#everything spine of steel was missing

[looseleafteeaves]

Back on my Blue Beetle bullcrap...

Hahahahaha..... Reach code was not enough... Khaji Da has some basic phrases and words to use from Kharana(my reach language)... Feel free to use any of it! Sneak Peak/Snippet from "Desperate Measures":

Khaji’s panic flooded the scarab. There was no escape from Reach here. So the SC4R48 flared with power from the star heart that Reach had stolen and placed inside Khaji-da -efek-ney-del-tey*. Within that panic, Khaji Da breathed. Vos’jorak** they reminded themselves. Torathar ek yolkhan nek vorikhan.***

*Khaji da's serial number, infiltrator-8-500-90-4-10

**embrace stillness

***Cross the abyss with undaunted determination

[kittenintheden]

When I Think About You

surprise jorkin it PWP fic drop lol. enjoy.

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Astarion/Reader (You) Word Count: 1550 Content: 18+, jealousy, voyeurism, masturbation, mutual masturbation (sort of?), pillow humping, gender-neutral Tav/Reader

AO3 Link

You went to bed early tonight.

Well, earlier than you typically do. Not that Astarion has been paying you much attention. Hardly any, really. You’re just easy to miss.

Notice. You’re easy to notice. Because you’re so obvious.

Obviously annoying, obviously infuriating, obviously determined, and obviously infatuated with him. True, that had been his goal, but hells, you could blush a little less at his come-ons. Even if it does look cute on you.

Not that he thinks you’re cute. Not really.

The others are packing up their gear and turning in for the night. Astarion will take first watch like he typically does, have a quick trance, and get up in the early morning hours for a hunt. Easy. Routine.

So what if he’s falling into a routine with these people. It makes things simpler.

He should check on you. Just to make sure you’re not ill. For his health more than yours. These days, a headache could mean a rapid onset of calamari face. He’s doing everyone a favor, honestly.

When he approaches your tent, his steps slow to a stop as his ears pick up noise from inside your tent. You aren’t asleep.

And by the sound of it – and it’s a sound Astarion knows well – you aren’t alone.

He huffs an irritated breath through his nose. Gods damn it. He really thought he had you in the bag. There’s a shard of something sharp lodged beneath his rib. Annoyance, probably. Disappointment that he’s back to square one. Bitterness that he lost another competition, even when he’s doing what he does best.

Astarion turns to walk away. Takes three steps. Stops. Turns his head back toward the sound.

Who is it?

Who are you with?

He has his suspicions, but might as well take a quick peek to verify. His steps as he approaches are catlike. Not that you’d notice anyway, preoccupied as you are. He won’t look much. Only enough to see who stole his prize.

His mark. Who stole his mark.

Astarion pauses at the far side of your closed tent flap and finds a gap in the cloth. He leans in, eyes keen in the dark, and his mouth goes dry when he sees your hips grinding against someone, the length of your body pressed tight to theirs while you move over them. A blanket covers you both, but it doesn’t hide the passion of your movement.

He jerks his head away, a ball of tension aching in his gut. Ridiculous. He should go kill something. He walks toward the woods.

And stops with a sigh.

Astarion hates himself for it, this burning curiosity to know exactly who you’re riding so enthusiastically. Steeling himself, he creeps back and peeks once more through the split in the fabric.

You’re sitting up, now, showing him the long line of your spine in the center of your bare back as your hips continue to work. Every puff of breath through your lips is desperate, occasionally lilting up in a breathless moan.

Astarion worries his lip between his teeth. The muscles beneath your skin ripple, your blood thrumming so close and smelling so much of you, sweetened with the scent of arousal. If you’d just lean a little one way or the other, he could see who’s working you so… so…

There’s a flash of heat in his core followed by a sparking current of electricity, setting everything alight. He’d been doing his best to ignore the steady swell of his cock, but ignoring it is no longer an option as he goes hard as stone, the length of him straining toward his hip bone. Subconsciously, he cants his hips into the empty air and finds absolutely no relief. He has to swallow back a soft moan of his own.

The rolling globes of your arse are shaped perfectly beneath your thin wool blanket. Sharp, rocking thrusts against your playmate, against whichever lucky wretch currently feels the sticky heat of you while he watches.

Astarion lets his hand drift to the front of his breeches and sucks his breath in through his teeth when his palm grazes firmly over the covered head of his cock.

 You run a hand up your side and feel your own chest, maintaining your rhythm as you whimper.

Astarion’s fingers move to loosen his laces, lips parted as he begins to softly pant.

Your hand moves back down and you’re… yes, you’re putting your fingers between your legs, and you throw your head back with a gasp.

His fingers dip below his waistband and he curls in on himself with a huff as he takes himself in hand and begins to pump. Once, twice… ah, gods, that’s nice.

Though being under you would be even nicer.

Lucky sod. Who is it?

The blanket slips down over the curve of your arse, falling to one side and his breath catches as he realizes he’s about to get his answer.

Fabric falls aside and your incredible arse is grinding back and forth. You’re riding yourself to absolute delirium with…

A spare bedroll.

Astarion’s hand stutters to a stop and he doesn’t even breathe as realization hits him. You weren’t with someone else at all. The whole time, you’ve been furiously fucking yourself, grinding needily against your bedding for relief.

And somehow, some way, that makes him even harder. He mouths “oh, fuck” and goes back to stroking himself with renewed vigor. 

You’re desperately aroused, no longer trying to quiet your whimpers as you work your hips in circles against the bedroll while you rub yourself at the same time, your shoulders flushed with need. Your body undulates in wave after wave and Astarion feels quite certain that if he were inside you right now, he’d have come already. He puts his free hand over his mouth, pressing his palm to his lips to keep quiet.

You make a frustrated noise and swing your leg off the bedroll, and for a brief alarming moment, Astarion thinks you’re about to give up, and there’s no way he could let that stand. For either of you.

But then you shove the bedroll away with a huff and flop onto your back without opening your eyes, which is good news for Astarion, since you’d almost certainly see the silhouette of him outside your tent if you were paying attention. Instead, you spread your legs wide and give him a glorious view as one hand returns to its place between your legs and is quickly joined by the other.

Astarion shudders out a breath, the sound thankfully masked by your own rapid pants as you stroke yourself with one hand and trace around your entrance with the other. When you push two fingers inside and begin to pump in and out, Astarion’s knees threaten to give out as he picks up his pace. The tide of pleasure in his core rises and threatens to crest.

Gods, gods, he isn’t even fucking you and you’re still going to make him come before you do.

Your pretty little moans are too much. Your furrowed brow, your flushed cheeks, the way your thighs twitch and your belly shivers with the pleasure you’re lavishing on yourself. What a beauty you are, what a treat, what a-

“-arion,” you whisper, so quietly that he nearly misses it.

“Hah,” he breathes, his pleasure shuddering right on the edge of its peak. His mind must’ve filled that in. There’s no way you said what he thought you said.

He presses his face to the split in the fabric and leans against the tentpole, jerking himself firmly as he watches you arch your back up off the ground, lifting your hips into the air again, again, again, until your hands slow.

“Oh, Astarion,” you whisper just before you slam back down to earth and groan out your release, your slick making your skin shine in the low light.

“Sh-”

Astarion slams his hand over his mouth and ducks to the side, sinking silently to the ground around the corner of your tent just before he creams himself, a pulse of spend striping the ground beneath him, followed by another, and another. His head hangs heavily before him as he catches his breath and dazedly tries to piece together what the fuck just happened.

He sits back, chest heaving and ears ringing.

Then whips his head to the side when he hears you stir inside the tent and tentatively say, “... Hello? Is someone there?”

Astarion holds his breath, which does not help with his current state of floaty lightheadedness.

Then you say, “... Astarion?”

And the sound of his name on your lips sends another ripple of pleasure through him as his cock pulses and drips one last time for good measure.

It takes a minute, but you eventually convince yourself you were hearing things and settle down to sleep, presumably in a more relaxed state than when you first retired. Astarion waits until your breathing slows before he sneaks away, silently tucking himself back into his clothes.

He holds his breath the entire time.

On the other side of camp inside the safety of his own tent, he releases it in a rush, running his unused hand through his curls as realization finally catches up to him.

“Oh, no,” he whispers.

[ketaundkrawall]

Licky ☽｡⋆ Joost Klein

Summary: Joost knows you reposted that edit.

Warnings: smut, unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it), female masturbation, voyeurism (blink and you’ll miss it), sub!reader, fluffy ending, cuddles with Joost okay I need that 🥺, no use of Y/N, afab!reader

WC: 1.3k

A/N: so here it is, my second fic 🥹 hope you guys like it lmao. Also this man and THIS FUCKING EDIT have a chokehold on me 👹 Also I will probably do a part two of Keta und Krawall :p

18+ under the cut!

Sundays at home were the best. And they were even better when your boyfriend was at home and not somewhere out on tour.

Joosts head was resting on your chest, his arms wrapped tightly around your torso as you listened to his slow, steady breathing.

It was still very early, the sounds of birds chirping outside and the soft tapping of the rain against the window had a calming effect on you.

Giving up on sleep, you turn to grab your phone and open TikTok. Turning the volume down, so you wouldn’t wake your sleeping boyfriend, you start to scroll through your For-You-Page.

Liking some trends people were doing and watching tons of those little John videos with his galvanized steel wood veneers, you soon got bored.

Just as you scrolled again, you thought it was just a simple edit of some actor you liked, your eyes widened.

That wasn’t some actor. It was your boyfriend who was flashing before your eyes on your phone screen. And he looked absolutely stunning.

Biting your lip softly you clicked the little save button in the corner before watching the edit a few times more.

Joost was stirring on your chest slightly, opening his eyes slowly. As he looked up at you they were still heavy with sleep.

A soft sigh escaped your lips. “Didn’t mean to wake you sorry.”

Shaking his head he softly looked up at you. “You didn’t m’en meisje (My girl).”

The nickname made you smile. You loved when he talked Dutch.

“Good.” Leaning forward you pressed a soft kiss against his lips. “Let’s take a shower.”

Getting out of bed you watched him stretch and pulling the covers off himself. He was only wearing some boxers to bed and they didn’t leave much to the imagination.

“Wanna take a picture?” He grinned as he got up. Snapping out of your daydream you rolled your eyes. “I don’t need a picture. Having you home is enough for me right now.” A soft smile played around your lips as you wrapped your arms around his middle looking up.

His arms wrapped around you, finding the small of your back and pulling you slightly closer into a loving hug. “Ik hou van jou (I love you).” He whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Being with him for quite some time now, you understood some Dutch. Not everything, you still needed some help and practice. But hearing that sentence almost everyday, you knew what he said.

“I love you too.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple before pulling away. Taking your hand he pulled you into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

Few moments later both of you were naked and standing under warm flow of the water. A few kisses were shared every now and then.

You were just so happy Joost was home again.

Later that day, Joost was running some errands, you cuddled up onto the couch and opened TikTok again. That fucking edit didn’t leave your head the whole day. Clicking on your saved videos you clicked on the one you saved.

Groaning you closed your phone and covered your face with your hands. Starring at the ceiling for what felt like hours your hand slowly found its way down your body.

You could already feel yourself getting wet.

Soon enough your fingers brushed over your already soaked panties. The thought of Joost touching you made you moan softly as you pushed the fabric out of the way.

Imagining it were his fingers circling your clit you arched into your touch, your other hand finding your throat, squeezing it softly.

Being so lost in your own pleasure you didn’t notice the door open.

Leaning against the wall Joost watched your fingers pump in and out of your pretty little pussy, grinning to himself. His jeans instantly tightening.

“Enjoying yourself I see?”

You insanely froze in your position on the couch, eyes widening in shock as you looked into your boyfriend’s blue eyes which were clouded with lust.

