#divider credit: saradika-graphics

[voxofthevoid]

Tis Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #13.

Sukuna is back and traumatizing Yuuji with hole (...many holes this time) as usual, but as per yesterday's poll, this week's offering is also goyuu—specifically, Gojou taking a big dick and almost regretting it. The almost is load-bearing.

Eat up 🍨

Satoru bottoms out with a grunt that shudders in his throat like it’s caught on something bigger and meatier than the wet muscles there. When he swallows, he can almost taste it.

Under him, Yuuji’s all tightly shut eyes and clenching fists, and with the way he’s clenching his jaw and panting through his nose, you’d think he’s hurting. But the cock lodged inside Satoru tells a different story, throbbing its heat with a ferocity that seeps into his muscles, into his bones. Satoru can feel it in his goddamn spine, a gnawing ache that’s left him in cold sweat.

He shifts, telling himself it’s to find a better, kinder angle, and his body proves the futility of it by clenching tight inside and out.

Satoru doesn’t make a fucking sound, but Yuuji groans like a gutted thing.

“That’s my line,” Satoru says dazedly.

Yuuji’s eyes flutter open, satisfyingly glassy. “W-what?”

Satoru considers it. It’s rather hard. His thoughts keep scattering, his mind trying to slip down his spine to writhe in his asshole. It should really stop. There’s no space down there. Satoru’s not sure there’s enough space for what he has crammed up in there. It feels like Yuuji’s shaved off some flesh and maybe some bone to make that thing fit, and maybe it’s a good thing that Yuuji’s only other lover is a demon because Satoru can’t imagine your average teenager surviving this dick. Cute little Megumi would get torn in half.

That’s unfair. Satoru’s the one who pinned this boy down and sat on his cock. But at the end of the day, he’s the one with his ass split open; he’s allowed an uncharitable thought or ten. What Yuuji doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

Satoru, meanwhile, is being hurt by something he knows quite well. He knew what he was getting into: He’s seen and held this cock. It’s pulsed against his own length and slid maddeningly over his clenching asshole. He’s had it in his mouth just yesterday, down so deep that his lungs ached with it, and his throat didn’t stop hurting until Satoru healed it when the hot ache of it became more irritating than sweetly filthy.

But it always feels more like this—the heat, the length, the girth.

“—you—Satoru, please—”

Satoru blinks, his vision shifting from a hazy mix of energy lines and solid colors to resolve into the pretty curves of a violently flushed face. Yuuji’s staring up at him almost pleadingly, his eyes gone all big and dark.

“You say something?” Satoru asks.

“Move,” Yuuji chokes out, his fingers fisting the sheets tighter till the knuckles turn white, “please.”

Satoru almost laughs. “You want me cryin’, kid?”

Yuuji’s eyes widen almost comically. “N-no, no, what—”

“Gimme a moment here.” Satoru experimentally shifts his arms without moving an inch elsewhere. It’s a good thing he keeps his nails blunt; he’d have sunk them right into Yuuji’s chest otherwise. “I did just take your monster cock.”

A high-pitched noise rends the air. Yuuji looks like he’d sink right through the mattress and also the floor underneath if Satoru wasn’t keeping him safe and snug inside him.

“I didn’t mean…” Yuuji finally pries a hand off the mattress—and promptly covers his face. “Didn’t mean it like that. Take—take your time?”

“Look at that, you’re a gentleman after all.”

Yuuji whimpers.

A part of Satoru wants to keep teasing him, but every word he says still feels like it’s fighting past the tip of Yuuji’s cock, like it’s stabbed in so deep that it’s cut him open all the way to the throat, and Satoru’s whole spine aches like it’s feeding that dirty illusion. And it’s hot—hotter than the entire rest of Yuuji, even the inside of his mouth, as if this boy runs cold just so his cock can hoard all his heat. Now it’s all pouring into Satoru, scorching him from the inside.

There are worse ways to burn.

Satoru settles his palms over the indents his nails made in Yuuji’s flesh, shifting his weight forward. Sharp pain bolts up his back, and again, Yuuji’s the one who makes a noise, but the tone’s all wrong—delight bordering on delirium. Satoru’s not quite there yet.

But god, sat on a cock like this, he fucking will be.

