#hi its midnight and I’m world building

[alicentry]

Ali.cent’s mother was a crucial part of her upbringing; the original alleviation of her anxiety. While in the books it seems she’s alive, however in the show she’s portrayed as dead, in either case she is unnamed. Based on her mothers dresses she wears throughout the “seduction” of Vis.serys being navy colored, her mother more than likely came from House Cuy. Hence why a lot of blues are also mixed into her younger wardrobe before becoming a Targaryen by marriage and adapting reds into her color scheme.

Being that her mother was a crucial part of her upbringing, losing her is what caused the biggest blow to her confidence. This is what made her become the moldable girl that Ot.to turned her into. Her mother passed shortly after King Jaeha.erys from burst belly (appendicitis) while in her late thirties. Ali.cent only being 11 and her brothers ranging in ages 6 to 20.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Mouthy

Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader

Summary: Miguel has been watching you, and is willing to do anything it takes to get you to join his team.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, NSFW, Explicit Smut, Teasing, Flirting, Kissing, Biting, Blood Drinking, Licking, Thigh Riding, Undressing, Voyeurism, Female Masturbation, Finger Sucking, Hair Pulling, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex

Word Count: 2.6k+

Read more of my MIGUEL stories!

You had been toying with Miguel all night, sparring with him until your sweaty session had resulted in swinging from rooftop to rooftop, leading his tour of your world to an end at the top of your apartment building. Three separate visits to your universe in the span of two months had led you to believe that he was getting desperate for help, or for something else. The first time he showed up was to help you battle one of the more formidable foes of your crime-fighting career, the second to ask you to join his group of heroes to fight off even bigger threats, and the third, well… you’re still trying to pin down.

If Miguel is anything, it’s persistent.

“Give up already?” He chides, denting the metal of the AC unit with his landing as you finally stop swinging.

“Who’s giving up?” You pull the mask off your sweaty face as his head piece disappears without a trace, revealing his gorgeous features and flowing raven locks.

“It’s only midnight,” he points to his watch as he walks toward you, those hips of his sauntering in a way that nearly hypnotizes you on the spot. “Plenty of other threats around the city to be squashed.”

“Then go squash them.” You challenge, tilting your head to look at him from another angle. Why can’t men in my universe look like him?

“You’d like that, huh?” He keeps advancing until he stops just short of you, his broad shoulders towering over you as a light breeze blows the smoky scent of his cologne into your nostrils. As if you hadn’t already committed it to memory. “If I did all the work?”

“Well, you can’t blame a lady for wanting to know if something’s worth her while.” You tease as he closes the space between you, backing you up against the rusted metal door of the stairwell. “Because if we’re being honest, Miguel, I’ve thought long and hard about it, and I’m perfectly fine here on my own.”

“I can see that.” His irises glow a fiery red against the white sclera of his eyes, searching your face for any hint of doubt or deceit. Your senses had been telling you that he wanted much more from you than just a teammate, the sound of his pulse quickening whenever he looked at you barely louder than the silence of his stilled breath. He wanted you… needed you almost as carnally as you needed him, and it was getting to be more difficult for either of you to ignore it.

“But don’t you want to be more than ‘just fine’?” He plants his palms against the brick structure behind you, his direct proximity tying a knot into your stomach as the night sky behind him somehow bleeds a passionate crimson hue. You can visibly see his intentions, actually feel the desire as it emanates out of his pores and into the hot summer air, drawing you in with its magnetic pull. “Don’t you want to be amazing?”

“I can tell that you do.” You smirk, prolonging your trance as you trace the bright red outline of the spider on his chest, watching it rise and fall faster with each word you speak. “Not everybody wants what you want, Miguel.”

“Is that so?” He leans in close, his full lips brushing against your ear as the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. “Is that why you moan my name at night every time I leave your world?” He slides his knee swiftly between your legs, gently lifting it up the crevice of your thighs until it rubs that sensitive spot between them.

“You’ve been watching me?” You knew that he’d been keeping tabs on you from whatever little hideout he had beyond your known universe, but you didn’t realize that he was paying that close attention to you. How much of your behavior had he actually witnessed? Was he speculating, hopeful, or had he actually watched while you slid your fingers beneath your underwear to satisfy that sudden urge his presence always seemed to evoke?

“You’re surprised?” He jeers confidently, his breath hot on your neck as he draws out a groan from your chest with another brush of his thigh, tapping into your natural moisture.

“That doesn’t really seem fair,” you start, eyes fluttering to catch glimpses of that scarlet sky phasing in and out of black and magenta as he continues to stimulate you. “You get to see all of me, but I don’t get to see any of you.”

You wonder just how far he took his viewings of you late at night; how many times he tuned into his recurring guest appearances in your imagination before you pleasured yourself into a dull, blissful slumber. Had he joined you in your handiwork, stroking himself in tandem, worlds apart, just in time to mutter your name with his release before the connection was lost? Or had he stayed tuned way past your loss of consciousness, hoping to hear some verbal confirmation of his presence even in your dreams?

“We can change that, you know.” He closes his eyes as you run your fingers through his hair, his thick lashes feathering over the shell of your ear as he presses a kiss into your neck.

“You’re gonna let me spy on you when you jerk off, too?” Your breath halts as he tastes the skin behind your ear and underneath your jawline, his teeth nipping at your pulse to make you pay for your quippy retort.

“Aye, cariño, are you always this mouthy?” He grabs onto your chin in a failed attempt to reign you in, the tips of his protracted claws nearly breaking your skin as he thrusts himself against you.

“You have no idea.”

—————————————

Miguel manages to stumble into your apartment with your legs wrapped around his waist, his clawed hands grasping at your thighs as they desperately cling to his hips. He pulls you up into him as he rounds the corner past your couch, his erection stretching the navy blue fabric of his suit as it grows harder against the drenched mound between your legs.

“You fucking taste like heaven, you know that?” He whispers through a dozen hungry kisses, the sharp sting to your skin and the iron of your blood flooding your senses as he bites down onto your bottom lip, wantonly sucking it into his mouth. That twinge of pain that would have hurt before you got your powers is nothing more than a scratch, a mere tickle as the warmth of his tongue soon counters it. He tugs and pulls every bit of flavor he can out of it, savoring each hint of salt and remnant of coffee on your tastebuds as he nearly gnaws your lip right off in the process, running into every wall along the way until he eventually reaches your bedroom.

“I thought you said those things were venomous.” You worry aloud, just now noticing their size and severity as he tosses you onto your bed with a lick of his lips.

“Only when I need them to be.” He grins and helps you peel your suit off your arms and torso, tugging it down past your hips and thighs before stepping out of his own spider suit with unmatchable ease. Eyes ravenous with lust, he watches you pull the last bit of stretchy cloth off your calves and feet, licking the tips of his fangs again as you toss your costume onto the floor.

“Well that’s lucky for me, then.” You sit up and press your knees into the mattress in order to get closer to him.

“Lucky for both of us.” He slides his thumbs beneath his boxer briefs and exposes what he’s working with, stealing the very breath from your lungs. Before you can comment on how big he is, before you can make a joke about how you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, he steps toward you and places his hand in the middle of your chest, pushing you flat onto your back.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs sternly.

“What?” Your brow furrows. Hasn’t he gotten enough of that through his viewfinder? Wasn’t that the whole point of him coming here in person? To actually touch you with his own hands and taste you with his own mouth? So that he didn’t have to just watch?

“I want you to touch yourself like you do when you think I’m not watching,” he reiterates, standing his ground as he resists the temptation to stroke himself, a single droplet of precum leaking from the tip of his cock.

“Oh. Okay.” You nod, his demanding tone of flattery quickly fueling your actions as it overpowers that inherent sense of stage fright nagging in the back of your head. “I can do that.”

You watch him hold his breath as you slide two fingers into your mouth, sucking on them as gratuitously as you can before pulling them out with a long trail of spit leading down your chin. His eyes follow your digits with rapt attention as you bring them down your body, their deep ruby hues darkening to burgundy as his pupils begin to dilate. You hear his breath hitch as you graze over your hardened nipples, snake your way down your navel and finally smooth them in between your soaking wet folds, exciting the sensitive neurons that have been begging for attention since the moment he arrived.

Doing as you’re told, you spread your juices up and down the length of your lips, catching a glimpse of his cock twitching against his stomach in anticipation, throbbing as you slowly pull upward on your clit. You can’t help but wonder how amazing he’s going to feel once he’s inside of you, your fingers barely able to do his length and girth any justice as you slide them inside your walls.

“That’s it, baby, just like that,” he finally exhales with a hint of a moan. He retracts his claws with a bite of his lip, cautiously touching your bare feet with the palms of his hands before slowly spreading your legs apart as he continues to watch you work. “Who knew your pussy’d be just as pretty as your face, huh?”

You huff in exasperation, too stunned to speak as his grin mimics your smile from the edge of the bed.

“You look even better from this angle, you know that?” Another lick of his lips spurns a trail of kisses onto the balls of your feet as he crawls between your legs, sucking little bruises into your calves and behind your knees; mementos for you to remember him by once he inevitably returns to his own world. You keep rubbing your bud up and down as he advances along your body; his lips, teeth and tongue massaging the skin of your inner thigh as waves of pleasure start building up into your core from both of your tantalizing efforts.

It isn’t long before he lifts your leg up over his shoulder, biting into your thigh once more before looking up at you with completely blackened eyes, your blood now staining his lips as it smears across his cheek. You moan as he takes his time lapping up the scarlet fluid as it mixes with his saliva, dripping down between your crevices as his mouth gets that much closer to your needy center.

Without a word of warning, he grabs onto your wrist and carefully pulls your fingers out of your swollen heat before encircling them with his lips. Those charcoal eyes of his roll back into his head, a deep guttural groan vibrating around your fingers as his tongue surrounds them, the savory flavor of your blood now blending in with the sweet tanginess of your sex. You push them in even further past his blood-stained lips, shivering in arousal as he sucks all the way down to your knuckles, making a sloppy show of licking them clean before finally drawing them out.

“Not so mouthy anymore, huh?” He asks, kissing the palm of your hand before lifting it up and placing your wet fingers into his hair.

“Uh-uh,” you whisper, the heat from his breath sending phantom pulses of bliss up through your spine, leaving you practically speechless.

“Then let’s see if I can get you to make some noise.” He licks a stripe up the length of your folds, choosing not to use his fangs on your most sensitive area as he focuses solely on tasting your raw flesh. He groans into your skin as he licks you up and down, inhaling your pheromonal scent as if your very essence is the only thing capable of sustaining him any further.

Your eyelids fall shut as you allow a few breathy moans to escape your lips, his tongue saturating every receptor you have with such an intense euphoria that it forces your hips to buck up into his mouth. Your grip on his onyx locks tightens as he continues to suck on your clit, pulling it taut into his mouth just like he had with your bottom lip, persistently eating you out like a man starved for days.

“See how good you are at following my orders?” He stops licking you just as you’re on the brink of ecstasy, a thin ring of red now glowing around the rims of his irises. “I just need you to do one more thing for me.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” You barely have the capacity to ask, your muscles vibrating beneath him with the promise of release that he so quickly took away from you.