“I-“ Your throat suddenly felt very dry.

Closing your legs you were quick to get up. As you tried to walk past him he held you back by your arm.

Leaning down he kissed just right under your ear. “I want you to get naked and wait for me on the bed, got it?”

A gulp and a nod. “J-ja (Yes).”

You had no idea what would happen next but you did as you were told. Walking into your shared bedroom you were quick to take off all your clothes. Sitting on the edge, you waited for Joost.

After 5 minutes or so he finally walked in, eyeing your naked figure up and down. “Schitterend (Stunning).” He mumbled.

Blushing you looked down at your hands. As you heard his belt snapping open you looked up again and there he stood butt naked and absolutely ravishing.

“Open your mouth.” He whispered and grabbed your jaw softly. “Wanna feel your pretty lips around me.”

With a desperate whine you did as you were told. Holding your head in place Joost softly pushed himself in the wet and waiting warmth of your mouth, groaning in the process. “Fuck that’s my good girl. Making me feel so good.”

You could basically feel your pussy dripping with need at his words. Looking up at him through your lashes you wrapped one hand around his shaft and started to bop your head up and down his length, working the rest that didn’t fit with your hand.

Eyes watering your gaze met his. He softly pulled you off his hard dick. “Lay on your back. Need to fuck that pussy now.”

“Fuck yes please I need you so bad!” You whined as you laid down. In no time he was on top of you, teasing your entrance with his tip.

Wrapping your arms around his neck you looked deeply into his eyes. “Ik hou van jou (I love you).” You whispered and brushed some hair out of his eyes.

Leaning down he captured your lips into a sweet and passionate kiss before pushing himself all the way inside you, making you moan into the kiss.

Pulling away, Joost started to kiss down your jaw while fucking inside of you. His hands found your breast, pinching your pebbled nipples and making you arch more into his touch.

Grinning against your skin his hand wandered further down your body, rubbing right circles on your swollen clit.

“Look at mijn mooi meisje (My beautiful girl).” Joost whispered. “So good for me. So close.”

Your foggy mind couldn’t really comprehend what he just said so you just nodded, a soft “close” coming across your lips.

Your boyfriend gave you a cheeky grin. “Cum mijn hart (my heart).”

That’s was all it took for you to come undone unter him. Squeezing his cock tight, as your slick coated it.

His thrusts got slower as his hips stuttered. “Fuck, here it comes.” He said releasing everything he had, painting your walls with his cum.

A warmth spread across through your abdomen, making you shiver.

Giving you another kiss he pulled out of you, making you whimper at the loss of contact.

Laying down beside you he pulled the covers over you, pulling you into his side.

“That was amazing.” You said and looked up at him. “I missed you.”

Joost smiled down at you. “I missed you too.”

Pressing a small kiss to his chest, he takes your left hand in his, playing with your fingers.

“Jij bent de liefde van mijn leven.”

Your head turned to look at him. “What does that mean?”

Kissing the tips of your fingers Joost gaze softened. “It means you are the love of my life.”

“Really?” Your cheeks flushed. He gave you a nod.

“Oh and you reposted that video by the way. I saw it on TikTok.”

-

A/N: thanks again for reading to the end :p also my requests are open so pls don’t hold yourself back ✨

[dunebrat]

PAST LOVERS ୨♡୧

Feyd Rautha x reader

Summary : you return to his planet years later to lay your mother to rest, only to find Feyd, once a boy now a man. You struggle to reconcile the memories of the boy you once loved and he is determined to take you back as his.

────────────────────────

As you step off the shuttle onto the dusty surface of Arrakis, memories flood back of your time here, memories filled with warmth and pain, all centered around him, Feyd Rautha. The boy you once knew, the one who captured your heart among the harsh sands of this his planet. Years have passed since you last saw him, since you made the painful decision to leave, to escape. Back then, he was just a boy but he was your first everything, love, kiss he even took your virginity but your family left Arrakis in search of a better life, a life free from the constant danger. As a child, you witnessed firsthand the brutality of life under the rule of the Harkonnens, the constant struggle for survival in their environment.

But it was more than just the oppressive regime that drove your family away. It was the violence. Despite their best efforts to carve out a life for themselves, they knew that staying meant risking everything they held dear. So when the opportunity arose to leave, to seek refuge on a distant planet far from the reach of the Harkonnens, they seized it without hesitation. It was a chance for a new beginning, a chance to leave behind the pain and suffering of their past and start afresh. And though it meant leaving behind everything you knew, everything you loved, you knew deep down that it was the right decision. For the safety and well-being of your family, you were willing to leave behind the only home you'd ever known, to venture into the unknown in search of a better future. But now here you are 7 years later back at your birth place to lay your mother to rest on her planet. She had fell sick a year ago sadly. Grief weighed heavy on your heart, with the bittersweet memories of your childhood on the desert planet.

But as you watch him now, standing tall and commanding, the years have transformed him into a man. His features are chiseled, he’s way taller now, and his aura is so dark. It's both intimidating and mesmerizing. You can't help but notice the change in him, how the years of training under his uncle has hardened him, turned him into someone you barely recognize. Gone is the carefree boy who you thought once loved you. In his place stands a man who is cold and distant. It was as if with each passing day, his uncle's influence seeped deeper into his soul, twisting him into someone unrecognizable.

Yet despite the bitterness that lingers in you, there's still a spark, a connection that refuses to die. As your eyes meet his across the crowded room, you were determined to ignore him, to shut out the memories of your past together and focus on the task at hand. Every time you felt his eyes on you, you forced yourself to look away, to steel yourself against the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. But you couldn't afford to dwell on the past, not when there were more pressing matters to attend to.

And as the days passed, you couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching you. Then, one evening, as you found yourself alone in the dimly lit corridors of the palace, his voice cut through the silence like a knife, sending a shiver down your spine. "I've been looking for you," he said, his tone low and husky.

You turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest as you met his gaze. There was a hunger in his eyes, a fierce intensity that sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins. You couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the sound of his voice after so long apart.

"Feyd," you breathed, your heart pounding in anticipation. He stepped closer to you, his eyes dark and intense as he studied your face. "I've missed you" His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel the familiar pull of attraction. He leaned in close to whisper into your ear "I want you."

Seeing him so close you can see he had grown into his features. His body now more muscular and defined than before. He ran his hands down your back as you leaned in to kiss him passionately on the lips.

"No," you said firmly, stepping back to put some distance between you. "This... this isn't right." His expression darkened, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. "What do you mean?" he demanded, his voice tinged with anger.

"I mean," you replied, your voice trembling with emotion, "that I can't just forget everything that's happened between us. I can't pretend like nothing has changed." you say, your voice trembling. He stops in front of you, his eyes burning into yours. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the power and strength that he exudes.

It's almost overwhelming. His eyes darken

"After all the mercy I’ve shown you and your family" he growled

"What do you mean" you squinted confused

"When you left me, I could’ve had you’re whole family killed and you returned to me. But I knew somehow or something would bring you back" He reaches out, his hand wrapping around your throat in an instant. You gasp, the air being cut off from your lungs. He leans in close to you, his breath hot on your face as he whispers into your ear, "You're mine."

You can feel his grip tighten around your throat, cutting off the air to your lungs. You try to gasp for breath but it's no use as he holds you in place with a firm hand on your neck. You can feel your body starting to tremble as the lack of oxygen starts to take its toll. Your vision begins to blur and you start to see spots in front of your eyes, but still he holds on tight.

He lets go and you fall on the ground gasping for air

"He grabs your arm and pulls you up to a standing position, his eyes dark with desire." I'm going to have my way with you again and again until you learn that I own you now" You can feel his hot breath on your neck as he leans in close, and you know what's coming next. He bites down on your neck, his teeth sinking into the flesh. You cry out in pain and pleasure as he sucks hard at the wound, leaving a mark that will be there for days to come.

"I couldn't help but notice," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "how much you've grown, how... how beautiful you've become." his eyes trailing over your body with an intensity

His words caught you off guard, he sounded more calm. "I've missed you," he said softly, his voice laced with longing. "I've missed us. And I'm not willing to let you slip away again."He reaches down and grabs your hips, lifting you up off the ground. You can feel his cock pressing against your entrance as he positions himself to enter you from behind. He thrusts into you, his cock filling you up in one swift motion. You cry out as he starts to fuck you hard and fast, pounding away at your pussy with a fervor that's almost animalistic.

You can feel his cock hitting your cervix with each thrust, and you know that he's going to make you cum hard. He reaches around and grabs your tits, squeezing them hard as he continues to fuck you.

"I want you to have my child". You look up at him with wide eyes, your mouth still full of his cum. He grins down at you," You, little one. Are mine forever and ever."

He’d been thinking about breeding you the second he saw

Defeated you whispered "Im yours, Take me however you want to take me."Just please don't hurt my baby if we make one together" He grins down at you again.

"ll be gentle with you, little one." "I promise."

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[2crtz]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ A SLIPPED APOLOGY .

CHARACTERS: wriothesley x f!readers

WARNINGS: fluff. fighting. apologies and everything sweet. sigewinne being cute. friends to lovers. childhood friends.   SYNOPSIS: an invitation to a ball hosted by lady furina came to your doorstep, taking it as an opportunity to drag wriothesley along with you find him a wife, but he did not enjoy that idea whatsoever.

WORD COUNT: 1.938 A/N: can you guys tell i'm obsessed with a particular troupe? you'll understand at the end of the post ;)

Having a friend who constantly refuses join in activities with you was beyond annoying. He'd been like this since youth, and his unwavering habits were adding up onto your everlasting list of problems with Wriothesley.

When an invitation was sent to your family home, without another though, you began your trek to the Fortress of Meropide. Each step laced with determination, your mind set on convincing your ever-stubborn friend to join you in whatever the letter contained.

Pushing open the door, there he sat. Your graying friend leisurely sipping on his tea, surprised by your sudden appearance.

"Ah, and what pleasure do I own?" setting his porcelain cup, a familiar, teasing smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. As taunting as it is, you found it quite endearing he continued to play childish games with you.

Tossing the wax-sealed envelope onto his desk, his eyes flicker towards it. The seal was unmistakable, a hue of blue so infamous it could only belong to one unique character.

"You got a letter from the Archon. So what?" he dismissed the importance of the letter as he lazily laid back into his seat. The way he went about it so casually left you wondering that the Archon was a frequent sender of his.

"Open it, Wrio." you crossed your arms over you chest.

The seal was already broken, its contents not a surprise to you. As you prepared yourself for an inevitable rejection, your gaze was sharp, studying his every movement.

Wriothesley exhaled a weary sigh before retrieving the letter. As he skimmed through the words, inspecting each part with precision, he could only laugh before discarding it.

"If you honestly believe I would go to a ball, of all places, you are sorely mistaken." his tone laced with dry amusement.

"Wriothesley," you began, your voice softening, holding a weight it lacked when you first arrived. "It is time for you to enter a new chapter in your life."

Your friend could not help himself but to roll his eyes. "And you think the Fortress of Meropide will be beneficial for both me and my "wife". What a joke."

A losing fight you have declared. Yet, that did not stop you from trying. Watching Wriothesley go on his days in solidarity, surrounding himself with the steel walls of the prison was a lonely sight.

"It's because I care for you." you replied, holding up your ground, unwilling to raise the white flag.

"Then stop caring." he retorted sharply. "All you ever do it point out my flaws that I do not care for fixing."

You scoffed, not understanding why he won't listen to you. "You cannot just spend the rest of your life in solitude, refusing to open up for someone."

Wriothesley rose from his seat, palms slamming hard onto his desk with such force his paperwork and books shifted, his tea nearly spilling over. "For gods sake, stop pestering me with these fairytales you refuse to let go of!"

