#credit to artist (couldn’t find one)

[captain-lovelace]

Developing an unhealthy obsession with a warhammer 40k character is not how I thought my 20s would go

[bakedspoonie]

Thinking of Voltron wolf

[arachnidiots]

this is literally liam & dandy

[runby2]

remembering the time abt 2 years ago i was in a small server of tight knit ppl and someone said they wanted to share some art but they couldn’t because they couldn’t find the owner of it for credit. like ,, sending it to friends was somehow the same as sending it to large numbers of strangers or reposting it claiming you somehow own it. ive been in many friend groups and usually it was normal to share art you find with a small group and say you’d have to find the artist later through reverse image search or trust the others to believe you weren’t a bad person or something for just,, sharing inspiration in passing conversation. so i explained i was sure it was okay if you just want to mention it in passing and share art inspiration you had with a small group of friends, even if you didn’t have the artist’s name immediately on hand. and oh my gosh i was fucking shunned from the group immediately and chastised for “supporting art theft” and it made me realize how,, weird,,, online friendships have become in fandom spaces specifically originated from tumblr. it was like everything had to be morally correct and perfect and NO ONE was cut any slack to just relax and talk like normal people so if youre in a “friend group server” or “fandom server” where you feel like you’re walking on eggshells like that for any reason, i want to tell you to please for the love of god find people who act like people. and please do not interact with perfectionists or people who deny the ability for you to have any differing opinion. that is the worst thing you can do to yourself. 

[seonghwaddict]

not just a distraction — park seonghwa

in which it’s too easy for the new literature professor to pick a favourite.

literature professor!park seonghwa x fem!reader. genre. fluff, angst. warnings. LEGAL teacher-student relationship, implies age-gap, an argument, suggestive, nickname (baby, angel, doll, princess). wc. 10.4k. rating. pg-13.

lilo’s notes. this is my comeback yessss~ anyways, this is part 1 of 2 because the next part will have some… fun activities >:) i hope you guys enjoy this, i’m sorry for being so inactive for the past month but i have lots for you guys to look forward to! excuse any errors i did not proofread this.

listening to. training wheels, melanie martinez / angel, kali uchis.

masterlist.

the first class of the new literature course at your campus garnered the attention of quite a few of the students from the arts department.

there was, of course, a literature class that existed before that one, though a few students had been unhappy with it since the introduction of more contemporary works. the classic masterpieces, they thought (including you), should not be bunched together with colleen hoover.

with enough pressure, the faculty were able to introduce a new course; classic literature. the few students unhappy with the initial course switched into this course instead, delighted by the fact they were allowed to keep their previous credits. a completely new teacher had been hired too, stirring anticipation. all you knew of him was his name, given in the description of the course when you signed up.

so you found yourself in one of the many lecture halls, around fifty others surrounding you. when you walked in, the new professor was at the long chalk board at the front, looking down at a book in his hand while the other wrote something down. you tried catching a glimpse of him, but his positioning faced him away.

but from what you could see, he was quite slender. his grey slacks, neatly ironed, were secured around his hips by a thin black leather belt. his white button up seemed a little large, though it complimented him well, tucked into his trousers with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms elegantly—his blazer, a grey matching his slacks, shucked off and placed around the back of the chair at his desk. you could also see his hair was dark, a slight waviness to it, a little longer in the back.

finding the most convenient seat, you chose to sit in the left-most seat on the second row, next to a girl you recognised but couldn’t remember the name of even if you tried.

you catch a glimpse of professor park glancing down at his watch, prompting you to do the same. nine in the morning, on the dot.

“literature,” he starts, underlining the bold word on the chalkboard before turning around. and you nearly choke at the sight of his face.

he’s handsome, almost impossibly so, and a lot younger than all your other professores. dainty glasses sit atop the bridge of his nose, carefully placed strands of his hair framining his face as he begins pacing in front of the seats, making sure to look at each students individually.

“it’s many things, but at its core, it’s all about the manipulation of language. language, simply put, is food, nourishing literature. and so, with the intricacies of the art, literature becomes one of the sweetest passions known to man. because what is it if not love and hatred and disgust and every indescribable feeling thrown into a melting pot of prose.”

his voice is captivating, making you feel just a little lightheaded as you listen to his passion intently, all precise words and confidence as he paces, his hands clasped behind his back. you’re hanging off his every word, watching as he stops by his desk to place down the chalk.

it isn’t after a few moments that you realise you were admiring his hand, how it moves to elegantly. the way his fingers gently curl around the little white stick is almost artistic in itself.

he turns around, resting his hips against the edge of the mahogany desk behind him, legs crossed at his ankles and arms crossed over his chest. his eyes scan the room as he continues speaking, occasionally locking with yours. “is it not poetic? how morphemes, for example, or adjectives or conjunctions are the morsels of literature, small parts that are put together to create meaning? of course, something may be described in one word, but there’s something quite magical about being more metaphorical, more intimate.”

he catches you leaning forward in your chair slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips at how captivated you look before he schools his expression. but his focus is quickly redirected when another student raises his hand.

“yes?” professor park pushes himself off the desk, clasping his hands behind his back.

“professor,” he begins—you recognise him as a jock that calls himself dylan, but you know it’s not his real name and he’s probably here to fulfil a requirement to keep him on the volleyball team—his tone incredulous, “don’t you think all this romanticisation of literature is a bit dramatic? we don’t need fancy words to describe everything.”

professor park arches his eyebrow, a soft huff escaping his nose as he took steps in the direction of dyland’s seat. “dramatic? perhaps,” he nodded, eyes fixed on him, “however, as a literature professor, i enjoy the romanticisation of it. my job is to introduce others to the passion that is literature, and therefore i will romanticise it all i wish… what is your name?”

“it’s, uh, dylan?”

his eyebrow quirked once more as he gave the jock a once over, evaluating him. “i see… well, dylan, have you ever felt the rush of emotion when reading something truly spectacular? have you ever read a sentence and felt it like a punch in your chest or a sudden breath of fresh air?”

dylan’s opens his mouth to respond before he is interrupted with a raise if professor park’s palm. “think before you answer, please.”

you nearly laughed at his baffled look, never having seen him so silent, pondering the question for a moment before answering. “well, yes i have.” he answers honestly, earning a nod of approval.

“describe that feeling for me. can you find the correct words to explain the way you felt in that moment?”

dylan tries to explain it the best he can, but your teacher only shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “close, but no. see, it’s difficult putting into words such strong emotions no matter how many synonyms of ‘joyful’ you use.”

he turns away from him to address the rest of the class. “and that is the beauty of literature—it can be used to describe the most indescribable feeling, stringing together individually meaningless words to create something so much more.”

you smile at that, enjoying the link he made. your eyes meet for another moment, a split second that made heat rise to your cheeks under his perceptive gaze. but you blink and his pretty brown eyes are gone.

he takes a moment’s pause, glancing over at the clock in the room before finally addressing the rest of the class again. “i want an assignment from each of you by next class that demonstrates the true beauty of the language we know. it can be anything you feel like writing. a short story, a narrative, an essay, a poem,” his eyes flick over to land on you once again, “i want to see the feeling you want to convey in this written form. and i don’t just mean the happy feelings—get raw and descriptive. write something from the heart.”

the class is dismissed and you pack up your things, heading out but not before trying to catch another glimpse of him in the moving horde of students.

though you hadn’t noticed it, throughout the lecture his eyes lingered on you as well. of course, there were so many students for him to focus on, but none of them seemed quite as captivated as you. judging by the evident fascination on your face as he spoke, he knew you understood every word he said. unlike dylan, apparently.

the next class is on friday, four days away. you take that time or write the assignment. instead of writing a story or a poem, you decide on writing an essay. something where you can really write without the constraints of sticking to a plot. when you’re not in any of your other classes, you’re at your shared house, writing. and if your roommate is being too loud, you take the short bike ride to campus, sitting in your usual corner in the library, also writing.

by the time friday comes around, it’s ready and you’re happy with it, confident in your works as you walk into the lecture hall between some other students. you follow them as they stop at his desk, placing their papers on a stack of other turned in assignments, following suit before sitting at the same seat as last time; far left, second row. this time there’s more people sat at the front, whispering and giggling as they gaze at the professor.

he’s sat at his desk, a similar suit to last like on except a beige colour. his glasses are off and placed on the wooden desk, a book partially obscuring his face as he reads and waits for it to be nine on the dot.

he can vaguely hear the students talking amongst themselves as he reads, but he doesn’t pay it too much mind. it was normal. a lot of his students found him attractive, and that was clear just by the way they talked while he was around. after a while, he glances up at the time, noting it was almost time for class to begin.

he closes his book, setting it off to the side before standing up behind the desk. his hands clasp behind his back.

he glances around the room as more students trickle in and take their seats. he notices you at the second row almost immediately, and he can’t help the small smile that crosses his face. he lets his eyes roam over you for a second before he looks away, noticing the other students chattering in their seats. he clears his throat, loud enough to make them stop and look at him.

“good morning, class.” he says loudly, glancing around once more before resuming, “i’ll be looking over your assignments after class, but for today i’d alike to talk about some literary devices. i know this is classic literature and you’re all expecting to be reading classics, but some groundwork should be set before we jump into analyses. for example, can anyone tell me what a hyperbole is? any guesses?”

he scans the room, as if challenging one of the students to answer. the students in the class are quiet, no one wanting to take the challenge. he hums after a couple minutes and walks around to the front of the desk to lean against the edge of it.

“no one? how about you,” he suddenly says, nodding to you.

you blink, taken aback by the fact he chose you in the sea of fifty-something students. after clearing your throat, you simply say, “an exaggeration, sir.”

he gives a small nod of approval, a smile accompanying it. he expected you to know it, one of the most basic terms in the subject, but could he really be blamed if he just wanted to hear your lovely voice?

“that’s correct. a hyperbole is an exaggeration. it’s also a useful tool in literature to convey specific emotions. i’m sure you’ve come across sentences such as... ‘i could kill him’ or ‘i can’t believe it. this assignment was a literal death sentence.’” he adds the last part in a joking manner, and the few students in the room who were paying attention let out a quiet bout of snickers. he gives you one last small smile before moving on.

he spends the rest of the lesson talking about all sorts of techniques used to enhance literature and the effects they have on the readers. sibilance creates a smooth flow and double entendres are often used to amuse the reader.

nearing the end of the class, he instructs everyone to start on their reading of “the picture of dorian gray” by oscar wilde while he starts going through the turned in assignments. you pull out the book, having borrowed it from the library the other day. you’ve read it before, but it was entertaining enough for you to be willing to read it again, leaning back in your seat comfortably as you flip to the first page.

professor park gets through the first couple of assignments, grading them and adding comments here and there. he finds your essay on the third assignment, and glances up to look at you sitting at your seat, reading so serenely. he takes the time to look you over for a moment before his focus turns to your paper in his hand. he can’t help the slight curiosity as to what you have written, so he begins reading.

he can tell from the quality of the writing alone what kind of writer you were. not like the others, you weren’t rushing with each sentence. no, each word was well thought out, each word placed delicately in the paragraph. it was obvious you had taken the time to write it, and it was obvious that you enjoyed writing even before he finishes reading the introduction. there is passion in the way you laid out your paragraphs. the way it seems so effortless for such words to spill onto your pages.

he finds himself rereading some of the sentences and paragraphs, just to see the way you had worded things. the way you describe how literature can make a person feel could be compared to a piece of art itself. a smile tugs at his lips as he finished reading, having become completely entranced in what you had written. he wanted more, he wanted to read even more of your writing, see more of your passion, more of you. he had expected to have to read through mindless writing but instead he had been surprised by something actually worthwhile.

at the end, he writes a decently-sized comment, a perfect grade circled in his black ink right below.

as he dismisses the class, it takes you a moment to register his words and the people filing out of the hall around you. but once you do, you fold over the corner of the page you’re on and start packing away your items.

as the class is now empty, the only person left in the room besides himself is you. he watches from behind the desk as you pack up your things, noticing the slight hesitation in your movements when you glance towards him. he takes a moment to just watch you before speaking up, his voice firm and clear.

“stay a moment, if you don’t mind.”

you glance up at him before looking around, making sure he was speaking to you before you nod, taking the steps down from the second row to the first, standing at the end of the seats expectantly.

he picks up something from his desk before making his way over to you, his long legs carrying him effortlessly.

he studies your face for a moment, holding up the stapled stack of papers that were your essay. he takes in your features as he speaks, his tone softer now that you’re alone, “you enjoy literature, i take it?”

you glance at the papers before meeting his eyes again, heat rising to your face at the realisation that his full attention was on you. that he was standing so close, just a step away, looking down at you ever so slightly. you give him a nod.

he hums softly in acknowledgement, his eyes looking at your face curiously. he can see the flush of your cheeks clearly, the way you’re keeping your gaze averted from his for the most part.

he glances down at the paper in his hand, tapping it against his fingers gently before looking back at you.

“your assignment. i read it,” he starts, flipping through the pages absentmindedly to keep him from staring at you too long, “it’s quite well written, and i can see the care you put into the language of it. i enjoyed reading it.”

he watches as your eyes queen ever so slightly, a certain sparkle that does not go unnoticed by him; can see the gears turning in your head as you take in his words, your face growing to an endearing mix of shy and embarrassed. he couldn’t exactly pinpoint what he was feeling, couldn’t describe it in any way other than a bloom of warmth in his chest, akin to familiarity.

“oh, thank you, sir.” you smile at him lightly, having been worried you were in trouble and about to be in the receiving end of his scolding.

he hums again, still looking at your face. he can’t help the slight grin that forms on his face as he hears you call him ‘sir.’ he liked the sound of it coming from you. he glances down at the paper again before speaking again, holding the stack out to you.