His full lips curl into a smirk as he licks your bud one last time, kissing his way up your belly and breasts before reaching your neck, his cock needily bobbing between your legs until it slides inside you without ceremony. You gasp as his girth fills you up with impeccable ease, your slick walls welcoming his thick throbbing member, clenching down around him as he gently thrusts up into you.

“Miguel!” You shout in a stifled whisper, stars shining in your eyes as the tip of his cock hits that bundle of nerves he’s been teasing all night.

“Come for me,” he growls against your throat, all traces of that controlled man fading away as he pins your wrists to the mattress before bottoming out completely, rutting into you repeatedly like a wild animal.

“Mmm hmm!” Your moans echo off the walls in your bedroom as he drives himself further inside your heat, ricocheting off your nightstand and ceiling fan until they dissipate into the air above you, falling down like raindrops as they cover you both. His hips only quicken their steady pace the deeper he gets, sending hit after hit of white hot bliss up into your core until your body can no longer take it.

That wave of pleasure you’re so used to delivering yourself nearly takes you out completely as it washes over every inch of you from the inside out. It paints every cell in your skin, muscles and bones all the colors of the rainbow under Miguel’s hypnotic thrusts, his sweat dripping down onto you in tiny translucent beads before melting into your skin. Both of you phase in and out a variety of shades and patterns as you wrap your legs around his hips, drawing him in to make sure he feels the heightened state of nirvana he’s finally brought you to.

“I can feel you falling apart around me, cariño,” he whispers into your shoulder, thrusting one last time as hard as he can as he twitches and spasms inside you. Lavender paisleys, red and white stripes, olive and orange checkers all slowly fade away to a calm light blue before he pulls out and eventually lets go of your wrists. “You sure you don’t want to join my team?”

[mingi-s-dimples]

Little Kitten - San

KINKTOBER DAY 13, REQ. BY anon

~"This could be combined with the previous idea, or a fic on its own, do whatever you feel like. San gifting the reader cat lingerie (idk what it's called, but essentially cat ears, a collar with a bell, paw mittens and a tail with a butt plug). He puts them on the reader and fucks her. Some kinks I'd like to see: PRAISE, San telling the reader to suck his fingers, teasing, marking, calling the reader princess, maybe reader's hands being restrained by handcuffs/ a tie/ rope or just San using his one of his hands. Just soft San."

pairing: san x fem!reader

genre: 18+, filthish

summary: Your boyfriend got you a super nice birthday gift... which you later try it on and get fucked senselessly.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: dom!san, pleasure dom!san, collar, cat ears, cat mittens, use of toys (buttplug), orgasms (both m & f), fingering, manhandling, unprotected (boo wrap up irl!), completely consensual, for sure forgot something, completely unedited.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for being so behind 😞😞😞 I'm gonna make up for them *I promise*. I love y'all and I kinda liked this fic? Anon I hope you're happy with my fic, I personally liked it ^^

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

It was the evening of your birthday, and the anticipation had been building all day. The thought of spending your special day with San filled you with excitement. You had spent the week planning the perfect night—just the two of you at your place, a cozy dinner, some video games, and then whatever the night would bring. San had always known how to make you feel special, and tonight, you couldn’t wait to see what he had in store for you.

The table was set with your favorite meal, and the living room was softly lit by the warm glow of candles, casting a romantic ambiance over the room. San arrived just as you were putting the final touches on everything, his smile as bright and charming as ever. He held a small gift bag in one hand, his other hand tucked behind his back, hiding something that piqued your curiosity.

“Happy birthday, baby,” San said as he stepped inside, pulling you into a warm embrace. His scent, a mix of his cologne and something distinctly him, wrapped around you, making you feel instantly at ease.

You smiled against his chest, savoring the closeness. “Thank you, San. I’m so glad you’re here.”

He pulled back just enough to look down at you, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

Dinner was filled with laughter and conversation, the two of you falling into the comfortable rhythm you’d established over the course of your relationship. San was always full of energy, his playful nature lighting up every room he walked into, and tonight was no different. He cracked jokes, teased you about how seriously you took your cooking, and made you feel like the most important person in the world.

After dinner, you both moved to the living room, settling in front of the TV for a few rounds of your favorite video games. You and San had a playful rivalry when it came to gaming, and tonight was no exception. You laughed as he fumbled with the controls, and he smirked when he narrowly beat you in the last round.

“Maybe I’m letting you win because it’s my birthday,” you teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

He grinned, his dimpled smile making your heart skip a beat. “Maybe you’re just bad at the game.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips. Being with San was effortless. Every moment felt natural, full of affection and joy. As the clock ticked closer to midnight, you found yourself glancing at the gift bag he had brought in earlier, wondering what surprises were hidden inside.

San caught you looking and chuckled softly. “Someone’s a little eager, huh?”

You bit your lip, trying to play it cool, but the curiosity was killing you. “Maybe just a little.”

He reached for the bag, his movements slow and deliberate, drawing out the moment. “Okay, since you’ve been patient… Happy birthday, again.”

He handed you the bag, and you carefully opened it, your heart pounding with excitement. Inside, nestled in a small velvet box, was a delicate white gold necklace. The pendant was simple yet elegant, a small, shimmering stone set in the center that caught the light beautifully.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked at it, your fingers tracing the cool metal. “San, it’s gorgeous…”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said softly, his voice full of warmth. “Here, let me put it on for you.”

You turned around, pulling your hair to the side as San carefully fastened the necklace around your neck. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. When he was done, you turned back to face him, your fingers lightly touching the pendant.

“It’s perfect,” you whispered, smiling up at him.

San leaned in, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Not as perfect as you.”

His words made your heart swell, and you couldn’t help but lean in for a quick kiss, your lips brushing against his in a soft, lingering moment of affection. But San wasn’t done yet. He had something else planned.

“There’s one more gift,” he said, his voice lower now, a hint of mischief creeping into his tone.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Another one?”

He reached behind the couch, pulling out a second, slightly larger box. This one was wrapped in sleek black paper, a sharp contrast to the elegance of the necklace. He handed it to you, and your hands felt a little shaky as you unwrapped it, not sure what to expect.

As you opened the lid, your eyes widened. Inside was a set of black lingerie, delicate and revealing, along with something else—cat ears, a pair of paw mittens, a collar and a matching tail.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you swallowed hard, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness at the sight of the playful, slightly daring outfit. You looked up at San, your eyes wide, unsure of what to say.

He was watching you with a knowing smile, his eyes full of affection but also a flicker of something more intense. “Do you like it?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

You bit your lip, feeling a flush of heat creeping up your neck. The idea of wearing something so bold made your heart race, but the thought of doing it for him, of the way he might look at you, made you just as eager.

“I… I love it,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

San’s smile widened, and he reached out, taking the ears from the box and holding them up. “You want to try it on?”

You nodded, unable to find the words, your body already humming with excitement. San stood, moving to stand behind you. He gently placed the cat ears on your head, his fingers brushing through your hair as he adjusted them. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck, and it made your pulse quicken.

Next came the paw mittens, soft and plush, fitting snugly over your hands as he slid them on. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring every second of dressing you. You couldn’t help but feel a thrill run through you, the intimacy of the moment making your heart pound.

Finally, San picked up the lingerie set, the collar and the tail. He looked at you, his eyes dark with anticipation, and nodded toward the bedroom.

“Let me help you with the rest,” he said, his voice full of promise.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry, but nodded. You felt nervous, excited, and overwhelmed all at once, but there was no denying the anticipation bubbling up inside you. San always knew how to make you feel comfortable, no matter what, and you trusted him completely.

As you walked toward the bedroom, the soft glow of the candles from earlier flickered behind you, casting a warm light over the room. San followed closely, his hand resting gently on your lower back, guiding you forward.

The night was just beginning, and you had a feeling your birthday was about to get a lot more memorable.

---

San started undressing you. He took his sweet time, firstly pulling your shirt over your head, leaving you in your bra. Then he took that off too, softly but eagerly replacing it with the black, transparent lace bra that he got you. Your nipples hardened at his touch, visible through the cloth that was now barely covering anything. His hands then trailed on your body to your waist, the man in front of you going on one knee. Both his hands pulled off your panties, slowly but surely, as his lips flew to your inner thighs, leaving sloppy kisses behind. He sucked some light marks as close to your cunt. San then put on the panties he got you, matching with the bra, so.. still extremely revealing.

"Let's see, my love. Come here" he got up and sat on the edge of the bed, gently guiding you to stand between his legs. His eyes gleamed with desire as he pulled you closer, running his hands up your thighs. He grinned slightly as his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin, teasing you.

"You're so beautiful," San whispered, his voice low and filled with admiration. He leaned in, pressing soft kisses along your stomach, moving slowly upwards, his lips warm and inviting. He took his time, savoring every inch of you, his touch becoming more deliberate.

One of his hands slid around to your back, pulling you even closer, while the other stayed at your waist, fingers tracing patterns on your skin. His touch was both calming and electrifying, a contrast that had you breathing harder, anticipation growing with every second.

"Do you feel it, love?" he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin. "This...this is all for you."

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and desire. His hands explored your body with a kind of reverence, as though each touch was meant to savor, not rush. His lips continued their slow ascent, brushing just under your breasts before trailing back down to your navel. The heat from his breath left a trail of goosebumps, heightening every sensation.

"Tell me what you want," San's voice was low and gravelly, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine, "it's your birthday, after all. I want to spoil you". His hands, now gripping your hips, pulled you closer until your legs brushed against his. He leaned back slightly, eyes never leaving yours, waiting for your answer. The weight of his gaze made it impossible to ignore how much he was holding back, his restraint barely veiling his own desire.

Your heart raced, his question lingering in the air, thick with promise. He shifted slightly on the bed, his fingers playing with the edge of your panties, teasingly pulling at the fabric but not fully removing them. It was clear he wanted to hear you say it, to claim this moment together.

"Y-you..I want you." you confidently but softly said, climbing onto his lap. He took you in his embrace, both of his hands flying to your ass, squeezing harshly.

A soft chuckle escaped San’s lips as he felt your body press against his. His grip on you tightened, his hands kneading your flesh with a mixture of urgency and care. His lips found your neck, planting slow, deliberate kisses that sent sparks through your body. He pulled you even closer, your core pressing against the growing hardness beneath him.

"That's all I needed to hear," he murmured against your skin before biting down softly, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. His hands slid up your back, pulling you flush against him as he let his tongue flick over the spot he just bit.

San’s mouth continued its descent, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. His hands moved back down, thumbs tracing along your waist as his lips found your collarbone. He paused for a moment, his lips hovering just above your skin. "Let me show you how much I love spoiling you," he whispered, his voice dripping with desire.

With that, he flipped you over onto your back, his body now hovering above yours. The look in his eyes was dark, intense, and filled with the promise of everything he intended to do. He kissed you deeply, his hands roaming over every curve of your body, claiming you fully with each touch, each kiss, as though savoring every moment of the gift that was this night.

