame stands over you as you lean back onto your arms a bit more, let him brush a hand along your cheek and throat. Instead of brushing past his fingers ghost over your neck, the same one still bruised and full of marks — he can’t help himself. The raspy voice takes you aback, deep and steady and demanding. “Don’t tease me like this. You’re being a brat.”

You can never truly fluster him anymore. Hajime only raises his brows a little, as a tiny grin slips on when he leans in. “If you want me to hold you down and fuck the attitude out of you, you just gotta ask, baby.” His lips brush along your cheek to your ear, laying a meanly brief kiss there. “‘Daddy, daddy’ me all you want. If I breed you full right here, you’re not gonna complain, right? If I fuck this pretty, little cunt ‘til you go stupid?”

Your tongue gets stuck on the words, instead fluttering your long lashes up at him as he stares back at you so intensely. “Quiet already? I thought you had a lot to say. Hm?” The push of his thumb on your throat has you opening your mouth, and Hajime just chuckles. His other hand comes to squeeze your cheeks, then runs the pad of this thumb over your bottom lip and slips it into your mouth.

The glitter in his eyes is so sexy. “Go on. Call me daddy again.”

#honey mail #tw.daddy kink #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.iwaizumi

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amoressb · 19 days ago

Text

𐙚 old love

pairings : ex bf!riki x reader ; exs to lovers

synopsis : it has been almost a year since y/n and riki have broken up, though the reason behind it is quite silly. simply stating that you both were on different paths. while on your “different” paths, you both reminisce the times you have spent together, the special moments now turned into memories, but what if your paths werent so different at all? especially since both paths lead you to the same tree where you two shared your first kiss together under the enchanting moonlight.

*w.c - 1.6k

*inspired by my favorite song old love by yuji & putri dahlia !!

* this is a long one so i hope you all enjoy till the very end !!

waking up you already knew it would be a particularly sadder day than the rest, as with each day it draws closer to the day you and your ex boyfriend, nishimura riki, broke up. which would now complete a year. a year without, who you consider, your special someone. a year without your best friend. just a year without him.

this is what you both were afraid of when you both started dating. you both were afraid of that one dreaded day where you two would split, but you guys never thought it would happen. that night you both lost the most important thing in your lives.

in the beginning of the break up it was of course very hard to deal with. yes it was a mutual agreement but you both couldn’t help but feel that it was a mistake. both were too afraid to speak up about how they truly feel after they had already agreed to split and that right there was their true problem. communication. you both became very closed off when it came to communicating youre feelings. you both would simply ask each other what was wrong and if neither said anything, it simply gets brushed off.

throughout the rest of the day it was quite noticeable that your mood was down. your friends came up to you, called and even messaged you asking if you were doing okay, but of course you simply said you were fine. it had been like this ever since the beginning of this month. wake up sadder than yesterday and have people ask you if you were feeling okay and you saying you were fine.

you missed riki very badly as did he. it’s unbelievable how you two have gone this far without getting back in contact. the only thing you can think of is going on a late night walk so you grabbed your jacket and headed out.

since it was quite late, the streets were quiet with the occasional cars passing by and the whistle of the wind. while on the walk you started to remember some memories you had with riki, but there was one memory that you will forever cherish. the day you and riki shared your first kiss.

ʚɞ

you and riki have been dating for 3 months and you guys couldnt be happier. since today marks the third month, riki wanted to take you on a sweet date. he surprised you by taking you to a place where you can paint your own pottery. oh how cute this date was. you both decided to make a matching set together.

“so what should we paint my love?” said riki while looking at you with excitement. “ooo do you wanna make a matching set? i think that would be cute!” you said grabbing onto his hand almost jumping in your seat from excitement. “yeah sure but what?” he scooted his chair closer to yours still holding your hand since he felt so far from you even though he was just inches away. “i found this cute design but lets add something to the bottom so its more personalized!” you show him the image of what you wanted to do.

rikis heart melted looking at the image. “lets add i love you at the bottom but yours will say riki mines will say y/n” he gives his idea hoping youd take it. “aww that so cute yes lets do it!” you give him a quick kiss on the cheek and started to get you guys stuff ready. rikis was still stuck on the kiss he received on the cheek. even though youve done it a million times, your lips on him would always spread such warmth through him. he couldnt get enough of you truly.