He breathes out slowly, forcing himself to relax. It mostly works. The tension seeps out of his shoulders, and his thighs feel less like they’re trying to shatter his own bones. His ass is a lost cause, stretched to its limit and then some. All Satoru can feel there is the shape and heat of Yuuji’s cock, but even that’s a nebulous mass of sheer sensation, its edges and ends melting into the clench of his gut and the curve of his spine and the hollow of his throat.

Yuuji’s still covering his face, fingers flexed like they’re poised to tear off whole chunks of flesh.

“Look at me, Yuuji,” Satoru orders softly. “I want you to watch this part.”

Yuuji makes a noise like Satoru’s hurting him, but his hand moves up, gripping his hair instead of his whole face, and with his forehead bared like this, Yuuji looks older and sharper—or maybe that’s the expression on his face, that hot-eyed hunger.

Satoru very slightly shifts his hips. His insides ripple in a molten rush.

“Satoru,” Yuuji gasps like a plea.

And Satoru’s body answers of its own volition, repeating that minute movement, and it’s no less vicious, the way his muscles flinch and flex around that claiming cock, but it’s not all pain, if it ever was. It’s fullness, first and foremost, his flesh sleeved on a burning bit of this boy’s body, but there’s pleasure too, throbbing with the ceaseless pressure against his prostate and even the more piercing sensations further in, where Yuuji’s reached so deep that the touch alone feels violating.

There’s just something about it—a perverse thrill in being touched where he shouldn’t be, like there are blistering fingers prying open his flesh to grope him gut-deep.

It’s also what’s keeping him here, breathless and trembling. He can move through pain, but pleasure’s a different beast.

But Satoru will mount that too.

He slides his hand from Yuuji’s chest to his shoulders, gripping tight. The muscles there tense under his palms, but their solid heat is pleasant to cling to, like the reluctant give of flesh is a sign that this body can take him well.

Satoru promptly tests it out, rocking his hips with real intent.

Excruciating pleasure bolts up his spine, and Satoru does it again before his body can grow shy, gasping sharply as the sensation doubles and triples in intensity, every lash of pain-pleasure chasing after the one before it, colliding into a scorching mass somewhere at the base of his spine, and it spreads and spreads, heating his guts and his lungs and his bones, and the source of the heat throbs inside his ass, no less devastating despite Satoru’s insides trying so hard to accommodate its size.

Below, Yuuji’s stiff all over, muscles pulled taut. He could be a marble statue if not for the warm flush gleaming under a fine sheen of sweat.

“It feels very good, doesn’t it,” Satoru says, not quite a question.

Yuuji just lets out a thin, whistling breath, a word trapped somewhere in it.

“Nothing you don’t know,” Satoru infers, admittedly unconnected to anything Yuuji’s said or done—he just remembers those claw marks, bloody and vicious. “That means I should make this memorable, hm? I do hate coming in second.”

Yuuji shakes his head, just a single frantic motion.

“Oh?” Satoru breathes, bearing down with his whole body, and there’s nothing left for him to take, his ass flush with Yuuji’s groin, but the cock impaling him still digs into whole new swathes of flesh.

Yuuji moans softly, and his lips quiver around words that make no sound. Then—

“Y-you’re not. Already, it’s—you’re always—shit, Satoru—”

Satoru smiles, unclutching one of Yuuji’s shoulders to pat his cute face. “You’re such a sweet boy.”

Yuuji’s hips buck, bouncing Satoru on his cock, and it’s a weak motion, between Yuuji’s legs being flat on the mattress and Satoru’s weight pinning him at the pelvis, but weak from someone like Yuuji is still enough to make Satoru shudder and clench, caught in a motion that’s less about movement than shifting, searing pressure, his rim screaming around the girth spreading it and his sore insides rippling around a cock that manages to find new ways to abuse what it’s already claimed.

His own cock throbs in answer, jutting out in front of him the way it has this whole time, forcing Satoru into honesty even as he writhed and grunted his way down Yuuji’s cock.

“Don’t make me take it back,” Satoru warns breathlessly, putting more weight on Yuuji’s shoulder like that’ll still the rest of him. “Stay.”

“Trying,” Yuuji gasps. “You’re just so—”

Yuuji doesn’t finish that, but Satoru’s willing to forgive him as long as he keeps looking at Satoru with those dark, burning eyes, and he’s only too willing to give Yuuji more and more reasons to keep looking, clutching him close and pinning him down and moving until they’re both plunged into an exquisite hell.

