#but they don’t realize that this affects us all

[ye4gerz]

‧˚⭒ pairing: jealous!bf!hyuck! x reader. ‧˚⭒ genre: smut! mentions of mark. (18+ MDNI.) ‧˚⭒ word count: 558 ‧˚⭒ cw: choking, exhibitionist hyuck, cursing, jealous/angry sex.

boyfriend hyuck who has you pinned down on his bed. your legs wrapped around his waist as he lifts you up by your thighs, gripping them. his headboard rocking back and forth— hitting against the wall with every deep thrust he lets out on you. the room filled with the dirty wet sounds of his cock sinking into your insides and the lewd noises escaping your mouth.

what you forget for a second is the fact that his roommate, mark, is in the other room, sharing that same wall with donghyuck.

also, mark was home.

it dawned on you minutes ago that mark might have realized what could possibly be going on in the next room. your focus was too deep on donghyuck and his grunts against your neck, the harder he continued against you.

‘til the moment you heard mark’s door open, the sound of his footsteps growing closer against haechan’s door.

uh-oh.

you grow concerned for a second, thoughts roaming in your head. what if mark was listening to you two? what if he heard all the dirty sounds coming from hyucks room?

hyuck realizes your mind is elsewhere for a moment, and he brings his eyes to yours. “what’s the matter, baby? is everything alright?”

you nod, gulping. his concern is sweet, and the touch of his fingers against your face is reassuring. however, his thrusts never came to a stop.

you whimper and squeeze around him when you hear mark shuffling near the door.

“hyuck…” you eye the door, attempting to send the message to your boyfriend.

he looks back, a brow raised in confusion, “use your words, sweetheart.”

you look up at him desperately. he loves seeing your face scrunch up in pleasure by how he fucks you. pride washes over him knowing he’s the only one allowed to ruin you like this.

his eyes immediately snap up to yours, the minute the name escapes your mouth, his thrusts come to a full stop.

“mark…” you try to warn him, his previous thrusts so deep, your pleading sentence sounding more like a moan.

“what was that?” something dark possesses hyuck.

“m-mark…he’s listening….” you point to the door, sweating, as you felt the sudden lost of his cock inside you. you whine, missing his warmth.

suddenly his hand wraps around your throat, giving you a difficult time to take proper breaths. he slams his cock back into you deeper and harder, your eyes roll back in intense pleasure.

his hand still having a hold on your throat, only he’s cautious with the amount of pressure he applies. something dark is still living in his expression and his voice grows deeper, “don’t you ever moan another person’s name while i fuck you.”

you try to respond, unable to from the pure shock and pleasure you’re experiencing.

“fuck– respond when i talk to you. hm? do you understand, y/n?” his smile sinister, fully aware of the affect he has on you right now.

you nod your head quickly, “yes donghyuck…”

he clicks his tongue at you, “that sounds much better. now, let’s give him a good show.” he smirks, whispering against your ear. he continues to lift your legs over his head again, repeatedly thrusting into your weak spot.

you lost count at how many orgasms he gave you that night, and so did mark.

[ceruark]

yan! hsr x willing! reader headcanons

yan! aventurine, boothill, kafka, sunday [separate] x willing! gn! reader words: 1,017 requested by: @canigotosleep--plz (original request attached at end of post) cw: yandere themes: obsession, stalking, abduction a/n: thank you so much for the ask! i might do more later, but here's what i wrote for now :>

Aventurine

How interesting that you’ve decided to turn his infatuation with you into a mutually beneficial transaction.

He knows that at this point you’ve realized he’s stalking you, and yet you’ve done absolutely nothing to stop it. You don’t try to shake him off your trail when he strides just a few paces behind you when you’re outside, and you haven’t tried to look for and destroy the cameras or hidden microphones that you must have figured out are in your home. 

No, instead you speak more openly about things you want, and what you would expect from your future partner. Your friends and family think it’s just you being a hopeless romantic, but Aventurine knows better. These signals are meant for him, and he’s more than happy to indulge you. You receive gifts of the highest quality that, in the past, you could only dream of owning— and in the meantime, he’s paying to have your dream home constructed.

When he finally shows up on your doorstep to “abduct” you, you’re more than happy to pack the belongings you’d like to bring with you into a suitcase and follow him into a luxury car that you’re pretty sure isn’t even on the public market yet. 

You never kick up a fuss with him, not even when he’s far clingier and possessive than anyone in a healthy relationship should be. You have a gorgeous boyfriend who showers you with affection, provides for you, and gives you whatever you want, whenever you want it— what could you possibly complain about?

He’s content with how things are. Some might say you’re just using him, but he doesn’t mind. If you are just playing a part, you play it well, and he’s more than happy to reward you for it.

Boothill

He might be more concerned with his own behavior if he wasn’t so worried about your reaction to it.

You’re fine with someone following you around and watching over you? You want to leave behind your boring, mundane life and not have to worry about making a living for yourself?

Your mindset makes him paranoid and makes him far more protective: would you react like this with anyone who showed this kind of sick, twisted interest in you? It gives him all the more reason to take you away and keep you by his side— he has to do it before someone else does. You’re so vulnerable and naive, and he doesn’t trust anyone but himself to be with you.

It’s smooth sailing after the not-really-an-abduction, though. You’ve always wanted to see what exists beyond the starry sky of your small hometown, and he’s always on the run, so there’s plenty of places for you two to explore together. He might not ever be able to settle down with you, but you’ve found you much prefer the whirlwind life with your sweetheart cowboy, anyway.

Your willingness scares him, but it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s the one looking after you, you’ve both got nothing to worry about.