“i should be thanking you, really. you seem to be the only one to have put some effort into it,” he gave you a soft smile before nodding towards the door, “you may go now, i’ll see you next class.”

you smile and nod, giving him a slight bow before straightening up again. “have a nice day, sir.” and with that you leave, making a beeline to leave campus since you didn’t have anything else to do for the day.

the next time you see him is on monday, in class. he teaches as usual, introducing some context for the book you’re all supposed to be reading. he doesn’t talk to you during the class, though occasionally his eyes find yours and you can’t help but think they soften ever so slightly.

soon enough, you pick up on the fact that you have a similar routine on wednesday evenings. usually, you stay in the campus library for a little longer on those days, whether it’s to read or to work. you like it then because there’s usually barely anyone there, the library big enough for the students that are there to disperse out of each other’s views.

you notice him on your way in, talking to the librarian with a stack of three or four books on the counter. but sometimes you’d see him at a table or couch, or browsing through the shelves. and each time you smile at the sight of him before making your way straight to the second floor, ducking between some bookshelves on the far end to sit in your usual seat.

this may be your favourite spot on campus, maybe the whole city. a little sofa tucked against a big window, two bookshelves—historical fiction—on either side hiding you from the prying eyes of your peers. at this time, the sunlight is just right, a copper glow feeding the two little plants on the windowsill and providing a warmth that felt like a blanket on a cold winter day. it wasn’t too bright, able to look outside without squinting your eyes, enough light to read comfortably. there’s also a little round table that you use to place your laptop on if you need to work, though often you push it aside, favouring to relax on the plush sofa against the soft pillow and get lost in the pages of whatever book you got your hands on.

he’s noticed you there before, on his way to pick up a book from the bibliography section, right next to the historical fiction section where you resided. he soon comes to notice your form among the bookshelves that he passes by, doing a double take before he forces himself to continue along his way. when he finishes the bibliography exactly a week later, he offers to bring it back to its previous spot; in reality, he just wanted to see whether or not you’d be there again.

and sure enough, you were. and he slows down in his movements, looking at the way you’re curled up comfortably in the sofa.

he finds himself watching you silently from a distance for a while, just watching you flip to the next page in your book as you lay comfortably against the pillow, to absorbed in the story to notice him. you look completely at ease there, he finds himself thinking. the sunlight from the window seems to caress your features softly, and a part of him wondered what it would be like to be the sunlight for once, to touch your skin so softly and admire the details of it.

he watches you for a while, taking in your expressions as you turn the pages, before deciding to make his presence known. he takes a step, his leather shoes clunking against the polished wooden floors, “mind if i join you?”

your eyes dart up at the sound of his voice, flinching as you were caught off guard. once his words process, you offer him a smile, nodding as you retract your feet from the sofa to make some space for him. “yeah, of course, professor.”

he smiles warmly at your reply, settling into the newly available space on the sofa. now sitting, he realizes just how small the space is. it’s a two seater, so he ends up sitting very close to you, his side pressed right up to the armrest to prevent from being pressed against you. he glances at your face, noting the small reaction you had when you weren’t expecting him to approach. cute.

he leans back a little to get comfortable on the sofa. it’s quiet between them for a moment, both of them looking outside or at their books. the silence isn’t awkward, he finds. in fact, he quite enjoyed it in such proximity to you. he turns his gaze to watch your face, studying you; the curve of your nose, your lips that are pulled into a frown ever so slightly as you concentrate. his gaze then flicks down, to your sweatpants-clad legs tucked under you on the sofa, and lower to the hand holding the book.

you sit together in silence for a while, reading your respective books. you can’t stop yourself from glancing up at him occasionally, however, just wanting to catch a glimpse of his soft hair or perfect plump lips or the slope of his neck.

but when the sun go too low and the lights too dim and you could barely keep your eyes open, you let out a soft yawn, stretching. he glances up, opening his mouth to say something before his throat suddenly feel to dry to produce any words, distracted by the arch of your back and the curves of your hips. you look so inviting.

“tired?” he manages to force out with a slight chuckle, watching you slump back into your seat. he has the urge to brush away the stray hairs that fall over your cheeks.

you glance at him, nodding as you pull yourself off the couch for one last stretch before gathering your stuff and facing him. “i should probably head home,” you mutter.

“alright,” he pushes himself off the couch, closing his book, “i’ll walk you out.”

too tired to argue and insist he didn’t have to, you just nod, turning on your heels to walk out of the shelves, waiting at the end for him. the walk is silent, holding your breath and heart thumping in your chest each time his fingers brush against the back of your hand as you walk side by side.

this became a new routine. every wednesday, you’d find him or he’d find you, sitting in the little brown leather couch. and you’d stay there together for a while, talking or laughing or working or reading. there was no longer an awkward space separating the two of you, happily resting against each other, far from worried that anyone would see.

neither of you mentioned it, but it was the elephant in the room. you didn’t know what to call it, whatever was happening between you. but it felt good, it made you want to cling to his shirt and bury your face into the warm curve of his neck and never let go. but you couldn’t, no matter how much either of you wanted to.

and as the lines between professor and student blurred, you found yourself looking forward to your wednesdays with him.

and so did he. still, he often thought about how he behaved around you, like it was a secret meant for him and you and you and him.

the way he would find himself sitting closer and closer to you. the way he’d find his gaze lingering on you for too long. the way his mind would wander on how it would feel to run his fingers through your hair, trails them along your thighs. oh, how badly he wants to feel your skin against his own. the idea of what he was doing was dangerous, foolish for someone of his position.

but it’s hard to care when you’re right there next to him, in the soft light that makes your skin glow, your face relaxed and content as you read beside him.

one particular friday evening, it’s pouring, and you’re standing outside under where the roof of the humanities building entrance protruded, protecting me from the rain. this morning you had decided to walk to school instead taking the bike, though you suppose it wouldn’t have been much better with a bike.

your shoes are already wet from the puddle you had accidentally stepped into on your way out, your clothes soaked from having walked into the rain for a minutes as you hug your messenger bag close to your chest.

he’s on his way to his car when he spots you standing by the doorway, and he frowns as he notices you, soaked from the rain that pours mercilessly. he glances around, noticing the lack of anyone nearby thanks to the weather, before making his way towards you.

he stops a few steps in front of you, opening his umbrella to block the rain above both of you. "what are you doing standing out in the rain?"

“i walked to school this morning,” you look from him to the pouring rain, just a step away, “didn’t check the weather.”

he takes you in for a moment, taking in the way your clothes are sticking to you, your hair slightly damp. a small part of him found it quite adorable to see you like this.

"you’re soaked," he says, his voice firm and concerned, "you’re going to get sick like this." as if on cue, a shiver racks through your body. he notices, his expression softening as he takes a step closer, offering his free hand. “come on, i’ll drive you home.”

“oh, you really don’t have to,” you smile at him, grateful at his offer, worried about getting his car wet with your clothes, “i can just wait here until the rain stops.”

his eyes narrow slightly, taking your wrist lightly. "don’t be ridiculous," he scolds, "you’ll freeze to death if i leave you here."

you blink at him, not used to being on the receiving end of his firm tone. his concern making the corners of your lips tug up, you sighed softly, nodding, “alright, lead the way.”

a small smirk pulls at his lips as he watches you relent, giving in to his words. he steps to your side, releasing your wrist and putting a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the parking lot.

he pulls a tissue from his pocket, unfolding it and using it to gently pat your face. you giggle softly at his attempts to dry your face, reaching one of your hands up to take the handkerchief, your fingers brushing against each other before you dry your face yourself, your other hand helping him hold the umbrella in the strong wind, hand a little lower than his on the handle.

he looks at you with a small smile as his hand rests on the umbrella’s handle, moving to cover yours. his hand is a little bigger and warmer than yours. but as he guides you further towards the parking lot, he notices you shivering again, the cold air starting to get to you.

"if you get a cold, it’s your fault." he teases slightly, pulling you closer to his side, making you stumble a little before you regain your footing.

“oh no, i won’t be able to attend your 9 am lecture on monday, whatever will i do?” you gasp dramatically, holding back a laugh as you joke around, instinctively glancing around in case anyone saw. but everyone was gone, rushing home in the midst of the downpour.

he lets out a low laugh at your dramatic response, rolling his eyes playfully at you.

"stop that," he chastises, his hand on your waist keeping you from falling. it was hard to miss the nervous looks your threw around, and he knew exactly why.

“hm?” you glance up at him as he stops in front of what you assume is his car. it’s a black mercedes, sleek and modern. you clasp your hands behind your back, tilting your head, “no idea what you’re talking about.”

he pushes open the passenger door of his car, gesturing for you to get in. he shakes his head slightly with a scoff, his gaze raking down your figure for just a moment.

“sure you don’t,” he says in a slightly teasing tone, “just get in the car, angel.”

you blush lightly at the nickname but shake your thoughts away, looking down at the leather passengers seat before looking up at him again “but i’ll get your seat wet and mess it up.”

it takes him a moment to process your words, distracted by how the flush of your cheeks makes you look even lovelier. the thought that he was able to make you blush like that because of a simple nickname makes him bite back a giddy smile.

he shakes his head. “i’ll take my chances. just get in, you’re shivering.”

you don’t move for a moment, weighing your options; get his seat a little wet, or walk in the rain. deciding the former is obviously the better choice, you thank him silently as you slip into the passenger seat, securing your seatbelt after resting your bag in your lap

he shuts the door behind you and circles the car, walking to the driver’s side. his steps are a little rushed, eager to get out of the rain and into the warmth of the car.

he gets in the car, pulling the door shut behind him before he looks over at you. you sit quietly, your head down and hands in your lap.

it’s silent for a brief moment before he speaks up. “i’m gonna need your address, you know.”

“oh, right.” you hum, leaning forward to the screen on the dashboard to type in your address. it takes some effort, your muscles mostly focused on your legs as you try not to seat my full weight in an attempt to not ruin his seat despite what he said earlier.

he says absolutely nothing, his gaze glued to the arch of your back. he swallows hard, clenching his jaw as he keeps his eyes trained on you, fighting the urge to reach a hand and touch you.

he clears his throat, “just lean back into the seat.”

before you can protest, he’s pushing down on your thigh until you’re fully seated. you give him a playful glare as you finish typing the address. it’s just over a five-minute drive, while walking in this weather would’ve taken you nearly twenty.

he looks at you with a chuckle, his hand still on your thigh, giving it a slight squeeze.

“now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he jokes, giving your thigh a tap before pulling his hand away, turning the ignition on and pulling out of the parking space.

the drive to your place is quiet except for the sound of the rain outside. he has the heat on full blast to keep you warm. every now and then he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

the heat makes you shudder, holding your fingers up to the air to warm them up a bit.

he can’t help as his mind thinks of how cute you look, all bundled up with your bag in your lap. and the urge to touch you, god, the urge to run his fingers through your hair.

“we’re almost there, don’t worry,” he mutters as he tears his gaze away from you.

“hey, um,” you start after a few moments of silence, glancing at him, “if you want, you can come up and we could have some coffee or tea or something together. if my roommate doesn’t mind, which she probably won’t, she’s really nice so i wouldn’t worry. but you don’t have to if you don’t want to! i just, uh, wanna thank you properly… for this.”

he watches with a fond smile as you ramble, stopping at a red light. he’s about to accept the offer, tell you that he’d love to, but the realisation of your roommate being there changes things, his expression turning solemn.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea…” he mumbles, avoiding your piercing eyes.

your brows furrow ever so slightly, a frown threatening to override your features. “why not?”

he swallows, pulling over in front of the address you had typed into the gps.

“i’m your professor,” he starts, his tone firm, “it would be unprofessional if we’re caught.”

he hopes you can’t notice the way he’s gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary.

“that hasn’t stopped you so far, though,” you muse, chuckling lightly despite your confusion of his suddenly change in sentiments, trying to ease the tension.

“but don’t you think it’s a bit suspicious that we’ve been sitting together in the library every week, completely hidden away?” he mutters, “if someone saw us, someone who didn’t know, it would look bad. this could be worse.”

“i thought you liked being there with me…” his words get to you this time, actually frowning as you turn to look out the window instead of at him, noticing you were in front of your house.

shit.

he mentally berates himself upon noticing the slight change in your expression, realizing with a pang of guilt that his words bothered you, having come out the wrong way.

“oh, angel,” he starts, letting go of the steering wheel. his hand reaches for you, and before he can stop himself, it’s cradling your face.

“i do. i like being with you there,” he sighs, gently pulling your face to make you look at him, his thumb caressing your cheek. “you have no idea how much i enjoy it.”

his touch on your face feels warm, and his words even warmer as his directs you to look at him. you don’t say anything.

he’s not used to this, to you being quiet and still. he’s too used to your carefree self being full of jokes and laughter. he doesn’t like you like this, looking at him with disappointment written on your face.

“what i meant is,” he murmurs, the pad of his thumb moving across your cheek to your chin, tilting your head up so your eyes meet his, “i’m just worried about your roommate.”

“i like spending time with you, princess,” he continues, his tone firmer this time, “i like it a lot, alright?”

your frown eases at his words, nodding as you answer in a whisper, “okay.”

he lets out a small sigh of relief, his fingers tracing down from your chin to the side of your neck, and then your collarbone. he gently caresses your skin with the lightest of touch, letting the pad of his fingertip graze your skin.

he tries to ignore the voice in the back of his mind telling him to tug you across the console and kiss you. he shouldn’t.

he shakes himself out of his thoughts, pulling his hand away reluctantly. glancing out the window, he sees your place right in front of him.

“we’re here,” he murmurs, looking back at you. his gaze softens when he sees the remnants of the frown still on your face, and his hand gently reaches out to give your thigh a light squeeze.

“come on,” he says quietly, “let’s go.”

you look out the window before nodding, unbuckling and stepping out, walking to your front door as he accompanies you with an umbrella. you rummage around in your bag, trying to find the keys. groaning as you realise you were in such a rush this morning you must’ve forgotten them in the bowl where you and your roommate place your keys so you don’t lose them. with a sigh, you ring the doorbell, waiting for her to answer.

but she never comes. and that’s when you realise she had the late shift at work today. you groan, frustrated as you thump your forehead against the wooden door.

great, he thinks to himself as he watches you struggle trying to get inside. and then you turn around, with a frustrated sigh, and a thump of the door.

he can’t help but feel like the world is against him. the universe wants to punish him, to test his limits.

he bites the inside of his cheek, watching you and listening to you as you mutter about your locked door.

“i don’t have my keys, my roommate isn’t home,” you explain, kicking the door light before burying your face in your hands, your voice a little muffled, “oh, i’m so sorry, hwa.”

he stands there, watching you explain your situation, and he fights back a smile at your last sentence.

hwa*.*

he likes it when you call him that. spending three months growing closer, you’ve evidently given each other little nicknames.

he glances over at the parked car behind him, before back at you. “do you need a place to stay?” he asks, trying to keep his tone neutral again.

“i don’t wanna bother you too much,” you shake your head, running your hands over your face “please, i can just wait here for her to get back.”

he doesn’t like how you’re trying to push him away. frowning, watching you as you shake your head and run your hands over your face in defeat. he closes the distance between you, taking hold of your wrists and pulling your hand away from your face gently.

“it’s pouring,” he reminds you, “your clothes are soaking wet. and you think you can just sit here on the front porch until your roommate comes back?”

“i don’t want to inconvenience you any more,” you murmur, your hands relaxing as he pulls your wrists away from your face.

his chest tightens at your words, at how stubborn you’re being. he sighs.

“you’re not inconveniencing me,” he insists, “i’d feel better knowing you’re inside with dry clothes and a warm drink than out here soaked to the bone.”

you contemplate his offer for a moment before sighing, nodding, “okay, if you insist.”

his heart nearly skips a beat at your agreement, and it takes all his willpower not to visibly show the relief that washes over him.

he tightens his hold on your wrist for a moment, before gently guiding you back to his car. he opens the passenger door for you, waiting until you get in before he shuts the door and circles around to the driver’s side.

he starts the ignition again, the warm air blasting through the vents yet again. you hold your hands in front of the hot air again, glancing over as you hear his door open and close as he slips. “in is it a long drive?”

he lets out a scoff, looking over to you with a teasing smile. “it’s a whole two minute drive. i’ll try not to bore you too much.”

he turns back to the window, pulling out of the parking spot. the rain starts again, and the sound of it pounds against window before he turns on the wipers.