San’s kisses grew more passionate, each one drawing you deeper into the moment. His lips traveled along your jawline, down to your chest, where he paused, taking in the sight of you beneath him. His hands trailed down your sides, their warmth leaving your skin tingling in their wake. Slowly, he began to move lower, his mouth following the path his hands had traced.

He pressed his lips against the swell of your breasts, kissing and sucking lightly before making his way to your stomach. Every touch, every caress was deliberate, teasing you with the slow build of anticipation. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a smirk playing on his lips as he noticed the effect he was having on you.

"You deserve this," he murmured between kisses. "All of this."

His hands hooked around the waistband of your panties, and with a slow, tantalizing pull, he slid them off, his eyes never leaving yours. He hovered above you, fingers brushing gently against your inner thighs, his breath warm and steady as he let the anticipation hang in the air.

For a moment, the world seemed to still as San lowered himself, his lips returning to your body, exploring, tasting, leaving a trail of heat and want. His tongue flicked out, teasing you, as he made his way lower, determined to fulfill his promise of spoiling you completely.

"Were you thinking about this before, baby? You're so wet, sweetie.." his words faded as he dived in, his tongue starting to softly lick your folds. San’s large hands gripped at your thighs in a rough, needy manner. He had you splayed open before him as he feasted on your essence, pouring every ounce of himself into your pleasure. His tongue circled your clit just as his chin and lower lip passed between your folds and your back arched off the mattress. His goal was to make you feel good, spoil you for your birthday.

"You taste so good, my love.. I wanna have all of you, right now" his tongue finding it's way deep in your core, tasting the wetness of it.

"I-uhm"

"Yes baby.. say it. Use your words, I will grant anything for you tonight" San responded with a low whisper, stopping for a moment to look back at you. Your hands gripping the sheets, face flustered and fucked out, head dizzy and slightly teary eyes.

"I'm s-so close..." you whined out, squirming in front of him, in search of any type of additional friction. As he licked and sucked on your flesh a couple more times, your back arched against the mattress and you came beautifully, silky white liquid framing San's lower face. As he liked everything off, he got up for a short moment.

"Let me have my fun with you now, my princess.." his rough and big hands flipped you over. He raised your neck and face slightly and one of his hands slid around the collar, locking it on your throat. He slowly let your head down on the mattress and his right hand took the tail he got you, which was a butt plug and held it eagerly.

He got closer to you and with one knee he held your legs down, his hands spreading your ass, full on display for him. Your face flushed at the thought of being bare like that in front of him, but you soon were dostrscted by his fingers pumping in your cunt a couple of times before travelling to your other hole, prepping you with your own juices. He then took the butt plug and you softly moaned as he put it in, your walls clenching onto it. The same fingers he used on you found their way again in your cunt, then to your lips as he commanded, "Suck them". You did as told and sucked your own juices off his fingers, licking your lips. He smiled teasingly, pleased with your reaction.

"C'mon babe, I know you can take all of me.." he whispered as he undressed himself. His cokc sprung angrily out of his briefs and as soon as he eas fully bare behind you, his right hands trailed on your back and held your neck and face buried in the mattress, while with his left hand he guided himself to your hole. He started rapidly thrusting into you, the collar's bell frantically shaking and clinking. He leaned over your body, a hand holding onto your waist and one slipping over your hand, holding it thight. his necklace was dingling above the nape of your neck, touching your soft skin from time to time. His lips left a trail of kisses on your back and spine as he pounded into your relentlessly. You could feel that from time to time he'd suck your soft skin, leaving marks all over your body. On your shoulders, collarbones, back.. everywhere.

"You feel so good sweetie.. taking me so g-good" San groaned, all up in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "You drive me insane, love. I'm so close..." he said barely above a whisper and started fucking you even more rapidly, thrusts getting sloppier with every other one, both of you panting. As he came and bottomed doen completely and stood like that, the bell on the colllar coulds till be heard.

"Mhm.. that's it, kitten. Take my load up your pussy. That's my good girl." San confidently said as he let you cockwarm him for a moment, letting you catch your breath.

"I love you, San.." you blurted out in a whisper, genuinely speaking.

"I love you too, my love... was everything okay with you?" he asked.

"Y-yew! It was *intense" but oh my god.." you giggled.

"Come here, sweetheart" he said and signed you to come in his embrace, "Happy birthday".

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @woolysium @peachy-bell26

[syoddeye]

ill-advised

simon x f! reader | 1165 words cw: simon being a gross creep, terrible advice, slimy internet culture, bad usernames, unsolicited nudes a/n: wrote this silly thing on my phone. lightly edited. been thinking about how simon would be the world's worst agony uncle. enjoy a few easter eggs.

Simon doesn’t have a God complex. No. He leaves that to the Simulation 5 streamers who build complicated dungeons beneath their character’s cottages, forcing others to labor on paintings or crochet projects to sell and support their captor’s livelihood. Not that he…watches those. No, no. He’s simply seen more than his fair share of depravity. Some of it at his expense, some at others, and more than a chunk of it dealt by his own two hands. He knows how the world works. How people work. He knows his shit, plain and simple.

So when his schedule allows, he logs on after midnight. His username and password are two alphanumeric strings, but people recognize the cluster of digits and letters. Wait for his comments. Follow his account. Send him stupid digital gifts, some useless currency to dress up his default icon. The amount increases daily, as does his following. His own little cult.

He doesn’t care about the numbers. Not really. He just loves dishing out his honest opinion, and nobody’s safe.

AN [Advice Needed] Family forgot to invite me on a trip, expect me to go last minute Hi, it’s like the title says. I (25 M) live across the country from my parents, siblings (all all adults), nieces, and nephews. I am the only one who lives on this coast, but I try to visit twice a year. I recently reached out to my brother to see when he thinks I should come visit in June and suggested some dates. I know it’s only February, but I want to save money on airfare. He responded: “Isn’t that when we’re going to Hawaii???” It was the first I heard of it. It turns out my parents invited my siblings to Hawaii and planned a family vacation without me. I confronted my parents about it, they swore they invited me too then said I could send them my share of the bill for the resort and book a flight. Like it’s no big deal. I can’t afford to go and I don’t want to go, but I feel really pressured. And sad! They forgot me! Who am I, Kevin McAllister?

> 35J0G39GH6: Find out the resort name. Cancel the reservations. Cease contact.

Within seconds, a dozen upvotes. A minute later, a hundred. Up, up, up. And the replies? Oh, the replies. He smirks at the cracked phone screen.

>> michaelEthelcaine: Fucking brutal as always >> c0y0t3fug1y: LMAO it’s this simple OP - this dude is never wrong >> patcemetery79: I DID THIS BACK IN 2003 FOR A FAMILY REUNION. A REAL RIOT! HAVEN’T BEEN INVITED TO ONE SINCE@ HILARIOUS!!!!!! I LOVE YOU 35J

Simon receives a fair share of downvotes, too. Negative comments. He doesn’t give a shit, but some of them are fucking hilarious.

>> grasshopperwhirlpool: Not funny. Be better than this asshole, OP. I’m sure it was a simple mistake. >> thewildrumpussy: really mature advice. who shit in your coffee?

Every few weeks, a morally righteous do-gooder encourages people to mass-report him, and he gets a slap on the wrist. The idiots come out in droves after some of his more choice replies, like worms after a heavy rain. The most recent offense?

AN [Advice Needed] My husband (35 M) forgot my (33 F) birthday My husband of three years forgot my birthday. No flowers, cake, or gifts. When I came home from work he asked about dinner. I lost it, turned around, and left. I’m at my sister’s house now (and she started baking when I called and told her what happened!) but he won’t stop blowing up my phone. He says it’s because he’s been so busy but here’s the thing: he forgot last year too. I really love him but I’m tired of this treatment.

> 35J0G39GH6: Have your friend take you home between 3-4 AM. Cut his brake lines. Go back to her place. Wait for the inevitable.

>> 6polyesterbutthole9: i dont care if this is illegal its funny af >> passtheaggression: Hand to god, you need your own forum dude.  >> gordonramsme55: Where are the mods on this??? This shit is going to get someone killed. Report this psycho. >>> puffalo: Agreed I think this breaks Rules 3 & 5, reporting now >> austrianPrincess: not saying i did this but when my boyfriend’s brakes failed, i got a big check, OP!  >>> gordonramsme55: This is what I’m talking about!  >>> 6polyesterbutthole9: get that check >> tech60nyneme: WOW someone check this guy’s crawlspace. reported and blocked

That one earns him the most severe ‘punishment’ yet: A month-long commenting ban. No skin off his nose, he's deployed days later, anyway. If anything, the radio silence winds his followers up, their excitement a palpable thing when he gets out of forum jail. He rewards them with another series of blunt, to-the-point pieces of advice. 

His absence makes one particular fan particularly hungry, and a little desperate.

He’s no stranger to unsolicited dick and cleavage pics from his followers. They flood his inbox, giving him a side hobby of delivering pithy degradation the sick fucks seem to love. Saves the best for his private collection. 

But then he gets a picture from some cute thing with a comment about him being her favorite person on the Internet. Knelt all sweet in front of her mirror, haloed by a ring light, white lace barely hiding the goods. His eyes snap to her tits—where his ridiculous username is scrawled in sharpie. There’s nothing to critique except maybe the laundry in the background of the shot. Tugs his cock to it, then clicks her username to check her comment history, and wouldn’t you know. Her location is public on her profile. She’s a couple hours away from her idol and doesn’t even know it. 

>> 35J0G39GH6: Perfection. >> YN10282022: Oh my god, I didn’t think you’d reply. >> YN10282022: You know, a few months ago, you gave me good advice about my creepy boss. >> YN10282022: I posted about the stuff he’d say to me. >> YN10282022: It took some time, but I was able to record him. Sent it over to his wife on their anniversary. When he accused me, I told him HR was getting the next copy. >> YN10282022: I got a promotion and a raise, and sent the file anyway. >> 35J0G39GH6: Good girl. >> 35J0G39GH6: I’ll be in your neck of the woods in a week for work. >> YN10282022: Really?? I’d love to meet up! >> 35J0G39GH6: Probably shouldn’t. I’d advise you against meeting me. >> YN10282022: They do say you should never meet your heroes. :) >> 35J0G39GH6: Shouldn’t meet strangers off the Internet, either.

She still sends him the address of a cafe. It matches one he finds on her social media an hour later. She seems to be a frequent customer. Simon grins at his screen, the sole light source in his dark room. He taps back to her pretty picture.

She looks like an angel.

[taetr4ck]

from home, to home

yang jeongin x reader, 1.2k words, no warnings — fluff, yearning

a/n : happy jeongin day !! sorry for not posting it on his birthday (it’s already february 9th in my country) :( happy iyen birth aaaaa i almost banged my head against the wall writing this one RAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

“for the passengers of flight A0251, please proceed to gate 6,”

upon hearing the announcement, you grasp the handle of your luggage tighter — trying to calm the anticipation from the surprise you prepared for Jeongin. it’s past dinnertime, and by the time you arrive at your destination, it’ll be past midnight.

being countries away from your lover is no easy feat. the relentless longing to catch a glimpse of their face, to feel their touch, and to bask in their presence and embrace burdens your heart, magnifying the pain of being apart.

before the plane takes off, you message him. it is a casual text, not wanting to spoil the surprise.