[ruins-of-babylon]

Harry Potter Masterlist:

Blaise Zabini

Draco Malfoy

Lorenzo Berkshire

Mattheo Riddle

Pansy Parkinson

Theodore Nott

Tom Riddle

All of them!

[generalsdiary]

you brought your partner a flower bouquet. it isn’t something they often receive, and you felt a desire to change that. being a solemn, thoughtful person after thanking you they said;

“yes… it is sad that I’ll have to watch them die.” “they started dying the moment they were picked. kind of like humans, from the age of 25 their bodies officially begin to die.” upon hearing your words they look back at you, sharing a knowing look. “that is too short. I…” they clench their jaw for a moment. “humans have too short of a life span. we- I will find a way” soft, whispered words flowing between you two like a breeze on an early spring morning.

depending on the context behind their words, that perhaps brought you joy, that your loved one would go above and beyond to have as much time as possible with you. or it filled you with fear, knowing their history with such ways of life manipulation.

“no matter how much time we have, we will be alright. I cherish every moment I get with you. and once I’m gone-“

“please don’t say that.” their voice fell to a broken whisper. noticing the change in their body language, you moved closer, cupping their face, and matching their quiet tone you said, “let’s stay in the present. I’m right here, living and breathing. focus on me, on my heart,” you take their hand and place their palm on your chest. “on how it beats for you. for us.”

Dan Heng, Jingliu, Blade, Dan Feng, Neuvillette, Xiao, Wanderer, Scaramouche, Capitano

divider cr: @saradika

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Series Synopsis: A series of (mostly) unrelated one shots, featuring Oliver Aiku somehow getting involved with the love lives of various Blue Lock characters — whether he wants to or not.

SHOEI BAROU | AO3

SAE ITOSHI | AO3

TABITO KARASU | AO3

REO MIKAGE | AO3

SEISHIRO NAGI | AO3

EITA OTOYA | AO3

KENYU YUKIMIYA | AO3

OLIVER AIKU | AO3

[taintandviolent]

For the ask prompt game:

"Don't say that" w Kit Walker

tw: infertility, angst, brief smut.

Kit opened the door, setting his coat down on the chair nearest to it. You felt him searching for you, felt his eyes scanning over the small of your back and the curve of your ass. His heavy steps echoed in the small house as he made his way over to you. Wordlessly, your hand moved in circles, sudsing up a plate. 

His warm chest pressed against your back and Kit began peppering little kisses along the nape of your neck. Knowing what was coming next, you immediately felt petulant and stiffened as you continued to meticulously scrub at the dishes. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Kit – you did, with everything you had. It was just that he wanted something you didn’t, and something that you’d never ever be able to give him. Still, he tried, thinking that his potent virility would puncture your insufferable, sterile womb. 

“Miss me, baby?” 

“Sure I did. I always miss you when you’re gone, Kit.”

“Mmmmfff –” His words disappeared into your skin. 

His large, warm hands explored your plush hips, squeezing the flesh hard. Teeth clenched, you bit back your words. They continued to venture further, into the crease of your thigh, heading straight for your cunt. His middle and ring finger moved together, caressing the slit. His whisperings were hot on your ear, his breath rushing down over your neck. “I wanna’ fill you up, baby.” 

“Oh, Kit - stop it!” You twisted your body away from him, furiously scrubbing at the pan.

Kit’s eyes softened, searching for a glimmer of sarcasm, of joviality. He found nothing but hardness. “Sugah’, don’t…” 

“No! Kit!” You threw the pan down, the sound of it clattering in the sink startling him. “ I’m tired of ignoring the elephant in the room. It makes me sick!” 

“Baby, listen,” he shushed, his hands clamping onto the sides of your arms. He rubbed the flesh there, trying to pacify you. He hadn’t meant anything by his casual remark, he was just trying to get you in the mood. After a long day, all he wanted was to have you to his own. As any man would. 

Bracing yourself on the sink, you leaned over it, watching as the suds sloshed back and forth, tiny bubbles popping. Tears welled up in your eyes, stinging the corners. You hadn’t wanted to cry today, you were so tired of feeling this – every time he came onto you, the worry was in the back of your mind. Finally, you turned to him and spoke, struggling to keep your voice steady. 