His shouting caused you to flinch, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Just because you were raised in a wealthy family and had everything handed to you on a silver platter does not mean you can bother me." he spat, words sharp with bitterness.

Watching him grow angry at you was entirely unfamiliar to you. Your tongue begged to retort, however you were incapable of producing sound. You were left speechless, caught in his wind of fury.

Without missing a beat, you quickly left his office and back onto the surface.

Why was it that every time you tried to be helpful, push him towards being a better person, he always brushed it off? How can he just accept the fact that he will end up alone, locked away in the Fortress of Meropide?

The questions remained in your mind, forever being unanswered.

────

Wriothesley hadn't intended to shout at you, but your never-ending questions had worn him thin. He did not understand why you wouldn't stop bothering him about finding love, why it mattered so much to you?

He never asked you to carry that burden of constantly worrying about him.

"Fuck," he sighed, reclining back into his seat, hands rubbing his face. He understands that you only care about him, but damn, it really annoyed him. The frequent concern, the never-ending push to change.

"I should probably apologize," he spoke to himself, voice muffling in his hands.

────

The night of the ball arrived, but you still felt the lingering aftershocks of your fight with Wriothesley. Days have passed since you've last seen him, and the ache in your heart only deepened.

On the days you didn't meet with him, he exchanged letters with you, brief summaries of his day, keeping you informed with changes within the prison. Yet, none have been sent, a silent reminder that you went too far in your pushing.

The words slipped from your tongue quietly, an admission that weighed you down. "I need to apologize to Wriothesley."

You knew you had to make things right between you, but the thought of facing him after scaring you off, shattering the walls he kept restrained for a long time, filled you with anxiety.

What if he didn't accept your apology?

A shaky breath escaped your lips as you looked down onto the delicate jewelry in your hand, ready to be put on. A symbol of what Wriothesley had said, his voice echoing in your mind, that everything had been handed to you on a silver platter.

Ashamed, you placed the piece of jewelry into it's container, closing it with a quiet snap. With one final glance on your dress and jewelry, you had to fix this, no matter how difficult it will be.

Without hesitation, you felt your feet move.

────

Wriothesley adjusted the cuffs of his sleeve, positioning them nicely around his wrist. He didn't know why he is going to the ball-- no, he knows why. It is to apologize to you after days of deciding.

Perhaps seeing him there will prove to you that he does listen to you, that he understand why you push him towards greatness. It was his way of showing you that, despite his stubborn head, he was trying to bridge the gap between you and him.

Maybe, for a slight moment, you would catch a glimpse of the Wriothesley you had always believed was hidden beneath the surface. One who was listening, one who cared.

In truth, Wriothesley was doing this because he missed you more than he'd ever admit. It was torture not speaking to you, not writing to you, not being near your presence. He needed you to survive, act as his anchor-- as dramatic as that sounds.

If he didn't care, he wouldn't go through such lengths for a ordinary person, but for you, he'd walk on Natlan's lava barefoot just to protect the soles of your feet.

────

You ran up the steps, heart pounding in your chest, each step echoing your urgency. You pushed the heavy doors leading in Wriothesley's office, calling his name.

But as the door swung open, the room before you deprived of his presences. The air hung thick with his absence.

"Are you looking for Wriothesley?" a soft, child-like voice came from behind you, standing in the doorway. Sigewinne gaze fixed on you, a hint of concern in her eyes. She could see the look etched in your face, one that she noted down as disappointment.

Nodding you head slowly. "Yes." it was clear you were upset about missing your friend.

"He just left to the surface, something about attending an event." Sigewinne's hand rubbed her face as she tried to recall where exactly Wriothesley's had gone.

Your eyes widened as she ended her sentence. "The ball?!" you exclaimed.

Sigewinne, with a sudden snap of her fingers, nodded. "Yes! It's strange. He does not usually attend in those gatherings," she spoke softly, pondering the unusual turn of events.

Without a second thought, you hurriedly made your way home, slipping on your dress and jewelry. The realization struck you in awe. He truly was at the ball, and it was for you! Never, in your decade and a half of your friendship, had you ever imagined seeing Wriothesley grace such an event.

────

Wriothesley was well aware why he'd always avoided events. It was nothing but a dating pool for unmarried men and women. The sight was sickly, almost nauseating-- though, perhaps, that sour feeling was from the alcohol.

His eyes scoured through the sea of people, scanning each face in the crowds, his gaze sharp and attentive. Yet, despite his search, his efforts were met with failure. He could not find you.

Perhaps you were engaged in conversations with men, and the thought caused his blood to boil. The mere image of other suitors admiring you, swoon you with their words, might ignite the room from the flames of his fury.

As he seized another glass of alcohol from the tray of a passing servant, the murmurs around him grew louder, the guests' attention drawn to the top of the grand staircase.

There, fitted in the most beautiful gown, was you. Standing over the people as if you were their goddess, answering the silent prayers around you. Wriothesley set his glass down, eyes locked on your being descending the staircase, each step capturing his heart.

Wriothesley watched as your eyes scanned the crowd, searching through the sea of guests as if you were looking for something-- or perhaps, someone.

The moment your gaze met his, you made your way towards him in purposeful strides, your eyes locked onto his sea of blue, your voice tinged with both frustration and relief. "I ran around the world searching for you."

A humorous smile threatening to appear on Wriothesley's lips when you spoke. "Really?" his voice laced with amusement.

"My world consists of the Fortress of Meropide, so yes, really." you replied.

Once noticing the determined look in your eyes, Wriothesley gaze softened, a rare vulnerability flickering in his expression. "I came to apologize," he confessed, voice laced with sincerity. "To show you that your words hold meaning, and that they haven't fallen on deaf ears."

"I also apologize for constantly forcing you in a position you clearly have no interest in," it was difficult maintaining eye contact with him, shame swelling within you. "I miss you, Wriothesley." you whispered, words hanging between you both.

Not caring for the eyes of others, he gently cupped your face in his hands, tenderly and reassuringly. "I've missed you too," he murmured, his voice low and filled with sincerity.

"Wriothesley--"

"Marry me."

His words hit you like a thunderclap, leaving you stunned momentarily. Your eyes widened, unable to grasp on his unexpected proposal.

"What?" you could not mask your surprise.

"I cannot imagine myself marrying anyone else," he confessed, his tone steady. "All the times you asked me about marriage, only you comes to mind. The thought of you entertaining other men stirs something in me, a jealousy that consumes me whole."

Not understanding the grasps of his words, your knees buckled beneath you, threatening to give out as the rush of emotions overwhelmed your senses.

"I should have never raised my voice at you, and I intent on making it up to you, now and for as long as I live." his hands never leaving your face. "So please, do me the highest honor and marry me."

Without a second thought, you nodded eagerly, the words tumbling from your lips with no effort.

"Yes--" you breathed, heart pounding. "Yes, of course, Wrio."

do not edit, modify, or republish.

[solxamber]

If you haven’t gotten this already, maybe a part 2 to Idia x sentient npc reader?

Maybe they somehow find themselves in twst? Maybe isekai style (I’m stuck on you villainess fics lol)? Or if you had other ideas that’s totally fine too. (I’m not used to requesting 😭)

I really like your stuff so honestly I wanna give you as much creative freedom. Or if you feel like that fic is over/you don’t have inspo for it anymore that’s understandable too 😊

Keep up the amazing work!! 💖💖

Idia Shroud x Sentient NPC Part 2

Part 1 : here

Thank you for the request, and I'm glad you like my isekai fics <3

The moment you blink into existence in Twisted Wonderland, you’re not sure if this is real life or another game glitch. One minute you were comfortably breaking the fourth wall and wooing a gamer, and the next? You’re standing in front of an overgrown haunted house with a big “Night Raven College” sign. And a certain blue-haired, fire-topped guy is gaping at you like you’ve just sprouted another head.

“W-WAIT,” Idia stammers, eyes wide behind his tablet as he stares at you. “This—This isn’t happening. There’s no way. Did I… did I actually summon an NPC?!”

You take one look at him—tousled hair, dark circles under his eyes, and the way his fingers hover over his tablet like it’s some sort of lifeline—and a grin tugs at your lips. Oh, this is gonna be good.

“Well, well, well,” you say, casually strolling over to him. “If it isn’t my favorite player. Miss me?”

Idia makes a noise somewhere between a squeak and a strangled gasp, his whole body freezing up. “Y-You—! You’re here! How are you here?! Did I—is this some cursed DLC? Am I in a nightmare? Oh my god, is this another event?!”

You lean in, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Nightmare? Babe, I thought you were happy to see me.”

Idia’s face flushes a deep red, and he yanks his hoodie up over his head, mumbling something incoherent into the fabric. “H-Happy? Who said anything about happy?! I didn’t sign up for a ‘real-life NPC invading my world’ edition!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? You weren’t just thinking about how much you’d like me if I were in the real world?”

He stiffens so hard it’s like his entire spine turned into a steel rod. “HOW DID YOU—NO. I didn’t—this isn’t—this is a glitch, it has to be! Or a fever dream. Or maybe I finally lost it after all those sleepless nights grinding for rare drops—"

"You're cute when you ramble," you interrupt with a smirk, enjoying watching him implode. "So, are you going to show me around this place, or should I just assume you’re too flustered to handle me?"

Idia stares at you like you’ve grown two extra heads. “Y-You’re just… okay with this? You’re literally… in a different dimension, and you’re fine?!”

You shrug. “Eh, it’s a step up from my last gig. Besides,” you add, leaning in closer, “I kinda like having you as my guide.”

His brain short-circuits for a full ten seconds. “G-GUIDE?! L-Like an actual dating sim?! Do you think this is a game?!”

You pause dramatically. “Isn’t everything a game?”

There’s an audible groan from behind you, and you turn to find Grim, your new furry audience member, smacking his face with his paw. “Great, just what we needed—another weirdo.”

Idia, still staring at you like you’re some kind of unholy glitch in his life’s code, manages to stammer out, “I—I can’t believe this is real. There’s no way this is real.”

You smirk. “It’s real, all right. And don’t pretend you’re not thrilled. I can practically hear your heart racing.”

His face flushes even deeper, and he clutches his tablet like it’s his last connection to sanity. “Okay, okay. You’re in Twisted Wonderland, fine. But this doesn’t mean you get to start… start messing with the plot!”

You grin. “Who says I’m here to follow the plot?”

Idia lets out a strangled noise, burying his face deeper in his hoodie. “This… this is too much. I’m not ready for this level of immersion. This is like, hardcore VR, but real! And with you here, it’s… it’s… OH MY GOD, WHAT DO I DO?!”

You put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look at you. “Easy. You play the game, Idia. And let me show you how fun it can get when I’m the one writing the script.”

The look of sheer panic—and excitement—on his face is priceless. "Y-You're serious?!" he squeaks, not sure whether to pass out or burst into flames from sheer embarrassment. "But, like—what if this is a permanent event?! What if I never—"

"Oh, relax," you say, poking his chest lightly. "I'll make sure we both enjoy this little 'quest.'"

There’s another groan from Grim, but you ignore him, keeping your eyes locked on the flustered mess in front of you. Idia’s practically a puddle at this point, cheeks redder than Riddle’s roses, but you know he’s loving every second of it.

“Okay,” he mutters, glancing between you and his tablet. “Okay, I can work with this. Maybe it’s not a total catastrophe. I mean, you’re here, so—wait, does that mean you’re, like… my NPC now?”

You flash him a rogue grin. “If that’s what you want, I’m all yours.”

Idia blinks. Then, with the kind of realization that only a true gamer would have, he straightens up slightly. “I-Is this… the ultimate secret route?!”

"Could be," you say, leaning in closer. "You think you can handle it?"