“baby, i’m going out tonight. i’ll call you after a few hours, okay?”

“yup, be safe and have fun :)” he replies.

you suddenly laugh at yourself. going out, huh? more like going out of the country.

upon arriving at your destination, it is already 2 in the morning. the streets bathed in the soft glow of the convenience stores' lights, casting long shadows across the pavement. the stillness of the night envelopes the surroundings, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. despite the late hour, there is a sense of tranquility in the air, as if the world slows down to a peaceful rhythm.

you suddenly realize that pastry shops are already closed at this hour. with a sigh, you make your way towards the cold glow of the nearest convenience store, hoping to find something similar to a cake.

the aisle of pastries beckons with its tantalizing display of sweets wrapped in cute packaging, making your stomach rumble with anticipation. your gaze lingers on the last piece of cheesecake sitting on the middle shelf. its creamy, off-white hue melds with the color of the soft, overhead fluorescent lights.

as you’re about to grab the pastry, a hand swiftly joins – both of you holding the same piece together. there is a second of momentary silence — after that, you step back.

“sorry, you can have that piece,” you say to the man beside you, still looking at the cheesecake.

you’re greeted with a long silence. “...y/n? is that you?” the man looks at you in shock and hesitance.

the familiar voice seems to jolt you from your fatigue — you look at him in surprise. 

“what… Felix?”

“what are you doing here? did you go here all by yourself?” Felix asks, still holding the cheesecake.

“oh, and never mind this… you can have it.” he hands you the pastry.

“thank you,” you take the cake from his hands.

“i came here to surprise Jeongin. and please, don’t tell him,” you utter in a quiet tone.

you explain the details, and he nods in agreement.

“do you know where he is? i can take you there,”

“oh and before that, let’s pay for these items first. it’s on me today.” Felix offers, leaving no room for refusal.

after leaving the convenience store, the clock ticks past 3 in the morning as you navigate the peaceful streets to Jeongin’s condo. finally arriving at the building, the cold breeze greets you, softly washing over your skin.

“here’s a spare key to his unit. i always bring it with me just in case.” he hands the key to you.

“he should be asleep by now, the practice drained him a lot,” he added.

“thank you lix. i’ll treat you to a meal sometime,” you say as he helps you unload your luggage in his trunk. he smiles at you softly and wishes you the best.

the sound of the elevator heightens your anticipation even further, each ding echoing through the hallway like a drumbeat of excitement.

as you leave the enclosed space, the hallway is dimly lit with soft, cozy lights – emitting a warm glow. the sound of the luggage echoes softly in the quiet hallway, their gentle rolling adding a subtle rhythm to the anticipation-filled atmosphere.

the gentle twist of the key upon unlocking resonates through your lover’s living space. you ease the door open, not wanting to disturb his slumber.

you untie the shoes he gave you on your birthday, setting them aside beside his own — your heart swelling with fondness and nostalgia.

you set your things aside carefully, only turning the dim light on to avoid disturbing his sleep.

the drumming sound of your heart intensifies as you take a step, echoing through the quiet space as you make your way towards his bedroom.

you find his figure sprawled all over the bed, his arms snuggling against the pillow — wishing it was you. as you observe his serene expression, the feeling of vulnerability intertwines with the warmth of yearning and intimacy gently embracing your heart. the sight before you fills your heart with tenderness and adoration — the rush of overwhelming emotions that makes your heart feel as though it might burst out from your chest.

you sit beside his sleeping figure, your fingers running gently through his hair — each strand soft and delicate, just like the man he is.

Jeongin slowly opens his eyes, stirring from his sleep. his eyes try to adjust to the light illuminated by the lamp on his nightstand, seemingly confused by his surroundings.

“hi baby,” you can’t hide your excitement anymore. a soft smile escapes from your lips, not wanting to disrupt the peacefulness of the moment.

“hello baby,” he replied. you don’t think he’s fully awake at the moment, so you only smile until the realization hits him.

“...wait, y/n?” his eyes are wider now, realization washing over his features.

“oh my god y/n, you’re here? this isn’t a dream, right?” he sits up and slaps both of his cheeks lightly, seemingly in disbelief as he struggles to comprehend the reality of your presence before him.

you wrap your arms around him, an unspoken answer to his question – sharing the familiar warmth that only your embrace can provide.

“i’m here, i’m home,” you say in a whisper while playing with his hair soothingly.

“y/n, y/n, you’re here. oh my god… this better be not a dream,” Jeongin presses a soft kiss on the crown of your head, his voice filled with mixture of astonishment and delight.

you rub his back with gentle strokes to calm him down. “happy birthday, my love. the cake is in the fridge. kind of a bummer ‘cause it got deformed on the way here.” you say with a chuckle. 

“the cake can wait,” he murmurs softly, his focus entirely on you. your beauty catches him in a daze – his eyes all focused on you. your presence fills Jeongin’s heart with warmth that surpasses any dessert. “i can’t believe you’re here. i missed you so much.”

“it feels good to be home,” you added. you looked at him with such adoration. after being countries away from your lover because of personal ordeals, it feels good to be here – the once almost unfamiliar space instantly turns into a sanctuary in his presence.

Jeongin presses a sweet kiss on your lips, tears almost welling up in his eyes. “don’t leave me again,” he pleaded, making your heart sink.

“mhm, i don’t have the heart to.” you hummed, giving assurance. you won’t leave him again, and the thought of doing so breaks your heart.

Jeongin wraps you in his arms all night — not wanting you to leave any second. the warmth of your embrace lulls him into a peaceful sleep, the comfort of your presence soothing his restless body.

the way back home feels much better – knowing you're waiting for me.

⋆ taetr4ck, est may 2023. / requests open

[sweetheartsaku]

—akaashi keiji ; sharing my heart is tearing it apart

a/n ; [fem!reader] THIS IS ACTUALLY MY ENGLISH ESSAY I RE-WROTE TO FIT WITH AKAASHI. 😭 this is angst no comfort by the way :3

chrysanthemum !

the oceans whisper sounded like an owl’s coo, a melody that no one else could treasure except y/n. never eerie, but a comfortingly cold embrace. the breeze was chilly, looking up to the hole of light in the sky. it felt like a fever dream, but only to y/n. a passing midnight breeze sends a feverish chill down her spine, all the way down to the edge of her worn out white sneakers digging into the crisp sand. the ocean sways and dances gently, as the waves glisten in the moonlight.

hands in the pocket of her white windbreaker, staring down as her shoes make prints in the sand. alternative rock blasts through her ears, which bass makes a faint noise outside of her earphones mushing with the wave’s tranquil calls.

“y/n?”

“what are you doing here?” the same voice gently asks.

swiftly, y/n looks back, eyes widening. in the midst of the dark, her eyes interlock with the owner of the familiar voice.

“keiji? i-… i’m… just… having some time to myself.” she mutters.

“another fight?” he knew her mind lingered on the thought that she was the reason her parents mercilessly fought every day. keiji knew, by the way her eyebrows stitch together a little tighter and her voice a little deeper. every day he wishes it was him who had to endure what she goes through.

“i…” her voice breaks.

keiji takes a step closer, a hand away. he extends his hand, slim and tan.

y/n crashes her body onto his. keiji has no hesitation into accepting her call for help in her grasp and the tight clench she had on the back of his now tear-soaked jacket. y/n's vision is hazy, helpless head in a daze.

“i wish i was buried six feet underground, but oh my i also wish i was buried in your arms.” she thought. she holds a grudge against herself like she does a hand.

“why would you even glance at a wretch like me?” she muttered.

he purses his lips. “i comfort because you cannot save people. you can only love them.”

y/n ponders if she is really worth of this love. was she born without love or just unlovable?

the night is over-time, and the sunrise is late, orange beams bleeding into the border of the horizon and its misty clouds. the sky appeared as a child had grazed the sky with warm and cold tones of chalk.

y/n breaks the hug, hands still on his waist, wind breaking the silence and its tension. her eyes now outlined a blush rose colour, so beautiful yet holding so much pain by a thread.

“let’s take down the world together.” words sweet as a treat, dripping of honey, the uttered words glued into y/n’s mind.

they walk pinkies intertwined; souls taped together by band-aids.

the bustling of early school arrives, the noise of chirping seagulls fills arabella’s ears.

keiji looks up to the skies, “it’s nice having our school near the beach. it puts you at ease quickly.”

y/n and keiji bid their farewells to separate paths for their first period. keiji eyes stick to y/n's hesitant pinkie still woven onto his.

y/n watches keiji as he walks off, but something catches her eyes making her glimpse back to his direction.

keiji, hands holding onto another girls.

they shared a smile, then a toothy giggle.

keiji lifts their laced hands to his lips, pressing their hands onto the same lips that once reclaimed that they would take down the world together.

his smile like cold ice-tea, sparkly eyes of a dull gunmetal blue and heart as full and warm as a bonfire.

y/n’s chest tightened; throat clenched by a merciless thorned hand. her heart felt heavy, as it was pulled by the heartstrings, blood dripping from it. the blood builds up into a lump in her throat, making her trance a muddy and smeared blur.

it felt like heart was cracking. snapping, even.

too immune to cry, all the blades that dug deep into her back felt like feathers. no more shine in her eyes, but now rotten. the heart she wore on her sleeve, stepped on and bruised.

chrysanthemums, which can mean "i love you" in some cultures, but "you're a wonderful friend" in others.

all she wanted was to be loved so desperately that her fingers shook with it,

“i am not beautiful.”

“but i could be.”

[keouil]

desire tastes different if god bore you hungry

“gojo can’t say no to her,” yaga comments. “ever notice that?” 4k. gojo/shoko. fluff. also on ao3.

Getou is the first to notice.

They’re walking back to school from a midnight konbini run, pale moonlight streaming in through the gaps in the trees. This late into a school night Yaga would have usually schooled them a hundred ways into obedience and called them out for breaking curfew again, but evidently being thrust into premature guardianship of a panda who was a Panda meant he had significantly less time babysitting other minors. That, and the fact they let Shoko stand guard outside the faculty building.

“Uh,” Getou stares unsurely at the mounting pile of food crammed in the single eco bag they brought. “Weren’t we just going to get ice cream..?”

Gojo, already sucking on a lollipop, also looks down at the bag nestled under his arm. “We have ice cream.”

“You bought out an entire shelf of deserts,” Getou points out.

“I wasn’t sure which one was the best,” Gojo counters right back.

Getou keeps a steady gaze on him, noting the moonlight dancing on his eyes and the usual spring in his step. That was nothing new, his inability to stay still. What is, however, is maybe:

“Are you sure it’s not just because you freaked out hearing her scream?”

Gojo falters in his step a little. “Tch,” he clicks his tongue. “Like you didn’t.”

“I’m used to girls and their hormonal mood swings,” Getou recounts, taking the other half of the bag and slinging it under his fingers. They walked with it hanging between them. “You forget—you’re the only one of us who grew up in a freaky clan compound isolated from modern society.”