Kafka

Oh, what a sweet little thing you are for her.

Truth be told, she was fully prepared to take you by force— she is one of the most feared people in the cosmos, after all. You were going to come with her, whether you liked it or not. She didn’t care if you cried, screamed, and fought her every step of the way; people can be picked apart and remolded, and manipulation is second nature to her.

But surrendering yourself so easily just saves her the time and hassle, and you will certainly be rewarded for it. The most lavish gifts you can imagine are handed to you, and when she’s not taking care of a mission Elio has assigned to her, she’s taking you to the nicest places in every corner of the cosmos. She loves showing you off, and she won’t settle for anything less than the best for you.

She’s honestly not surprised that you’re willing to go with her. She’d watched you for sometime, and she’d seen how miserable you’d been working so hard to provide for yourself and just barely getting by. There’s no need for that anymore, and she’s so glad you both agree that she’s what’s best for you. Just lay your head in her lap and be good for her— she’ll take care of the rest.

Sunday

He’s overjoyed that you see things his way without him having to use the Harmony.

You’d noticed he’d been stalking you. Careful as he was, it’s difficult not to pick up on the fact that you’re “coincidentally” running into someone a bit too frequently. Yet, you did nothing to stop it or discourage it. You had the attention of the most powerful and handsome man in Penacony— why would you complain about that?

Waking up in an unimaginably plush bed within Dewlight Pavilion does throw you off a bit, though. One moment you were chatting with Sunday over drinks at the Dreamjolt Holstery, feeling a bit sleepy, and the next thing you know, you’re here.

You are upset with him when he explains himself and why he’s brought you here, but not at all for the reason he’d been expecting. He could have just asked, honestly. And quite frankly, you’re a bit offended he didn’t even bother to properly court you before taking you away and making you live with him. Isn’t that, like, kind of indecent?

Once he recognizes your willingness, though, he’s relieved. There’s no need to pout any longer, dear. Of course he’ll court you properly now that he’s got you somewhere he knows you’ll be safe and sound. Should you need or want anything, just name it, and your designated attendants will have it for you in an instant. Any minute of his time not spent taking care of Penacony is spent on you, holding you close and indulging your every whim.

Others might be devastated about being locked up, but you’re more than content with the gilded cage you’ve been provided, and you’ve taken quite the liking to your keeper.

Original Request:

[kawowoa]

wrote this so fast if it’s messy .. shhhh… no it’s not🌀🌀🌀

imagine toji finding out he has a thing for praise. it wouldn’t get somewhere downstairs up and going, but it would make his heart race a little faster and his cheeks a little warmer.

he would realize on such a random day too. it would be around midday, just after you put megumi down for his after lunch nap. it was a hassle trying to get the tiny one year old to sleep when all he wanted to do was bang his plastic cubes together and watch some kids show you refuse to even mention.

after what felt like hours to you but in reality was just a few minutes, you would come back downstairs to see toji halfway done with the dishes.

he wanted to be useful to you, make your life a little easier instead of leaving all the shit to you and watching his game.

“huh, didn’t know you knew how to do that,” you joked, bumping your hip against his. you picked up one of the dishes laid out on the dish towel, it was pristine, you shot a sideways glance to toji. “good boy, ‘ji.” you patted his back before slipping away.

toji didn’t even have a witty remark to respond to you. it was like all the gears and circuits in his brain just suddenly decided to stop working simultaneously. he knew you were just joking, yet the sound of your voice calling him a good boy echoed in his mind like a broken record.

you started to catch on after that, he wasn’t good at hiding his reactions as he thought. you found any reason to give him subtle praises, whenever it was when he was holding megumi, mumbling how good of a father he was or when he was working out and you’d loudly exclaim how he’s so good at lifting weights.

it didn’t matter to him because it all affected him the same way. and eventually he started looking forward to hearing you praise him, though he tried to be slick about it.

but, it took him even longer to fully come to terms with it. after a mission that took an entire day where toji sluggishly came through the door. to his surprise, you were still up despite how late it was. the low murmurs of the tv broke the still silence, you both just stared at each other before your arms stretched out, beckoning him over.

he didn’t think twice to be in your arms, laying on your chest as you petted his hair.

“you did good, ‘ji. y’know i’m proud of you, right?” there’s that fuzzy feeling coming back. his eyes staring up at you through his shaggy bangs.

“why do you keep doing that?”

“doing what?”

“complimenting me ‘n shit.”

you chuckled, which only made his eyebrows furrow and his lips curl into a frown.

“do you hate it?” toji didn’t really have a response to that. as much as he hated to admit it, he liked it more than you think. when you say it out loud or pat him on his back that reassures him that whatever he’s doing is right, he all reacts the same way: feeling like his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

“i don’t.”

you pressed a kiss onto his forehead, “that’s what i thought, you deserve to know it.” you whisper against his forehead, he can feel your cheeky grin forming against him. “i always knew you had a praise kink.”

“don’t fuckin’ call it that.”

[aventurineswife]

(Original Idea)

@smokess

It’s been a few weeks since you first arrived in the Devildom. You’ve already made your way through a few of the rougher patches: learning the magic laws, getting used to demon food, and navigating the maze that is the House of Lamentation. But there are still moments when things catch you completely off guard, and today happens to be one of them.

You’ve just been called to the dining room for breakfast, but as you walk in, your thoughts are still buzzing from yesterday’s events. You’re trying to put together how you ended up in this bizarre world full of demons with their own customs, traditions, and... strange ways of doing things.

As you sit down, the brothers—Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmo, and Beel—are already seated, along with Diavolo and Barbatos, who were visiting from the palace. The atmosphere is relaxed, almost too relaxed. They’re chatting, mostly about the latest human technology (Mammon is in a heated debate with Levi over the newest video game release) and general happenings in the Devildom.