He stares at you, wide-eyed and flustered beyond belief, but finally, he nods—though it's more of a nervous twitch than anything. "Y-Yeah. Yeah, I-I can handle it. This is fine. Totally fine. Just… don’t, uh, don’t go rogue too much? I-I don’t think I can survive if you start rewriting my entire life!”

You laugh. “No promises, player.”

The panic in his eyes is real, but so is the smile slowly creeping onto his face. And as you stand there, facing him in this strange new world, you realize you’re both about to have a lot of fun.

"Welcome to the real game," you whisper, before pulling him into a kiss.

Idia promptly drops his tablet.

Masterlist

[lobotomisa]

Soul Ties [ y. okkotsu x gn. reader ]

♡ྀིྀི⋆.˚ PAIRING: [Yandere] Yuta Okkotsu / Gender Neutral Reader

♡ྀིྀི⋆.˚ SYNOPSIS: Yuta wasn't the same after returning from Africa. What was going to be a little talk about boundaries changed into a lover's quarrel turned fatal.

♡ྀིྀི⋆.˚ NOTES: SFW?

The apartment felt different with Yuta back in it. It had been months since he'd returned from Africa, months since he'd been sent away on a mission that was supposed to last only a few weeks. You had missed him fiercely, ached for his presence in a way that surprised even you. And yet, the moment he walked through the door, something had felt… wrong.

At first, it was in the little things: the way he held you too tightly, his arms wrapping around you like a vice; the way his gaze lingered on you with a burning intensity, as if he were memorizing every detail, afraid that if he blinked, you would disappear. The way he asked endless questions—where had you gone, who had you seen, what had you done without him? It felt less like concern and more like interrogation.

"Yuta, it's okay," you had laughed, trying to ease the tension. "I'm not going anywhere."

But he hadn't laughed. His expression had been serious, almost haunted. "I can't lose you," he'd whispered. "Not again."

Now, standing in the kitchen, you felt the weight of his stare on your back as you tried to prepare dinner. Your hands trembled slightly as you chopped the vegetables, the knife slipping more than once. You could feel his eyes on you, a heavy, unblinking presence that made your skin prickle.

"Yuta," you said softly, turning to face him. "We need to talk."

He looked up from the table, where he'd been sitting with his hands folded, his dark hair falling over his eyes. "About what?" His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it, a note of tension that hadn't been there before.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "About us. About how things have been since you came back."

His eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something—fear, maybe, or anger. "What's wrong with us?" he asked, his tone defensive. "I thought everything was fine."

"That's just it," you said, trying to keep your voice calm, even. "It’s not fine, Yuta. You've been… different. Intense. I feel like you’re watching me all the time, like you’re waiting for something to happen."

His expression hardened, and he stood up, crossing the room in a few quick strides. "I’m just worried about you," he insisted, his hands reaching out to grasp yours. His touch was warm, but his grip was too tight. "I don’t want anything to happen to you."

You pulled your hands away, frustration boiling over. "Worried? Yuta, you're acting like I'm in constant danger! You don’t let me out of your sight, you barely let me breathe!"

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked genuinely hurt. "I’m trying to protect you," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You don’t know what it was like out there… what I saw… what I felt. I thought about you every day, every minute. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."

"And I missed you too," you replied, your voice shaking. "But this… this isn't the way. You can't just come back and act like I’m something you need to lock away, like I’m some fragile thing that needs to be hidden."

Yuta's expression darkened, his jaw clenching. "You don’t understand," he said, his voice low, almost a growl. "I’m doing this because I love you."

You felt a surge of anger, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. "No, Yuta. This isn’t love—this is control. This is obsession."

His face twisted in pain, and his cursed energy flared around him, an involuntary reaction to his emotions. "You think I’m obsessed?" he demanded, his voice rising. "I’m not obsessed—I’m terrified! I’ve lost too much already. I can’t lose you, too."

The intensity in his voice, the raw desperation—it sent a chill down your spine. "Yuta," you began, trying to reach out to him, to calm him down. "I’m not going anywhere, but you can’t keep treating me like—"

"Like what?" he snapped, his voice sharp, cutting. "Like you’re mine? Because you are mine! You promised me, remember? You promised we’d be together."

You flinched at his words, the possessive edge to them. "I didn’t promise to be your prisoner," you shot back. "I didn’t agree to be locked away and suffocated because you’re afraid!"

His face twisted with rage, his cursed energy sparking again. The air crackled around you, heavy with tension. "Why can’t you just understand?" he shouted, stepping closer, his voice cracking with emotion. "Why can’t you see I’m doing this for you?"

"For me?" you repeated, incredulous. "Yuta, you’re doing this for yourself! Because you’re scared and you think you can control everything around you, including me!"

He took another step forward, his eyes blazing. "I’m not trying to control you," he insisted, but the way his hands shook, the way his cursed energy surged—it told a different story.

"Yes, you are!" you screamed, your own cursed energy flaring in response. "And I won’t let you!"

For a moment, everything was still. Then, Yuta moved. Fast. Too fast. His cursed energy lashed out like a whip, and you barely had time to raise your own defenses, blocking his attack with a shimmering barrier.

"Yuta, stop!" you cried, but he was lost in his own fear, his own desperation. "Please, just stop!"

But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. His movements were frantic, uncoordinated, his attacks wild and filled with raw emotion. You countered, your own cursed energy pushing back against his, a desperate attempt to defend yourself, to get through to him.

"Why are you doing this?" you yelled, your heart pounding in your chest. "Why are you fighting me?"

"Because I love you!" he screamed back, his voice breaking with a mix of anguish and fury. "Because I can’t lose you! I won’t!"

His words cut through you, a knife to your heart. "Yuta," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "You’re already losing me… you’re pushing me away."

For a moment, he faltered. You saw the realization flicker across his face, the fear, the regret. But then his eyes hardened again, his desperation returning. "No," he muttered, almost to himself. "No, I can’t… I can’t let you go."

Before you could respond, he surged forward, his cursed energy flaring to life once more. You reacted instinctively, readying your CT to meet his attack, but the force of his attack was too strong, too uncontrolled. There was a blinding flash of light, a surge of power, and then… pain.

You gasped, the breath knocked out of you as you felt something sharp, something burning. You looked down, your vision blurring, and saw blood—your blood, pooling around you, a blade sticking out. You heard Yuta's scream, a sound of pure horror, but it felt distant, far away.

"No, no, no," Yuta was sobbing, his hands hovering over you, trembling. "I didn’t mean to… I didn’t…"

Your vision darkened, your body growing cold. "Yuta…" you managed to whisper, your voice weak, fading. "Why…?"

He was crying, tears streaming down his face, his expression twisted in anguish. "I’m sorry," he choked out, his voice breaking. "I didn’t mean to… I was trying to… I was trying to keep you safe…"

But his words barely registered. You felt yourself slipping away, the world around you growing dim, distant. The last thing you saw was his face, twisted in pain, his eyes filled with a fear you’d never seen before. And then… darkness.

You weren't sure how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity, but also no time at all.

You awoke with a gasp, your body jolting back to consciousness with a force that left you breathless. The air around you felt thick, heavy, charged with a dark, oppressive energy. You felt cold, your skin prickling with an unnatural chill.

You blinked, your vision clearing, and saw Yuta kneeling beside you, his eyes wide, his expression a mix of relief and madness. "You’re back," he whispered, his voice filled with a twisted kind of joy. "You’re back."

You tried to move, but your body felt… wrong. Heavy, sluggish. You looked down and saw your hands, your skin pale, almost translucent, dark veins visible beneath the surface. And then you realized—you weren’t alive. Not truly. You had been brought back as a curse.

"No," you breathed, horror dawning on you. "What… what did you do?"

Yuta’s smile widened, his eyes bright with a feverish kind of excitement. "I brought you back," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I couldn’t live without you… so I brought you back. Now we can be together… forever."

You felt a wave of despair crash over you, your new cursed form reacting to the emotions swirling within you. You tried to speak, to scream, but the words caught in your throat. "No," you whispered, shaking your head, tears streaming down your face. "No, Yuta… this isn’t right. I’m not supposed to be here."

Yuta’s hands tightened around yours, his grip almost painful. "But you are here," he insisted, his voice fervent, almost pleading. "I made sure of it. I used every ounce of my cursed energy, every bit of myself, to bring you back. I need you. Don’t you see? We’re meant to be together."

Your chest ached, a hollow, empty feeling that spread through you like a poison. "You brought me back as a curse," you murmured, trying to pull away from him, but your body wouldn’t respond the way you wanted. "I’m not even human anymore… Yuta, what have you done?"

He shook his head, his expression frantic. "No, you’re still you! You’re still the person I love. This doesn’t change anything. It just means… it just means we have more time. We have forever now."

"Forever?" you echoed, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "Yuta, this isn't a life. This is… this is a nightmare. You’ve trapped me in a body that isn’t even mine. I feel… I feel so cold. So… so lost."

He winced at your words, as if they were a physical blow. "I’m sorry," he whispered, tears spilling from his eyes. "I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t bear the thought of a world without you in it. I thought… I thought if I brought you back, we could be happy again."

"Happy?" you repeated, incredulous. "How can I be happy like this? I’m stuck here, bound by your curse. I never wanted this, Yuta. I never wanted to come back like this."

"But you’re here," he said desperately, cupping your face with trembling hands. "You’re here, and that’s all that matters. I’ll make it better, I promise. I’ll do anything, just… please, don’t leave me."

You could see it in his eyes—the fear, the guilt, the deep, consuming love that had driven him to this madness. He wasn’t thinking clearly; he hadn’t been since he returned. Whatever he’d seen, whatever had happened in Africa, had broken something inside him. And now… now you were the one paying the price.

"You brought me back," you whispered, your voice heavy with sorrow. "But at what cost, Yuta? What about my soul? What about my peace?"

Yuta’s face twisted with pain, and he shook his head again, more frantically this time. "No… no, don’t say that. You belong with me. Your soul… it belongs with me. I’ve loved you since the day I met you. I can’t let you go."

"But you already have," you said softly, feeling the weight of the truth settle in your chest. "You killed me, Yuta. And now you’re trying to bring me back, not for me, but for yourself."

He flinched as if you had struck him, and for a moment, you saw a flash of something dark and broken in his eyes. "I didn’t mean to kill you," he whispered, his voice raw with pain. "I didn’t mean to… I just… I couldn’t control it. I was so afraid."

You reached out, your hand touching his cheek. It was a strange sensation—your fingers felt distant, almost numb, as if they belonged to someone else. "I know," you said gently. "I know you were afraid. But you have to understand… this isn’t love. This is fear. This is possession."

"No," he breathed, shaking his head, his hands gripping yours tighter. "No, it’s not like that. I love you… I love you so much."

Tears filled your eyes, blurring your vision. "I know you do," you whispered. "But love isn’t supposed to feel like this. Love isn’t supposed to hurt."

Yuta’s face crumpled, and he pulled you into his arms, his body shaking with silent sobs. "I’m sorry," he choked out, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just… I just wanted you back."

You closed your eyes, leaning into his embrace, feeling the weight of his grief pressing down on you like a heavy shroud. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him that everything would be okay, but you knew that would be a lie. Nothing would ever be okay again.

As he held you, his cursed energy pulsed around you, a living thing that seemed to feed off his emotions. You felt it tightening around you like a chain, binding you to him, forcing you to stay. You tried to pull away, but the energy held you fast, refusing to let you go.

"Yuta, let me go," you whispered, your voice trembling.

He shook his head, his grip tightening. "I can’t," he murmured. "I won’t."

You felt a wave of panic rising in your chest, your new cursed form reacting to the emotions swirling inside you. "Yuta, please," you begged, your voice breaking. "You have to let me go."

But he only held you tighter, his cursed energy wrapping around you like a cocoon, suffocating, inescapable. "No," he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet, desperate resolve. "You’re mine… you’ll always be mine."