“Well,” Gojo gestures around them, grinning. “I’m learning, aren’t I?” 

“I’m pretty sure leaping to your feet the moment Shoko yelled at us to get her food or she’ll skin us alive and proceeding to buy out an entire shop’s worth of parfaits is exactly the kind of thing only clan kids do,” Getou retorts, too amused for his own good. “I doubt that’s real world training at all.”

Gojo shoves him, maybe a little playfully, maybe a little not. “What would you have done then?” he declares. “If you know so much about everything?”

“First of all,” Getou starts, tugging back his side of the bag that was now dangerously nearing overflow levels. Really, Gojo and his temper. “I would have actually waited for her to finish talking.”

Gojo blinks. “I waited,” he says, confident. “She wanted ice cream.”

Getou flicks his forehead with his free hand. “She wasn’t done talking, you idiot!” he says. “You heard her complaining about period cravings and teleported us the fuck out within the next second!”

Not a single strand of comprehension makes its way to Gojo’s face. 

“I feel like you’re getting to a point here that I’m not seeing.”

Getou abruptly stops a few steps away from the red torii gates.

“I’m saying,” he elaborates, patience paper-thin but enduring. “To not panic right away, Satoru. You did the same thing at target practice last week. Pretty sure Yaga is still annoyed you called him back to school in the middle of a meeting for no reason.”

“The blood thing?” Gojo looks even more confused.

Getou counts to three in his head. “No,” he breathes out, evenly. “I’m talking about you accidentally hitting Shoko’s arm with your cursed pen and flipping out in the clinic. She has RCT, you fool, she could have managed just fine. You throwing a tantrum just made things worse for everyone.”

Gojo blinks once, twice. “She was bleeding.”

“Of a fucking kiddie scratch by a Mongol pen,” Getou rolls his eyes, tugging his half of the bag just to irk him. “That didn’t even need RCT to begin with. A simple band-aid would have done the trick.”

“You didn’t think to tell me when all this was happening?” Gojo tugs the bag right back, glaring at him accusingly.

Getou rolls his eyes again. “You wouldn’t even let me carry her.” 

“Please,” Gojo scoffs, guiding them back up the stairs. “You think she did? I practically had to hold her down kicking and screaming.”

“What is it then?” Getou prods. “You scared of her or something?”

“Aren’t you?” Gojo hisses right back.

Getou thinks on it. “I probably should,” he concedes. “But she likes me too much.”

“Shoko hates everyone and will use us as human shields for Utahime the second she can,” Gojo insists. “And you know it.”

“Even so,” Getou shrugs.

Gojo huffs, annoyed. “Exactly,” he grits out. “Even so.” 

They find Shoko back in Getou’s room. She was sprawled out in his bed, hair fanning out over the covers, and reading the latest issue of Naruto. His mini-fridge had been totally ran through, granola bars haphazardly half-opened and half-eaten that is almost laughably a picture of someone convincing themselves they like protein bars out of necessity and giving up halfway. Getou would have to do another grocery run that week, with Shoko assaulting half his fridge and rendering most of the contents useless.

“Did you get mango like I asked?” is the first thing she says, not even bothering to look up from her book. 

“Mango, vanilla, pomegranate, strawberry,” Getou lists off, placing the carton by her head. “The whole damn forest if you will.”

“I hate strawberry,” Shoko says tonelessly. Gojo was already plopped down next to her, skimming the manga. “Get rid of it.”

“It’s for me,” Gojo offers, reaching out to still her flipping hands. “Wait, slow down, Shoko, I wasn't finished with the page yet.”

Shoko abruptly turns to her side, completely blocking his view.

“Kakashi dies.”

Getou barely manages to hold Gojo down from stabbing her in the eye with a plastic fork.

-

“Anyone want my tomato?”

Getou’s chopsticks are already making their way over to grab it from Shoko’s plate, when another pair beats him to it.

“Oi,” Getou scowls, side-eyeing him from the corner of his eye.

Gojo doesn’t even hide the shit-eating grin on his face, the corners of his mouth caked with nori flakes. “Too slow!” he slurs, furikake flying everywhere. 

Getou makes a face before shoving a wad of napkins his way. He looks over at Shoko’s lunch again, frowning. “What have you even been eating these past few days?”

Shoko doesn’t hide her disdain as she frowns down at her food. “Protein,” she grumbles, poking at a piece of steamed chicken. Getou flicks her chopsticks with his to make her stop. Shoko glares up at him before continuing, more woefully, “For stamina building or whatever.”

“What do you need muscle for?” Gojo muffles, still scarfing down the rest of his karaage. 

Getou considers her a moment. “You’re training, then?”

Shoko makes a loose shrug of approval, still looking pitifully down her lunch. “Not as intense as you guys do,” she says. “I already told Yaga I want to be a non-combatant. But he still wants me as limber as possible just in case.”

Getou and Gojo share a look.

It’s true they’d been deployed on more and more missions as a two-man cell, but Shoko was never too far from the area and was always strategically located to be called on for back-up if and when situations called for it. She’d always been on the petite side, and they had in fact checked themselves, one bored April afternoon: light as a feather, if the almost weightless way Getou could carry her in one arm or Gojo could transport them both easily was any indication.

“I can cook for you?” Getou offers instead. “I know some protein-rich recipes that don’t taste as bland.”

Shoko trusts his cooking, he knows; they all do. When you make a living out of eating and digesting curses, it helps to find a few ways to season around the bile. So it doesn’t really come as a surprise when Shoko gives him just the briefest hint of a smile, a wordless thanks.

“I don’t suppose either of you eat lentil?” Shoko looks at them hopefully, the closest to pleading they’d ever gotten from her. Getou feels Gojo stiffen, almost imperceptibly, at his side.

Getou looks over her soup, remorseful. “Ah, sorry, Shoko,” he starts. “We’re—”

A hand shoots out from beside him to drag the bowl away. By the time he turns his head, Gojo is already finishing the last drop of the lentil soup that clearly didn’t look as savory as he was savoring it. 

“Done!” Gojo yells out triumphantly, grinning from ear to ear. 

Getou raises a brow. Gojo kicks his foot from under the table.

Shoko mumbles her thanks before standing up, dragging her tray with her. “I need to get seconds,” she says, irately. “You guys want anything?”

Getou waves her off at the same time Gojo calls out, “Milk yoghurt!”

It doesn’t take five seconds for the red spots to start appearing on Gojo’s neck, hot and fiery and angry. Getou smacks him on the head when he’s sure Shoko isn’t looking. 

“Idiot,” he hisses. “You’re allergic to lentil. We both are.”

“I know,” Gojo woefully rubs the spot on his neck, but still, that same sliver of triumph sneaks its way through the lopsided grin he gives him not a moment after. “But unlike you, I have RCT.”

-

Shoko is the one who gets the message.

“He texted you?” Gojo asks, a little breathless, a little unmoored. “Suguru did? Are you sure?”

It’s a testament to how much they’re both knee deep in their anger but recognize enough not to lash it out on each other when, instead of recoiling, Shoko just takes a breath, and says calmly: “Yes. A few minutes ago.”

Gojo was going to feel personally wronged, she knows. He was going to start doubting the gravity of everything he’d ever known if the near life-shattering mission they just did in Okinawa was going to be dismissed as simply as opting to text her instead of him. 

She doubts Getou meant it that way, but she also knows Gojo’s not going to see it that way now that they’ve become so unhealthily codependent. He might even be a little mad at her. She knows this to be true in her bones, because had the situation been reversed, she’d be a little mad at him too.

Yaga coughs to break the tension. 

“Where is he?” asks Yaga, eyebrow raised.

Shoko directs her attention to him, feeling the ground beneath her settle just a fraction at his composure. “Shinjuku,” she reveals. “Somewhere by Omoide Yokocho.”

Gojo is still trying to wrap his mind around it, the wheels in his head going a mile a minute. Shoko recognizes the disorientation, has long past worked through hers because she knows Gojo will need a minute for this, if not, forever.

“I’ll go,” Shoko declares.

That breaks Gojo out of it. “I’ll go with you.”

Shoko doesn’t say anything. She expected at least this much, and nods balefully.

Yaga looks back and forth between them, the line of his stare assessing and maybe a little pitying. They normally wouldn’t even ask for permission and bolted to carthage burning right then and there, but that was before. When you have a classmate who turns into a mass murderer in less than the time it takes for a season to change, it makes sense they would need guidance this time around. 

"You can go," Yaga finally decides, nodding at Gojo. "But Shoko stays."

"The fuck she does," Shoko finds herself blurting out at the same time Gojo says, "No."

“Listen here you two,” Yaga levels them both with a look. “There have been enough casualties this term. There have been enough sacrifices for a year. We will not be adding any more than is necessary.”

Shoko looks affronted. “Do—” she starts. “We’re not going to—we’re just going to talk.”

Yaga looks over at Gojo, mouth set in a grim line. Yes, he eyes him knowingly, Some talk.

“He’s a special grade criminal, Shoko,” Yaga turns to her, to his benefit softens his tone as much as he can. “And as of right now I can’t afford anyone of a lesser rank—let alone a non-combatant—dealing with him. Not when you’re the only RCT user we have on active duty.”

“Gojo can use RCT!” Shoko pleads, clutching tighter to her phone. Yaga hears a jingle of a keychain attached to it, grimaces slightly when he sees the exact same pair on Gojo’s, and doesn’t have to look to confirm, Getou’s. “It's not like we’re not going to war. We just want to talk to him," she stops. "I want to talk to him.”

“Gojo, like you, is a sorcerer who is bound to the regulations of this school first,” Yaga lets his eyes flicker towards him, chiding if not burning. “Isn’t that right?”

Gojo says nothing, just staring at the panda charm sloshing against Shoko’s phone.

"Satoru." Yaga calls out, finality in his tone.

Gojo blinks, about to reply, when:

"Gojo." Shoko says, and really, that's all it takes.

He's going to give in, Yaga swears bitterly, He always gives in. 

In the three years he’s taught them, he's never seen Gojo even summon so much as a shake of his head to any of her requests. Half of it’s to do with how codependent they all unexpectedly become, the secular and often isolating nature of being jujutsu students in training. Even Getou spoiled her. But he’s never been able to tell her no and wouldn't start now. 

Especially now.

Quick like lightning Gojo is already next to her, wrapping an arm around her side, bowing his head low to whisper a gentle but firm reminder to hold on. He lifts his gaze to Yaga's, a wordless apology playing out on his face.

They’re gone by the time Yaga blinks.

-

“Say that again?”

Shoko clicks her tongue at him, reprimanding, but not without its usual malice. “Sweden,” she repeats. “I’m going to Sweden.”

“Whatever the hell for?” Gojo gently moves her out of the way, taking charge of the grocery cart. They’re in Daimaru on a Saturday night, and being anything less than swift would have any of the hundred obaa-sans crawling through the grocery chain call them out for being entitled, disrespectful millennials. “I thought you found a post-doc program in Hyogo?”