But then, as you reach for your plate, your body betrays you.

You start sneezing, repeatedly. It’s not that unusual for you—back on Earth, you’ve had bad allergies before, especially in the spring. But here? You didn’t realize that it was possible for pollen from another dimension to mess with your system.

"Huh, bless you, I suppose." Lucifer comments, his tone a bit dry. He raises an eyebrow as you snatch a napkin and try to muffle another series of sneezes.

"Are you okay?" Beel asks, his voice sincere, though it’s impossible to ignore that he's already eyeing the plate of food in front of you, the steam rising from it. He’s always hungry, always concerned about food, and while you’re trying to focus on the allergy attack, his concern doesn’t help.

"I-I think it’s just my allergies," you manage to choke out between sneezes, your hand scrambling to find something to wipe your nose with.

Barbatos, ever the composed butler, immediately gets up and makes his way over to you with a tray of what looks like...some kind of odd, green liquid in a cup.

"Please drink this, MC. It should help soothe your reaction. We have a lot of unique flora in the Devildom, and they can affect humans in different ways."

You eye the drink with a mixture of suspicion and gratitude. At this point, you don’t really have any other choice.

“What... what’s in this?” you ask, sniffing it carefully.

“It’s a blend of herbs from the underworld,” Barbatos says with a calm smile. “Completely harmless. It should help with your symptoms. But you might want to avoid consuming anything too exotic until your body gets used to the local flora.”

You take a cautious sip. Surprisingly, the liquid doesn’t taste too bad, and within moments, your sneezing fits subside.

"Thanks, Barbatos," you say, giving him a grateful smile, but you're still mentally processing the fact that you might have to get used to demon herbs now.

“So, MC,” Diavolo begins, his voice loud and friendly as always, his large frame leaning toward you with genuine interest, “I wanted to ask, what kind of... ‘treatments’ do humans undergo back home?”

The question catches you off guard. You look around, noticing the brothers are now all paying attention—Diavolo's curiosity seems to have sparked a sudden group interest.

“Treatments?” you ask, hoping you understand the question right.

“You know, for things like... well, if you get sick, or need vaccinations?” Diavolo gestures, his enthusiasm barely contained. “It’s always interesting to hear how humans take care of themselves!”

You blink, processing the concept of vaccines. You realize that in the Devildom, none of these demons are likely familiar with things like flu shots or allergy medication... or even common human ailments like cold and flu. It’s a foreign concept here.

“Uh, well, humans get vaccinated—shots, you know, to prevent diseases? We also go to the doctor for stuff like fevers or injuries.” you say slowly, unsure if they understand what you're saying.

The room goes quiet. Then, unexpectedly, Mammon snickers.

"Wait, so ya all just get stuck with needles?" he asks, looking at you with wide, alarmed eyes. "Why would ya let someone do that to ya? Sounds like torture!"

You let out a small laugh, trying to explain it in a way they'd understand. "It’s for our protection. Without vaccines, we could get really sick from things we can easily avoid."

The demons all exchange looks of utter confusion. Satan looks thoughtful, though, his hand resting under his chin. “That’s... fascinating. So you just... accept being injected with something? No magical potions or healing spells?”

“Nope,” you answer, shaking your head. “Just medicine and stuff we get from the Earth. No magic involved.”

Diavolo claps his hands together in an amused gesture. “How strange! I wonder if that would work in the Devildom... Barbatos, what do you think?”

Barbatos, ever the pragmatic butler, raises an eyebrow. “I’m not entirely sure, My Lord. But I believe it would require a rather significant amount of effort. Perhaps we should stick to what we know works.”

You chuckle nervously, trying not to feel too alien. It’s weird being the only one who understands what vaccines even are, let alone periods, or allergies...

The conversation shifts after a while to other aspects of human life, which you’re not exactly prepared for. After some time, the talk turns to... well, other human customs—especially biological ones.

"So... do humans have... um... I don't know how to say this," Asmo starts, clearly not sure how to word it delicately. "Do humans, uh, have... ‘monthly’... discomforts?”

You freeze mid-bite, the word monthly hanging in the air like an uncomfortable weight. You’ve always been pretty private about your cycle, especially now that you’re in a room full of demons who probably know nothing about it.

“I, uh... it’s called a period,” you mutter, hoping the subject won’t get too awkward.

"A period?" Satan asks, leaning forward, eyes wide with curiosity. "Like... punctuation?"

“No!” you exclaim, mortified. "I mean... it’s a human thing. A... biological process." You sigh, trying to explain without sounding too embarrassed. "It’s a monthly occurrence where... my body, um, prepares for something it doesn’t need. So, it... uh... sheds the lining in the uterus."

The demons stare at you blankly. Even Lucifer, usually composed, looks momentarily baffled.

“And that... happens to you... every month?” Levi asks, horrified. “How do you... I mean, that sounds awful!”

You nod. "It can be uncomfortable. It’s like a... natural part of being human."

Barbatos, ever the tactful one, steps in smoothly, his voice calm. “It seems humans have a great deal to manage in their biology. Fascinating.”

“Right? And we’re just expected to deal with it,” you add, still feeling embarrassed but relieved that they’re not asking too many more questions.

Later, the conversation veers into a discussion about where you came from, your homeland, and your nationality. It’s a tricky subject, especially since most of these demons have never even heard of your country, let alone your hometown.

“So, you’re from Earth, right?” Lucifer asks, tapping his fingers on the table, as if contemplating the situation. “But Earth is so vast. How do you classify your people?”