“oh dear me, i can already feel myself falling asleep,” you slump your head back and pretend to snore, back to being playful.

he turns to look at you, watching your dramatics with a fond grin. “shut up, you,” he says, reaching out to pinch your side gently.

you giggle as he pinches your side, opening your eyes again to look out the window, watching buildings and cars glide past as he drives smoothly. true to his word, just a few minutes later he’s pulling into the underground parking lot of an apartment building.

he parks in front of a spot numbered ‘407’, cutting the ignition as soon as he does.

he glances at you briefly before nodding almost to himself.

“come on,” he says with a jerk of his chin, gesturing for you to follow as he gets out of the car.

his longer strides have him walking faster than usual, and it takes him a conscious effort to slow down for you to keep up.

he presses the ‘up’ button and the elevator doors part within seconds. he steps into the elevator, holding the door open for you to enter.

it’s a silent ride up. his mind is racing, though he doesn’t show it outwardly. his hands are in his pocket, and he keeps his eyes trained on the blinking numbers signifying each floor.

the elevator dings and the doors open and he steps out without looking back to see if you’re following, striding down the hallway, making a turn to a door marked ‘407’.

he fishes for his keys in his pocket, pulling them out before unlocking and opening the door as you look around the empty hallway, your gaze lingering on the mass-produced paintings hanging on the wall that he knows can be seen on every other floor of this building.

the apartment is spacious, with plenty of open floor space for the front room. the color scheme is simple and neat, with a large armchair and a small couch that sits in front of a flat screen tv, as well as a wooden coffee table.

he steps in, taking a moment to kick his shoes off and set his stuff down. he looks over his shoulder, watching you step into the apartment as he places his umbrella in the umbrella rack and hangs up his coat.

you grimace as your shoes squelch when you step in, muttering apologies as you take them off and leave them outside of the door in the hallway instead, not wanting to mess up his flooring.

he raises an eyebrow, watching you as you leave your wet shoes in the hall. he’s about to say something when he’s interrupted by the sound of a small meow.

a ball of black fur appears at his feet, nuzzling against his ankle, and he smiles, scooping the cat into his arms without a word.

he scratches behind the cat's ears as it purrs in his arms, the sound of its soft mews filling the room. he can see a hint of confusion on your face, watching the cat with interest as he holds it, its front paws resting on his chest.

"his name is kuma," he explains, bringing the cat up to his face and letting it rub against his cheek.

you nearly melt at the sight, stepping into the house with wet socks as you coo at the cat, the front door falling shut behind you automatically. “i didn’t know you have a cat.”

he has to physically stop himself from grinning as you nearly swoon at the sight of his cat, covering up his smile with a cough. he shakes his head, lowering the cat gently to the floor. it runs over in your direction, nuzzling against your ankles much like it did to him moments ago, before disappearing down the hallway into the heart of the apartment.

"i got him a couple months back," he says, taking in the sight of your soaked clothes once more. he lets out a sigh, tilting his head toward the hall.

he glances down at your feet, eyeing your soaked socks, before looking back up to your face.

"you can shower if you'd like. I can lend you some clothes to change into," he says, pointing down the hall toward the bedroom.

“oh, yes please,” you nod, relieved that he offered instead of you having to ask.

he nods and starts down the hallway, motioning for you to follow him. as you follow, you look around. just like his car, the design of his apartment is sleek and modern, glowing in warmth as he uses a variety of floor lamps and shelf lamps to light up the interior instead of headache-inducing overhead lights. the furniture and walls are light in colour, a variety of whites and beiges.

it’s an open floor plan, the kitchen and living grouped together, separated by a counter island and some stools. the countertops of the kitchen have a glossy white finish, everything clean. a narrow hallway leads to some three doors, which you assume are his bedroom, a bathroom, and guest bedroom or office.

he stops first in front of a door, where the cat lies on the floor, tail flicking back and forth. he bends down to pet the cat briefly.

"that's the bathroom. the towels are in there. I'm just going to grab some clothes for you," he says, giving you a quick glance before striding away toward the bedroom.

your eyes follow him as he walks away, before letting out a soft yelp at the feeling of something furry wrapping around your ankle. looking down, you realise it’s kuma, giggling as you crouch down to pet him.

he returns a few moments later, taking a moment to watch as you play with his cat so nicely before clearing his throat, making you stand back up as he hands you the stack of clothes.

“feel free to use whatever you need in there,” he nods towards the bathroom door, “you can leave your clothes in the basket, i’ll put them in the laundry later.”

“thank you, hwa.” you grin at him, accepting the clothing before disappearing into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

you shower with warm water, relaxing every muscle in your body as you wash off the rain. without any other choices, you’re left to use his shampoo. it smells of him, a deep vanilla. when you finish, you dry off and change into the clothes he brought, using your own previous undergarments as he obviously didn’t have those on hand.

the clothes are quite large on you, hanging off your body as you tighten the string of the sweatpants. you pat your hair partially dry with the towel before tossing everything in the laundry basket, stepping out to go to the living room.

only to see he wasn’t there. shrugging, you figure he’ll return soon as you flop onto the couch, kuma coming to sit with you after a moment. you sprawl out a bit as you realise just how spacious the couch is, the cat padding all over your body, playing with the drawstrings of the hoodie he gave you before curling up on your stomach.

meanwhile, he’s in the shower of his bedroom’s en-suite bathroom attempting to get himself together, both physically and mentally. the water feels amazing on his skin as it beats down on him, and he tries to relax his muscles as he lathers shampoo in his hair.

but his mind keeps going back to you, and how you’re probably already in his living room.

wearing his clothes.

he sighs, leaning his head against the shower wall as he tries to push those thoughts out of his mind. he stands there for what feels like hours, letting the hot water hit his skin before shutting off the shower and stepping out. he dries himself off, quickly drying his hair enough so that it’s not dripping all over his floor before he getting in record time, pulling on an old pair of sweats and a loose black shirt.

he takes another deep breath, opening the bathroom door as he ruffles his damp hair. he starts to make his way toward the living room, hoping that you’re just as nervous as he is.

he turns the corner and enters the living room, nearly freezing in his place at the sight of you sitting on the couch with kuma. you look good. comfortable.

by the time he makes it back, you’d be kuma are no longer sitting calmly, practically rolling around on the couch as you try to get away from the playful punches of his paws. he feels his heart flutter at the sight and the sound of your laughter.

there’s just something about seeing you getting along with his cat that makes his heart nearly skip a beat. he silently watches from the hall for a moment, just gazing at the two of you playing together before clearing his throat to make his presence known.

you look up at the sound, grinning at him stupidly. you glance at his clothes, noting that he’s wearing comfortable clothes now rather than his usual suits. “oh, hey,” you say between giggles as kuma continues to jump all over you.

his heart stutters at the sight of your grins and the sound of your giggles, at the joyful look on your face. he swallows, forcing his arms to cross over his chest to keep himself from reaching out and pulling you against him.

trying to appear nonchalant even though he’s having a hard time doing so, he walks over to the couch, standing at the end of the coffee table and looking down at you.

“seems like you’re having fun together,” he remarks with a slight nod towards kuma.

“uh huh,” you nod before squealing, covering your face as kuma’s paws swat against your cheek, attacking you, your stomach hurting from laughing.

he lets out a scoff, watching kuma pawing at you and your failed attempts to shield your face from the attacks. he can’t help but let a small smile settle on his face, his heart fluttering again at the sight of you two.

“he’s playing rough,” he comments with a smile, walking to the couch and plopping down beside you.

you crawl over to his other side, hiding your face under his arms as kuma chases, “help me, hwa.”

his heart skips a beat as you hide under his arm, ducking away from the harmless kitten. he can’t help but laugh, finding the situation both endearing and adorable.

“I think you can handle kuma, doll,” he teases, grinning down at you as you continue to use him as a human shield.

“he’s a beast,” you try to sound serious, your voice muffled against his sleeve as kuma starts attacking him instead.

“he’s not that bad,” he teases, grabbing the cat by his little body and lifting him up in front of his face, “see? look at this face. he’s not even one bit menacing.”

“that’s the face of evil!” you exclaim, sitting up and placing the back of your hand on your forehead to fall into his lap dramatically, feigning death, my body draped over his thighs faced down.

he looks down at you as you go limp against him, and he can’t help but laugh at your antics.

“don’t be so dramatic,” he grins. he lets kuma go, watching as he climbs down your combined bodies to muzzle against your cheek before moving away to curl up in his usual spot in the corner of the couch. “i think he’s gonna end up liking you more than me.”

“good,” you hum, closing your eyes and relaxing in his lap, forearm under your chin so it doesn’t dig into his legs.

he rolls his eyes jokingly, resting his hand on your back and tracing down your spine, “very funny.”

you chuckle at his response, sighing softly, content where you are. in the privacy of his home, you’re not scared of being affectionate, especially not as his hand traces down to rest against the small of your back, eliciting a faint shudder.

his heart hammers in his chest as his hand trails further down to the back of your thigh, the feeling of your plump flesh beneath the fabric, under his touch igniting something in him. he has to remind himself to breathe, trying to control the rush of blood that is steadily flowing downward.

enjoying the feeling of his hand kneading the back of your thigh, you go a little silent before turning to look up at him, a question that’s been balancing on the top of my tongue for three months finally spilling out.

“hwa… what exactly are we? what is this?” you point between the two of you as you mutter the question.

his hand freezes the second he hears it. he’s been avoiding that question since the two of your really started seeing each other every wednesday months ago, but he knows he can’t anymore. not when it’s thrown straight at his face.

he takes a deep breath, avoiding your gaze for a moment. he lets the silence sit for a few more seconds as he considers his answer, then looks down at you.

“i don’t know,” he mutters, his hand moving to rest on your waist, “i’ve been asking myself the same thing.”

“well, what is this to you then?” you ask softly, sitting up to be eye level with him, kneeling beside him.

the question sounds more demanding coming from you face to face, eye to eye, and his heart is beating fast enough that he fears you can hear it. he swallows, looking into your eyes.

“a distraction,” he mutters, his gaze flitting to your lips for a moment before going back to your eyes, preparing his next words.

but before he can continue, you visibly deflate at his answer, sitting back as i nod. a distraction. “i see,” you tear your gaze away from him, getting up, making his hand drop from you, “i’m gonna go to bed, wheres the guest room?”

he feels his heart twist at the sight of you leaving his touch, a dejected look on your face.

he’s never seen you back off so quickly before. not like this. he watches you get up and stand over him, a step too far for him to reach for you agajn, his heart tightening in his chest.

“wait, doll-“ he starts, reaching out to take your hand.

“what? you said what you said.”

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he mutters, his tone firmer. he stands up from the couch, towering over you. he holds a hand out to you. “come here, please.”

“then how else could you possibly mean it,” you scoff lightly, eying his hand but not taking it.

“listen, doll,” he mutters, holding back a huff of frustration. “you can’t seriously think that I would call this a distraction,” he gestures between the two of you. “a distraction. you really think that you are just a distraction to me?”

“well is that not what you said?” you mutter, trying to prevent your lips from trembling as a lump latches itself onto your throat.

he lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. he reaches out and grabs your wrist, tugging you closer to him. he can feel the tension in your body, and he hates it. he hates himself for causing it.

“you didn’t let me finish. i didn’t mean it like that,” he mutters, looking directly into your eyes, resting your hands in his chest. “you’re not just some random, meaningless distraction to me.”

your fingers flex slightly as he holds them up to his chest, right over his heart, “then tell me how you really feel about me if i’m not a distraction”

he looks into your eyes, holding onto your wrists firmly but gently, his thumbs rubbing against your skin, the inside of your wrists.

he’s never seen you like this before. this vulnerable and open in front of him. he can feel the tension in your body, the stiffness in your shoulders and the tightness in your jaw.

he wants to smooth out those frowning lines on your face, erase that look of uncertainty in your eyes.

“you’re more than just a distraction to me,” he mutters. “you’re an obsession. you’re all i think about, doll. i think about you constantly. i don’t know how else to describe it other than an obsession,” he continues, his voice getting softer as he speaks. “i can’t shake you. you’ve gotten in my head and you’ve been living in there rent free for months and you refuse to get out. even when i try to ignore you,” he lets out a scoff, looking into your eyes, “even when i pretend to ignore you, you’re still there. you don’t leave my mind.”

his heart races as the words spill out of his mouth, like there’s a dam bursting inside of him. the feelings that he’s been bottling up for months finally coming out, and he doesn’t want to stop, letting those words tumble out and onto you. he can see that you’re listening intently, that you’re listening intently as his grip on your wrists tightens, almost as if he’s scared that you’re going to run away from him.

“you’ve got me so distracted i can barely focus on anything that doesn’t involve you,” he admits in a low voice, glancing down at your wrists. “i can’t even teach my own goddamn class without thinking about you.”

you’re speechless, even as he finishes, staring up at him with wide dumbfounded eyes, feeling his hammering heart beneath your fingertips just as how he feels yours under his as his thumbs continue to rub the inside of your wrists.

you suppose you can always rely on a literature professor for an extravagant, dramatic confession.

he continues to hold onto you. he’s never seen you this speechless and dumbfounded before, and he’s torn between how good it feels to see you like this and how bad it things could go now that his feelings were out.

he swallows, looking down at your wrists. he can feel your pulse point under his thumb. “say something, angel,” he murmurs, a pleading tone in his voice.

instead, you pull your hands out of his grip to wrap them around his neck, pulling him down, placing your lips against his urgently, your eyes falling shut.

his heart hammers in his chest as he kisses you back, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you against him, his fingers curling into your hoodie. he wants to kiss you forever, wants to make up for all those months of holding back, but his lungs are burning from the lack of air and he’s forced to pull away to breathe.

he lets out a sigh, his forehead falling to the crown of your head. his hands stay on you, still holding you against him. he can still feel your heart racing against his chest.

“that was your idea of saying something?”

“uh huh,” you hum, chuckling softly as you thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, mind full of him. seonghwa, seonghwa, seonghwa.

he closes his eyes as he feels your fingers, enjoying the feeling of your fingertips against his scalp. he still has his arms around you, unwilling to let go yet. he leans down just enough to press a kiss to your temple, his lips brushing softly against your skin.

“but seriously,” you snicker, pulling away from him a little “i am kinda tired, wheres the guest bed?”

he almost lets out a whine when you pull away from him, opening his eyes reluctantly. he looks down at you, a frown on his face.

“you’re really gonna go sleep by yourself?” he mutters, an almost petulant tone in his voice as he quirks his brow.

“is that not what i’m supposed to do?“

“you really think i’m going to let you sleep alone after… that? come on now, you’re not that dense.”

“i know, i just wanted you to say it,” you giggle after a moment, grinning up at him as you lean down to scoop up kuma from the couch.

he lets out a scoff, rolling his eyes, but he’s unable to hide the small smile of his own. he reaches out and ruffles your hair, letting out a scoff. “you’re insufferable.”