“I did,” Shoko falls into step easily next to him. “And that same professor recommended a molecular neuroscience program in Sweden. They do specialized research on cell anatomy there, you know, research that I can’t access easily here in Japan.”

Gojo looks over the fruit aisle. “Sure about that?” he asks. “I can call some people—”

“No need,” Shoko waves him off easily, plucking a few strawberries off the wagon and placing them in the cart. “I already checked with Yaga. He has some contacts there that can set me up, and maybe someone to teach me advanced RCT too.”

“I can teach you,” blurts Gojo without thinking, zeroing on the fact she wasn’t even looking over the mangoes, nevermind this grocery trip was supposed to be for the whole dorm. “I know RCT.”

“You know as much as you need to know to heal yourself,” Shoko points out breezily, coming up next to him to give him a knowing look. “And I need to know as much of everything to heal everyone. It’s not the same, Gojo.”

Gojo looks away first. Shoving a pack of mangoes to the cart, asks gruffly, “How long?”

Shoko eyes the mangoes but doesn’t say anything. Gojo’s not sure what he’d do if she took them out, maybe burn the whole department down? He was growing more temperamental these days, growing out of that teenage jailbait skin and skinning himself thin into the kind of body that took care of other people. That other people now looked to for caring.

“Two years,” replies Shoko. 

Gojo skids to a stop. “Two years?”

“That’s what I said.”

“You’re leaving me for two years?”

He can feel the beginnings of a laugh play out in her lungs, amusement dancing in her features. “Since when were you so clingy?”

“Since always and you know it,” Gojo wheels the cart forward again, stopping just when he’s right next to her. He looks on, trying to gauge how serious she was considering they're maybe a week from the first day of April and had taken it upon themselves to be as mean with their practical jokes knowing there was no one else left to understand. “I have always been clingy and you know this so you really can’t leave me alone with Yaga for two years unsupervised, Shoko, or else we might end up just really killing each other. Or I’ll let him. Sensei chain of command and all that shit.”

“Ijichi is still here,” Shoko trails off, adding a few milk cartons to the pile. Morinaga, his favorite. He really might just burn the whole block down. “And Meimei and Utahime and even Nanami, if you play nice.”

They reach the rice corner where Shoko vainly tries heaving a full load to their pile alone, lean but slim arms straining to even get the bag upright. Gojo looks on in amusement for five seconds, before finally giving in and gently moving her aside.

“I’ll visit every summer,” Gojo looks down at her after they’ve managed to lodge it in. “And every winter and spring and fall.”

“Please don’t.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“No, but Yaga can.”

“He can’t stop me.”

“Missions will.”

“No, they won’t.”

“Then,” Shoko turns to him just as they’re about to round a corner, her gaze softening. “Megumi and Tsumiki will.”

And goddamn her, Gojo thinks, How can he say no to that?

-

“How many are we supposed to get?”

“I think three.”

“Why are you holding seven then?”

Megumi blinks, looking down at the edofurin strings wrapped around his fingers. “Ah,” he says. “Gojo likes the charmed ones. You can’t get this in Tokyo.”

They’re on the last day of an excursion mission in Himeji, the sound of izakaya stalls setting up and out of towners wheeling in their luggage across the small night market accompanying their last minute shopping. They had a list of souvenirs from the second years to purchase—Nishitomo crab crackers for Inumaki, the local kanzashi for Maki, a whetstone from Fushimi Inari for Yuuta, the representative animal plushies for Panda—that they only had time to shop for now.

Gojo also repeatedly gushed about the furin wind chimes he fleetingly saw the last time he was there, but also made it aggravatingly clear he was afforded no time whatsoever to go back and would my lovely sweet students mind getting a few for their lovely sweet sensei?

Yuji was quick to list down his preferred designs on the spot. Nobara pretended not to hear him. Megumi didn’t even need to listen to his passionate speech about the furin history and why he wanted this and that, having long catalogued exactly the kind of print he was eyeing: orange petals and golden brown tree bark. The color of changing autumn leaves. 

“Okay,” replies Nobara hesitantly, still looking over the hanging tassels dangling off his arm. “Just seems like a lot, don’t you think?”

“It’s a superstition thing,” Megumi shares, tailing them in the artisan shop. “You hang furin on your office for goodluck. These charmed ones from Himeji chase the bad spirits away, like the Inari.”

Yuji and Nobara, this time, look over at him weirdly in uniform fashion.

Megumi flushes. “Or something, I don’t know!” he grumbles. “He doesn’t shut up about it ever! You’re bound to pick up on things!”

Nobara takes a closer look at the design. “These are November furin,” she notes. “Isn’t he born in December?”

“These aren’t for Gojo,” mumbles Megumi some more, growing more annoyed at being a glorified errand boy. “He wants to get this for Ieiri-san. She’d never buy it for herself, any way.”

“Shoko?” asks Yuji, bringing a basket over to their growing items and carefully untangling the threads. “Why?”

“Look at the price,” Megumi takes particular care in depositing the glass balls, because Gojo would know. He tugs the basket closer to him when he notices Nobara making grabby hands for it, but not before the price tag dangles in their line of vision just enough to see the staggering number.

Predictably, Yuji and Nobara gasp in horror.

“A ball of glass costs this much?!”

“This is almost my entire savings!”

Megumi waves them off easily, already making his way to the self-checkout. “They’re charmed by Shinto priests who used to be sorcerers,” he explains. “It makes sense.”

“I think growing up under Gojo’s black card has significantly altered your sense of price economics,” Nobara trails after him, still looking at the basket, but now with a little more glint in her eye that practically spelled out money. Megumi tucks it further into him. “A wind bell cannot seriously cost this much. It’s a fucking wind bell, Fushiguro.”

“A charmed wind bell,” Megumi emphasizes, depositing the basket carefully into the counter. “And when have you ever known Gojo to spare no expense?”

“For himself?” Yuji comes up at his side, also still a little shaken. “Almost always and in disgusting levels of hedonism. For other people? For this much?” he gestures at the price tag, wincing at the amount of 0s. “Never.”

“He pays for my tuition,” Megumi finds himself saying.

“You’re basically his son,” Yuji parrots back unyielding.

Megumi looks downright offended. “I,” he croaks out. “Am not.”

“Am too,” shoots Nobara, plucking off the wallet Megumi was halfway through rummaging. She zeroes in on the shiny black plastic and tugs it out, open mirth in her eyes. “And how nice for Daddy to give us endless shopping money.”

Megumi yanks it out of her hands. “This is only for emergency purposes.”

Nobara looks back and forth between him and what were essentially strips of paper tied to a transparent ball. “And this is an emergency?”

This time, the well-knowing smirk Megumi gives them clues them in on exactly how alike he’d unconsciously adapted some of Gojo’s more annoying quirks.

“With Ieiri-san?” he cocks a brow, wicked. “It might as well be a matter of life and death.”

-

“Gojo can’t say no to her,” Yaga comments. “Ever notice that?”

They’re at Yuji’s official homecoming party after being, for all intents and legal purposes, declared dead for the better part of 3 months. Cake is being munched on gleefully by the second years, Nobara threatening to make him a snowman out of icing if Yuji didn’t stop pestering her for all the latest gossip he missed out on in the jujutsu grapevine. Panda was stealthily trying to get more than the assigned 2 slices per person, Yuuta side-eyeing him in the moments he wasn’t busy hanging off Maki’s every word.

Megumi was somewhere between Gojo and Shoko, looking three lifetimes done with whatever conversation they were having. 

More than once Yaga saw him attempt to open his mouth, only to be silenced harshly by Gojo through a dismissive hiss, or as amicably by Shoko through a well-placed hand on his shoulder. Last Yaga passed them, he thinks he overheard Gojo say something about buying him an entirely new set of uniforms after he damaged some of it during the exchange. 

Absolutely not, Shoko seethed. The one he has right now is fine. People are dying and starving and you’re already on thin ice with your spending. Your spoiled charge will live, Gojo.

“Sorry, what?” Nanami asks, looking up from the newspaper he brought into the party because apparently being a jujutsu sorcerer didn’t divorce the corporate slave in him who always wanted to be updated on current affairs. “What’s this about Gojo?”

Yaga eyes his former students again, still verbally sparring. “How many times have you asked Gojo to formalize the severance pay for retired sorcerers?”

“Since before I even accepted his offer,” Nanami huffs, straightening his newspaper. “I made him promise to fulfill it during my interview.”

“And?” Yaga prods. “What’s the progress?”

It doesn’t take Nanami a beat to answer. “Nonexistent.”

Yaga chuckles, picking up a flask that was absolutely apple juice, ignoring Panda’s judging stare from across the room.

“Bring it up with Shoko,” he suggests. “She should know a thing or two from her experience interning in Sweden. Or better yet, wait for her to bring it up with Gojo.”

Nanami doesn’t look convinced. “Does she have that much admin pull?”

“Not with the admin,” Yaga looks on at Shoko dragging Megumi to the buffet table, handing him a plate that she starts unceremoniously piling with mountains of food. Gojo follows laboriously behind them, shoulders dejected and resigned.

Ah, Yaga thought, I thought so.

“But I think you'll find life has a way of working out in her favor no matter what happens.”

-

By the end of that week, Nanami walks into his office with a stack of papers neatly folded and labelled at his desk.

Tokyo Jujutsu Prefectural Highschool Severance Package Information Packet, the contents all formally printed and alphabetized. It even had a reference index and annotated tabs; such thoroughness and attention to detail he knows Gojo not only actively dislikes but also avoids. This is the work of someone with a more clinical routine, used to the feel and flow of paper and corporate bureaucracy.

And sure enough, when he flips through the proposal packet he devised, eyes glazing over the usual signatures—Yaga, Gagukanji, Utahime, etc.—stops short when he notes the signature next to Gojo’s under co-signee. 

Apparently all it took was Shoko barging into his office with a What’s this I hear about you not compensating retired sorcerers properly? for him to spring into action. But Nanami thinks amusedly, sinking further into his chair and remembering the instinctive way Gojo always buckled at even the slightest hint of discomfort from her, that it wasn’t so much as him acting out of principle; but maybe for something else entirely.

Something that went completely beyond it.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

" Even if the world will or might hate you, I will not as you are my love, so please let me carry your burdens as well as you carry mine we are equal in this marriage "

But with Rook, Jack, Ruggie, Riddle and Azul

Proposal (2) | Crewel Daughter Reader x Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Rook Hunt

Probably a lawsuit 

Or maybe a family reunion

Whatever it is he’s been ostracized and called weird

Something he often gets in passing but this time it just hurts 

For someone so eccentric he’s not exactly open with everyone

Let alone computing his frustration in the normal way

So he’s uncharacteristically is angry 

Firing intensely at multiple targets 

He hardly notices your there until he sees a black and white feathered arrow break through his

“Mon amour? Désolé, I didn’t notice you were there.”

“You? The famous hunter: Rook Hunt, unable to notice me?”

“Well mon amour, you are ethereal.”