And as you felt the curse tighten its grip around you, pulling you deeper into the darkness, you realized with a sinking heart that he meant it. Yuta’s love for you had twisted into something monstrous, something that would bind you to him forever.

You were trapped—his, now and always, bound to him by a love that had become a curse.

You closed your eyes, feeling the tears slip down your cheeks, and whispered into the darkness, "What have you done to me, Yuta?"

But there was no answer. Only the silence of the room, the weight of his arms around you, and the endless, suffocating darkness that stretched out before you.

©️ LOBOTOMISA 2024! DO NOT COPY OR PLAGIARIZE MY WORK!

[whatbigotspost]

I may have already rambled about this, but at some point in my career, I took "yes and" from the improv world and applied to to all professional settings and it's honestly one of the greatest tools for me, of all time.

Someone making an unreasonable request for my time/attention but I gotta play nice? ie, "Hey can you pull thing XYZ together for me today?"

"Yes and I'm going to need until next Friday to complete it w/ everything else on my plate. Thanks for your patience!"

Someone super enthusiastic about an idea w/ a kernel of goodness among a sea of shit?

"Yes, that's a great idea, and I think to make it really work, we need to change..."

In fact, if I'm being real REAL, I use "yes and" here all the time, too, to add stuff that I think is VERY important on a give topic but is missing from a post that otherwise has a good take. Like there's no need to be like, "UGH YOU FORGOT" when instead I can say something like, "Yes, this is awesome, AND I want to add..."

People all have very different communication styles in professional settings and I'm someone who is fairly conflict adverse. I will typically err on the side of harmony, trying to cultivate positive rapport and good team rhythm, w/ anyone else who is also acting in good faith. I haaaate overtly negative conflict, arguing, etc. and frankly it triggers me. Of course sometimes I have to steel my spine for hard convos and I would never avoid productive/healthy conflict.

When there's no need for overt conflict but a gentle redirect will help, "yes and" is a hell of a tool.

[shotmrmiller]

sleepless night

AN: Right right i've never written anything before but i read far too much smut to not contribute. Can't promise it'll be great but I kinda squealed through some parts i wrote so i suppose that means SOMETHING, ye?

plz im a 29 year old boomer on tumblr whatever i missed to post this such as TW and such forgive me. I used to lick stamps to post them on envelopes.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x AFAB!Reader

TW: 18+smut, fingering

NSFW MDNI ♡

You're both in bed for the night and it's been about half an hour since you've lied down but Simon's not lightly snoring like he usually does once he's asleep. Being on the field has taught him that he'll never know when there's a chance to rest, so Simon's usually out in minutes of lying his head on the pillows. Knowing he's still awake, you're about to turn around to ask him why he's still up when his grip on your hips tightens as he grinds his hard length against your ass. You softly moan as you grind back onto him. "Si-" "Hush, love. Let me take care of you, eh?" You widen your thighs when you feel his hand slipping into your panties. Using his middle and ring fingers, he starts doing light circles on your hood, just above your clit. It's a little dry so Simon takes that hand, shoves his fingers in his mouth to gather moisture, and goes back to rubbing you. The rough pads of his fingers start to feel slippery with your leaking arousal as they move to directly stroke your clit and every little motion sends sparks up your spine. Grabbing his thick forearm, you start to dig your fingernails into his skin as your clit starts to swell. Your thighs begin to tremble, toes curling as the coil in your lower belly is winding tighter- "That's it, sweetheart, give it to me," he murmurs as he shoves two thick fingers into your dripping quim, using his thumb to continue drawing circles. You're at the very edge of the cliff, so fucking close, and Simon curls his fingers, pushes up and towards him, and your sweet pussy squelches— "Fuckin' hell, pet." There's a loud ringing in your ears as everything else lowers to a muffle, your gummy walls rhythmically pulse around his fingers, orgasm so intense you're soaking his hand and the bed sheets. Fingers on one side of the jaw and thumb on the other, Simon turns your head to kiss you—soft and languid. He pulls his fingers out of you and you hiss, hypersensitive. You watch him pull his hand up to look at the beauty of his work, spreading his fingers- strings of your sticky cum connect between them. He turns to face you and with a smug little smirk says, "You've made a proper mess, love." Your cheeks redden as you turn your head into the crook of his neck and he gives a throaty chuckle. Getting up from the bed to slot himself in between your shaky legs, he uses his thumb to pull the drenched gusset of your panties to the side and presses his thick length right up against your slit— it feels like velvet wrapped around steel, and oh so hot— he says, "Scream if you like, Darlin'. You're going to feel this."

cheers~

[malum-forev]

A Place I Once Called Home

Summary: The four times Bucky showed up at your place unexpected. 

The first time Bucky came stumbling into your apartment was a few weeks after he moved into the building. You’d been living in New York for quite some time so you weren’t oblivious to The Avengers and the fact that they resided in the same apartment complex. It was actually one of the reasons you paid the premium for living there. So what if your landlord hiked up the rent twice a year and there were some broken windows thanks to aliens trying to get to the superheroes when they’re least expecting it, right? It was all in the name of safety. Or so you thought.

Your friends had left hours ago, and although you loved your weekly wine and cheese night you sometimes hoped they would stay after to help you clean the dishes. You hummed along to the song that was quietly playing, the small speaker filling your whole apartment. At first you thought the rattling you heard was part of the melody. But a chill went through your spine as you heard a loud thump at your door, making you almost drop the wine glass into the soapy water. 

As you dried your hands and walked towards the door there was another loud bang against your door. You clutched the baseball bat hidden behind your TV, a lovely present from a misogynistic ex-boyfriend. He’d thought it be ‘cute’ to show you how to hold a bat. There’s only one fucking way to hold a bat you mansplaining son of a- bang! 

‘You don’t have time to think about this right now!’ You scolded yourself. 

You peered through the peephole to find two male figures trying to pick your lock, the handle rattled. 

One, two, three deep breaths and you opened the door, bat clutched and ready to hit anything and everything. A woman ready for battle, adrenaline rushed through your veins, blood rushing to your head. But before you could even unleash your first swing, one of the men dropped near your knees with a thump and a groan. Half of his body inside your apartment while his long legs sprawled across the hallway. 

“Buck! You said your apartment was 213!” The man you soon recognized as Captain America said, shooting you a ‘You have no idea how sorry I am’ face with reddened cheeks. 

You stood inside your apartment with mouth agape as you watched one of Earths Mightiest Heroes struggle to pull another super up from your floor. 

“Miss I am truly sorry to have interrupted you.” Captain America apologized. “I’m Steve and the man who is currently petting your slippers is my friend Bucky.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked down at the man known as the Winter Soldier running his hand through the fur of your plush husky shaped slippers.

“I’m more of a cat guy but these two doggies look friendly. What-“ he hiccupped. “are their names?”

His steel blue eyes followed yours as Steve picked him off the floor and leaned him against your doorframe. 

“Ma’am, are you okay?” It was until Steve asked you the question that you realized you hadn’t answered.

You shook your head to try and reset your brain. “I’m sorry, yes I’m good it’s just that- well I know some superheroes live here I just didn’t think two Avengers would come knocking on my door. 

“I’m not an Avenger.” Bucky grumbled, closing his eyes for what he thought was a second. What actually happened was that he lost his balance and ended up falling forward into you. It took all of your strength to not topple over. 

“For fucks sake.” Steve muttered under his breath, he usually didn’t swear but his best friend was making his patience wear down, as he peeled Bucky off of you.

“You smell really nice.” Bucky slurred with a loopy smile. 

 “Just to wrap things up, we’re extremely sorry for trying to break into your apartment, for probably scaring you half to death and for anything and everything Bucky’s said.” Steve smiled before turning right and lugging his friend down the hallway.

“His apartment is down this way!” You said pointing to the left side. “216, on the other side of the hall.”

“Thank you ma’am. Have a good night.” Steve huffed hiking up Bucky’s arm on his shoulder, as they passed your apartment again. 

“Thank you pretty lady.” Bucky said with a singsong tone and a wink. 

The second time you found Bucky in your apartment was a few weeks later. He had walked past your door a total of six times in the last few hours. The mission was to give you an iced coffee for your troubles the other night. And as of today, he was two weeks and four days late on completing the mission. The original plan was to stop by the day after he’d drunkenly showed up at your door, but the anxiety and panic that had settled into his bones made him jump back into his place anytime he heard your door open.

“What if she doesn’t drink coffee? She’ll think it’s disrespectful of me to bring her that.” He convinced himself. So the only logical thing to do was to follow you around for a couple of days. Maybe this way he would find out your exact order and get it right. Not telling his therapist what he was up to would be smart. 

After a few days he got your order right and even found out what kind of flowers you liked. 

Days passed and the petals from the bouquet he bought started falling off, the ice on your coffee was long gone. Another worried crease appeared on his forehead as he contemplated walking to your apartment with nothing in his hands but no, the pretty lady with the beautiful eyes he thought he’d only dreamt about deserved more. 

So here he was, a new coffee in his right hand and a bouquet of flowers on his left one. But before he knew it, another problem raised. How the hell was he supposed to knock on your door. Was he supposed to use the right one and spill your coffee or would he have to hope that by using the left one the petals wouldn’t drop. He was about to abort the mission completely but then he heard your lock turn. 

With each second that passed, and God did he feel like millions passed, he grew more nervous. Was his hand actually sweating? That hadn’t happened since before he enlisted. 

But once you opened your door with that cheeky smile of yours, everything seemed to disappear.

“Should I be concerned about this habit of yours? Do you always lurk around women’s doors?” 

One sentence, that’s all it took for him to turn into putty. A useless puddle around your feet, begging for more of you, anything you’d give him. 

“I only lurk around the ones who I owe an apology to.” Bucky licked his lips, bringing forward the contents in his hands.

“Hmm, my orders exactly. Did you get lucky or did someone help you out?” You smiled at him as you took both gifts and walked back into your apartment. Bucky took you leaving the door open as an invitation. Did you always do this or were you letting him in because there was something unique? He urgently needed answers because in just a couple of minutes you’d already managed to make him feel special. 

“I’m a good at apologies and buying gifts.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, eyes glued to the floor. 

You bit the inside of your cheek. “You’re a pretty good liar but terrible at hiding. You’d think being a super-secret spy assassin would make you stealthy.”

His eyes widened first at your words then at your laughter. The sound rang in his head like a beautiful melody. 

“I saw you following me a couple of days ago.” You smiled, placing the flowers in a vase full of water. “In the coffee shop down the street, in the flower shop. I even saw you in the library, I’m almost positive you were reading a book upside down!”

The blush crept from the back of his neck up to the apples of his cheeks. 

“I wanted to make sure I got you the right coffee.” Bucky mumbled, his one chance with you and he’d blow it. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You trapped your bottom lip with your teeth as his body perked up hearing your words. 

“We can start again.” You held your hand out and told him your name. 

The third time was a month after the apology. In the last four weeks, the two of you had been spending every possible single second together. It started when you ‘accidentally’ came out of your apartments at the same time. Bucky would never admit that he was looking through his peephole and waiting for you to turn the knob on your door. 

“Good morning.” Bucky said with a fake yawn, acting like he hasn’t been up since 5:05am. He stretched his arms a little more than he had to, making sure you could catch a glimpse of his toned body under his dark t-shirt. Bucky knew he’d missed out on many things but flirting with you came naturally. “Do you know any good coffee places around here?”

You smiled at his obvious antics blushing like a schoolgirl. “There’s this place around the corner.”

Your morning coffee turned into a morning run and then coffee ritual, then breakfast was added. Afterwards, lunch at 12:30 and dinner at your house every Thursday. Which turned into dinner at alternating apartments every day of the week. 

But today you truly weren’t expecting him.