You pause, unsure how to approach it. “Well, there are countries, and people belong to different nations. I come from a country called...”

The name of your country seems to hang in the air, but as you mention it, the demons exchange confused looks. They’ve never heard of it.

“Wait, so what’s that country like?” Mammon asks, genuinely curious. “What’s ya... currency? What’s the most popular food?”

You try your best to explain, but each question leads to another, and soon you realize how very, very different Earth is from the Devildom.

But as weird and overwhelming as this all is, you realize that these moments of confusion and surprise are part of what makes your time here so unique. The demons may not understand everything about you, but they're clearly invested in learning—whether it’s how to handle your allergies or what a "period" is.

And really, at the end of the day, it's that curiosity and willingness to understand each other that makes the Devildom feel a little more like home every day.

[cowboylikeyouu]

i finally watched the making of deadpool & wolverine and wrote down every thought that popped up into my mind while watching, have fun lol

god hugh jackman is gorgeous

they’re talking about all the different ideas they had for this movie and honestly??? i would eat up every single one of them they should still do it lol

god hugh jackman is GORGEOUS

man i missed them sm i haven’t watched dp&w in TWO MONTHS?????

i will never shut up about the deadpool suit in this movie it’s SO AWESOME it’s a blessing for my eyes every time it’s on screen

"that’s what we were striving for with rdj in endgame, is to give this iconic fictional character an amazing ending." yeah well only that endgame‘s ending SUCKED and i will never forgive anyone for it <3

ugh hugh jackman is gorgeous

i could watch him speak forever

i‘m SO glad ryan made that "i should use his body as a weapon" pitch bc GODDAMN that opening scene will never get old

ahhhhhh i love that we‘re getting some insight in the stunt/fight stuff, SO interesting !! the shitty iphone test videos are hilarious

they should’ve made a "he ACTUALLY broke his toe when he kicked that helmet!!!!" reference when ryan kicked logan‘s skull lmao

the marry puppins SNOGGING ryan bts clips will never get old lmao funniest shit ever

THE SUIT LOOKS SO GOOD UGHHHH am i having a gender or a sexuality crisis over it???? guess we’ll never know

EMMA CORRIN ILYSM

shout out to british people gotta be one of my fav genders fr

all the different lines ryan screamed out of the honda????😭😭 honestly they should’ve just kept all of these idc about logic

EMMA CORRIN

"and i knew the fans would love it" ohhh hugh i think we all love it a bit too much

"and yet, i wouldn’t say wolverine is a straight man" awesome, thanks, case fucking CLOSED.

"which i don’t recommend, sending a 10 minute voice memo to anyone"

*me looking at the five 10-20 minute voicemails i send my friends every single day*

THE SUITS LOOK SO GOOD TOGETHER (their asses do as well)

GOD hugh jackman is gorgeous

"what we refer to as the van fight" no babe that’s the honda odyssey sex marathon actually!!

"violence is our love language" ITS CONFIRMED (everyone knew. BUT STILL)

choreographing this scene (all the deadpool vs wolverine fight scenes really) must’ve been SO FUN like UGH just coming up with all this violence knowing that it won’t affect your characters in the long haul and you can add of many of it as you want????? THE DREAM

THEM HUGGING IN THE HONDA???😭😭 brb gotta cry

I LOVE YOU EMMA CORRIN

CHRIS EVANS LOML

it’s unfair how attractive he is i‘m gonna throw up

reminder to myself to finally learn johnny‘s monologue i wanna be able to randomly hit people with it

OHHHH i actually did NOT realize that was hulk‘s bed from ragnarok??? which is weird bc i used to watch that movie religiously. but hey that’s so cool!!

channing tatum talking about gambit is so heartwarming man so happy for him😭

jennifer garner is so pretty i‘m so gay lord help

me

dafne keen‘s voice sounds SO different when she’s not playing laura, CRAZY

EMMA CORRIN MY LOVE

just once just ONCE i wanna walk through a street filme set like this UGH it looks so cool & surreal

"this is our baby yoda" i have to be this annoying person i‘m sorry but HIS NAME IS GROGU

i don’t know shit about music but i could listen to people talk about movie scores for hours on end (how did you know sideways is my fav youtube video essayist???)

good fucking god hugh jackman is gorgeous

lmao they should’ve kept the "zoooombies wake uuuppp" again, idc about logic

EMMA CORRIN ‼️‼️‼️

ohh hugh jackman is gorgeous (put your greasy tits away you preening slut)

ugh i‘m getting emotional help

well that was awesome, gonna cry myself to sleep now byeee

(have i mentioned how gorgeous hugh jackman is?)

[koyagifs]

𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮

ʚɞ pairing : san x reader ʚɞ au : 9th member | idol ʚɞ summary : who doesn't love a behind a scene recording video ʚɞ word count : 1.259 words ʚɞ what if! if san and yn dated

ATEEZofficial has uploaded! behind the recording Right There

There yn stood in the recording booth, her phone in herhand as Hongjoong and Eden sat in their chairs. San right by their side as he held the headphones in his hands.

" alright ynie, let's give it one run. Add what ever you want alright?" Eden said, spinning back to the computer. Yn took a deep breath, nodding as she readied herself. The weight of the moment settled in her chest, but she knew what she needed to do. With her phone still in hand, she looked over at Hongjoong and San, both watching her intently.

As the melody began once again, she spoke into the microphone. " can we restart it, i want to add a few high notes."

Eden nodded his head, replaying the song again. You began to sing a few high notes, Hongjoong and San in awe as if they are hearing you sing for the first time again.