He gives his smile but your unconvinced

Firmly removing the bow and arrow from his hand

You push past his hanging locks to hold his face to look at you

Pulling him in to touch your forehead with his while you maintain eye-contact

You recite your vow to him rubbing your manicured thumbs over his cheeks

When you finished he dove into kiss you with you reciprocating

Pulling you against his muscular chest

Letting him run his hands all over your body as you both made out

Eventually, you feel the weight being lifted from you pocket

“Awww you were going to propose?”

“So were you.”

You both pull away to reveal the ring you each brought for one another

Crewel’s not as averse to this then he originally thought

All he’s ever uttered about you has been praise 

And he’s well aware of the hunter’s habit of avenging your character at any opportunity

Violent or otherwise

“The bloodhound is a better choice, though I’m curious how well he’ll fare in the future.”

Jack Howl 

He probably didn’t get the position he wanted most on a team

He’s usually so sure of himself 

Only to find he’s been benched 

But its not because of his skill 

Its the coach

Took one look at you, hearts in his eyes, and a look of disdain for Jack

From then on he’s been trying to sooth his rising anger

He didn’t want to resort to violence, you deserved better

Andit’dbeobviousanyway

“(Y/n) can we talk…?”

He’s not one to sit on something when his mate is willing to listen

“I just hate how he insists upon something so baseless.”

“Oh Jack…”

You say what you say before giving him a kiss on the corner of his lips

Getting on your knee, he’s transcended the pettiness of the coach

It also helps that the coach went missing

Crewel thinks it's okay but he still wishes he ‘wasn’t such a brute’

“It must be the muscles…darling please consider there’s more to look for than extrinsic value. I doubt there’s much really happening upstairs.”

Ruggie Bucci

Probably a failed promotion

Maybe for him taking left over food or they found out he has ‘laugh with me’

He just wants to be able to provide

And not have to rely on your finances

He just wants to be there for you

“I just want see where I can support you, you know?”

“Well there is something you can do for me…”

Getting on your knee and proposing to him has him erupting in a blush

He’s between being angry he didn’t do it first and just beside himself with pride

He’s landed the love of his life and all without using his unique power

He might just burn down an office building for celebration

Crewel isn’t happy but when is he ever

He thinks Ruggie is too much of henchman to be married to you

“You had to pick the smallest one in the litter? Does he know how to be more than a lackey?” 

Riddle Rosehearts

He’s rejected on a major scale

Similar to his overblot incident 

He just goes too far in his willingness for rules

Maybe not as far but to others it feels like it

And right now it feels like everyone’s turned their backs on him

He’s riding in the early morning so he can clear his mind hiseyes before the day starts

You come to the rescue riding your own midnight stallion as you ride up beside him

“Well Roses, how are you feeling?”

He doesn’t fully release his inner thoughts only tightening his hold on the reigns

“You don’t have to tell me anything but I need you to listen.”

Having your horse bow while you present the crimson ring 

He blushes and the nearby forestry alights with flames

Confident he doesn’t step down from his decision

“Off with your heads! For the crime of hostile peer pressure!”

There’s got to be a rule for that ifnothe’llmakeone

Crewel thinks he’s too much of a stick in the mud 

“Isn’t he far too straight-edged? Don’t you think this will hinder your lifestyle, darling? Is he really worth it?”

Azul Ashengrotto

One of his budding locations has some major problems on the opening month

That further is worsened by the competitive restaurant across the street

Who somehow were able to orchestrate a threat made of what looked like blood on their fish tank

But it called Azul out specifically

And while it was cleaned and the rest of the service went smoothly it really shook his self esteem

Leaving you to pick him up

He treats his room like his pot 

Refusing to leave but willing to let you poke your face into

“I have to wonder, (Y/n), am I in over my head? Am I really not cut-out for this? Do I even deserve this!? Do I even deserve you?!”

You cup his head and kiss his beauty mark and then his nose

“Well of course you do, I accepted didn’t I?”

He chuckles and you gleam

“Its also why I asked to put that ring on your finger.”

He looks up at you in confusion

“Huh? Ring?”

“Yes. Ring.”

You hold up his hand with a pearl diamond crusted ring

“Wh-wha-huh–I–ah-ohmygosh!”

“Just say yes darling!”

“Yes yes!”

With a pep in his step he happily let Floyd & Jade pick the events for the bachelor party in exchange for a small favor

The competitor wasn’t a problem after that

Crewel wants to despise him but he respects the hustle

“Anyone who can gain control of an entire school like he has…I guess is worthy enough. But then again a school run by that crow must be breadcrumbs for that sleaze.”

[valentine-cafe]

. ˚◞♡ 𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒙 𝒈𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓◞ ₊˚

. ˚◞ ꒰ verse 9948e jìngyí ꒱ ghost x reader, grim reaper x reader cw: angst hurt comfort and hurt ꒱ ⊹ ۪ ࣪

𖹭. in which you dance with your boyfriend who passed away. it's so difficult to feel his ghost

“you’re oddly calm.”

a hushed chuckle leaves the young grim reaper’s lips. it is almost foreign. much like his touch — had it truly been that long? a phantom comfort. a ghost of what you knew.

a large hand settled on your waist while another laced tanned fingers with yours. barely. it took every effort and build of power within him to make sure you could feel him. even if it resonated with that of a feather.

even if it was just for a minute.

“have you forgotten such already, qīn ài de?”

stings meet your eyes, yet you smile. you already vowed a thousand times you would not cry. not now.

“forget you? never.”

the curl of his lips has your heart throbbing. you wish to lean close and feel them against yours. feel their warmth and dwell in the memories that haunt your dreams.

but fear freezes your muscles. what if a kiss is what will send his spirit straight back to the land you cannot reach?

perhaps it is irrational. nevertheless, no risks will be taken at the cost of his tender hands.

the forest spins and he twirls you with him. the feel of grass comforting, yet has not even a speck of the gentleness in his hold. the mildness brimming his eyes.

you can hardly see them. oh how your heart yearned to gaze into those pools of maroon. alas, you knew better.

“please don’t cry,” he quivers. it is only then that you realise the pricks of tears slipping down your face. a cold thumb found your cheek and brushes a droplet aside.

why is he so cold?

“I . . . jìngyí. . .”

the hoarseness in your voice sends his brows to knit.

“I know. I know. I’m so sorry.”

he shouldn’t be apologising. the world should be on its hands and knees, begging for forgiveness for taking you away from him.

“don’t apologise,” you rasp. lips parted as you lean your head up. fear still wishing to tug you back. “just kiss me. please.”

and as he twirls you again before craning his arm around the small of your back. so that he might dip you towards the wild flowers blossoming below the flutter of trees. ice finds your lips. cold. still comforting.

you feel the waver in his presence. hands reaching out to hook at his shoulders; a desperate attempt to keep him with you. even when you feel your palms fade through him.

“don’t.”

you beg into the kiss. as though he had a semblance of control.

“forgive me.”

the phantom of a tear dripping onto your face is all you are left with. along with the cold, emptiness of midnight. and the lack of his warmth.

[anticidic]

One evening I came across a house that had no one inside it, not even a mouse.

I thought it strange and said to myself, “How peculiar, surely someone must wander its halls?”

And so I called and my voice echoed,

…that’s when the moan of a ghost bellowed.

"Every relationship has burdens they have to overcome. Together."

"But our burdens seem to be more substantial."

ONE DAY I WILL RETURN TO YOUR SIDE

Ghost!Dazai and human!Chuuya AU ficlet. 1,074 words. Character death with a happy ending.

"That's what makes them even more worth fighting for," Chuuya said.

He fixed his hair in the mirror and tucked a lock behind his ear. Behind stood Dazai by the open door, his arms at his chest as he leaned against the wall. Watching. As he always did. When Chuuya looked away and fixed his bowtie for the third time, Dazai faded from sight.

It was quiet. No sound, no movement. The headlights of oncoming cars from down below in the district like tiny ants navigating the colony sped past.

Then he reappeared.

Chuuya frowned and shifted his attention away from his reflection. Dazai's form flickered rapidly until he was no more in the blink of an eye and all that was left were footsteps down the hall. A door opening. And shutting. Wind blew through his clothes and he felt detached from his surroundings. Inside the building—a cold memory hung.

As the days grew shorter and the nights longer, Dazai struggled to maintain his form for more than a few hours at a time before he had to step away. Their makeshift constellations before bed included Chuuya sipping from his wine and a blanket draped over his shoulders, on the couch. Across from him with ghostly legs draped across his lap was Dazai leaning back and propped up by physical cushions he had no use for. He could phase right through them if he wished. Chuuya would go on about his day, about the stray animal he fed, and about the elderly neighbor, Mr. Kishimura, whom he checked in on after not seeing the man on his early morning walk with cane in hand. Dazai would listen with a smile and when he spoke, he spoke with a whispering echo that wrapped around the room and filtered through the halls like a memory fading, fading away.

The most fragile voice Chuuya had ever heard. Dazai was just holding onto reality enough to be there. With him.

“I’ve never been more restless than the day you moved in,” Dazai paused and crossed the room. He placed a hand upon Chuuya’s cheek and cupped it tenderly. “I fear I’ll never be at peace now. Each day gets harder and I’m not long for this world anymore. I should’ve been gone when I took my last breath.” He sighed. “Does the longing ever stop?”

The words rang hollow. Chuuya stood there in thought and nodded with the tiniest smile.

A feeling of tenderness washed over him—a longing even, perhaps. And gentle tragedy. He gazed at the dresser, recently dusted with several framed photos propped up on it. Chuuya smiled in all of them, alone. He was never centered in the photo, always off to the side. His friends could not understand what Chuuya needed room for, and why he’d ask them to take several steps back to make sure they captured everything and everyone in the photo, but they relented for him. He never looked happier than in those fleeting moments in time: absolutely, completely alone.

“It’ll end. We know how this ends.”

Their story would come to an end. He had maybe one or two more chapters left in him. Dazai would go on forever. Chuuya would not.

At half-past midnight when his eyes closed, the blanket fell from his shoulders and rested atop his body. The lights turned off, and the remote was placed on the table in front of the television. A chill overcame him against his skin. A caress not of this world, but still entirely loving and careful like he was the one who would break first and not Dazai.

Maybe it did break him. Knowing they were together, had been together, and could forever be together but not actually experiencing what it was like to be in one another’s arms. Chuuya had not even photos of them. The first anniversary. The second one that came and went with him in bed bundled against the harsh winter outside and nursing a hot cup of tea. He lay across one side of the bed with the other half reserved for Dazai. The third was spent at work with Dazai using the last of his energy to follow after Chuuya for the day. They sat in a dim restaurant that night with smooth jazz playing in the background and a lit candelabra on the table in front of them. Chuuya would talk, talk, talk the night away and look as if he was holding a conversation entirely by himself to the onlookers. But Dazai was there as he always was. Listening. Even wearing a suit to match Chuuya’s own.

Chuuya coughed with a wheeze.

Days turned into months which became years on end spanning decades. His hair dulled. And he grew weaker by the day.

He lay in bed with the lights on and the television softly playing in the background, head turned toward the balcony. The same one he spent chilly evenings out on with a cigarette between fingers laughing to himself whenever Dazai’s words reached his ears.