“and you just said you’re obsessed with me,” you shrug, kissing his cheek as his hand find the small of your back, leading you don’t the hallway, “where does the kitty sleep?”

he looks down at kuma, still curled up in your arms, practically purring himself to death. “baby, he’s a cat. he’ll sleep wherever he wants.”

you snort, setting him down on a little armchair in the corner of his room, next to some bookshelves stacked with books upon books, and more books. you lean down to pet him a few more times as seonghwa watches you with a fond smile.

he watches you as he sits on the bed, his heart clenching at how good you look in his bedroom. it feels almost surreal, having you here in his home. he pats the spot next to him.

“get over here, baby.”

networks. @cromernet @cultofdionysusnet @wonderlandnet @atzhouse

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl

@likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd

@coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf @okdudeiime

[genderless-naper]

sweet words

trafalgar law x gf!reader

sfw, fluff!

warnings: some mention of blood

wc: 1.5k, lowercase intended!

law never expected for his words to have a strong effect on you. he decides to use them to his advantage when you’re refusing to listen.

⇣ credits to the original artist

you and law still have a lot to learn about each other. granted you both have only recently decided to put a label on. you knew you both liked each other, but being asked to be with his felt like it took an eternity. nonetheless you two were ecstatic to finally be official after beating around the bush for months.

before making it official, law only really knew one side to you. that was the side that was meant for friends. he believed he would now see a different side of you, especially since he was more than just a friend. to his surprise he never saw a change in your behavior. you remained the same as when you both were friends. he found it strange, but in the end he decided not to press you about it. you probably will once you’re more comfortable. right? plus, he wasn’t one to talk much either. in fact, he seemed more refined than you had been since getting together.

he found you amusing, particularly your ability to refuse anyone's nonsense. your boldness and confidence made you stand out in these endless seas. with your bounty arguably high he often times found you handling rival pirates and their attacks with ease. you made it difficult for law to focus on his own battles. as worried he could be he still trusted you to not do anything rash.

unforeseen circumstances would soon cause that to change. worried crew- members rushed around the submarine to find law. one they found him, their words tumbling over one another in a chaotic attempt to communicate.

law felt uneasy when the mention of your name arose, “everyone be quiet. only one of you needs to speak so i can actually hear something.”

the crew looked at each other quietly until penguin cleared his throat, “y/n was keeping these pirate hunters away a-and…”

law felt a sudden heaviness form in his chest, “and what..? what happened to her?”

penguin kept his eyes glued to the ground, “she’s with bepo.. she was b-bleeding a lot…”

without a second thought law swiftly created the hand signals to activate his room and shambles. he moved himself to the land the submarine was docked next to.

he took in his surrounding, and saw bepo’s white fur l sitting down with back facing law’s direction. he made his was over to the bear without a second thought. his breath hitched as he saw you on the ground in a bruised and slightly bloody mess. law couldn’t tell if the majority of the fluid was your blood or of the pirate hunters. he dropped to his knees next to the bear to check your pulse. a sigh of relief parted from him as he felt the slow but steady beat against his finger tips.

bepo held you tight while tears trickled down his face, “i told her to be c-careful! now shes gonna die!”

you opened your eyes slowly and let a frail laugh out, “c’mon now.. i’m not gonna die from some stupid pirate hunters?”

law couldn’t conceal the relief that flushed over him, “you’re okay y/n-ya… don’t ever do something so reckless. especially without informing me first”

you sat up slowly and fixed yourself, “i was fine until their stupid devil fruit user. i should’ve knocked him into the water while i still had the chance.” you wince in your attempt to sit up. you held your pained side instinctively.

law spotted your pain immediately since his eyes were focused in your every movement, “i need to treat you y/n.”

you shook your head. you didn’t want to be perceived as weak. it would damage the strong front you’ve built for yourself. law knew you wouldn’t give in so easily, but your strong facade was the least of his concerns. he wouldn’t risk leaving you untreated.

you stood up from your seated position next to bepo. you ignored the minks protests and concerns. law watched as you swayed, struggling to keep your balance, until you ultimately fell back to the ground.

you hadn’t noticed you were falling to the ground until law reached out to grab you. he stayed in his seating position. and helped you to lay back down while resting your head on his lap. every fragile breath you took amplified the tattooed man’s concerns.

he moved strands of hair from your face, and carefully wiped as much dirt off as he could. he knew the only way to get you to listen was to talk you into it. he held your eye contact and spoke clearly, “i know you don’t want to y/n-ya, but you need to hear me out. you need to let me make sure you’re okay because you did so great protecting the submarine”

you looked up through your lashes and spoke tiredly, “i did great..?”

law hums lowly, “you did it better than i could’ve ever asked for. thank you for giving it your all baby.” he took one of your hands in his in order to hold it. never once breaking eye contact.

law didn’t expect for his words to work so well. he continued to use them to his advantage, “you did so amazing so in return im gonna make sure you’re well.”

your once smile broke off quickly, “i don’t need a check-up law! i’m fine!” you sit back up slowly, and turn your back to face him.

law knew he had to use his words more efficiently, “i know you dont think you need one, but it would mean a lot to me if you let me help you y/n.”

he recognized your walls faltering slowly. he helped you to stand then used his devil fruit to move you both inside the submarine. he helped you into the examination table while making sure to send his supportive words your way.

uneasiness was still painted on your face as he talked you into doing his basic checkup routine. as he was in the process of cleaning and covering your cuts he spoke out to you, “i know this is the last thing you want to do be doing, but i just want you to know that you’re doing great. it’s gonna be over soon.”

a slight blush crept to your face, “you really think so?”

law looks up from his task and flashes a small smile, “i really do think so. im proud of you for doing something you would rather want to avoid. this is better than just being physically strong sweetheart.”

he started to put away his supplies, and continue to look over the tests he had done. law had left the conversation to quiet down so his focused attention on his work.

you watched the man in front of you do all that he could to make sure you were feeling better. you broke the quiet as you spoke in a hushed tone, “could you say that again..?”

law looked up from his papers with a confused expression. the recent conversation had already left his mind, “say what?”

you cleared your throat, “what you called me just now.”

law recalled the conversation to find your reference, “the only thing i called you was sweetheart?”

your eyes lit up when he repeated it, “yeah that!” your tone went back hushed, “can you call me that again..?”

the man put away the remainder of equipment as he smirked. he stood in front of your seated figure, and put both his palms in the table next to your hips, “why should i? do you like when i call you that sweetheart?”

you kept your head down to hide your reddened face, “kinda…”

law wasn’t quite satisfied with your answer. he tilted your chin up to look at him, “yes or no y/n. do you want me to keep calling you sweetheart? does that make you happy?”

you couldn’t disguise the affect law’s words had on you. he had never talked to you this way, and you never expected to like these reassuring expressions, yet here you were with a pleading look to be told more.

you nod slowly trying to piece together a proper response, “i guess it does make me happy. it makes me feel warm and comforted..”

law chuckled at your response, “well i’m proud of you for telling me that you like it. i’ll use my words more often if its what pleases you darling. tell me what else you want to be called.”

your smile was increasing in appearance, “i don’t really know. i just know that i like it when you call me that.”

law chuckles again at your honesty, “its okay if you don’t know right now. we can always test and see what you enjoy hearing sweetheart. you just have to make sure you tell me when you do. can you promise to me that you will baby?”

you nodded fast at his proposal, “i promise i will”

he saw your growing smile that hinted at being please with his offer. although you were both new to the relationship, you knew that as time passed, you would discover more about each other and reveal different sides of yourselves. each moment together would promise deepened connections. this would make the journey of getting to know one another all the more exciting.

[yaut-jaknowit]

I really love "The Wrong Secret to Hold". Can I request the yautja in that fic ? He and reader are just enjoying their day and reader is an artist and Ahtaal(?) is very intrigued of readers creativity.

An Artist's Touch

Character: Ahtaal (Male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Summary: As an artist, a talent not many Yautjas possess, you are seen commodity like no other. There are few humans on Yautja Prime. Let one's that are under the empress's protection. Being different, you strayed away from the palace with her permission to stay in a town far in the world. Ahtaal's town. He's intrigued to see someone make something out of nothing.

Author Note: This is what I wish my life to be. I want to be resting on Yautja Prime, sketch book in hand, and just enjoying the deadly nature. Gods, I wish!

Masterlist

Ao3

Underneath an awning that offered plenty of shade a pencil and sketch were hand. Despite the credits you hold, you’ve found a spot within a tribe that resides in temperate area on Yautja Prime. It’s small. Less than fifty Yautjas are strewn across the territory, But it was perfect for yourself along the clan. They accepted you due to your talent.

Creating art. Murals painted on walls in important Yautjas houses. Including the empress all the way in Kov. She tried to offer you all the riches to stay at her palace. But, your wanted to explore, see the planet from a deep, inside look. Being inside the empress’s palace, practically trapped, offered you none of that. A city filled with Yautjas. What you wanted to see was the outside world. How they hunt, how they think. It made the murals you created come to life.

A morning dew softened the air that would soon turn hot. This area was considered temperate to them. To a human, it was far too hot for you to stand directly in the sunlight. The suns themselves would turn your skin red in less than five minutes. A planet that wasn’t meant your kind. That didn’t stop you from being out in a designated spot that had been crafted just for you.

The thatch on top plenty thick to prevent a single strand of sunlight from slipping through. You were sitting on a plush bean bag like chair. It was soft and body conforming. The furs used to cover it came from a creature you couldn’t even try to say the name. But their fur was so soft, it felt like being on a cloud. You enjoyed the calmness that floated through the air. The sketch book and pencil in your hand is all you needed for the morning.

Nearly silent footfalls had you picking up your head and finding a familiar red figure walking into the shade. A bright smile graced your features. “Ahtaal,” you greeted. The strong male strolled up to the foot of the plush seat you’ve taken and gazed down at you. “What do I owe to be graced with your presence?”

After picking a tribe to live with, Ahtaal had made a blood oath to the empress to ensure your safety. Though humans and Yautjas are an uncommon sight to see, you were one of the very few to be allowed to live freely. There were no ifs, ands, or buts to your presences amongst the Yautjas. Your talented hands ensured you had a place. The empress gracing you sanctum anywhere on the planet. Here you choose to be, of all places. But the face of Ahtaal was one you’d never pass up on.

The lumbering giant squats down in front of you and peers over the edge of the book. “I see you working away on another project,” he explained, eyes curiously running over the sketch you’ve started. Another commission for an ancient somewhere on the planet. Maybe she was up north? You let the book fall flat on your lap. Your artwork wasn’t something you hid, let alone from him.

The sketch book is turned around to face Ahtaal. “Yep, someone up north I think commissioned me. Got some more credits in the pockets.” Even as someone protected by the empress, you still liked to work for your own money. There was plenty you had since you had little to spend it on. No clothes, food, shelter, or supplies. It was just there so when anyone commissioned you, they could pay for your work. Though, gifts were another way for them pay you. There are a few trinkets you enjoyed happily every since you got them.

Carefully, Ahtaal ran just the side of his sharp claw over the pages. He traced over some of the darker, more permanent lines that marked what you truly had in mind. A deep hum rumbled from his throat. The male focused on what you’ve created on paper. A talent he will never possess, no matter how many times you egg him in.

“What do they ask for?” he questioned and brought his bright eyes up to yours. The contrast was stark. Calm, soft verses fierce, predatory. He wished there was a way to capture the beautiful color of your irises and color it somewhere in his dwelling.

The way they brightened at the question. “That snarly beast that reminds me of a carnivore looking horse that lives near the north pole.” The hairs on your arm raised at the thought of the creature. It was beyond ugly and terrifying at the same time. It looked completely unnatural when you try to give it a logical look to it with earth creatures in mind.

Ahtaal snorted, mandibles twitching with a few slow nods. Then, his gaze drops back down to the sketch book. The pages were nearly full. A constant thing for yourself.

For such an advanced species… their entertainment was limited to mainly hunting. As a human that can’t participate in such a thing, you have limited ways of filling the time. You wield pencils, not swords.

“Is this your last sketch book?” Ahtaal was responsible for your wellbeing. That includes taking care of all needs and wants under the order of the empress. But, it wasn’t only just because he was under oath.

The hand on your book lifted off. A sharp, black ended talon tipped your chin back up to meet his intense stare. You licked at your suddenly dry lips and swallowed hard. You felt mushy. “I-uh…” you cleared your throat. “Uh, yeah, it is.” Your heart stuttered in your chest while gazing into his eyes. If only you could look into them all day.

“Then, I shall go get more when time permits. I cannot have my little ooman without paper to draw on,” he grunted. The back of his shiny claw was dragged across your jawline, all the way up to your ear. With a swipe, it left your skin. More goosebumps rose across the skin on your arms. “Will you survive until tomorrow for me to get more?”

Your throat was dry. His words had soared over your head. All you were able to focus on was his gentle, mind consuming touch. You melted.

When you found your voice, you speak in a tiny voice. “Yeah.” How could one person reduce you to a school girl in front of her crush? You gnawed on your bottom lip and pulled on the skin harshly. Blood painted your tastebuds.

Red finger grasped your chin and lightly jerked down on it. “Don’t,” he warned and stopped you from mutilating your lip again. You licked at the new wound, unable to look away from his eyes. Ahtaal swipes over the moisten skin with his thumb. You weren’t able to stop yourself from licking at the deadly, pointed claw that tipped the end of his finger.

All the muscles in his body tensed up in the same manner as your own. You couldn’t believe you had just done that. It had only been a thought. Yet, apparently, your body had a different thought of its own.

At first, your mouth opened and closed. Your brain couldn’t figure out a way to make up an excuse for the stupidity you had just pulled. “Shit, I-I didn’t… Fuck, why did I do that?” you whined to yourself and pulled away.

Except, Ahtaal tightened his grip on your chin and tugged you in closer. Your lips were parted, eyes wide as you looked up at him. Stars sparkling in them. Something changed within his gaze. A darker, heavier tint to the usually light colored irises.

“You… play a dangerous game, little ooman,” he growled out and emphasized his point by tugging you an inch closer to him. The warmth of his breath fanned over your face. “And I don’t know if you know what you’re getting yourself into.” You wettened your lips again. A habit hard to break. His eyes darted down to watch the action then seemed to soften. Like a whine was on the tip of his tongue.

Everything he said… Your heart continued to thunder loudly in its cavern. You swallowed hard and raised a hand to just touch at the column of his throat. The scales soft under your touch. A vulnerable place for any creature. Ahtaal lets you freely run your finger pads from his jaw down the front to where his collarbones meet.

The texture of his scales weren’t like anything you’ve felt before. Tough in a fight. You let your dull nails to trace a pattern through the spaces of the scales. Your hand continuously moving even if the two of your don’t look away.

“And what if… I do know,” you whispered just loud enough for him to hear. The surrounding space didn’t need to listen in on your conversation. “What if I want to play this game?”

A deep bellow vibrated throughout his chest. The tone so low you felt it more than heard it. You whimpered. Goosebumps covered your forearms. His eyes darkened. “Are you sure? Are you willing to let me have that power?” To hand over your power to him is a huge sign of trust. Let alone to someone who wasn’t event he same species.