“I’ll see you on Monday okay? Coffees on me?” He’d mumbled against your hair two days ago, your body wrapped in his arms. “I just gotta go on this mission but I promise I’ll be back before our run.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, it felt like a bunch of thorns prickling your neck. In just a few short weeks he’d become an integral part of your life. You realized it was stupid to feel like this about someone who’d never even said he liked you but you couldn’t help but fall headfirst. “Please be safe.” 

He tilted your head up towards him and ran his knuckles down your cheek. Your soft skin soothed his rough hands. He couldn’t believe someone as angelic as you would even look at someone like him. His troubled mind and his past didn’t seem to affect you. You just saw him. For the first time in forever he felt scared to go to a mission, knowing he had something to lose. 

“I’ll be back sooner than you think, doll.” He smiled as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. 

Now, you found yourself being woken up by two soft knocks on your door. 11:45 pm on Sunday night. You must’ve fallen asleep on your couch, your TV asking you ‘Are you Still Watching?”

A bruised and bloody Bucky greeted you as you opened your door. A gasp escaped your lips.

“That bad huh?” Bucky chuckled, leaning against your doorframe. 

You dragged the Winter Soldier into your small bathroom and sat him on the edge of the tub, grabbing your first aid kit from underneath your sink. You sat in front of him, scooting your knees to rest on the inside of his legs, wiping the blood off of his cut lip. 

“Do you always come home like this?” You asked, throwing away another antiseptic wipe into the bin.

“I usually go to the med bay after missions.” Bucky shrugged, his eyes never leaving yours.

A worried look took over your features. “Why didn’t you go this time?”

“I made you a promise. If I’d gone all the way over there I wouldn’t have been able to make our run tomorrow.”

Your whole body fluttered and you couldn’t help yourself. You took Bucky’s face in your hands and you smashed your lips to his. Bucky held the back of your neck as he followed your lead. He kissed like a man starved, your kisses felt like the sun shining in the middle of a snowy winter. It lit him up inside. Before you knew it, you were dragging him from the bathroom into your bedroom, bumping into various furniture but not caring.

You only separated to take his shirt off. 

“Wait!” Bucky said, his jagged breath didn’t stop him from unbuckling his belt with one hand while the other was already working on the button of his jeans.

You tugged your shirt back down. “You want to stop?”

A loud laugh ripped through his chest. “No! God no. I was just going to ask you if we could keep our kisses to the left side of my mouth.” He pointed at his bruised lip.

You bit your bottom lip. “I think I could do that.”

He could come undone just by looking at you. Your sweet face only spoke words of temptation and he was more than happy to convert. 

The fourth time came eight months after he’d asked you to be his girlfriend. Everything had been great up until a month ago when the days started getting longer and the disappointment grew deeper. 

You’d arranged a special dinner with Bucky since he’d been working late recently and now he was three hours late, again. The food had already been in the fridge for a while and the candles blown out. 

He found you sitting on the fire escape when he came into the apartment, the faint smell of cigarettes lingered. 

“I thought you said you’d quit smoking a long time ago.” Bucky tried to joke but his words sounded harsher than he’d intended. 

“This isn’t working.” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Bucky chuckled, shoving a forkful of cold pasta into his mouth. “Of course it’s not working, you keep an old pack of cigarettes in the closet.”

He choked on a loose noodle as he saw your tear-stained face. You wiped your cheeks, your whole face felt hot. “You and I, Buck. We’re not working.”

This was it, the moment he’d been preparing for. He knew you would break sooner or later, who in their right mind would want to have an actual relationship with him. Someone who has to constantly sacrifice dinners and anniversaries, someone who risks his life on a daily basis, someone who risks the lives of loved ones on purpose. 

A few weeks back, he’d been interrogating someone linked to the Flag Smashers when he’d heard the words he’d been dreading. Your name slipped out of them like venom. They’d found out about his secret, Bucky had been guarding your love with his life but it wasn’t enough. You’d always be in danger with him.

But he couldn’t bear to leave you so he took the cowards way out. Spent more time at the compound, trained longer and drove mindlessly for hours, all so you would think he was busy with work or that he didn’t care. Maybe one day you would get tired and leave him because he sure as hell couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes and tell you it’s over.

And although he was expecting these words to come out of your mouth sooner or later, it still broke him. His heart fractured like porcelain, a deep hurt brewed in his body like a deep pit somehow appeared in his stomach.

“I understand.” He whispered, gluing his arms to his side because if he so much as touched the aura around you, he would drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. “I come with a lot of baggage and my job doesn’t really help so, I understand.”

A dry laugh escaped you, the sadness in your eyes turning into fury. “I knew what I was getting into when we started dating Buck. I knew you had hundred-year-old baggage weighing on you like a ton of bricks. I was also aware of your job description and even though I fucking hate seeing you hurt- and you have no idea how much it physically pains me to see you come through that door with a black eye and broken everything, I know it’s something I have to get over. Because I was willing to be with you, all of you.”

“We could have been like this forever, happy and in love. And every single day I would open that door and listen to the shit you have to put up with from all the people who don’t know you and clean your wounds and take care of you. I could have done that till the end of my life. But I can’t anymore, not when you lie. You’ve been lying about being at work when I know damned well you left hours ago. I cannot be with you if you won’t tell me what goes through your head. What troubles you. You won’t even say you love me, when I know for a fact you do.”

“You wait every single night until you think that I’ve fallen asleep and you say you love me over and over because you think I can’t hear you. But I do. And I love you, I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much that- that I’m willing to let you go. Because you sure as hell don’t want to stay, for some unknown reason you won’t tell me.”

“You won’t tell me even though I’ve proven to you that I can take care of your naked soul. No Winter Soldier, no vibranium, no Hydra. Just Bucky.” Your voice cracked. “So if you won’t admit that, then you should leave.”

Your words cut through Bucky like thousands of knives, each tear that fell from your face was a reminder of why he had to leave even though his whole body begged him to stay. He would hurt you more if he stayed- so that’s what he did, he left. Without a word he walked out of the apartment that had become a true home to him for the first time in decades and never looked back. Not when you slammed the door and not when he heard you sob. 

Part 2: Hurry Back Home

Wanna read more like this? Here’s my latest post. 💖

Authors Note:

Heeeyyy everyoneee, sooo this is the first time I've posted in a loooongggg time so I hope you guys liked it. If you did please like comment reblog the whole thing! Thanksss <3

[tinytinyblogs]

Hey can you do yandere skz punishments

Punishment time darling

They give you everything you could ever want, but crossing them is a mistake you’ll never want to make.

Hyung line, Maknae line (coming soon)

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Bang Chan isn’t one to act impulsively, not when it comes to you. He’s always calculating, always planning. When you disobey him, he doesn’t explode in anger like someone else might. No, Chan prefers something quieter, something more effective. He believes punishment should teach a lesson, not waste energy. And when it comes to you, he wants you to feel the weight of your guilt, to truly understand why you were wrong. Isolation is his preferred method. It’s clean, controlled, and, most importantly, it works. The first time he catches you breaking one of his unspoken rules—talking to someone he doesn’t approve of, going somewhere without telling him—he doesn’t raise his voice. Instead, he gives you a long, measured look, the kind that sends a chill down your spine. His usual warmth is gone, replaced by something colder, sharper. Later, when it’s just the two of you, he sits you down. The air feels heavy, suffocating. His voice is low and calm, almost tender. “Think about it, darling. I’m doing this for your own good,” he says, his expression carefully crafted to appear apologetic, though his eyes betray something darker. “If I’m not protecting you, who will? This world is too dangerous for someone like you. Without me… you’re nothing.” The words sting, but they also confuse you.

He delivers them with such conviction, such unwavering certainty, that a part of you begins to question yourself. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you were careless, ungrateful even. He leans closer, his hand brushing against yours as if to comfort you. “You’ll understand soon enough,” he murmurs. And then it begins. Subtly, at first. Your phone mysteriously stops working, and when you ask about it, Chan is quick to offer an excuse. “It’s better this way. You don’t need all those distractions.” Your friends start to drift away—he makes sure of it, carefully orchestrating misunderstandings and missed calls until you have no one left to turn to. Your schedule becomes eerily predictable, revolving entirely around him. He insists it’s for your benefit, that it’s safer this way. The isolation creeps in slowly, but it’s relentless. The world you once knew shrinks until it consists of only him. And every time you try to protest, he’s ready with the same disarming smile and soothing words. “I know this feels harsh, but it’s because I love you. You’ll thank me someday.” Yet, no matter how gentle his tone, there’s no mistaking the steel beneath it. Bang Chan doesn’t give second chances. By the time you realize the full extent of his control, it’s too late. You’re trapped, and he knows it. And to him, that’s exactly as it should be.

Minho

If Minho grows quiet and his sharp gaze locks onto you, it’s never a good sign. When you talk back to him or let your emotions run wild, and he remains silent, it’s far worse than anger—it’s dangerous. His silence is not passivity; it’s a storm waiting to unfold. Minho doesn’t like wasting energy, and why should he? When he acts, it’s always calculated, deliberate, and impactful, ensuring you won’t dare to repeat your mistakes. The last time you pushed him, your words came tumbling out in frustration, escalating into a full-blown argument. He listened without interruption, his expression unreadable, the stillness of his body unnerving. Once your words ran dry, he finally spoke. “Are you done?” he asked, his voice eerily calm, laced with a sharp edge. “You’ve been crossing the line lately. You know that, don’t you?” The weight of his words sat heavy in your chest long after he left the room. Sleep felt impossible that night as anxiety churned in your mind. You couldn’t ignore the suffocating feeling that something was coming. And you were right. Just as the clock struck midnight, the sound of your door creaking open made you sit up in bed.

There he was, standing in the doorway, his silhouette outlined by the dim hallway light. His eyes, dark and piercing, met yours, and an unsettling smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Waiting for me, lovely?” he asked softly, stepping into the room with a predator’s grace. Before you could respond, he tossed something onto the bed. The clatter was jarring, and your breath hitched when you realized what it was: your phone, shattered into pieces. “Phone? No more,” he said with an icy smirk. “I wonder what else I should make into pieces. Those stupid plushies you’re so attached to? Or maybe… someone precious?” A soft, humorless laugh escaped him as he leaned closer, his face mere inches from yours. “Remember this, love. No crossing the line. Consider this your warning,” he murmured, his voice dangerously low. “Don’t make me dirty my hands, alright?” His words cut deeper than any shout ever could. Straightening, he glanced at you one last time before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. With Minho, silence was never just silence. It was a threat, a promise, and a lesson. And when he acted, it was always with a precision that left no room for misunderstanding.

Changbin

Explode—that’s the only way to describe him when he’s angry. It’s not subtle or restrained; it’s raw, chaotic, and terrifying. When his temper snaps, it’s like a storm that tears through everything in its path. He throws things against the wall, his voice rising into a roar that makes your chest tighten with fear. The sweet, soft side he usually shows you is gone, replaced by someone you can barely recognize. “You think I’m joking right now?” he shouts, his eyes blazing with fury, so red it’s like all he can see is rage. He plants himself in front of the door, his body a solid barrier ensuring there’s no escape. The once tidy room is unrecognizable—vases lie shattered on the floor, shards glinting in the dim light, papers scattered everywhere. Each crash feels like a knife twisting in your gut, and all you can do is collapse onto the floor, your knees too weak to hold you up. His breathing is heavy, his chest heaving like he’s barely holding back from completely losing control. “Ignore me like that again,” he growls, his voice low and dripping with menace, “answer me without thinking, and next time, I’ll throw you against the wall just like I did those vases.”