“Kit, you know damn well that filling me up isn’t going to do anything. And even if it did, you know how I feel about that. I’m broken. I’m broken and you know it.”

“You’re not broken, sugah’ - there ain’t a damn thing wrong with ya’.” 

“Maybe I ought to go to Briarcliff. Maybe if they fry my brain long enough, it’ll fix me”  

“Don’t say that.” He squared his shoulders. “Don’t say that.”

[flowershopper]

Zhongli Angst // 𝘼𝙣 𝙊𝙡𝙙 𝙈𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙮.

✦ warnings:: reader is dead, no comfort, overall angst. || word count:: #331 || divider credits:: saradika-graphics. ✦

“𝘚𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 , 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹 𝘺𝘰𝘶 .”

𝘖𝘩 , 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 .

“𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 .”

𝘠𝘦𝘴 . 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘥 , 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 . 𝘛𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 .

“𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 , 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘹 .”

-

𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘥 , 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦’ 𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸 . 𝘓𝘪𝘺𝘶𝘦’𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 , 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘻𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘺 .

𝘏𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 .

𝘠𝘰𝘶 .

𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 ,

𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 ,

𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 —

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 .

𝘏𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 , 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 .

𝘈𝘩 , 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺 .

𝘖𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘪 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘴 , 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 .

𝘈 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 .

𝘠𝘰𝘶 .

𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 ,

𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 ,

𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘥 .

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 .

“𝘚𝘪𝘨𝘩 . 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘢 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 ..

“𝘠/𝘯 .”

𝘈 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 .

𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 .

𝘏𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 , 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’�� 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘺 . 𝘈 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦.

𝘏𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 , 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 , 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 , 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣 , 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘬 .

𝘕𝘰 .

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 , 𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵 .

𝘋𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 , 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦 .

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 .

𝘈𝘩 , 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦 .

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦 .

𝘈 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘮 , 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 .

𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘺𝘦 , 𝘺/𝘯 .

—

18-12-2024

[cherryberry-sugarandspice]

Welcome to my blog!

You can just call me Cherry 🍒

I am a fanfic writer. I've always loved writing it's a huge passion of mine. I do take requests! In my bio it'll say whether or not I am taking requests at the moment. If my bio says I am not taking requests, please respect that. However, there are things I will not write: incest, underage, zoo. I do not write those things. They make me uncomfortable and it's honestly gross. You can ask me questions though regarding fanfics (: This is a 18+ blog. Yes I will write SFW, but regardless this is a 18+ blog. My bio says MDNI so please respect that. Proship, stay the fuck off my blog. If you ship incest, such as Wanda x Pietro, block me. If you ship minor x adult, block me. If you're into zoo, block me. I do not want you interacting with my blog. It makes me uncomfortable. This is a boundary that I'm setting and if that makes you upset for me simply setting a boundary, regardless or not you're into that stuff, block me. I am responsible for my online experience, which is why I'm putting this here to simply block me. I have blocked, filtered, and stayed away from things that make me uncomfortable and that I do not like and find disgusting. If you have a problem with me not liking disgusting stuff, do me a favor and block me. My current interest is X-Men, Scarlet Witch. Main characters I write are Magneto, Rogue, Agatha, Scarlet Witch, Wonder Man

I'll link a my master lists below (I will try to update regularly):

Magneto Rogueneto House of Cherry

SM!Wanda Miguel O'Hara Magnet Family

The link to my AO3 🍒

[mysticum-draconis]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓖𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓱

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥, "𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘎𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬! 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘚𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘕𝘪𝘤𝘬!" 🎅

Not exactly the right quote with the right image, but it seemed to fit better.

I drew this in December of 2022, copying a still from How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (1966) Christmas special, narrated by Boris Karloff.

Although I didn't think so at the time, this is probably the best thing I drew in 2022. I'm still pretty pleased with how it came out, although now I would’ve coloured him with felt-tip or brush pens, to get the smoother, 2D cartoon look. I don't care much for the grainy, pencil look I ended up getting here.

HB mechanical pencil and Lyra colouring pencils on 160 gsm paper.

Closeup below cut.