Yn felt the familiar pulse of the beat in her chest, the melody pulling her in as she prepared to add those high notes. She closed her eyes for a moment, visualizing the sound she wanted to create. With each note she hit, it felt like something clicked inside her—a mix of confidence and vulnerability, carried by her voice.

As she ascended into the higher notes, she could feel Hongjoong and San’s eyes on her, their focus intense. The way they watched her, as if they were hearing her for the first time, sent a strange warmth through her. The sound was clear, pure, and full of emotion, the kind of sound she hadn’t realized she was capable of until now.

San turned to the camera, a faint blush on his check as he began to speak, " atiny, we're so lucky to have ynie right?"

Yn couldn't help but chuckle at San's sudden enthusiasm, though it made her heart skip a beat. His words made her feel seen, in a way she hadn’t expected. She was always a little uncertain about her place in all of this, but hearing San speak like that made her feel… important.

Eden, still glued to the computer screen, smirked. "Not wrong, though. Yn's got a way of making us all look good."

San's blush deepened, but his smile never wavered as he looked at Yn. "No, seriously," he said, his voice full of affection, "we're lucky. The way you bring so much emotion into the music... it’s not something you see every day."

Hongjoong, who had been silent up until this point, finally spoke, his voice low but steady. "San’s right. You don’t just sing, Yn. You feel the music. That’s something rare."

Yn felt the weight of his words, her heart fluttering in her chest. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as both Hongjoong and San watched her, their gazes soft but intense. It was as though they were seeing her in a way she hadn’t been seen before.

" let's go over the song again, with the added vocals. I might want to add a few more,"

Yn nodded, trying to steady the fluttering in her chest as she took a deep breath. The intensity of their words still hung in the air, but she knew they were here to work, and she had to focus. She looked at Eden, who had already queued up the song again.

"Alright, let’s give it another shot," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. She adjusted the mic, her hands slightly trembling, though she quickly steadied them.

As the track began to play again, she closed her eyes, letting the music envelop her. She could still feel the presence of Hongjoong and San—both of them so close, watching her with admiration. Their attention wasn’t just on her voice anymore; it felt like they were watching her, really watching her. It made her both nervous and inspired at the same time.

She began to sing once more, weaving in the high notes with a bit more confidence this time. The added vocals felt like a natural extension of what she had already done, and she found herself adding little flourishes here and there, pushing herself further with each line.

As the song played, she could feel the connection between them—the way Hongjoong's quiet focus and San's infectious energy gave her a sense of freedom in her voice. With every note, it felt like they were in sync, like the three of them were creating something bigger than just a song.

When the track ended, Yn paused, breathless, and looked over at Eden. "How’s that?" she asked, her voice still carrying the weight of the emotion she had poured into the song.

Eden, who had been nodding along, leaned back in his chair. "That was it, Yn. You really brought it this time. I think we’re done here—unless you want to add something else?"

Yn glanced at Hongjoong and San, still catching their reactions. Hongjoong gave her a small, approving smile, nodding subtly, while San was practically grinning, looking like he could burst with pride.

"I think we’ve got it," Yn said, her heart still racing but finally feeling like she had done justice to the music—and to the moment.

Eden nodded his head as he spun back around with Hongjoong as they began to discuss your track. San met you at the booth, his hand held out for you to grab.

Yn looked up at San as he extended his hand toward her, a bright smile on his face. For a second, everything felt like it had paused—just the two of them, standing in the quiet booth, the buzz of the studio fading into the background. She could feel her heart still pounding in her chest, but the connection between them, the unspoken encouragement and understanding, made her want to take his hand.

She hesitated for just a moment, then placed her hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch. The simple gesture, small but meaningful, grounded her. It was a reminder that they were in this together, that she wasn't alone in this moment.

San’s grip was gentle but firm, and he pulled her out of the booth with a grin. "You were amazing, Yn. Honestly, you’re blowing me away," he said, his voice filled with so much affection that it made her heart skip again.

" well, i just so happen to be inspired by my muse," Yn said, smiling brightly as San cheeks began to feel warm.

San’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink, and he quickly looked away, trying to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. "Y-Your muse, huh?" he stammered, his voice a little too soft, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

Yn could tell she’d caught him off guard, and the playful glint in her eyes only grew. She leaned in just a little, teasing him with a smirk. "Yeah, you know," she said, her tone light and full of mischief. " considering he's my boyfriend"

San froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as his blush deepened, almost turning his whole face red. The playful smirk on Yn’s face only made it worse, and he stammered, trying to regain his composure. Yn let out a laugh as she placed a kiss on lips before heading towards Hongjoong and Eden.

San stood there, blushing as he continued to stare at yn in awe.

" the things you do to me women.."

[brooklyncircus]

"Until you..." part. 7.

Hiromi Higuruma x reader.

Until you arrived, Hiromi Higuruma had never thought that the appearance of a new person could bring about small, successive changes in his life. But the truth was that things were changing, transforming, evolving. Or, on second thought, maybe it was only him changing, and that was affecting his world in general.

And he knew this was because of someone.

Because of you.

When he arrived at work at eight in the morning, punctual as always, to that large, multi-story building, modern and full of windows, he was greeted by several things he was already used to.

One of those things was the excessive number of people walking around the entrance from one side to another, with papers, with things, with people. Many people, in fact. So many that he felt a strange sensation forming in his throat and stomach, something like the urge to vomit.

Another of those things was the sound of muttered curses, yawns, the smell of cheap coffee, and the usual clacking of keyboards from the floor above. Even the monotonous, bored greeting from the receptionist, who, as always, was dressed in an extravagant way and looked like a Christmas tree.