“Yes,” is all you needed to say. Ahtaal towered over you, body leaning over your curled up form. His hand had shifted down to your fragile throat. Just enough pressure, just a flick of wrist and you would be nothing but a memory. Your eyes drifted close. Everything you were doing made the Yautja go wild. Every sign of submission to him. You, someone of high talent, was allowing to take that power from you.

Ahtaal growled from the back of his throat. His thumb ran along the pulse point on your throat, feeling the way it rapidly fluttered just under the skin. “Such a delicate thing under my hand. You are letting me have this.” You only gave a subtle nod, not wanting to move too much. The moment was thick with tension yet soft like clouds. You didn’t want to break a thing.

“Oh little ooman,” he cooed in a husky voice. Your eyes gently open to find him still so close to you with a low whine. His hand drifted up to cup your cheek. The large, dark red male leaned in to press his forehead to yours. “Mine?”

More of a question rather than a statement.

A smile graced your features. “Yes.” An artist and their hunter.

He finds himself scooping you off of the lounge chair and up into his arms. A surprised yelp escapes you as you clung to his neck. The sketch book and pencil you once held fell to the ground with a subtle thump. Ahtaal takes your seat and sets you down in his lap. You glared at him with no real heat in your eyes then leaned over his knees to grab at your fallen supplies.

“Well, good sir, I could’ve moved all by myself you asked,” you huffed. One of your hands was able to pick up the items off of the ground. As you go to sit back up, Ahtaal hooks an arm around your midsection and pulls you flush with his chest. The things in your grasp nearly fall back to the ground. You whipped your head to the side and narrowed your eyes on him.

All he did was chuckle from deep within his chest. The tension in the air has passed now. The soft clouds were the only thing left in their wake.  

His arm flexed around your torso and kept your lower back snug to his stomach. You could only wiggle without a chance of escape. “Ahtaal, at least let me get into a more comfortable position then this.” Ahtaal listened to you. You gave him a pointed look before twisting into a position that you were able to still draw in.

Only your butt was planted firmly in his lap. You lounged sideways and used the side of the cushion to keep yourself slightly upright. Just enough to have the book on your lower thighs and draw. You peer up at Ahtaal with a pointed look that turned into a soft smile. The expression on his face was at ease, relaxed, and gentle with the sight of you.

Ahtaal placed a hand on your knee and rubbed his thumb against your skin. “How’s this?” he purred in a tone that made you want to smack him. Somehow, you refrained from fulling such a thought. Instead, you scoffed and started back on the project in hand. Ahtaal watched an artist at work, amazed the way you create something out of nothing.

[raysrays]

Fatal Attraction Chapter Five (NSFW)

18+ MDNI‼️

*i said there probably wouldn’t be smut…but I lied lol. Just a warning this one’s more rough.

CW for the entire story: Breeding, Size Difference, Size Kink, Jealousy, Scent Marking, Age Difference, Vaginal Sex, Possessive Behavior, Angst, Twisted, Creampie, Angry Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Hair-pulling, Biting, Master/Pet, Light Dom/sub, Violence, Knotting.

Content disclaimer: This story is inspired by the amazing artist @PammyJammy117 on Twitter/X. I in absolutely no way own or claim the idea of the "Cryptid Rengoku" character. Please give credit to the original artist who inspired the story.

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four,

Y/N Perspective.

I woke to the warmth of Kyojuro’s fur, his soft purrs reverberating in my ears as he slept. He was curled around me, his tail snugly wrapped around my waist, his clawed hands holding me close.

It felt like I was melting into his embrace.

But I couldn’t put this off any longer I had to talk to him about the journey. Time was slipping away, and I only had a few days to convince him to let me go.

I tried to slip out of his grasp, but he stirred, his tail tightening around my waist.

His red eyes snapped open, glowing with a stern intensity.

“Where are you going?” His voice was deeper now, as he was waking up.

I knew I had to tread carefully, Kyojuro could be incredibly stubborn. If I stayed calm, I might have a chance to sway him.

Gently, I stroked the fur between his ears, and he responded with a deep purr.

“I need to talk to you about something,” I said softly.

His ears perked slightly.

“What is it, my mate?” He opened his eyes fully, the red glow locking onto mine.

I took a deep breath, knowing this probably wouldn’t be an easy conversation.

“Tamayo wants to take me on a journey, to go northeast to continue hunting.”

I felt his claws dig slightly into my skin, a pinch of pain shooting through me.

“She thinks I could be of some use.”

His growls grew louder, the purrs vanishing. His expression darkened.

“You are not leaving me again.”

I swallowed hard, realizing this wasn’t going as I’d hoped. “Kyojuro, I understand why you don’t want me to go—”

His voice rose, cutting me off. “We had an agreement! You asked me to meet you halfway, and I did. Now you’re breaking our rules and changing your mind!”

His tail remained tightly coiled around me, his claws digging into my skin. His fur bristled, sharp teeth bared.

“The answer is no. You will not go anywhere. My decision is final.” He snarled, his clicking growing louder.

I knew he was angry, but he still held me close. Maybe there was still a chance to reason with him.

“I know I belong to you, Kyojuro. I would never betray that.”

His growl subsided slightly at my words, but his tail stayed tight around my waist, his claws still gripping my skin.

“Please, just hear me out. Surely we can find a way that works for both of us.”

Finally, his tail loosened its grip, and he released his hold on my skin. But I was still pressed against his chest, the tension between us palpable.

I knew I had to keep trying, to find a way that worked for both of us.

“I’m your mate, Kyojuro. I belong to you, but I can help too. I’m not weak—I can be useful to you.”

I saw the conflict in his eyes, a battle between his possessive instincts and the truth of my words.

He leaned in closer, his hot breath grazing my neck.

“You’ll stay with me and help in other ways,” he murmured.

His purrs resumed, low and soothing, and I knew I’d lost this round. But I wasn’t giving up—I’d find another way to convince him to let me go on this journey.

His claws trailed over my skin, gentle now, as he leaned down to kiss me. His purrs vibrated through my body as his hands roamed over me.

I’d let him have this victory, for now. But I’d find another way to sway him. For the moment, I’d wait.

But I needed to understand why. I knew Kyojuro was possessive, as most creatures like him were. It must be hard for him to think of his mate leaving. But I felt there was more to it.

I remembered how furious he’d been when I returned from the northern Territory of Sanemi Shinazugawa, smelling like him. It was the angriest I’d ever seen him.

Do the Hashira hate each other?

I knew they ruled different sectors of the region, but… is there tension between the nine strongest monsters?

It was a puzzle I hadn’t managed to piece together yet.

I reached up to stroke the fur on his face, his purrs growing louder at my touch. He nuzzled into my palm, and I wrapped my arm around his neck, holding him close.

“Is it because you’re worried about me, Kyojuro?” I asked softly. “Or is there another reason you don’t want me to go?”

His purrs stopped abruptly. He pulled back, his eyes narrowing.

A hint of curiosity flashed in his gaze.

“What are you implying, my little human?”

I kept my tone gentle, hoping to reassure him. “I’m just trying to understand. If we can see eye to eye, maybe we can find a solution.”

He looked away, his claws scraping the ground. Tension rippled through his shoulders, his tail twitching restlessly.

I scooted closer, running my hand over his chest.

He glanced down at me, his expression unreadable.

“Do you not realize? You’re my mate now. We’re bonded. Our scents are intertwined. If you step into another Hashira’s territory, they’ll smell me on you.”

He let the words sink in.

“And what would happen then?” I asked quietly.

His tail wrapped around my leg, drawing me closer.

“They’d try to harm the humans that strive to aid and support the opposing hashira. They’d see you as a threat.”

His seriousness, his worry, was palpable.

“Is that really how it works?” I asked, unease creeping into my voice.

Kyojuro nodded, his ear twitching. “While I may be on good terms with some, that’s not the case for everyone. That’s just how we operate.”

My stomach tightened, my heart racing.

He saw my expression change and leaned in closer, his voice softening.

“Do not worry, love. I won’t let anyone harm you. That’s why you can’t leave me.”

I reached up to touch his face, his fur soft beneath my fingers. He leaned into my touch, purring gently.

I knew he wanted to protect me, but I also knew I had to keep trying and stand my ground. I needed to convince him to let me go on this journey, no matter the risks.

I met his eyes, determined. “I understand that you want to protect me, Kyojuro. I appreciate that. But part of our agreement was that you’ll let me continue to work with Tamayo.”

He looked at me, surprise mingling with annoyance, but I pressed on.

“I’ll do what’s right, what I owe her. I promise to be careful, and I’ll return to you as soon as I can. Please, don’t make me choose between you and what’s right.”

I saw the conflict in his eyes again, the battle between his possessive instincts and his understanding of what I needed.

He leaned in closer, his purrs vibrating through me. His voice was deep and husky.

“I’ll think about it, my mate. But don’t expect me to say yes easily.”

Close enough, we are finally heading in the right direction.

——————-

I sat with Tamayo and Yushiro in the small meeting room at the base, reviewing the plans for our journey northeast.

It would just be the three of us, which I knew would make Kyojuro even less pleased. I needed to explain everything to him before we left.

But for now, I focused on the maps and routes spread out before me.

“Are we going to run into any problems here?” Yushiro asked, pointing to a cluster of water on the map.

Tamayo nodded. “If I’m right, this is the territory of the kraken hybrid, Giyu Tomioka. He’s a Hashira, but he’s not as violent or aggressive as Shinazugawa. If we encounter him, he should be manageable.”

Yushiro frowned. “Kraken hybrid? Won’t he just hide underwater until we’re gone?”

“No,” Tamayo replied, her tone assured. “If we arrive, he’ll likely be on the defensive. These creatures rarely hide from threats—they’d rather confront and scare them off. Even if he’s not as aggressive, he’ll still show himself.”

Yushiro crossed his arms, looking less than satisfied.

“What if he doesn’t show?” I asked, my voice cutting through the tension.

Tamayo met my gaze, a certainty in her eyes that was almost unsettling. “Oh, he will.”

Something about her confidence unnerved me. I knew Tamayo had been hunting monsters for years, but to my knowledge, she’d never captured one. So why was she so certain this time?

“There’s been too much activity in the woods lately,” she continued calmly. “Too many things that don’t add up. I know something’s happening out there.”

Kyojuro. She’s talking about Kyojuro.

A wave of paranoia washed over me. What if she finds out? What if she already knows? I can’t let her discover him. I won’t let them hurt him.

I have to warn him—he needs to stay away from this part of the woods.

Tamayo’s voice pulled me back to the present. “We need to be prepared for anything. We don’t know what we’ll find out there, and we can’t underestimate the power of these monsters.”

I nodded, feeling a surge of determination. I’d make sure Kyojuro was safe. I wouldn’t let anything happen to him. I’d protect him, no matter what.

“We leave in two days,” Tamayo said briskly, signaling the end of the meeting. “Be ready.”

I rose from my seat, my heart pounding.

I needed to get to Kyojuro as soon as possible. I needed to warn him.

And then, I had to convince him to let me go on this journey.

I needed to get Tamayo away from here, to distract her from what was happening around us. Traveling would be a good diversion. If her focus was on a different monster, she’d lose interest in Kyojuro.

I’m going, no matter what. I won’t let Tamayo down, despite Kyojuro’s fears. I’m doing this for him too—to protect him from Tamayo’s suspicion.

I’ll keep him safe, just as he’s always promised to do for me. That’s what mates… what lovers do.

I just hope Kyojuro will see it the same way.

—————

To be honest, this constant back and forth between the base and the den is wearing thin. I dread pushing through the forest at night, but I suppose it gives me time to think about what I’m going to say.

Once I finally approached the den, something felt off. It was completely dark. Had Kyojuro gone to sleep already? He usually kept a fire lit until we were ready to rest.

A sense of unease began to creep in as I drew closer. My pulse quickened. Why does this feel so wrong? I hesitated at the entrance, peering into the pitch-black den, the faint moonlight barely penetrating the darkness.

Then, I heard it—a low growl, followed by the familiar clicking I’d come to recognize.

“Kyojuro?” I called out, my voice trembling slightly.

Silence. The air grew unnervingly still. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart and the sound of my own breath.

Just as I opened my mouth to call out again, a sudden gust of wind swept past me, and those glowing red eyes were suddenly inches from my face, piercing straight into my soul.

I thought my heart was going to give out right then and there.

His gaze locked onto mine, and I could see his sharp teeth gleaming in a predatory smile as the moonlight faintly illuminated his face. The clicking grew louder.

“There you are…” he purred, his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I struggled to breathe; he was terrifying me—badly.

“K-Kyojuro? What are you doing? Is something wrong?—”

Before I could finish, his tail coiled around my wrists, pinning my hands above my head.

He lifted me off the ground effortlessly, suspending me by my wrists as he pulled me closer to the nest, keeping me in the air to meet his eyes.

“My mate still wishes to escape from me, I see…” he growled, amusement lacing his voice.

“Escape? No, it’s not like that!” I try to defend myself, my voice trembling.

He laughs, but there’s no warmth in it.

“You really think you can hide your true intentions from me?” His long tongue trails up my neck, and despite the fear, I can’t stop the blush that creeps over my face.

What is he doing?

“Oh, I’ve given your words from this morning plenty of thought,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “I think it’s safe to say I’ll try to compromise with you.”

“You will?” I ask, genuinely curious, hope flickering in my chest.

His grip on my wrists suddenly loosens, and I drop to the floor of the nest, staring up at him.

He looks down at me, still smiling, his eyes glowing with that same eerie light. But something feels different now—more intense, more dangerous.

“Since you insist on leaving me to venture into the territories of others, I’ve decided there’s only one way I’ll feel ‘comfortable’ letting you go,” he growled deeply. “I’m going to completely submerge you in my scent and thoroughly mark you as mine.”

My eyes widened as I instinctively tried to back away, still looking up at him.

“But… you said if the Hashira could smell me on you, they’d want to hurt me—that they’d see me as a threat,” I stammered, trying to make sense of his words despite the fear gnawing at me.

He stepped closer, matching my retreat with his advance.

“Yes, I did say that. And it’s true. But you’re not just any human—you’re my mate,” he continued, his tone dark and possessive. “For one Hashira to kill another’s mate could mean battle, war… all kinds of problems. So if you want to leave, you’ll have to go through the process.”

He leaned in closer, his eyes flashing a menacing red. “And you won’t complain.”

His voice dropped into a low, dangerous purr, and my heart fluttered with a mix of fear and something I didn’t want to name.

The clicking grew louder, reverberating through the ground beneath me. The very air seemed to hum with the force of his presence.

I was trapped, and he knew it. There was no escape.

My voice barely emerged, trembling. “You’re going to… mark me?”

His purr deepened, the clicking intensifying.

“Oh, yes,” he murmured, his voice thick with possessiveness. “By the time I’m done, you’ll reek of me and only me.”

I felt consumed by him, completely overwhelmed. I was trapped beneath him, unable to move.

But I didn’t want to escape. I wanted to stay with him, to feel him fill me.

He leaned back, his glowing red eyes meeting my gaze. “Strip,” he growled, his eyes flashing with desire.

I hesitated, my heart pounding. But something in his gaze told me he wouldn’t let me say no.