Please don’t use or repost here or on other websites without credit or permission, thanks 🙏

Dividers: @/saradika-graphics

[chubbygrape]

DD Chapter 53 ⊹ Journal Spread ☠

was giggling and kicking my feet making this lLLooollll <3 Joking (am i), but he seriously looked scrumptious in this new chapter << dont catch me seeing a man I like looking tired and scruffy i tweak a bit

But on a serious note this spread ended up coming out SO cute, I had no clue where I was going with it at first so im rl proud of how it came out [i struggle so much with taking pictures tho ngl i might just get a scanner one day]

[bangtanhoneys]

MASTER LIST

BTS 8th Member - Grace Chu Moments,

BTS 8th Member - Grace Chu Main Masterlist (career)

BTS Wedding Moodboards

Namjoon / Seokjin / Yoongi / Hoseok / Jimin / Taehyung / Jungkook

BTS Wedding Series - Completed

The Bangtan Baby

Bangtan Baby 25 Prompts

Christmas prompts

REQUESTS: ARE OPEN!

Kofi - support with tea or coffee!

Anons

🪻⏳🌊💖💜

[voxofthevoid]

*banging pots and pans together* Goyuu gremlins, come get y'all fucking juice.

I say this as if I'm not inundating you in goyuu every week, but Gojou has been conspicuously absent from my current WIP for...10 chapters and over 70k words. A major character and one half of the endgame ship, and he shows up halfway through the story—JJK has got me making more and more novel (in terms of my writing) narrative choices with each fic.

Gotta say, it feels great to get back into writing Gojou. Last time I tackled him was at the end of September, for the fem!Gojou no-powers oneshot. The necrofic from October beginning has a lot of Gojou, sure, but he's a...well, a corpse. Sinking back into goyuu banter and interactions felt like coming home.

Now, here's Demon/Hunter Horror Wednesday #9, featuring Gojou Sluttoru Satoru in the flesh.

There’s a man on the platform.

It’s the height that startles Yuuji first. He’s freakishly tall. The tallest person Yuuji’s seen—unless he counts Sukuna, which he won’t. Besides, this guy’s all legs, and it’s weirdly fascinating how they move, smooth and graceful under shiny pants reflecting the platform lights. They eat up the platform with long, languid strides, getting closer and closer and—

Yuuji blinks, dragging his eyes from the man’s legs to a face that’s a lot closer than he expects, even though he has to crane his neck to make eye contact—kind of. The man’s wearing sunglasses, those thick black ones that show nothing of what’s underneath, so Yuuji just ends up staring at his own distorted reflection.

His eyes are wide, his mouth a little open. Yuuji closes it, his teeth clicking together.

The height isn’t the only startling thing about the man. His hair is a shock of white, messy strands covering his forehead and even falling over the sunglasses. And Yuuji’s got no leg to stand on when it comes to people with eye-catching coloring, but there’s still something about this man that makes it hard to look away.

“Hi?” he offers warily.

“Hello,” comes the answer, immediate and cheerful. “You a local?”

“Uh, yeah? I guess.”

A tilt of the head. Those snowy strands shift with mesmerizing motions. “That’s not very reassuring.”

“Why…am I reassuring you?”

The man claps, once. “Good point! You’re not a serial killer, are you?”

Yuuji’s so confused. “No?”

“Hmm, you don’t sound very sure about that either.” The man leans closer, which involves a lot of bending. Yuuji blinks at his reflection in the glasses, which blinks right back. “Nah, you’re too cute to be a serial killer.”

“Thanks, I think. Who are you?”

“Gojou Satoru!” The man declares, straightening up and sticking out an arm. “And who are you, my young, uncertain friend?”

Yuuji takes the proffered hand. It’s big, almost swallowing his whole hand when it closes around it. There’s warmth too, seeping boldly into his flesh.

“Itadori Yuuji,” he introduces himself. “I’m very confused.”

“I did get that impression.”

“No, I mean, you’re—” Yuuji shakes his head. “Never mind. Why are you asking weird questions?”

“Hey now,” the man says, his lips pressing into a pout. They’re very shiny. And pink. “Those were very sensible questions. There’s no point asking for directions from a non-local, is there? And it’d be very unwise of me to put myself in the maw of a murderer.”

“Well,” Yuuji says, slightly less confused, “I’m not a murderer. And I do live here. Moved here a few months back. Pretty sure I can give you directions. To where?”