But he didn’t think today would be out of the ordinary. Oh no, not at all. And so he continued walking toward the elevator with the same serious and professional expression as always, his hair slightly disheveled, giving him a strangely elegant look, and his briefcase swinging by his right leg.

Or so he thought, until the receptionist realized who she had greeted and suddenly stood up from her chair, behind the huge desk she was immersed in. She made a few strange hand gestures at Hiromi, which he didn’t see, until the words came out. "Dr. Hiromi. Sir, wait!"

Hiromi was in a good mood, having seen you that very morning, having accompanied you to the library, having talked to you. Everything kept him in a good mood. But, having now stepped into that building, the law firm where he worked, that good mood blended with the usual boredom and frustration of the workday.

He turned around slowly, as if taking his time. He looked at the receptionist with a neutral, expressionless face. He checked the time on the watch adorning his wrist and realized that, indeed, he had arrived on time. That’s why he was rather confused. "Yes, miss?"

The receptionist adjusted her glasses, round and big and yellow like a slice of pineapple. "The prosecutor, Dr. Forger, wants to see you in his office. He told me to let you know as soon as you arrived," she swallowed nervously. "He said it was important."

Forger.

He closed his eyes upon hearing that name and sighed, more tired than ever. "God, give me patience," he thought.

But when he opened his eyes, he thanked the woman for her hospitality and headed to the elevator again, now intending to go to Forger’s office.

Don’t get him wrong. Hiromi and Forger had a good relationship (the latter used to loudly proclaim they were "besto friendos," while he would insist their relationship was entirely work-related and professional, as if trying to forget they had shared a room when they went to university and studied law together, long ago), but their personalities were complete opposites. And although Forger held a higher position than him (Hiromi had declined it because he wanted to continue practicing as a lawyer), it didn’t lessen the affection the prosecutor had for him.

That’s why, as he walked across the white ceramic floor, he couldn’t help but dissociate and think of you. Should he have asked you what you were studying at university? Which subject you liked the most, which one the least? Why you had chosen it and all that? He wrinkled his nose, conflicted. Maybe yes, maybe no. But he was at peace knowing he hadn’t pressured you or anything like that at any time, especially with such personal questions. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder… Should he have done it? It’s the normal thing to ask in a conversation between two people.

"Screw it," he thought in front of Forger’s office door. He bit his lower lip slightly and knocked three times before opening it.

Forger greeted him with his typical radiant smile, looking like an American in a Hollywood movie (despite being Japanese) and the usual good humor that made Hiromi suppress the urge to roll his eyes. "Hiro Higuruma!" the man greeted him, motioning to the chair in front of his desk for him to sit. "There’s a lot to talk about."

But Hiromi, not in the mood to put up with Forger’s nonsense, cut him off abruptly. "I have several pending cases, things to sort out in my life, and people who need defending. I won’t stay here long, so say what you want."

If Forger hadn’t known Hiromi since they were both eighteen and wasn’t familiar with his grumpy old-man humor from practically forever, he would have felt deeply hurt and offended, but he didn’t.

"In a few weeks, approximately a month and a half, there will be offers for new lawyers, fresh out of university, wanting to join this firm. And, besides that, there are several mock trials happening, just to get them prepared for the future." The man clicked his tongue approvingly. "Nothing too serious, but I was invited to attend. And I want you to come with me."

"No," Hiromi replied bluntly and coldly.

"I wasn’t asking you ‘please,’ Higuruma," Forger said, looking at him the way a parent would look at a rebellious child.

Hiromi didn’t respond.

Forger raised an eyebrow. "You owe me."

Hiromi sighed, but he knew the man was right and that he wouldn’t be able to say no for long. "Send me the date, place, and time, and I’ll be there."

"Damn bastard," he thought as he walked down the hall minutes later, heading to his office. But, although he would never admit it, a small smile crept onto his lips.

After reflecting for a while, sitting in his office, he regretted not asking you what degree you were pursuing at university. What if you were studying law? That was another reason he had accepted Forger’s proposal, because he felt something. If you were, it was obvious that you would be practicing or rehearsing trials.

He knew it was silly, naive, and all that, but… Is hope not the last thing to die? Maybe he’d be lucky and see you there, rehearsing some trial. Or tomorrow on the train again.

He shook his head and sighed, as he grabbed his papers and read what he had started working on the day before.

And until you arrived, Hiromi Higuruma had never thought that the appearance of a new person could bring about small, successive changes in his life. But the truth was that things were changing, transforming, evolving. Or, on second thought, maybe it was only him changing, and that was affecting his world in general.

And he knew this was because of someone.

Because of you.

[a-dragons-journal]

Letting the Past Lie

I’ve been thinking about the black dragon that features in a few of my scarce memories, and why I’ve let him(?) remain mostly forgotten.

For a time when I first joined the community, I was very focused on the past life my draconity stems from - as is typical for many of us. I wanted to know, after all - there was a whole life to unlock, and so much about myself to learn!

But I realized quickly that past life memories aren’t easy for many to access, including myself, and that it’s even harder to discern what’s a “real” memory and what you’re “making up.” Past life regressions rarely work well for me. And so, after a while, I let it fall to the wayside - I made peace with the fact that I will likely never know very much for sure about that life.

A lot of time has passed since then. I’ve learned a lot about my dragonself and my draconity, very little of which has had to do with events in that past life, and it’s all become very normal to me. The not knowing has become pretty normal, too, and in a lot of ways it’s stopped really bothering me.