The venom in his words makes your heart race, and for a split second, you can’t tell if it’s an empty threat or a promise. Either way, the weight of his fury presses down on you, leaving you frozen in place. And then, just as suddenly as it started, the storm begins to subside. He straightens, his eyes still fixed on you, but the blazing anger in them softens into something almost tender. He takes a step forward, then another, crouching down to meet you on the floor. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant, as if trying to erase the memory of the chaos he just unleashed. You flinch as he reaches for you, but he doesn’t stop. His hands find your face, cupping it gently, his thumbs brushing away the tears that have spilled down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, love. You need to understand how much I love you,” he whispers, his tone pleading. It’s disorienting, the way he shifts from monster to lover, his gentleness so at odds with the destruction around you. “So don’t make me lose my temper again, got it?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. The warning is clear, and you can only nod.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin has a way of making you doubt yourself, twisting your thoughts until you’re unsure of what’s real. He doesn’t raise his voice or resort to anger—instead, he makes you feel like you’re the one who’s wrong, like you’re the villain and he’s the victim. His charm is intoxicating, but beneath it lies something dangerous, something that leaves you questioning everything about yourself and your relationship. When you upset him, he doesn’t comfort you or address it directly. Instead, he turns it into his own game, one where the rules are stacked entirely in his favor. He knows exactly how to manipulate the situation, how to make you feel like the guilt is entirely yours. His voice is soft, trembling just enough to tug at your heartstrings as he asks, “Do you even love me?” Somehow, he manages to conjure tears—perfect, convincing tears that make your chest tighten with guilt. You know he’s playing a part, that the sadness in his eyes is an act, yet it still works. His vulnerability feels so real, so raw, that you can’t help but question if maybe you truly are the problem. He always knows what to say to make you doubt your actions, and soon enough, you’re scrambling to fix something you aren’t even sure you broke. He doesn’t stop there.

His words cut deeper than any raised voice or angry outburst ever could. “I feel like I’m nothing to you,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping as though he can’t bear to look at you. “Do you even care? Am I just wasting my time here?” The weight of his accusations settles heavily on your shoulders, making you feel like the worst person in the world. And that’s exactly what he wants. For Hyunjin, this isn’t just a moment of hurt—it’s a game, a calculated strategy to make you prove yourself over and over again. You find yourself apologizing, explaining, and convincing him of your love, even when you don’t fully understand what you’re apologizing for. By the time he leans in, brushing a tear from your cheek, you’re already falling into his trap. “Tell me,” he whispers, his voice barely audible but laced with desperation. “Tell me how much you love me. Please… I can’t live without you.” His words are a plea, but they carry a weight that crushes you. It’s not just about proving your love—it’s about erasing the guilt he’s so carefully placed on you. And when you finally stammer out your assurances, he smiles faintly, knowing he’s won. For Hyunjin, victory isn’t loud or violent. It’s quiet, devastating, and entirely unforgettable.

[sonamytrash]

Catch up

Yuta Okkotsu x Fem reader.

Warnings: Older reader implied, only slighter older by a few years. Pining, mutual pining, fluff, bittersweet romance.

Banner by @cafekitsune

Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School, a bastion of arcane knowledge for the next generation of sorcerers. It serves not only as a training ground but also as a headquarters for all who have graduated. The air was always thick with the scent of incense as students roamed the hallowed halls in their distinctive uniforms, their conversations, a symphony of ambition, and camaraderie. Yuta, however, often found himself lost in thought, his gaze lingering often on you as you walked by, your hips swaying gently with each step you took. Your eyes would occasionally flicker in his direction, sending a shiver down his spine. Did you know? Did you notice his furtive glances all these years? You were an intelligent woman, you must know.

The rumour mill had recently churned with whispers that you would soon be leaving Japan for an overseas assignment, a rare opportunity for any young sorcerer. The prospect of your departure weighed heavily on Yuta's heart. Having recently returned from Africa, he was hopeful to spend some time alongside you. Just a few short weeks before you had to leave, however, it seemed cruelly short.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the grounds were bathed in a warm orange glow, Yuta gathered the courage to approach you. His heart thudded in his chest as he stepped into the quiet library where you could often be found with a cup of tea whenever you were visiting the establishment. The scent of old tomes and parchment filled the air, creating a cosy atmosphere. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come.

"Senpai," he began, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up from your book. You had felt his presence before he had even spoken, the air around the two of you crackling with the tension of unspoken words. You set the tome aside, your delicate fingers brushing against the leather cover. "Okkotsu-kun," you reply politely, your voice like a melody that could soothe the fiercest of spirits. "You're back from Africa," you say, smiling softly at him. "How was your trip?" You gaze softly over his features. He was taller and definitely stronger. His new haircut framed his delicate, handsome features.

Yuta's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, feeling your eyes on him, and he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "It was... enlightening," he managed to say, his mind racing for the right words. He had dreamed of this moment, but now that it was here, he found himself at a loss for what to say. "I heard you'll be leaving soon," he added, trying to keep his voice steady.

Your smile faltered slightly, a hint of sadness creeping into your eyes. "Yes, I've been offered a position abroad," you reply. "It's an opportunity I can't pass up. But I'll miss everyone here."

"I... I just wanted to thank you," he stuttered, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route. "For everything you've taught me. I wouldn't be where I am without your guidance."

Gojo had asked you to help Yuta upon his admission to the school as a special grade sorcerer almost two years ago now. You weren't keen on having to babysit, and you weren't what anyone would consider a natural at teaching. Keeping yourself to yourself and working alone was more your style. Which was precisely why the man had asked you to spend some time with Yuta. You were a kind woman but also fiercely strong, funny, and understanding. However, you surprisingly found yourself enjoying the time you spent working on missions together. There were a couple of years between the two of you, and you weren't surprised when you sensed his schoolboy crush during your later interactions following The Night Parade of 100 Demons. You'd be lying if you didn't think he was adorable back then and had grown during his time away, you had thought about your newfound feelings towards him in more recent weeks, acknowledging his strength as a sorcerer and what a good man he continues to grow into. But you didn't want to serve as anymore of a distraction for him, and the fact still stood that you would be leaving soon.

You tilted your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "You're welcome, Yuta," you replied warmly. "Your progress was quite remarkable." Your eyes searched his, and for a moment, he thought he saw something flicker in their depths—was it understanding?

The silence stretched between the two of you, thick with unspoken feelings. Yuta's palms grew clammy, and he clenched them into fists at his sides. He had rehearsed this moment a thousand times in his head, but now that he was here, the words felt clumsy and inadequate. He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "There's something else I need to tell you," he murmured.

You leaned back in your chair, arms folded under your chest. "Go on," you encouraged, your voice a soft caress that seemed to echo in the quiet library.

Yuta took another step closer, his heart pounding like a drum in his ears. He could feel the warmth of your presence, the energy that surrounded you like a comforting blanket. "Senpai," he said, his voice steadying. "I... I have feelings for you. I know it's not proper, and I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I can't keep it to myself anymore. I wanted to be honest with you.... before you leave."

Your smile never wavered, but your eyes searched his, looking for the sincerity behind his words. "Feelings, huh?" You mused, your voice a gentle breeze. "That's quite the confession, Okkotsu-kun."

Yuta nodded, his throat tight with emotion. He had hoped for a positive reaction, but he was prepared for rejection. "I know it's sudden," he said, his voice low. "But I've had these feelings for a long time."

You studied him for a moment, your gaze unreadable. Then, you stood up, closing the gap between the two of you. Your hand reached out and touched his cheek, your skin warm against his. "You're a good man, Yuta," you said, your voice tender. "And a powerful sorcerer. But you're also very young."

Yuta's heart skipped a beat, and he leaned into your touch. "I know," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "But I can't help how I feel."

Your eyes searched his, your thumb gently brushing against his cheekbone. "I appreciate your honesty," you murmur. "But we are in a delicate position. We are both sorcerers, with duties and responsibilities that extend beyond our personal lives."

Yuta nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I understand," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "But I had to tell you. I couldn't keep it bottled up anymore."

Your hand lingered on his cheek, your thumb tracing a small circle. "I appreciate your honesty," you said softly. "It's not every day someone confesses to me like this. I have to say, I'm flattered."

Yuta felt a spark of hope. "Does that mean that you're not completely rejecting me?"

You chuckled lightly, your eyes never leaving his. "It means that I'll think about it," you reply, your voice a gentle caress. "We are sorcerers. Our lives are fraught with danger and responsibility. Love is a precious thing, but it can also be a distraction. You know better than anyone how dangerous it can be."

Yuta's heart sank, but he understood. He knew you were right, but he couldn't help the wave of disappointment that washed over him. "I understand," he murmured, trying to hide his feelings.

You searched his eyes, your gaze piercing. "But I don't want you to think I don't care," you state. "I do. More than you know."

Yuta felt his hope rekindle. "Do you mean..." he trailed off, unable to form the question, his face reddening.

You leaned in closer, your breath a gentle caress on his cheek. "It means," you whispered, "it's a small world of sorcerers, and that I'll be waiting for you to catch up."

[birdiebirdjay]

you left me first.

in which bill and percy have a little talk.

-----

"Ahem."

Percy looks up at the familiar voice, his eyes weary and his glasses slipping down his nose.

He blinks.

"Bill?" He sits up a little straighter, leaning back in his chair. Hastily, he runs a hand through his hair and straightens his glasses, trying to look at least slightly presentable and not like he'd been working for 13 hours straight. "Oh- Hello, Bill. You must have missed Dad's office, he's actually-"

Bill cuts him off with a wave of his hand, shaking his head. "I'm not here to see Dad, Percy. I'm here to see you," he says stiffly, taking a seat.

The brothers sit in silence for a few minutes. Were they even brothers anymore? Percy wondered vaguely. He found that the thought didn't hurt now as much as it used to.

That realization actually stung ten times more than the initial thought.

"Do you want some tea?" he asks awkwardly, his hands fidgeting under his desk. "I can make some, if you'd like."

"No, I don't want some tea." Bill snaps, getting up to his feet and putting his hands down on the edge of Percy's desk. He looks like Molly, in some twisted way, with his eyes narrowed and his lips almost curled into a sneer. It almost makes Percy flinch--indeed, he stiffens and his spine straightens--but he doesn't jump back.

Flinching was a sign of weakness, of doubt. He'd trained it out of himself the very first month after Pius Thicknesse had become the Minister.

"What is the matter with you, Percy?" Bill hisses, and for a moment, Percy thinks he may have seen tears in his eyes. A blink, and they were gone the next moment. "You chose the ministry over us, years ago, and you're still here."

He looks away, taking his hands off the desk, and he starts pacing the length of the office. "You missed so much, you know that? The twins created a whole business, Ginny's first boyfriend, Ron had his seventeenth-"

Now, Percy is on his feet. He wasn't sure when that had happened; all he could feel now was the rushing of blood to his ears, the pounding in his head, and the empty ache in his chest he had spent years trying to press down.

"Me?" he asks, staring at Bill with an almost manic look in his eyes. "I missed- of course, everything I missed!" he laughs, a broken sound of surprise. "Then what about everything you missed? My fifteenth? My sixteenth? Ginny being kidnapped and almost murdered by Lord fucking Voldemort? Ron nearly drowning? And that was before- everything!"

Now, it's Bill's turn to be shocked into silence. He stares at his younger brother--the flame, the bright boy who had burned and burned for as long as he'd lived... or so he'd thought. The once bright spark in his eyes was gone now, replaced by cold, hardened steel.

Bill's eyes are still narrowed, and his chest is still heaving, but there is a flicker of confusion behind his gaze now. "Percy, I-"

"No!" Percy nearly yells, suddenly very glad he'd gotten his office soundproofed. "No! You don't get to make excuses now, strutting into my office after everything is over!" He swallows hard, pulling his glasses off and swiping roughly at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"You know the only thing I asked mum and dad for on my fifteenth? I asked if they could get you and Charlie to come home, just for a day," he says bitterly, looking away. "And you know what? I really thought it would happen. I did. But when it comes down to it, you're just like our dad, aren't you?"