“A recent transplant. I see,” Gojou murmurs, his head still tilted slightly down. Despite the opaque glasses, Yuuji has the distinct sense of being looked at. “Would you happen to know the way to the Fushiguro household, Itadori Yuuji-kun?”

“Fushiguro?” Yuuji repeats. “You know him? Or are you here for Tōji-san?”

“Both,” Gojou says, his smile widening. The glossy gleam of his lips doesn’t hide how sharp the expression is, and for the first time, Yuuji really takes in the rest of his face—the chiseled jaw, the straight nose, the prominent cheekbones. A sharp face, but pretty too. Like Fushiguro’s, except that while Fushiguro’s soft around the edges, this man looks like he’ll cut if touched. “—to me?”

Yuuji blinks back to himself, trying and failing to make sense of what Gojou just said. “Huh?”

That smile grows even bigger, flashing a hint of very white teeth. “I asked if you’re listening to me?”

“Oh. No,” Yuuji admits. “Sorry?”

Gojou hums, tilting his head like a curious cat. “I don’t think you are. But I’ll forgive it if you’re a good boy and take me to the Fushiguros.”

Yuuji swallows, his throat very dry. “I could, but…”

“But?”

“How do I know you’re not a serial killer, Gojou-san?”

Gojou snorts. It’s an ugly sound, rough and nasal. Something inside Yuuji unclenches, like that’s the proof he needed that this guy is human and not some abnormally pretty dream he conjured up. It’d be a kinder dream than usual, but Yuuji can’t trust his imagination anymore.

“I’m too handsome for that, don’t you think?” Gojou asks, his grin grown lopsided.

“Yeah, but—” Yuuji makes a sweeping gesture with his free arm, covering Gojou as well as the rest of the platform. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“So there is a brain under all that pink fluff,” Gojou says, his tone weirdly approving.

“I don’t think you get to talk about anyone’s hair,” Yuuji points out, eyeing Gojou’s snow-white strands again.

But Gojou just tosses his hair like he’s in a shampoo commercial. “It’s all natural.”

“So is mine,” Yuuji says drily. “Not the point.”

“Oh? What is your point then?”

“Serial killing. I think.” Yuuji shakes his head. “Whatever. Yeah, I’ll take you to the Fushiguros’ place. Do anything weird and I’ll punch you.”

“Careful,” Gojou purrs. “I might be into that.”

Yuuji just looks at him for a moment, before taking in the rest of the platform with half a mind to foist this guy off on someone else. There’s no one, obviously. It’s not like this place is bustling even during what was the rush hour back at Sendai. Nanami and Yuuji were alone the entire time they waited, and he’s pretty sure no one but Gojou got off from the train.

Plus, he probably shouldn’t inflict this guy on anyone else. Yuuji doesn’t think he’s a bad person or anything, but he’s kinda weird. And Yuuji’s pretty immune to stranger danger.

Except when he walks into cursed churches.

“Come on then,” Yuuji says. “It’s getting late, and Tōji-san usually turns in early.”

Gojou’s lips and cheeks do something very weird. “Fushiguro Tōji has a bedtime.”

“Uh, not exactly—”

Yuuji’s cut off by demented laughter—full-on cackling, filling up the open air of the empty platform. All he can do is watch, nonplussed, until Gojou calms down, and even that’s startlingly abrupt, the noise stopping so suddenly that the resulting silence seems to boom.

“Sorry, sorry,” Gojou says, not sounding all that sincere. “That was just too funny. Guess the single dad life suits him.”

Yuuji thinks of what Fushiguro sounds like every time he has to talk about his dad. “I…wouldn’t say that. Anyway, you coming?”

“Sure,” Gojou says easily. “You going to let me go first, or are we holding hands the whole way?”

“What’re you—”

Yuuji realizes the answer before he even finishes the question, blinking down at his own hand—still clasped firmly around Gojou’s bigger one. He lets go quickly, snatching it back. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to do with it. Wiping it on his pants would be rude. And it’s not like Gojou’s palm was sweaty or anything. It was just warm, and Yuuji’s whole hand sparks like it’s stolen that heat for itself. He settles for folding his arms across his chest. 

Gojou looks entirely too amused. “Pity.”