riki had already finished his cup but you were still at it. this gave riki time to really take in your presence and beauty. he adored the face you make when youre concentrated, getting all serious making sure your details came out perfectly. the way some strands of you hair tends to slowly fall in front of you which allows him to draw himself closer to you and brush it away to see more of your beauty. what he loved most was your eyes. the way your eyes always had this beautiful shine to them no matter what. he fell in love with how your eyes shine brighter than before whenever you look at him because thats the exact way he looks at you, with such love and adoration.

you both completed your art and left with your new mugs. the rest of the day was spent going into some stores buying some cute matching things then ultimately a little cafe. after the cafe it was already dark so to end off the night, you and riki decided to go on a simple walk in the park talking about how your day went.

"i really enjoyed our date kiki, i cant wait to use my mug and all these cute new matching stuff we have now!" you say with a little giggle. oh how he loved your little giggle and your laugh all around. simply just you in general is what he loved so much. "me too and i cant wait to go on many more with you my love" he smiles softly at you.

coming up under a tree, you stare at the moon in awe, “its so beautiful kiki” you continue to look up unaware of rikis gaze on you. “yeah it really is beautiful” he says while you turn to catch his enchanted gaze at you. “y/n..i love you more than anything in this world. youre so beautiful and you always know how to light up someones day even with just that pretty smile of yours and you truly mean the world to me.” as riki says this you cant help but only be able to utter the words “i love you-” before you can finish, you feel his soft lips on yours. it felt like fireworks went off as soon as it happened. you never wanted this moment to end and neither did he. as you two pulled apart you two simply giggle sweetly and rest your foreheads against each others staring at each other with nothing but love.

ʚɞ

its almost like you and riki were still connected somehow because he too was also doing the exact same thing as you. he too was feeling the same as you, sadder than before thinking about how hes been away from you for almost a year. he too decided to take a late night walk and started to reminisce all the times hes been with you, the memories he holds so dear to his heart. especially that one.

i also say you two are still connected because those oh so “different paths” unconsciously lead you both to the exact same place you shared that special moment. you both look up at each other, stunned youre both here right now. slowly you two inched your way closer to each other, now standing right in the same special spot.

you both say hi at the same time which makes you two let out a small chuckle. “so..how have you been?” you asked and right there riki broke. he had to tell you how he was truly feeling, the feeling of utter loneliness. the feeling of that there was something missing from his life and it was you. you were everything he needed and he wanted no he needed you back. “can i be honest with you?” he asked sincerely. “yeah you know you can always be honest with me kiki.” oh that sweet nickname you gave him always made him feel so warm inside. it made him feel so special since it was only you who called him that and he loved it so much.

“well then in all honesty i havent been feeling good recently as it draws closer to one year of us being apart. i dont know how or why i havent reached out to you, i miss you so much. i feel as a whole part of me is missing. youre my missing piece y/n. on the walk here you were all i thought of, all those beautiful memories we have had. heck i still use our matching mug that we made and have all our matching things with me always” he states as he brings up his shirt a bit to reveal his keys attached to his pants with the matching keychains you bought as well as the matching ring you two had bought on his finger. seeing that you brought out your keychain and showed your ring too. you two never did let go of each other.

at the sight of this, you and riki both started to tear up. “please baby, i dont want to be away from you anymore” riki stated as a tear started to fall. you got closer and reached your hand up to his cheek to wipe away his tear smiling softly. “me neither kiki” and with that you slowly leaned in to give him a soft yet passionate kiss to his lips and with a quick yet gentle motion he wraps his hands around your waist to pull you in closer to him. oh how he missed you being this close. eventually you pull away much to you and rikis dismay, “will you be mine again? forever this time?” riki asks with a smile, bringing up one hand to softly stroke your cheek. “yes of course. i love you so much kiki” she smiles. “i love you so much more” he says leaning in for another sweet kiss.

even on “different paths” you and riki found a way back into each others arms and what better place to find each other again than where it all truly began.

* if you made it to the end thank you and i hope you liked it ilya !!

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