I reached down, my hands trembled slightly as I removed my clothes. His eyes watched my every movement, his purrs growing louder.

Once I removed all my clothing he leaned in, and before I could react, he pounced, pinning me down on the nest.

His tail coiled around my legs, his claws sinking into my skin as he pressed his weight over me, holding me in place.

My heart raced, pounding in my ears. Was I scared? Absolutely. But I couldn’t deny the thrill that surged through me. This was Kyojuro—the creature who claimed me, body and soul.

He was my mate, my lover. And I was his, completely.

“I won’t let anyone else touch you, little human,” he murmured in my ear, his hot breath making my skin tingle. “Not while you wear my scent.”

As his claws dug deeper into my skin, I gasped as his teeth nipped at the side of my neck.

A shiver ran through me. And as I looked up into those glowing red eyes, I knew there was no going back now.

Whether I liked it or not. Whether I understood it or not.

Kyojuro Rengoku was mine, and I was his. Nothing would ever change that. Nothing could ever take him from me.

His teeth sank deeper into my neck, a sharp pain flaring to life as he bit me. I whimpered, struggling against him.

But he held me firm, his claws plunged

Into my arms, his tail wrapping tighter around me. His purr rumbled through my body, and the clicking grew louder, echoing in my ears.

He leaned back, releasing his hold on my neck. Blood trickled down my skin, but I couldn’t see it clearly in the darkness of the den.

He looked down at me, his expression fierce and feral.

“I need to mark you all over,” he growled, his eyes flashing with desire. “I need you to smell like me, so all know you’re mine.”

He lowered his mouth to my collarbone, his teeth sinking in. I cried out, struggling against him.

But he was relentless, biting and marking me all over my body. His tail tightened around my legs. It hurt, but I liked it.

I was trapped, helpless beneath him. And yet, I didn’t want to fight him.

He leaned up, meeting my gaze. “I hope my mate is prepared for me.” he growled, his eyes blazing with possessiveness. “Any monster that dare come into contact with you will know exactly who owns you.”

I felt my body respond, heat flooding between my legs. His scent, his purrs, his bites—it all combined to drive me crazy with lust.

I let out a light gasp as he flips me onto my stomach, grabbing my hips and positioning my ass out.

He leaned in, I could feel him leaning against my back. He was being rough, aggressive, demanding. He nipped at my nape, his purrs and clicks vibrating through my body.

I felt consumed by him, completely overwhelmed. He was everywhere, filling my senses.

I felt his cock harden against me, his purrs growing louder.

I shouldn’t be wanting this, I shouldn’t be okay with this monster man handling me and marking up my body. But I want him so badly.

He leaned in closer, his nose skimming my neck. “Mine,” he growled, his scent filling my senses.

His tail coiled around my legs, forcing them apart. His claws dug into my hips, holding me in place.

I felt his cock press against my entrance from behind, hard and thick. He leaned in closer, his purrs rumbling through my body.

“Be a good mate, and take all of it,” he growled, his voice thick with possession.

He finally thrust into me, his cock filling me completely. I cried out, my body stretching around him.

He let out an animalistic growl, his tail tightening around my legs so bright I knew it would leave bruises.

He leaned in closer, his mouth meeting my neck. He bit me again on the other side this time, his teeth sinking deep.

I moaned, arching up against him. His cock filled me perfectly, hitting all the right spots.

he growled, i could feel him nipping at my shoulders covering my back in spots as he fucked me. “My good mate knows how to take it, so perfect.” He praises me.

His praises only edge me on, making my eyes roll back slightly. God, it hurts so good.

His cock thrust into me faster now, the knot pushing against the entrance of my cunt.

I just know it’s going to make me feel so full.

He leaned in closer, he gets closer to my ear and whispers. “If Giyu Tomioka touches you, I’ll ensure you never have the strength to walk ever again.” He growls.

My eyes go wide once I feel his knot finally push inside me. I felt a wave of pleasure wash over me as it rubbed against my g-spot.

I moaned, and whimpered loudly. I couldn’t contain it.

His cock began to pulse inside me, his knot swelling to its full size. I felt a rush of pleasure, my body clenching around him.

I cried out, my body shaking with pleasure. His growls and clicks filled the air and rumbled through my body, as I came around him.

He leaned back, as he pistons into me at a rapid rate. My mind going blank.

His purrs grew louder, his scent overwhelming me. His cock pulsed inside me, filling me with his seed.

I moaned, and cried out as I felt him completely unload into me. My stomach starting to feel warm and uncomfortably full.

He kept me in this position his clawed hand on the center of my back keeping me arched in place until he emptied everything out it side of me.

I feel fucked out of my mind once again by him.

His cum filled me to the point I can feel it drip down my thighs. His purrs grow quiet as he slowly pulls out of me.

He then flips me onto my back and settles on top of me, to look at me.

I might not have been able to see very well due to the poor lighting, but I could see those glowing eyes and that wicked smile as he looked down at me like I was nothing but his prey.

He grabbed my face with one of his hands, he purrs seemingly satisfied, as he leaned in. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, little human.”

His claws traced over my arms, his purr growing softer. He leaned in to my ear, whispering, “If you’re going to continue to go against my wishes, I’m not going to be so gentle with you.”

He nuzzled me and kisses me with such gentleness, despite his rough behavior earlier.

“You’re mine, and I’m going to be damned if anyone ever tries to take that from me,” he whispered.

I nodded my head, my voice coming out weak and soft. “Yes, Kyojuro.” I whisper as he continues to purr.

He pulls back from me, his purrs growing softer. His tail slowly releases its hold on me, allowing my legs to close back up. He runs his hand down my thigh and my ass, his claws tracing over the sensitive skin. He nuzzles me, his purrs soft.

His purrs slowly died down, I felt him lay next to me, he pulls me close to him.

He’s crazy, but he makes me feel content, and protected despite everything. But now I’m completely exhausted from everything that happened tonight.

He leaned in nuzzled against my hair, his purrs and clicks finally dying down.

I fell asleep in his arms. Knowing that no matter what I was safe. And that soon I’d be traveling, and he’d be here, waiting for me to come back. But this time, I won’t be sick because I actually got his permission.

I’d be heading into the heart of the woods, and hopefully, I’d return in one piece.

Are all the Hashira this insane? I was always lead to believe Kyojuro Rengoku was one of the more tame ones, a kind gentle monster. I guess in some ways they got it right…

That’s the last thought that goes through my head before I fall asleep, surrounded by Kyojuro’s purrs. And his strong arms wrapped around me, protecting me. And his fur and body keeping me warm. His scent covering my entire body, claiming me as his.

I knew that no matter what happened on the journey with Tamayo, I was safe and cared for in his arms. And nothing can ever change that.

And so with that, I drifted off to sleep, with him next to me, my mate. My protector.

I think I’m genuinely starting to fall in love with him… Am I crazy?

Tags: @emmenic726 @i0love0tea @fandomenbylover

[poppitron360]

Fuck Romeo and Juliet I want what fanon Valgrace has.

Not my art! Credits to all the amazing artists under the cut:

Top left: hburgy on instagram

Top right: I couldn’t find the artist for that one- I have a feeling it might be @viria but I might be wrong? Pls lmk.

Bottom left: @joleanart

Bottom right: @fedzzzart

[akaashislover1]

Part 2 of how I think jjk guys would join you in the shower/bath

Before I start this one I wanna say credits to these artists that have all of the patience in the world to create such beautiful art🩵🩵(ik the geto one is og but still lol).

✨Part 2 of how I think the jjk men would join u in the shower✨

Toji Fushiguro

You had just stepped into the shower.

Toji was downstairs, probably fixing up a fresh pot of coffee to go with your delightful morning.

A few seconds after you had started the water, you heard heavy, fast stomps hurrying up the stairs.

The door to the bathroom slammed open and you could hear tojis heavy breathing.

“WHAT THE HELL WOMAN?! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO SHOWER WITHOUT ME!”

You peeked around the shower curtain with a meek expression as you saw Toji practically ripping off his clothes.

A lump got stuck in your throat when he was suddenly standing in front of you. Towering over you.

He gripped your chin and forced you to make eye contact with him.

“Now, do I have to fuck that information into that pretty little head of yours?”

Satoru Gojo

“Do you not love me anymore, Y/N?”

You snorted as your big white haired baby sprawled his body over your bare legs.

You were lying on your guys shared bed, scrolling through your phone, fresh out the shower.

Gojo could feel the heat from the warm water radiating off of your legs.

A pitiful tear rolled down Gojo’s face as he squeezed his arms around your legs.

“Gojo- it was one shower. If it means anything, I couldn’t bare to be without you for 10 minutes either.” Your teasingly sarcastic voice soothed Gojo a little bit.

Emphasis on a little bit.

A pout made its way to your sulking boyfriend, to which you playfully rolled your eyes.

“Don’t talk to me.”

Suguru Geto

“Geto? Where are you?”

You wondered around the main floor of your house with furrowed brows.

Your boyfriend was suddenly no where to be found.

“Suguru? Babe? Where’d you go?” You exclaimed as you made your way to your master bathroom.

You shrugged, giving up.

Any other time you would’ve flipped the house upside down to find your playful boyfriend.

Not today though. Today, you had to hurry up and get ready for a meeting.”

You began to undress in the bathroom, placing your dirty clothes in the hamper next to the shower.

Suddenly you heard the pitter patter of the shower starting.

Confused, you turned quickly towards the shower.

Before you could get any closer, the shower curtain blasted open.

“OH MY GOD!”

Naked and in the shower, Geto laughed hysterically as his body was getting covered with water.

“Don’t do that! You jerk. I was looking everywhere for you.”

Geto was doubling over with laughter as your face was getting red with embarrassment.”

As soon as he noticed, he calmed down and held out a hand for you to grab.

“Okay, okay. Come on, I’m sorry sweetheart. Come here. Just for that I’ll clean you up.”

Kento Nanami

You two were already in the tub, soaking in the hot sudsy water.

Sitting across from Nanami, you watched as your husband rested his head on the edge of the porcelain tub.

He had just got back from days of work.

As soon as he saw you relaxing in the tub alone, he made the subconscious choice of joining you.

The two of you were talking about pretty much anything when you notice him starting to doze off.

A loving smile leaped onto your face.

“Ken? Hey? Do you want me to rub your shoulders? Come.” You used both of your hands to grab one of his as he stirred fully awake.

He hummed calmly as he relaxed in his new spot against your chest.

The swoosh from the moving bath water calmed down as you began to rub your husband’s very tense and hard shoulders.

A slight groan escaped him, “Thank you, my love. This is just what I needed.”

Your heart fluttered at his nickname for you. The deep pang of his tired voice sent you into oblivion.

You smiled as you vowed from this day forward you and your hardworking husband would take nice warm baths together every night.

Omg I don’t know!!! I think I’m liking this one better than the first part🥰🤭🤭 if I’m missing anyone or if someone wants to see anyone else with these imagines, let me know then maybe I’ll make a part three but other than these 2 parts I’m gonna be focusing on another short story maybe or more short imagines.

Thank you so much for the likes on my past posts it means a lot!!🥰🥰

[bots-and-cons]

I saw that your requests are open, can I ask How would decepticons react when they capture a human that was an artist. Precisely painter with brushes, canvases and everything.

A/N: I’ve got some previous HCs related to something like this which can be found here and here. As usual I didn’t do all the cons, just the ones I had ideas for when I started writing this

•You’ve brought a lot of your art stuff to the Nemesis, since you spend so much time there and surprisingly, it’s a pretty calm place most days

•Or at least the empty habsuite where you’ve set up is

•When Knockout found out you were a painter, he immediately offered to pose for you

•If he’s not in his alt-mode he’s a bit bad at staying still though, so he doesn’t make for the best model

•Also he can never seem to settle on a pose, and when he does, it’s something very dramatic

•And god forbid you get any paint on him, he will screech in terror, because his paint job is now ruined

•You just wipe the paint off with a rag and tell him it doesn’t dry instantly and that his paint job is fine

•Knockout is like “I definitely knew that” when he in fact did not

•He also wants you to teach him how to draw and paint

•So you go to the web and buy the biggest canvas you can find, Soundwaves makes sure it’s paid for, but you’re still not really sure how he pays for all these things when you ask him to buy you something

•He’s probably stolen a dozen people’s credit card information or something, you’re not really bothered by it though

•Anyway, Soundwave is a big fan of your paintings, and he thinks they’re quite interesting, especially the more abstract ones

•He likes to interpret things in his own way and the abstract ones give him a chance to do that

•Megatron wasn’t really a fan of you dragging all your art stuff into the Nemesis, and he definitely made that known, but he stopped complaining eventually and sometimes even comes to check on you when you paint

•Starscream is also an enthusiastic model, though he wasn’t at first

•It took some convincing, but he will model for you now, and in a very Starscream fashion, he’s talking the whole time and you have to tell him to stop moving constantly because he talks with his whole body

•You got an idea one day and asked Soundwave to buy you some metal paints

•He had an inkling on why you might have wanted them, but he didn’t say anything

•Breakdown ended up being your first victim, because he’s probably the one who cares the least about how he looks

•So he agreed that you could pain his driver’s side door, however you wanted

•You made a really cool decepticon-ish insignia design on it, and he actually really liked it

•You couldn’t convince anyone else to let you try it out on them, but oh well, at least you got to test that whole thing out

•Shockwave isn’t really interested in art, surprise surprise, but some of your paintings do catch his optic, even if only for a moment

[creamflix]

beta test, please vote after you finish reading <3 — comment to be on taglist sukuna x female reader; slight parasocial relationship, but not unhealthy. pathetic fanboy sukuna. implied nsfw. social media au. age gap (just a few years), micro celebrity!reader. sukuna and yuuji are siblings (this is not like the persephone au! , neither does it take place in that universe.) — masterlist here ☆

sukuna was a grown man.

he’d seen and done it all, yet here he was, shutting himself in his room each night with an anticipation that made him feel downright ridiculous.

the worst part? he couldn’t even convince himself that he was “just curious.”

no — he was full-on, unapologetically addicted to this catgirl v-tuber.

you were cute, sure, but there was something about your laugh, the way you teased the chat, and the coy “nya~” you’d slip in for your fans that made his chest tighten in ways he couldn’t explain.

it started with just the streams.

every night at 7 pm, he’d settle into his setup, headphones on, notifications silenced, watching with bated breath as your broadcast went live. soon, he found himself going back to watch old streams too, combing through your entire backlog, pausing and rewinding whenever you said something particularly funny or leaned a bit closer to the camera. one night, he even found himself tearing up from laughter after a stream. “just another dumb anime girl act,” he grumbled under his breath. but he knew he was lying.

from there, things escalated.

first, his phone wallpaper. it was innocent at first — just a cute fanart of you he’d saved from twitter, with your typical big eyes, little cat fangs, and a cute paw pose. but then he found another piece of fanart that depicted you a little more… suggestively, gazing up at him with a teasing expression. soon, his lock screen was updated too, and he’d spend a little too long staring at it whenever he unlocked his phone.

he’d downloaded tiktok just to keep up with you, scrolling through endless clips of you laughing, playing, doing ridiculous challenges, and interacting with fans. his feed became nothing but you: funny edits of you, mashups of your catchphrases, top-ten lists of your best moments, the works. the tiktoks got him hooked on the fan community too, leading him to join fan pages, where he found even more fanart and memes to add to his ever-growing collection.

then came the commissions.

he’d been reluctant at first, feeling a bit silly about spending his money this way, but the thought of having a one-of-a-kind piece of art with both him and his virtual “crush” had a strange allure. he’d commission artists with detailed instructions: some pieces were tame, just you and him looking like a couple, maybe holding hands or with your head on his shoulder. but soon, he wanted… more.

in no time, he had folders hidden on his pc stuffed with images of the two of you in every possible scenario he could imagine: from romantic dates to downright scandalous positions, each illustration making him fall harder. even worse, he’d catch himself going back to admire them during breaks at work, sometimes finding himself grinning stupidly at the screen before he remembered where he was.

he’d tell himself this was the last time he’d pay for custom art. but then he’d see another piece, something that captured you just right — your cat ears tilted just so, or your coy smile — and he’d open up another commission request, cursing himself while also feeling an absurd amount of excitement.

then came your announcement of the face reveal at the v-tuber convention. the convention, where all the biggest creators would be gathering. in that instant, he didn’t even think — he just whipped out his credit card and booked VIP tickets, securing his spot to see you in person, the girl who’d managed to crawl into his brain and camp out there. and it wasn’t just any pass. no, sukuna shelled out for the meet-and-greet package, even prepped some things he wanted to say to you when he finally met you face-to-face.

the day arrived, and he was among the first to get there, looking around at the crowds of fans in full cosplay, armed with merch. nerds, he thought, scoffing to himself, but inside, he felt a strange kinship with them. he’d even secretly bought a little catgirl keychain with your likeness the day before, hiding it in his pocket and glancing at it throughout the day as he waited.

finally, the moment came, and the venue darkened, the countdown flashing on the screen. sukuna’s heart raced as the seconds ticked down. this was it — he’d finally see the real you.

when you stepped out onto the stage, all smiles, looking around at the crowd, sukuna’s grin widened, until his eyes settled on your face and his stomach dropped.