A couple of my headmates recently have been playing with voluntary aspects to their identity - not choosing who or what they are, but filling in the details they don’t remember where the gaps bother them, deciding that the created facets are just as real as the remembered ones. It occurs to me, as I am reminded of the black dragon’s existence by a song on my Spotify that reminds me of him(?) (Strange Sight by KT Tunstall, for posterity), that I could take the same route - fill in gaps, write in details, decide for myself what happened there.

I don’t know if I want to, though, honestly. I don’t know if I care enough to bother. That Rani was very different - solitary, arrogant, wild, self-sufficient. I believe that I learned things from that life, as I believe is the point of reincarnation, but it’s done now. How much does it affect me, really? Part of me is curious, but… curiosity about what happened isn’t satisfied by filling in the blanks in the same way that being bothered by not remembering is, I think. Maybe I’m wrong there. And, anyway, the curiosity isn’t that strong, as evidenced by the fact that I haven’t really bothered with any past life memory retrieval techniques for years now. I’m more interested in my life here and now, the dragon I am today, than the dragon I was in a time and place long ago and a universe away.

Sometimes it’s better to just let sleeping dragons lie, I suppose. It will come to me when the time is right, if it ever is.

[drakewyne]

nancy got a massive star anise in that turkish coffee blend an iraqi man had brought her from a trip abroad — that’s fine, she doesn’t mind strong flavors and she likes the shape. ba’athist baghdad in the ‘70s would still be their meeting spot.

“would you believe christmas is one of my favorite holidays?”

she takes a sip. it tastes sharp ended like stars.

“actually the way i’ve been acting, i wouldn’t believe it either.”

and this is a godless season.

( cw: sad )

tim recompenses by making a gingerbread man walk over her hand. he has dark chocolate buttons and a royal icing smile. he looks a little stupid, but pleased. nancy squishes a cheek in her hand and wonders what the little cookie’s secret is.

“you have the opposite of seasonal affective disorder,” she comments while tim whistles the vince guaraldi trio, “you have seasonal disaffective disorder.”

“‘please eat me, it’s all i live for. it’s all i fucking live for.’” tim moves the cookie around.

she clicks her tongue: “at least he says it out loud.”

“i always actually felt like christmas kinda made up for the bleak 0 for 8 nature of chanukah,” tim answers, “so this part of the season’s like a reward in and of itself.”

nancy thinks and then snaps off the gingerbread man’s stupid head.

“sorry for shitting all over your pageantry then.”

“i’ve seen bigger shits.”

she separates the eyes and the smile between perfected teeth.

“it’s not your fault,” he mumbles, “everyone gets that this is kinda a bullshit time for you.”

“well,” she frowns, “i’m not really so sentimental.”

“annie.”

she swallows and turns her head to watch the plush snow falling outside. the cottony sound of the fat drops hitting the window fills her mouth with cold sponge cake. her brow pulls, as she’s tried to swallow that too.

“okay,” she begrudgingly admits, “so i’m a little sentimental.”

“and you’re taking this feeling out of place thing a little personally.”

“that’s the most personal feeling you could’ve described.”

“trust me,” tim pops both arms in his mouth, “i know.”

the gingerbread man’s down to a torso and legs, his chocolate buttoned suit delineated with icing.

nancy sips her espresso and lays both hands flat on the table, dark button eyes boring into the wood. when the sheer force of her gaze leaves no exit wounds, she softens up and feels embarrasingly weepy in the throat.

“i can’t really blame anyone,” she admits quietly, “it’s totally all my fault. that’s neutral, i think, it is what it is . . . ”

tim hands her the left leg. she thanks him and takes it in her slim hand.

“everything kinda slows down in winter anyway,” tim explains, “it’s just too quiet a season for you.”

“and for you?”

“are you kidding? i get free reign when it’s quiet like this- i go ice skating and everything.”

nancy huffs, humored. then she looks at him, and something in his eyes is sheer crystal truth. she angles her head.

“no way.”

“i actually do.”

“are you good?”

“i’m alright.”

“shut the hell up,” she shakes her head, “i hate when you do that. it means you’re actually dead good.”

“you know everyone was happy that you showed. don’t feel bad about psyching them out a little.”

there’s a star on top of the christmas tree. she thinks about the angel that used to top hers.

“if we had a pool for every time we weren’t sure if someone was showing,” tim leans back, “dick’d make the top spot every year.”

they got a fresh tree every year. and there’s a new family in that house. the angel topper?

“you can take your time. wouldn’t even matter if we split- you’d still get an invite for next year.”

she’s not totally sure where it went off to.

“hey, don’t cry-”

“i’m not,” she blinked, surprised by the accusation, “i’m not.”

then she touched beneath her eyes and realized she was.

she explained briefly that she got her dad a safe, soft balsa wood model plane and the truth was simply that he actually liked it, he was slightly excited, he loves planes. did she ever tell him that? no? oh, well, he loves planes and understands them in a way that feels bigger than what they are.

and the truth was simply that she loved him and understood him in a way that was bigger than his six feet and five inches.

both of them would prefer that the thing they love not hold them to it.

nancy and tim in his old room. she pushes the clutch ( removes her makeup ) and he pulls the choke ( unwinds her scarf from her neck ). she hates being weepy like this. she thinks it’s disgustingly indelicate and slightly rude of her considering the fanfare. she looks around at his walls and feels so much of him in the dark paint and the boyish bedspread. quintessential adolescent. blue and grey checkered and everything. he had a sony stereo right above it with headphones waiting for him to come back.

“what were you last listening to in here?” she asks.

tim presses the disc eject and scrutinizes the cd. “slowdive. souvlaki. banger album.”

“when was that?”

“don’t remember putting a cd in here recently,” he shrugs, “so i guess five years ago or so.”

she sits on the bedspread and the mattress catches her weight. from below, there’s a muffled degree of cheerful noise. his curtains are open, and the white flurries around outside.