“Don’t tease me,” Yuuji grumbles, hoping the heat on his face doesn’t actually show on the skin; he knows his odds though, and they’re not good. He’s about to march off, leaving Gojou to choose whether to follow, when something occurs to him. “Wait, are you…”

“Yes?” Gojou prods after a moment, that curling grin still in place.

Yuuji squints up at him, specifically the sunglasses. He doesn’t think Gojou’s blind. People wear sunglasses all the time, though he’s rarely seen ones so dark. And Gojou navigated the platform pretty easily earlier, no cane or anything. Still, the thought won’t leave his head, and Yuuji’s mind refuses to accept the vague sense of being watched as enough proof, so he asks, “Are you blind?”

“How blunt,” is Gojou’s response. “I like that in people.”

“That’s not—”

—an answer, Yuuji doesn’t say because Gojou proceeds to give him an answer, raising one long-fingered hand to pluck his sunglasses off.

A maelstrom of blue slams into Yuuji.

He’s seen blue eyes more than a few times. People he knew, people he passed in the street. Bright ones, dark ones. Then there’s Fushiguro, whose eyes act like some deep-sea trench, shifting from dark green to depthless blue based on the lighting and his mood.

But he’s never seen eyes like these.

It’s not just one shade of blue, but every blue, all at once. Thin threads of shuddering color, spreading out from pupils that swallow all light. It’s breathtakingly bright, like the colors are reaching out of the eyes to claw at the air. Or maybe they’re just swirling inside, chasing each other inside the confines of those irises.

A part of Yuuji knows that he’s imagining it, that Gojou’s eyes aren’t actually nuclear ghosts. But that logic doesn’t quite penetrate the blue haze in his head.

Gojou blinks, cutting off that stream of color, and Yuuji sucks in a breath like a drowning man.

[4th-make-quail]

QUAIL. Genus sleepy

she/he ~ 30+

Your local old man enthusiast and villainfucker extraordinaire! Writer of unpopular ships in unpopular configurations, gifmaker, and general all-round menace.

Your Kink is Not My Kink and That's Okay - antis can go get fucked, basically! Functionally "proship" but I really hate the label, so make of that what you will. If you're into policing morality, I don't want to know you, and I am extremely free with my block button.

ABOUT QUAIL

info page ~ tags page (wip)

TAGS OF NOTE

quail's fic ~ quail's gifs ~ quail's edits

old man bone zone ~ eric bogosian/assad zaman ~ ffxii

[global-kawan]

Here, I post/reblog world news and donation links. Please message me if there needs to be corrections made to any post.

[beatsboy]

8.18.24 / week 8 of being a delusional artist

day 4 of moon time

how did i live like a delusional artist today? maybe in photographing my period stains on my bed maybe in journaling my dream about my ex the minute i woke up at 7am before going right back to bed because i can’t stand to be awake for another moment after having to freshly remember that they’re not here again (these dreams are like waking up to a fresh bandaid being torn off the wound over and over again) maybe in procrastinating, for they say that all artists do this, and while i know this is true, i am struggling to get unstuck and stay unstuck lately. it’s hard to fully break out of the cave, when you’re stuck, when you’re by yourself. sweet pea helps, licking my face (i swear) to remind me to go to the bathroom, to eat, to go outside. all he does is lick my face, so i have to interpret these as signals to get moving. last night, for instance, i was sitting on my computer for far too long, on the couch next to sweet pea. and promptly, as my bladder started to nag at me to go to the bathroom, he started to lick my face, inhibiting me from using my computer.

i’m starting to think he parents me more than i parent him, and i only pretend that it’s the other way around to feel better about my lack of self-sufficiency as a human adult. my fucking goals for tomorrow are to eat 3 meals, first one before 11. like, come on.

i just feel so slow while i’m bleeding, and i know that it will be over soon, but i think part of the reason i need to spiritualize it, to give it meaning, is because it’s just so fucking painful, physically, emotionally, and generally in relation to my gender.

i was supposed to leave the house today, and i did get all ready to do so, another sunday where i put my swim trunks on and waited. this time, it never came time to go, the party wrapped early, and i remained, having spent time getting ready, covered in sunscreen, with nowhere to go. and instead of quickly pivoting to art, which was very possible at that time, i got stuck. i got stuck waiting to go to bri’s to return their keys, for no reason at all, and then got stuck when i got home, and finally unstuck enough to make myself some food at 10pm, do the dishes, change the sheets (i did do some cleaning today, just very slowly, like imagine a slug doing chores, very slowly, and getting caught on corners), and sit here and journal.