“s-sukuna?” you stammered, locking eyes with him from across the room. you stared in shock, your face morphing from excitement to pure, unfiltered confusion.

this wasn’t just some random girl.

it was… yuuji’s girlfriend.

his mind whirled as realization sank in. oh god.

oh god, no.

his brain replayed every fanboyish thing he’d done, every lewd image, every custom art piece with his younger brother’s girlfriend. every obsessive habit hit him at once, and he could practically feel the waves of secondhand embarrassment smacking him in the face.

your eyes narrowed in disbelief, recognition settling in. “you’re my… biggest fanboy?” you exclaimed, barely managing to keep the shock out of your voice.

sukuna’s face burned with embarrassment as he let out a low, forced chuckle, desperately trying to keep his cool. “y-you’ve gotta be kidding me…” he muttered under his breath, feeling his dignity crumble. trying to salvage any shred of pride, he cleared his throat. “listen, kid, don’t get any ideas. this was just… research, yeah? figured i’d see what the hype was about.”

you stared at him, utterly unconvinced, before bursting into laughter. “you’re my biggest fanboy?”

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡ banners by cafekitsune

[yandere-kokeshi]

What is a general hc for yandere Soap?

Warnings: Yandere behavior, military + talks about trauma and PTSD, kidnapping, and dubcon (not in detail)

A/N: Sure!! Sorry this took extremely long. I've been struggling with my health. Hope this was okay <3.

Gif and icons are NOT mine; the gif belongs to @/bunnygifs. As for the icons, I'm not sure. If you do find the artist/or are the artist, please contact me so I can credit you!

Soap is a very complicated person. Underneath his nice Jester Act, he’s an extremely manipulative, obsessive, and possessive man in every aspect possible. He owns you; you own him, vice versa.

He’s two faced with you, only if you’re capable of staying one way. Much like Jekyll and Hyde.

Johnny wasn’t sure what was so addicting about you, but he knew you were the one for him. The very first time he saw you, he was immediately smitten and approaching you with a wide smile. Flirting and wooing his ways with you as his cheeks flushed with pink, legs like jello and hands sweating as his mind was overloaded with question after question. While Soap’s not easy to fall for someone, he couldn’t help but see that you were incredibly attractive; as well as interesting and a genuine person.

It definitely makes more sense if you were on the team. Price bringing you in as a new recruit; a needed medic or another soldier that finds him just as perky, or annoying.

Or, in any other story, you could be a civilian who he had met while living next door. The apartment complex getting lonely, and somehow, the cheeky bastard showed up with a welcoming smile and a few of his buddies helping him move in. Wouldn’t it be nice to know him, no?

Despite these two — Soap would quickly realize he needed you. The calls weren’t enough. The hourly talks weren’t enough. Nothing was never enough because you weren’t his. And you certainly made him lose his mind.

Either way, you’ve caught the eye of a man who’s incredibly hard to get rid of. His name speaks loudly in certain situations when he’s with you.

That being said, Johnny is always around you — in and out of the battlefield. He’s always trying to engage with whatever you’re doing.

Gonna head out and get a drink from a bar a couple of minutes down the road? Why not let him come along? Catch up on some things, plus the two of you could play truth-to-drink.

Need to go grocery shopping? Let him drive with you! He would feel safer going with you, plus, he needs to restock his fridge. Wherever you are, he’s there; even with and without your knowledge.

Soap is a huge softie with you. Even Ghost and Price see it. It’s clear that he likes you, which leaves him doing it the ‘original’ way. He will go all out and woo your heart; going as far as to buy your favorite flowers or go get that movie you haven’t seen in ages. He pays attention closely to the conversations you two have, so expect gifts to come.

This also means that he dislikes people around you, his blue eyes turning into daggered icicles that talk to you. And those who don’t get his signals, he gets aggressive, which isn’t a pretty sight.

He makes it clear that you’re off limits and stares at anyone who looks at you too long or simply the wrong way. While he acts incredibly sweet and kind in front of you, the minute you turn around, his smile is gone and staring into the person’s poor soul until they run away with their tail between their legs.

Johnny is the type to overcompensate things, which can be annoying. He’s overbearing — almost suffocating to the point you may or may not snap at him to knock it off or leave you alone. He will act like an overprotective boyfriend, even if the two of you are not dating.

Because of this, you’ll likely lose a bunch, if mostly of your friends or close family members. At the end of the day, he’s sitting right beside you as he comforts you from the losses. I mean, he’s better than them, right?

Soap is more on the jealous side. While he knows he’s attractive and strong - likely your type - he just can’t help but pop his knuckles in pure annoyance whenever he sees you talking to someone he feels is a threat. Soap will try his best to be always around you, keeping an arm or hand on you at all times, showing people he has an interest in you or that you’re dating.

And because of his severe jealousy, he’s a master at manipulation. He’s very persuasive with his words, especially with his sweet and dirty talk.

He’s always guiding, keeping you away from people he deems bad, and whenever you question it, Johnny always smiles before telling you not to worry about it. By the end of the day, you’re in his house with him locking the door.

With how insane he is, and just how devoted he’s with you, you’re gonna be kidnapped. Even if you’re already in love, he can not stand people talking or keeping you away from him. He wants you by himself.

Your safety is his top priority. The minute it’s threatened, even by a friend invading your space or seeing you uncomfortable in public, all his nice and flirtatious mask is thrown out the window and goes berserk. He’s not afraid to swing, kick, or even draw high amounts of blood if it means that you’re safe.

Now, the minute he can call you "his" is the second he really shows his colors; being a cheeky bastard and a manipulative prick. Of course, he’s a natural flirt and will tease or woo you every damn chance he gets.

Soap is very open with affection. In all types of shapes, but he mainly shows it through gifts and physical affection. He’ll randomly give you rocks with specific names and expects you to remember.

Or cuddling you closer to his body, hand instinctively curling around your hips and lips sucking in deep bruises. His favorite part with you is rolling in bed with you, tracing your body marks as he rubs his face into your belly.

Soap is incredibly clingy. It gets worse when he gets home after being out for a long time of not seeing you.

Once he’s home, whether that’s from a mission or simply spending the day shopping for necessary items, he will not leave you alone. His arms are always on you, grasping and pulling you in for cuddles and his Scottish slangs whispering in your tinted ears for more attention.

Punishments come in waves– and if you’ve broken them, even ignoring his final warnings with tsks, it isn’t pretty.

Usually, he figures a good fuck with sorta ye out, no? With the amount of orgasms and pretty begs you let out, he’s certain you won’t break them again, correct?

But, if that doesn’t work, he’ll put a chain around your ankle, keeping you in bed and treating you the same as if you didn’t do anything. Slowly but surely, driving you insane until you say sorry.

Soap is excellent at spying and has no shame if he’s caught, even by you. You won’t be allowed to shut any doors, even if you are using the bathroom or showering. But, you wouldn’t mind him coming in, would you?

—

My masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[xxsabitoxx]

How the Hantengu Clones Eat 🐱

Sekido, Karaku, Aizetsu & Urogi x AFAB!Reader

Warning: contains smut if that ain’t clear, cunnilingus, degrading, rough oral

A/N: the brainrot is real for just about fucking everyone rn. While we all are waiting for smut to come up - I know me and a Muzanswaifu both have full length fics planned — I offer you my favorite headcanon posts to make

Art credit: unknown. I even reversed image searched and couldn’t find the artist so if you know who made this, plz let me know

Sekido

He’s rough, annoyed even as his hands grip your thighs with such force your certain his nails will make you bleed. He complains the whole time, bitching at you about how needy you are, how pathetic you are, how horny you are. Yet he’s on his knees anyway, eating you out with such force that you’re struggling to see straight. He takes few breaks, only pulling away to mutter things about how filthy you are. He isn’t satisfied with just one orgasm either, working you through four is the bare minimum for him. He’s heavily addicted to the taste of your arousal, unwilling to admit verbally that he craves it. He loves watching tears streak your face as he tongue fucks you, purposely ignoring your clit until full sobs are rattling your chest. “You’re never fucking satisfied you little bitch.”

Karaku

He takes his time. He’ll never complain when you ask him to eat you out, gladly falling to his knees right then and there. The reason he never complains is because he will take his fucking time. He’ll edge you until you’re sopping wet, arousal sticking to your thighs and his chin as he wiggles his tongue against your clit. Your begging falls on deaf ears, nothing you do will speed him up nor allow you release. Karaku will keep you hanging on the edge for hours, until you’re sobbing and begging, clit throbbing as he resorts to fucking you with his tongue. He’ll let you cum after a long while, but he’ll make sure it’s unsatisfactory, stopping his actions the moment your thighs tense a little too tightly. Letting your release fizzle out as fat globs of tears slide down your face, arousal collecting at your entrance “It’s alright, we can just keep going…”

Aizetsu

He’ll eat you out like his life depends on it, moaning against your cunt as he tongue fucks you. He requires praise, you must tell him how good he’s doing or he’ll get self conscious and stop. Though it’s just a bit hard for him to stop in the first place, your arousal is like a delicacy to him. He wants your cunt all of the time, head always dipping between your thighs to get a taste of what he wants the most. He’s selfish in that sense but nothing like the others. He won’t hold back, he won’t edge you until you’re crying or overstimulate you until you are begging for him to stop. He’ll give you exactly what you want, tongue practically vibrating against your clit as he moans about how good you taste. His hands will always be on your thighs, keeping them spread wide so he has easy access to you, mouth and chin shining with your arousal. “Tell me how good I’m doing… please…”

Urogi

Eating you out is a game to him. He’ll find whatever means necessary to get you to allow him even a small taste. Though it’s hard not to give in when he’s telling you so loudly how well he could eat you out. He loves to spread your thighs open, stare at your glistening cunt and tell you how cute it is. He’ll practically suffocate himself on you, lips suctioned to your throbbing clit as his claws drag along the sensitive flesh of your thighs. He’s an overachiever, not willing to leave your pussy alone until you’ve sprayed your arousal all over him. He wants you squirming, trying to move away from his mouth because you’re so overly sensitive from the amount of times he’s made you cum. He’ll praise you each time you squirt but express disappointment when you don’t, even if you’ve come he views it as losing the little game he’s playing. “I know you can do it, you’ve done it three times already… don’t make me lose.”

[ayyy-pee]

𝔼𝕡𝕚𝕤𝕠𝕕𝕖 𝟘.𝟝 - 𝕋𝕠𝕠 𝕄𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕥𝕠 𝔻𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕜

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Next Episode

Pairing: JJK Men x Female Reader

Episode Summary: After a drunken night of binge watching your (least?) favorite show, you find yourself making a grave mistake.

STORY TWIST: READERS WILL VOTE AFTER CERTAIN CHAPTERS TO CHOOSE WHO GETS A ROSE AND MAKES IT TO THE NEXT WEEK. KEEP A LOOKOUT FOR THE VOTING LINK AT THE END OF CHAPTERS

Story Warning: DRAMA, lying and scheming, REVERSE HAREM, profanity bc I can only be me, arguments, fights probably, heartbreak and tears, (more to come)

Artist Credit: momoya348, Umbra3terna, ilameys,maoyaoyao519, _0_0219 Divider Credit: Cafekitsune (Tumblr)

A/N: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE! I hope you guys enjoy this ride (that you're in charge of in later chapters!!!) I'll put up Episode 1 tomorrow after proofreading!!! <3

“God, this show is so stupid,” you mutter, shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth while you get settled onto the couch.

“Please…It’s so bad, but I tune in to every season.”

You glance over when your friend reaches into your lap and dips her fingers into your bowl of popcorn and grabs a few kernels.

That was the perfect way to describe what was happening now. You’re currently huddled up on the couch, having spent the day binging the most recent season of The Bachelor until you’re all caught up. The new episode airs tonight and you’re eager to see who Joey ends up picking. Will it be Rachel? She’s gorgeous, funny, and her family seems to really get along with this season’s Bachelor. They have great chemistry. Or maybe it will be Daisy? Though you couldn’t see that working out. The girl is a total bore. Or it could be…what’s her name again? The one who looks a little bit like she could be his sister. Ah, whatever.

You’re not sure when you really began to even give a shit about this mess of a show. It’s corny. No one falls in love within a few weeks of knowing each other. And why does one man or woman need to date twenty people to find someone to marry? Are they that unlikeable in the real world? Not to mention, it’s totally unrealistic. Do these relationships even work out once the cameras cut off? Unlikely. You find the entire premise of the show downright stupid.

And yet, you can’t tear your eyes away as this season’s Bachelor takes each girl out on an extravagant date that…you can’t lie, you would love to be on.

Dancing in Malta? Sunbathing on a yacht off the coast of Spain? Getting to see Niagara Falls up close? Sign you up. You don’t think you would stand a chance being the object of everyone’s affection, but you could definitely milk being a contestant for free trips and good food.