“i don’t think i can get you out of here,” he wincingly admits, “storm’s getting too gnarly to drive in.”

“do you know where alfred would’ve taken my bags?”

“probably just by the coats.”

“can you bring them? i just want my sweater.”

he does. he watches her pull her clothes off and finds it slightly even more intimate to watch nancy put a sweater on.

“i turn into this big baby when i’m the littlest bit jetlagged,” she brushes it off, putting lotion on her peachy face after taking out her contacts, “i just get super ridiculous.”

“have you tried puking? i just puke.”

“i like the efficiency in that. get it all out.”

“i move fast.”

“i actually really like your room,” nancy looks up at the ceiling, “it’s cute you put stars up there.”

he lay beside her, squinting: “forgot i did that. anyway you’re wrong and it’s actually metal. these are the constellations you see from apokolips — where darkseid lives. it’s in this dimension that you need a boom tube to get to.”

“oh my god,” nancy sighs, shutting her eyes, “you had such a fucked up childhood.”

“my bad.”

she touches his hand and he turns his palm up to make it easier. she was just curious, just wondering, but did he ever hold hands in this room like this? no. too many people and too little respect for closed doors and too much urgency. he was making moves without a home field advantage. a panicky adolescent bravery.

“not to mention, my room wasn’t ever really suitable for visitors.”

“it still isn’t back at yours.”

“then i guess there is no stopping sister nancy after all. i’m glad they made that song real.”

she laughs lightly, low and slow and dizzy. then she apologizes quietly for being a pain about everything. then she asks him to tell everyone that she really appreciates the invitation, but she can’t hang. he will.

he says, “hey, before you go to sleep.”

tim has likely been eating his body weight in gingerbread all night, but she likes strong flavors and it feels sharp ended like stars. his hair crushed against her head and this was an unfamiliar, surprising custom that she blinked over. this closeness. this buoy knocking of skulls.

“nobody thinks there’s a way you’re supposed to feel about anything, but i’ll still leave out the part where you started crying.”

kissing would be easier. would at least give her something to do with her hands.

“the patience’s actually kinda annoying,” he admits, “give it a few hours over breakfast and you’ll be begging to get called out.”

yet as is historically true for her, the long way out is objectively the best way.

“you think it’s a little stupid, right?” she asks hesitantly.

tim doesn’t give her what she wants. he keeps his face the same.

“how you feel doesn’t have anything to do with what’s stupid or not.”

“i know better.”

“how you feel doesn’t have anything to do with knowing shit either.”

“tim,” she shuts her bird egg eyes, “do you remember what happened?”

“i remember what i think happened.”

“well, i remember everything. i remember it all super clearly.”

“ . . . i believe you.”

she opens her eyes.

[radfae]

this is genuinely upsetting. how much longer are women not only going to be complacent in but actively encourage misogyny?

[designernishiki]

it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now

[finderseeker]

I come heralding the return of Manhandle Him Mondays!!

Wife who picks you up in front of your subordinates and carries you off because you’re overworking again.

It is not colored Well, but it is colored! And I tried using The Color Wheel again (with varying opacities and layer settings). Woo!

[itspileofgoodthings]

you know what I’ve realized lately? that’s really helped? the axiom: it just doesn’t really make that much of a difference. Or at least it doesn’t when you’re talking about good things and not, like, doing good vs. doing evil. Big choices, little choices, decisions, decisions —it’s not just that they don’t matter in the grand scheme of things—because they do! —but just. It won’t make that big of a difference. Life will continue to be wonderful AND difficult, fascinating AND hopelessly mundane, full of roses AND thorns and all the other cliches whether you walk down one road or another. And you’ll get used to the joys and sick of the sorrows whatever they are, and you’ll be ungrateful and bored and dissatisfied in some measure some of the time and you’ll have to work on all the things you have to work on anyways and just. Yeah! It doesn’t make that big of a difference! Even the biggest things!

[crazymadredfox]

i lay down to sleep and i remember that ryusui’s immeasurable greed is born out of his equally immeasurable wish to take care of people he loves, that his love and loyalty and devotion to the kingdom of science grew until it became a predominant aspect of his character, up to the point that he got petrified FOUR TIMES for it, that without the wealth he possessed before petrification the only way to channel and exemplify his care was through monopolizing his irreplaceable expertise as captain and pilot and sharpshooter yet offering it freely and constantly as the only currency worth ANYTHING in the stone world , that he grew and loved these people he comes to see as family enough to dismiss and overcome his greed and live knowing he will never have reached the stars and explored them as he has the ocean, enough to show incredible selflessness and give up his ticket to the moon, enough to admit inferiority to the man he views as his biggest rival and equal in skill and allow stanley to go to space with senku, just because he knows stanley is the better choice, and he loves senku and values his/their cause enough to, at the cost of HIS OWN pleasure and opportunity, try to minimize the chance of failure as much as he’s able to, and i stay awake and toss and turn in my bed until morning

[binders-and-beanies]

Not being able to vote makes me extra sensitive to discussions of the election tbh like. People who don’t have to fight super hard to vote don’t see the value in it, *because* their vote isn’t suppressed. So I wish that people who do have that privilege would use it to help out those of us who can’t (both within and outside of the US). But instead eligible voters just yell at us for even *trying* unsuccessfully to vote blue. Like are you happy? Are you satisfied about marginalized people not getting to vote? What is the result you’re hoping for

[butteryunlikelylady]

it was never my life to live and he didn’t fall for the real me… he fell for an accessory and thought he could just change the label while things stayed the same