"Percy, stop." Bill begs, stepping forward. Suddenly, his hands are on Percy's shoulders, and there are tears in both of their eyes. "Don't say that. Please don't..."

"Why shouldn't I?" he asks, but his voice cracks, and his arms are around Bill before he can tell himself to pull away. Suddenly, he's fifteen years younger; he's a child again, crying to his brother after he'd been hurt. "The only person who came to visit that day was Auntie Muriel."

There's a big difference between a broken family and a scraped knee, he thought bitterly, screwing his eyes shut tight. Why can't everything be as simple as it used to be?

Bill takes a deep, shuddering breath, resting his chin on Percy's shoulder. "You missed my wedding," he says, closing his eyes. "You left us."

Percy shakes his head, his grip tightening on his brother despite his words.

"You left me first."

[themareverine]

Stone Cold | Logan Howlett x fem!OC | TEASER

synopsis: They look at you differently, in mountain towns. Sure the female to male ratio—anywhere in Alaska, really—ain’t exactly cut down the middle. Women are territory, little else. And belonging to Logan—learning to be nothing short of an animal? Bred with his child? It’s another thing entirely.

warnings: mentions of a breeding link, implied sexual themes 🌶️, PG-13, pregnancy, comic adaptation, pre-established relationship from my Mare & the Wolverine series, angst, survival aesthetics, mentions of hunting, dead carcasses, extreme minimalism, blood, mentions of Logan's time at Weapon X, etc.

a/n: takes place in the Wolverine: The Long Night universe and follows up my Bed of Bones universe. I’ve been in my feelings lately and hormonal, so I wanted to play around with this—since survivalist Logan makes me feral and would love nothing more than to give him an entire litter. you’re welcome for this pure self indulgence.

masterlist | navigation | tags let me know if you want added!

TEASER

Freezing chill trojans into the supply store behind a bold arch of sunlight as the heavy door kicks open, arctic skies faraway in a sense that feels storybook, ethereal. Like this almost isn't real — in some ways, it doesn't feel like it.

Thick shadow takes up the full of the doorway like God, door braced open with an arm no smaller than trees growing in the sleeping forest beyond city lines.

“Logan,” there’s a relief she can’t fingerprint, but it jackrabbits against her bones all the same. Turning, she abandons her selections faster than the speed of light, they drop with a solid thud! at her feet enough to shake the world.

“You’re here,” it’s like breathing sweet air. His full scent takes up the space of the four walls, making parts of her tremble she hasn’t felt in weeks. Parts of her that spin and swirl with new life, with purpose “Missed you somethin’ bad, baby.”

Breathe deep of him, honey—don’t ever let him leave. Never again—never leave me, Logan.

Slipping between shelves and stacked wares like whisks of death, her feet are light. Airier than they should be, carrying around steel bones, the seed of a man older than new stars. The weight of universes were less than the life knitting in the depth of her womb, but she was designed for this—built.

Mere sight of him, scent of him stirs her blood like a swirling, hot little thing she didn’t know—his child in her womb all but leapfrogs into her chest cavity. He’s strong, she knows it—and it is a boy. Her bones know it. Nothing short of Logan’s son could brave the adamantium of bones like this child kicks around her womb.

Meeting his shadow in the door is just short of staring God in the face, stepping into the embrace of his extended arm is Eden. Nearly forbidden, how sinfully good it is.

A fortress to which she can stake hope, serenity. A future.

The smile knifing at his lips is genuine, more of Logan than many will ever know in this life. Steady heartbeat up against her breast as she rests against him, his arm falls around her shoulders perfectly. Fortressing her away from the press of the world, the dark eyes staring at them from the counter, the aisles.

Thumb gently kneading against her shoulder, his low rumble of approval lights her soul on fire, his other hand lifting to brush knuckles along her cheek.

“‘Course I’m here, darlin’,” he angles his head enough for his lips to skip over the line of her jaw, “couldn’t keep me away if ya tried.” Smelling of ocean salt, fish, sweat, he invades her senses like an assault. Capitulating quickly, her pulse kicks to life in a way that sends her spine almost numb. Lips chapped from frigid air as they skip across her skin, it's like tasting starlight as he kisses her, softly. Tenderly, so unlike everything he, actually, is.

A large hand palms graciously over the swell of her belly, protectively. Possessive, like she's made of the finest wealth buried in mountains. Reserved for his, to defend. Fight for. Kill for. Skin to skin that never ceases to drive her within an inch of sanity.

“Look at you,” his finger dips beneath her chin, lifts it a little to consider her eyes. Satisfied she's paralyzed under his gaze, right where he wants her, Logan's big hands find either side of her belly, feeling. Seeking, yearning in fascinated little way he's been since she started showing early in her fertility.

Kissing her cheek, he nuzzles his nose along the shell of her ear.

“You look good, all fat ‘n full’a me, darlin’.” Oh, he was wicked.

Strength evaporates, taking with it all the air from her lungs as she manages, somehow, a low growl of approval. Knees buckle. Swear to Christ— if she weren’t already so full with his child, well—she would’ve been. In shorter order than she probably could realize.

[songbirdseung]

beautiful in white / lee heeseung

synopsis: what could possibly go wrong when you take your boyfriend and best friend to dress shopping?

pairing: bf!heeseung x reader, bff!jake, love triangle?

warnings: love triangle, insecurities, tension, lmk if i missed anything

wc: 600

You nervously checked your reflection in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of the white sundress you'd chosen for the family event. It was a big deal, and you wanted to look perfect. You could feel the weight of Heeseung's and Jake's gazes on you as you turned around.

Heeseung's eyes widened as he took in your appearance. "Wow, you look amazing," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

Jake nodded in agreement, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, you really do. That dress suits you perfectly."

You couldn't help but blush at their compliments, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you. "Thanks, guys. I'm glad you like it," you replied, twirling around to give them a full view.

Heeseung stepped closer, reaching out to gently adjust the strap of your dress. "You're going to knock everyone's socks off," he said, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

You shared a smile with him, feeling a warm flutter of affection in your chest. "I hope so," you said softly, leaning into his touch.

Jake cleared his throat awkwardly, drawing your attention. "Um, yeah, definitely. You're going to be the belle of the ball," he said, his tone slightly strained.

You frowned slightly, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. "Is everything okay, Jake?" you asked, concern lacing your voice.

Heeseung shot Jake a questioning look, his brow furrowing with concern. "Yeah, you seem a little off," he added, his tone gentle.

Jake shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your gaze. "I, uh, I was just thinking about… um, the future," he stammered, his cheeks flushing slightly.

You exchanged a confused glance with Heeseung, unsure of what Jake was getting at. "What about the future?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

Jake took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Well, I mean, I was just imagining… hypothetically speaking… if, uh, if you were to get married someday," he said, his words tumbling out in a rush.

Heeseung's eyes widened in surprise, his jaw tightening slightly. "Jake, what are you—" he started, but Jake interrupted him.

"I mean, if you were to get married, I can't help but imagine… you in a dress like that," Jake blurted out, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red.

You felt a knot form in your stomach as the implications of Jake's words sank in. Heeseung's expression darkened, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "Jake, that's enough," he said, his voice low and clipped.

Jake looked apologetic, realizing he'd crossed a line. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… I'll just… yeah," he mumbled, stepping back awkwardly.

Tension hung heavy in the air as an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. You looked between Heeseung and Jake, feeling torn between them. "Guys, please don't fight," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm not fighting, YN. I just… I need a moment," he said, his tone strained as he turned away from you.

You watched him go, feeling a pang of guilt gnaw at your insides. You knew Heeseung was sensitive about the topic of marriage, and Jake's thoughtless comment had only made things worse. "I'm sorry, Heeseung," you whispered, wishing you could take back the last few minutes.

Jake shuffled his feet awkwardly, looking equally remorseful. "I didn't mean to upset him," he said, his voice tinged with regret.

You shook your head, offering him a weak smile. "It's not your fault, Jake. I think we just… caught him off guard," you said, trying to diffuse the tension.

Jake nodded, his expression somber. "Yeah, I guess so. I'll, uh, I'll give him some space," he said, edging towards the door.

You watched him go, feeling a heavy weight settle on your shoulders. The excitement you'd felt moments ago had been replaced by a sinking feeling of unease. "This was supposed to be a fun day," you thought to yourself, feeling a surge of frustration.

But as you looked at yourself in the mirror once more, you couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, everything would work out in the end.

[yesihaveaobsession]

Enchanted Echos

Alastor x female! witch reader

Summary: Alastor's ex returns, does he still feel the same pull as back then?

A/N- Had a blast writing this one so I hope y'all like it!! Also thank gosh for drafts because I have writers block so here's a short little skit kind of ✨️

Alastor was in the middle of playing with an old, tiny radio in the hotel lobby when the doors swung open, and a familiar scent wafted in—a sweet, slightly smoky smell. When he turned, there stood you, his ex; a powerful witch with an aura that danced in the colors of your voodoo magic.

"Alastor," you purred with a playful smirk on your lips, your eyes like those of a sweet doe, able to lure anyone to you, just as you had lured Alastor oh so long ago. "Miss me?" you asked, batting your eyelashes and standing tall in your long dress. The Radio Demon straightened, trying to maintain his usual air of confidence, but your presence sent a shiver down his spine as he watched you waltz over.

You waved your fingers in front of his face, shimmering hues of your magic swirling around like a captivating spell—though it wasn’t an actual spell you were casting. For a moment, Alastor felt himself slipping back to the time when you first won him over with your charms, which had woven around him, making him forget his better judgment.

"Still caught in my web, are you?" you teased with a tilt of your head. Before he could respond, you playfully bopped his nose—such an innocent gesture that somehow felt like a jolt of electricity. The nostalgic affection he had once fought flooded his senses again as he struggled to keep his composure. You then gripped the flaps of his suit jacket, pulling him closer until your mysterious doe eyes met his.

"Why do you look so serious?" you whispered, leaning in as if sharing a secret.

"Perhaps because I’m not the same naïve Radio Demon you once knew," he replied, his voice steady but laced with a hint of uncertainty.

"Oh, I beg to differ," you said, leaning even closer so that he could feel your breath on his cheek. You took him in for a moment before whispering again, "You still want to impress me."

He couldn’t deny it; a part of him still craved your approval. But he steeled himself, acutely aware of the danger your charm posed.

"I’ve moved on," he insisted, though it was obvious that wasn’t true. You two had dated for three years before he disappeared for seven, and you knew each other so well that you could read his emotions through the grin he always wore. That scared him.

You chuckled softly, the sound almost hypnotic. "Have you? Or are you just playing hard to get?"

Alastor fought the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Hardly. I’m a demon of many talents; charm is simply one of them." The tension between you crackled, an intoxicating mix of nostalgia and unresolved feelings. As you leaned back slightly, Alastor’s heart raced, feeling caught in a web.

"Is that so?" you tilted your head, a glint of mischief in your eyes. "Prove it."

"Why are you really here?" he asked, masking his vulnerability with curiosity.

"Maybe I missed you," you replied coyly. "Or maybe I just wanted to see if you’re still as charming as I remember."

"You should know by now, my dear, charm can be quite deceiving."

"Ah, but that’s the thrill, isn’t it?" you winked, your fingers tracing along his jawline. He didn’t flinch, nor did he move. His eyes remained locked on yours. "Shall we see what happens when the past meets the present?"

As he stared into your enchanting eyes, Alastor couldn’t shake the feeling that this encounter would change everything. But one thing hadn’t changed—the hold you still had on him, even after all these years. Whether this 'meet up' was a good thing, a bad thing, or something in between remained to be seen.