i have therapy tomorrow, and tomorrow, i swear to god, i will continue working on music again. i had a good groove of working every day, basically until i finished boypop, which some have suggested i rename (which, yes, maybe, but what?) then, i got out of it, because it is so hard for me for some reason to maintain a consistent practice with my craft while working and socializing fucking still even though i don’t even work a full-time job like that. it’s truly not that i don’t have the time, it’s that i don’t have the energy? the focus? the routine?

healthy habits start small, though, right? i am believing in my future self, that i can make the new dates i’ve set for the release timeline. and i am giving myself these deadlines because i deserve to share my work with the world and i can’t wait any longer. i believe in the artist i want to be, in the artist i will be, because i am building toward it today. i am building my practice. i know i am good at what i do, i know i can do what i need to do to finish this project. i just need to focus and finish.

i’ve never completed an album before (unless you count the collection of phone demos i dropped on soundcloud for the lore) that’s like comparing publishing a fanfic on ao3 to getting your debut novel published, there’s a lot of extra steps that separate the two. it’s all i’ve ever wanted, so why am i waiting? why would i put off becoming the pop star i have dreamt of being since i was a fucking child? i am alone in my own apartment that i pay for with my own fucking money, why am i not spending every second making art in it? this is what i have always wanted for myself, space and time to make art, and i feel like i am wasting it spiraling and cleaning and pinteresting and tumblring and cleaning and looking up if the chemicals in my soap are poisoning me (pretty sure everything is poisoning me at this point)

i want to be fair to myself, i have not been completely idle. i redid the release timeline last night. i made a pitch deck for the next photoshoot the other day. i watched alien, for research (lol, but seriously!) i have been brainstorming the entire vibe/aesthetic/characterization of this persona, trying to mend together what we initially envisioned and what the music video shoot is giving (which are kind of different things but it’s ok)

the thing is, though, these things are part of the art, they are necessary to the art, to communicating the art to the people, to the audience. that does not make them art, though. the job part. the industry part. and sometimes i get so lost in these parts, that i forget that the whole point is to be able to sustain making art for the rest of my life. and none of this bullshit is worth it if i’m not making art. and if i’m not making art, it’s not going to feel like it either.

here is to tomorrow, to getting back to a daily practice, even if it’s in the form of small steps.

[chronicvagabonds]

🔴 - introduction

chron┆25+┆any pronouns┆lgbtqia+┆multifandom┆★ hallo there, you can call me chron. this sideblog is centered around reblogging & commenting on fandom, kpop media and fanfiction. i used to write fiction myself and have been reading online for more than half my life. the main reason i set up this account is to engage with the fanfiction community and to appreciate authors and their creations by leaving nice messages. ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

🔵 - warnings

n/sfш┆mdni with #18+┆dms open┆slow updates┆★ i read and reblog both sfш and nsfш fiction. mdni when: posts are marked nsfш by the author and/or tagged #18+ by me! i check in regularly but occasionally have extended periods of time when i am inactive due to reallife responsibilities. however my dms and letterbox are always open for chatting and sharing. ◛ˎˊ˗ dear authors: please interact or reach out to me if you have any questions or something i've said or done has made you uncomfortable. i enjoy annotating and yapping endlessly over your works and never carry the intention to confuse, harm or critique others. we're all strangers on the internet but nobody says we have to stay that way. ˙ᵕ˙

🟡 - navigation

my most common tags & their meanings┆★ #★ ┆ chronic: any post, text or thought written entirely by me #★ ┆ chroncom: fanfictions i have commented and given feedback to #★ ┆ chrononymous: questions/threads i asked anonymously often as 🃏 anon #afternote: followed by keywords from an author's response to my reblog ♡ #inspiration: prompts and ideas that make me want to write #appreciation: good vibes for authors and readers #advice: tips and tricks for writers and readers #my bells: [name]: my lovely mutuals 🫶

last updated: 28/09/2024

[seberries]

꩜ .ᐟ SEB: tired loverboy. twenty five. they/he.

.ᐟ ABOUT ꩜ RULES .ᐟ CONTACTS ꩜ MAIN