“Why can’t he see that Rachel is the best pick here? Ugh, annoying. You know he’s going to give what’s-her-name the last rose.” Your friend downs her wine in one swig and you don’t bother to hold back the laugh bubbling in your chest. She’s all red faced. You’re not sure if it’s from how passionate she is about the show or from the two empty bottles of merlot she’s managed to down practically on her own, but the glowing hue it gives her highlights the thick scar across her face. A product of her line of work, and said line of work being the reason she’s guzzling wine in the first place.

“Maybe take it easy on the drinks, Utahime.”

She hiccups next to you, slouching in her seat. “I haven’t even had that much to drink!”

“You’ve had most of the wine just on your own!”

“Oh my god, you have one or nine glasses of wine and suddenly you’re wasted,” she mutters sarcastically. “I’m fine.”

You roll your eyes, because you know there’s no going back and forth with her stubborn ass when she starts drinking. 

The living room dims for about three seconds before it lights back up, the show now having gone on commercial break. The rose ceremony is next and despite shit-talking the show only ten minutes ago, you’re eager for the commercials to wrap up so you can see who goes home. It better not be Rachel. You use this brief intermission to go and get some water for yourself but mostly Utahime so she can sober up.

This has been your routine for the last few weeks. Every Monday night, Utahime comes over, peels you out of your bed and forces you on the couch to chug alcohol and watch this ridiculous show. While you find the entire premise of the show nonsensical, you’re grateful for the time it’s given you with Utahime.

You’re fairly new to the Kyoto area and Utahime was the first person you’d met on your first day at your new – how can you put this? – unique job. You see, you and Utahime both work in the field of Jujutsu sorcery. But there’s about where your similarities in the field stop.

Utahime is an active Sorcerer. She’s an instructor raising up the next generation of Sorcerers, building them up so that they can one day join the frontlines to protect the unaware non-Sorcerers of Japan. She’s strong– a grade 1 Sorcerer. Quite impressive. She could easily knock a curse’s head off if she wanted to.

But you? Well, while Utahime is at the top of the ranks of Jujutsu society, you are what some would refer to as a bottomfeeder – an unranked, unimportant, lowly Window. You’re someone who has just enough cursed energy to see a curse. But can you do anything about them? Not unless you want to end up in the nearest trauma center. So if you’re smart, you’ll do your job and whip your phone out to report it so that the real Sorcerers can handle it.

You’ve been in this field for several years now, but working outside of the major cities of Japan. Transferring to Kyoto was your idea of wanting something new and different. Utahime had quickly taken you under her wing. You were certain it was because she took pity on you. A weak, barely gifted Window. But as time went on, you came to realize that that was just Utahime. She was kind and funny, and had a good heart. Well, except when it came to –

“Hey!” Utahime calls from her spot on the couch. You can hear a slur in her words as she speaks and you know she’s opened yet another bottle of wine from who knows where. “Come here! Look at this!” You peer at the television from the doorway of your kitchen and see Utahime has it paused on a very ugly ad. It’s bright white with a background full of red rose petals across the screen. Your eyes roam over the words.

“THE SEARCH IS ON FOR THE ELIGIBLE WOMEN WHO ARE READY TO FIND TRUE LOVE! DO YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW HAVE THE CHARM, STYLE, AND PERSONALITY TO BE OUR NEXT STAR? IF SO, APPLY OR NOMINATE SOMEONE NOW!”

“Will you hurry up? Come look!” Utahime demands, messily pouring more wine into her glass. But it looks like a normal advertisement to you, so you’re not entirely sure what has Utahime’s interest so piqued.

She beckons you again, yelling “Come here!” So you quickly grab a couple bottles of water from your fridge and head back. Utahime is pointing insistently at the screen. “Look. Look really hard.”

You follow the path where her finger points, shuffling closer to the t.v. to get a clearer look. It takes a moment for you to see it, like really see it, but it’s definitely there. Underneath the last line, hidden from the eyes of those unable to see the horrors that you and those like Utahime can, is another message. You fall to your knees, eyes glued to the tiny additional message floating beneath, glowing with cursed energy that reads, “JUJUTSU SorcererS PREFERRED”. 

Confusion slowly takes over your features, the corners of your lips turning down with a frown, a brow arched and skepticism in your eyes. Were you missing something? Was this some sick joke? Were Jujutsu Sorcerers huge fans of The Bachelor or something? You spin around to face your friend who has a look of mischief twinkling in her eyes. You know it all too well, mouth falling open and a finger pointing when you scream “NO” at the exact moment Utahime yells “YOU SHOULD APPLY!”

“Absolutely not!” You must be looking at Utahime like she’s grown two more heads because she looks just as confused as you.

“Why not?! You’d be great on there!”

Maybe she hasn’t grown two more heads. Maybe her brain was swapped while you were in the kitchen because why the hell was she suggesting this?

“Well, for starters, I’m not really looking to date.”

Utahime rolls her eyes, as if that’s just not a good enough excuse. You should just ignore her, snatch the remote from her hand and hit play so you can get back to the show and see who this guy chooses to potentially get engaged to. But for some reason (could be the single drop of wine your friend allowed you to have while she downed the rest), you feel the need to keep listing off reasons to not sign up. “Secondly, I– why would I even want to go on this show?”

Utahime sips her wine, eyes low as she falls into her drunkenness, but you can still see the sparkle of mischief in those brown hues…and it scares you. So you keep talking, chatting away and listing excuse after excuse to your friend, eventually finding yourself back on the couch trying to drive your final point home.

“Besides, they want Sorcerers.” This seems to get Utahime’s attention again, makes her set her glass down as she looks at you.

“I’m sure it’s fine. You are a Sorcerer.”

“I’m a Window.”

“Semantics. You can see curses, can’t you?” Utahime argues.

“...yes.” You shift uncomfortably in your seat. “But I can’t do anything about them.”

It’s not something you should be ashamed of, but there’s just the tiniest bit of you that is ashamed. Because being able to see these monsters and not having the power to do anything about them…well, it feels like a curse in and of itself.

To this, she sighs. “Sorcerers, Windows. They’re just terms used by the higher-ups to keep their stupid, fucked up heirarchy intact.”

You know it’s the wine that’s loosened her tongue. In public, Utahime would not dare to speak so freely. The Jujutsu politics in Kyoto were a lot stricter than they were in Tokyo. Not that that said much anyway. The politics were shit regardless. But Utahime worked closely with those connected to the higher-ups, so outside of this little bubble in your apartment, she kept pretty hush hush about her true feelings.

You watch Utahime closely as she fiddles with her wine glass. She really is beautiful. You think she’d be incredible on a show like this. Which gives you the idea.

“What don’t you apply?”

Utahime leans back, a cackle so loud and abrupt leaving her tiny body.

“No way. I would never date any of these Sorcerers.”

“And you want me to?!” You ask incredulously. You don’t know whether to be offended or not.

Your friend fixes you with a deadpan stare. “You don’t know them the way I do. The only good one out of all of them is Nanami Kento…and Shoko.” She mutters the last name quietly, like it’s a secret that she thinks so highly of her. And maybe it is a secret…the way she feels about the doctor in Tokyo who you couldn’t help but notice has Utahime’s cheeks glowing red whenever she’s mentioned.

“Besides,” Utahime continues. “If I signed up for this and got paired with Gojo –” she shudders at the mere thought of being near the man. “I don’t think I’d be able to keep myself from projectile vomiting just at the prospect of having to kiss him.”

It’s your turn to laugh obnoxiously now, because – “Why the hell would the strongest Sorcerer in a thousand years sign up for this shit? You don’t think he has anything better to do? Like, you know…keep all of Japan safe?”

“Satoru Gojo does whatever Satoru Gojo wants.”

You can’t argue with that. Utahime would know best. She did grow up with him after all. She knew him well. You’ve never met the man, being just a Window, you doubt you ever will. Out of all the Sorcerers, you’ve only ever met Utahime and Principal Gakuganji. You’ve never even met any of the students. You all run in different circles, but that doesn't mean you don’t keep up with the going-ons of the Jujutsu world. Everyone knows Satoru Gojo.

“You should really sign up, though,” Utahime suggests once more. “You might meet a good person. If anything, you’ll get a good vacation out of it.” With that, she stands. It’s clear that the wine is hitting her again, because she wobbles clumsily to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

If it’s anything like every other week before this, you’ll be peeling Utahime out of your bathtub because she will have inevitably fallen asleep.

Your eyes fall back on the hidden message on the television, reading it over and over before you finally just hit play and let the finale finish.

Joey chooses whatever that girl’s name is. You’re only halfway paying attention because against your better judgment, you’re actually thinking about applying to this. But you think the show is stupid, right? Why would you waste your time? But what if Utahime is right? What if you do meet someone? It’s not that you’re against dating. You’re just not actively in the market for romance because you’ve found that dating non-Sorcerers is more stress than it’s worth.

The constant obligation you feel to regulate their emotions so you can avoid the creation of a cursed spirit that you’ll have to call in and do paperwork for? Exhausting. Not to mention, if you ever grew to truly love this person, you’d be overwhelmed with guilt if a curse manifested and harmed them in any way and you couldn’t do anything but watch in horror as you made a phone call.

You’d never really given any thought to it, but perhaps dating a Sorcerer is what you needed. You could end up meeting an amazing man!

But also, semantics or not, you were not technically a Sorcerer. You were simply a Window. Why the hell would an actual Sorcerer want to be with you? Better yet, what were the chances of this show even choosing you as their next Bachelorette?

- - - - - -

Apparently, the chances were extremely high, because one phone call, four video interviews, a nearly five hour drive from Kyoto to Tokyo, and days of promotional video and photo shoots later, you find yourself standing outside of the Bachelor Mansion, donning the most expensive gown that money could buy.

This is not what you expected. Not at all. There is so much going on. You want to run and hide from every single camera you see being propped up. You want to curl into yourself when the lights come on and the director calls, “Action!” And you see some man you’re just meeting for the first time approaching as he speaks directly to the camera.

“...and she’ll be making history tonight as The Bachelorette’s first Jujutsu Sorcerer,” you hear him tell the camera as he stops just a few feet short of you. Tall, blonde and handsome. He looks like an American football player. “I’m Jesse Palmer, ladies and gentleman. Now, let’s meet our Bachelorette!”

He turns to you, wearing a bright smile. The cameras follow, moving closer to catch a close-up of your face, so you smile as naturally as you can and try not to flinch when Jesse moves forward to embrace you in a swift hug.

Jesse calls your name as though you’ve been friends for a long time. “So nice to finally see you. You look great.”

The camera pans down your body and back up to your face. “Likewise, Jesse.”

“How’re you feeling?” he asks.

“I’m nervous! Definitely nervous, but feeling good! I’m so excited for this,” you lie. You’re dreading this process. But it’s too late to back out now. So you just hold your smile, conversing politely as Jesse makes small talk and gets to know you before the first contestant pulls up.

And you hope that if Utahime is watching, she sees the message behind your eyes screaming that you’re absolutely going to kill her.

[zilabee]

Tony Bramwell, on Yoko

- gradually, inch by inch she intruded into our lives

- It was hardly surprising that John felt some kind of electricity; but it was probably the air crackling with Yoko’s desperation

- If I were standing about with him, Yoko would come up to me and say something in her high little girl’s voice, perhaps hoping to get John to notice her [...]. John would walk off to talk to someone else, while she stared after him. In those days, Yoko was always staring after John.

- She wanted to possess John and she was the one who was exceptionally jealous. She could not cope with the fact that John could love three other guys.

- her piece de resistance, the much-reprised performance of “Cut Piece.”  The scissors were wired for sound, so every cut had a horrific, almost animal sound, like a beast crunching into its human prey.

- did Yoko do her hypnotism thing, as some of John’s friends thought she had, or did she have a powerful new drug in her arsenal? Nobody really believed that John fell in love overnight, because why hadn’t he done so before? He’d been kicking Yoko in and out of his life for over a year. Mostly, he had given the impression that he resented and despised her. [...] Perhaps it was that he really was mentally ill and like many schizoid personalities, got religious mania.

- Overnight, he no longer had a will of his own.

- ...an attempt to use Primal Scream Therapy under Arthur Janov by telephone, to free him from his heroin addiction...

- Sir Joe said he didn’t think the pictures were obscene, he had seen much worse, an opinion which confused John and Yoko. They wanted to be seen as avant-garde and enfants terribles.

- Yoko had no sense of humour at all and she loathed Phil as much as Phil hated her. Each of them was implacable and paranoid.

- I used to dread taking John and Yoko’s arty stuff into radio stations and asking them to play it. For me, it was a bad experience because it was unplayable and unlistenable. [...] The reaction was a bored, “Why are you bringing this crap to us?” At first I argued with radio producers about it, though not on a very artistic level. I even heard myself saying, “Because he pays my wages. That’s why!” It was so embarrassing.

- As far as Yoko was concerned, if you spout all this magical, healing, antiwar, be kind to everybody, all-seeing, all-caring, all-macrobiotic stuff, being pregnant on heroin would seem to be the last thing she would need. And how does all that stuff equate with shooting up smack? How does all that spiritual pontificating gel with the teaspoon and the needle, unless you’re a fraud?

- According to John, Yoko snorted [heroin], but I had no doubt that if she had used a needle, she would probably have said it was acupuncture.

- John used to like life. He used to like to get on a roll. Laugh, eat and drink. [...] proper breakfasts, an old-fashioned fry-up, pie and chips, fish and chips, fried chicken, a roast dinner on a Sunday, Chinese food, curry, spaghetti Bolognese. Everything. Then he met Yoko, grew his beard, and [...] from Irish navvy’s food, he went to heroin and macrobiotics. I think if Yoko had said it was spiritual to snort bean curd instead of eat it John would have done it.

- She and John used to whisper away in their corner, with a completely different, us-against-the-world perspective to everyone. I know they did, because filming quietly on the sidelines, I heard.

- Having discussed life and its ins and outs and meanings, and worked out that it all means nothing, John and Yoko didn’t want to, couldn’t possibly, give the edifice of the Beatles any credit, or indeed any respect.

- doubt set in because some critics and reviewers gave her favourable reviews in the press and on TV. You’d find yourself wondering if you were an intellectual failure, unable to spot the hidden value in Yoko’s art and music. [...] somehow it became important to judge Yoko as impartially as possible, mostly out of regard for John. The problem was we couldn’t accept that he could be so blinded.

- [Dan Richter] was a close confidant of [Yoko and Tony Cox]. He said he heard all their hopes and schemes to hook John, at first as a financial “angel,” then, with dawning excitement, as a lover.

- According to Dan, Tony Cox actively encouraged the affair between John and Yoko as a means of survival. He said that Cox would tell Yoko to “go get Lennon.” When John proved elusive, as he was at first, Cox told Yoko she wasn’t trying hard enough. For her part, when she saw how close she was to capturing their prey, Yoko told Dan that they’d soon be rich beyond their wildest dreams.

- Cox began to feel fragile, thinking he might get cut out. In all seriousness, he drew up an agreement that he insisted Yoko sign. This single-page document—which was drawn up and signed at Dan’s kitchen table—stated that when Yoko hooked John, they would split any cash she got from the endeavour.