Over the howl of the wind and so soft only he could hear, Dazai whispered: “I love you.”

Those same words would find themselves stuck to the walls and lost to time. One living memory would become two.

Chuuya closed his eyes for the last time and drew his final breath. Everything went dark and silent. Peaceful.

Then he awakened to Dazai looking down at him with the softest smile. On the verge of tears? Or was Chuuya imagining it? He reached out and touched Dazai’s cheek. Warm. A sunny spring day after the cold rain.

A startling realization hit him.

He could feel Dazai for the first time. They were back in his apartment with the lights off and Dazai sat crisscrossed on the bed beside him.

“Rest, Chuuya,” Dazai said. He lay on his side facing Chuuya, never taking his eyes off him. “We overcame our burdens. You were right.”

“You waited all these years to be with me?”

“And I loved every minute of it spent with you.” A pause, fabric rustled as Dazai pulled the covers over them and he draped an arm across Chuuya’s chest. His cheek rested on a pillow, and he had the most adoring look in those eyes Chuuya had seen since…since the earliest days of their relationship when it was still little but a budding flower.

“—And I’ll love our endless future.”

[liyawritesss]

ᖴᒪOᗯEᖇᔕ Iᑎ ᗷᒪOOᗰ - ᐯᗩᒪEᑎTIᑎEᔕ ᗪᖇᗩᗷᗷᒪEᔕ

Ｄａｙ ７ － Ｓｔａｒ Ｇａｚｉｎｇ

－ Midnight Rendezvous - 42!Miles Morales - Spiderman: Across The Spiderverse

－ In which no one in life understands you, except the boy in the flat across the hall who you sneak out onto the rooftops with every Sunday night.

－ Check out more prompts and other activities on the Flowers In Bloom Event Masterlist!

“Rough day, huh?” Those three words are how your usual hangouts started. The night air is a bit chilly, complementary of the early spring weather that comes with February. It’s refreshing at least, compared to the week the both of you have had.

“Don’t even get me started,” you drone, pulling the hoodie sleeves over her fingers to keep them from growing cold. The sweater is actually Miles’, one he’d let you borrow on a much colder midnight rendezvous, and you had yet to return.

He sits criss-cross next to you, the ends of his twin french braids moving as he does so. The fluorescent lighting from the streetlights paint his face in a pretty glow, the sounds of police sirens are distant and remind you of the kind of world you live in. Despite it all, however, these little trips to the rooftop with Miles on Sunday evenings give you a sense of serenity.

“Can’t have been worse than mine.” he comments.

“Well,” you say in an exhale, “the entire school is pink and red now for Valentines Day.”

“Shit- I forgot about that,” You go to the same school, so he knows exactly what you're referencing, and he snickers in distaste, wiping down the length of his face, “I’m not looking forward to that tomorrow.”

“Be lucky you didn’t have to help decorate it,” you say, “though I can say confidently that you should expect a lot of secret admirer letters in your locker.”

A little laugh leaves your lips as you watch Miles sink into his seat, hands covering the back of his head as he cowers and pouts; he didn’t want to be reminded of his popularity status amongst the girls at Visions Academy, but you couldn’t not pass up the opportunity to mess with him a little bit.

“I think I might just die, thanks.” he murmurs in defeat. You rest your hand on his back, running soothing circles in between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t get all shy now, playa,” you tease, “you knew it was coming. Now it’s time to face the music!”

“I’d rather face my mom with a slipper on a bad day from the hospital.”

You playfully push the other to the side, laughter filling the air from both of you, because you knew there to be some truth in his statement. You were sure that he would take every loophole possible to avoid the girls he knew had a massive crush on him, and that he’d much prefer his mothers’ snappy attitude than the bombardment of his classmates with heart shaped eyes. “You play too much.”

After he recovers from your playful assault on him, he sees that you’ve turned your attention to the sky above the two of you. “The stars are out tonight.”

There isn’t much to see in a city heavy with light pollution, but the stars are there. Little specks of twinkling lights hung high in the sky to be admired by all; Miles sees why you like them. Its as easy to get lost in the deep blue sky as it is to get lost in you, which he finds himself doing more frequently.

“They’re so pretty,” you say mindlessly, and Miles turns his gaze from the sky onto you. There’s silence for a moment, and you’re so caught up in the stars you have yet to notice how the boy finds you much more prettier in this light.

“Yeah,” he says lowly, almost in a murmur, “sure is.” He then turns back towards the sky, wondering if it’s the sky he should find more prettier than the girl who keeps him company on the rooftops of their apartment building.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

[eris-snow]

𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞

Tags: Revelation (Deku's birthday series 2024), angst, izuku x fem!reader

Masterlist

July 1st. The start of the end.

---

If I tell you I’m not who you think I am,

.

.

.

will you believe me?

—

The atmosphere is warming up and the sun is scorching. Cicadas screech like the buzzing of doorbells, and Izuku’s life is finally on track.

Izuku’s still striving for more. The internships, the thanks he still gets from saving everyone in the war, for saving to win, winning to save. Still fighting his way with Shoto and Katsuki for Valedictorian, with sleepless nights, caffeine, training and school. He’s still healing, picking up the pieces with permanently scarred hands and getting cut by the shards on his crooked fingers, but he’s better, compared to last year.

He’ll be 17 in two weeks, graduate in 10 months, and go Pro because that’s been his dream since young.

The air is fresh, and he’s contented, happy, satisfied.

Summer has officially made its debut, and July has finally arrived.

Izuku can’t consider himself anything less than lucky, because without Kacchan, Ochaco, Iida, Todoroki, All Might, his classmates, mother, teachers, all of them, he wouldn’t be here.

“Class dismissed,” Aizawa says, throwing his sleeping bag over his shoulder, and walks out the door.

The class explodes with its usual chatter, and Katsuki turns around to form conversations about training.

Yeah, everything feels…just right.

—

Everything was not alright.

Then again, things haven’t been alright for a while now, and most of your feelings are numb, numb, numb because after a certain threshold, the rod breaks, the rope snaps, and suddenly, you just don’t care anymore.

It isn’t to say you weren’t close to Izuku, but the gap is a chasm that can never be bridged. (Maybe another war would help, but your smile isn’t worth the world burning.) Your relationship with Izuku now can’t hold a candle to what it once was, because on the 15th of July, 7 years ago, you’d been at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

On the 15th of July, 7 years ago, Izuku had pushed you out of the way, and taken your place.

On the 15th of July, 7 years ago, Izuku had been hit by a quirk.

In each memory, each picture he remembers, every thought he’s ever had of you in that one-year timeframe, you disappear. Because each year after that, at the stroke of midnight on the 16th of July, he’d forget you.

Even as nightmares of the war ease for some, yours is eternal, and you breathe every second of it. You want to kill yourself.

If I tell you I’m not who you think I am,

.

.

.

will you believe me?

You’re writing on a post-it, and it’s a bad habit of yours. Your game of Secrets that you’d incorporate through each year even though there’s no one to play the game with now. Your laughs shared, and your effort that you’d build the bridge so painstakingly with the hands that tore your relationship up in the first place.

His viridian eyes that shine with adoration for you, his smile that is carved just for you, his nickname for you. Starlight, Starlight, Starlight.

Over and over, back and forth, up and down.

Your game of Secrets is shelved in a tin box of Post-its, and your nickname is foreign on Izuku’s tongue. You’d tried to bridge the gap this round, but the chasm has widened, and if take a leap of faith, you’ll die. There are guards up, especially after the war, and as much as you try to tear them down, your relationship can never be the same.

It’ll always be L/n and Midoriya, because you, aren’t, enough.

“Starlight.”

You look up from the Post-it, and your eyes meet crimson red.

Kacchan.

You slam your head back down on the desk.

“Oi!” He’s shaking you, but part of you doesn’t feel a thing. You only hurt when you let it hurt, and it all goes away if you don’t think. Kacchan makes you think. You don’t like Kacchan.

“Go away.”

“It’s July.” Bakugou softens, and isn’t that a sight for sore eyes? “Izuku’s month.”

You only hurt when you let it hurt, and it goes away when you don’t think.

Don’t think.

“Kacchan, I don’t want to try anymore. I’m tired.” Your voice is a whisper, shit, you’re a mess. “I’m tired of chasing after Zuku.”

Numb, numb, numb. It’s scary, that this is the boy you’ve been in love with for the better part of your life, and you don’t want to stop loving him.

Your words taste like resolve. You’re clinging, one hand, on the edge of a cliff in the howling wind. Barely. Because even though you’ve chosen to hurt, chosen to feel, breaking points you don’t believe in start cracking your soul, and leave part of the world black and grey.

That’s funny, you swore your Post-it was green.

“Starlight—”

“Don’t start, Kacchan. I can’t ganbare my way through this.” You crumble your Post-it, stand up, haul your sorry ass to the door and throw the Post-it away. “Just leave me alone.”

You run into Izuku on your back to the dorms, and he smiles and waves at you as you leave. “See you around, L/n!” He says, you wave back, smile fake, but real enough. “See you around, Midoriya.”

Today is the start of July, and you dread this day every year, the countdown to Izuku’s inevitable memory wipe, and you’d made every effort to treasure it last year, with Secrets and stupid gifts.

But this year, you don’t even have any memories to protect.

—

“Kacchan!” Izuku gasps, slamming the door to the classroom open. “I think I accidentally left my workings for integration on my table, I—” He trails off.

Bakugou is standing so still in front of L/n’s table like he is staring at the corpse of a person he couldn’t save. “Kacchan?”

With little to no pause, he turns, walks to Izuku’s table, picks up the loose pieces of foolscap and walks over to where Izuku stands by the waste bin.

“Oh, thank you—Waachan!”

With one swift motion, Kacchan dumps his precious notes into the dustbin.

“Kacchan!” Izuku wails, bending down immediately to sort through the trash. Thankfully, it had been recently cleared, and it was just scraps of paper left in it. “You’re so mean! I thought that we were over this—”

He tries to flick off the green post-it that’s got stuck in the crossfire, preparing to throw it back, forgotten, when Bakugou grabs his hand and looks at him in the eyes. “Izuku. Read it.”

He has a serious expression on, and since Izuku trusts him with his life, (and because he’s cranky when Izuku ignores him) he does what he’s told with zero hesitation.

If I tell you I’m not who you think I am,

.

.

.

will you believe me?

Right beneath, in the tiniest of scrawls, are the words,

please believe me, Izuku

crossed out so many times that it was almost illegible.

His heart does three big somersaults and threatens to be puked out of his mouth.

Alarmed, his eyes flicker up to Bakugou, who looks at him so hard that it makes Izuku feel like he’d done something wrong. “Whose handwriting is that?” The red-eyed boy, his childhood friend spits, jabbing a finger at the note.

With a double take and a quick memory scan, his mouth dries up like sand in the desert.

“L/n.”

Kacchan frowns, but Izuku is right, and before he can get anything out his friend beats him to it.

“If you think Shortie’s doing shitty things behind our backs, she’s not, and that’s not what she meant by her note. She’s hurting, and she needs you, Izuku. I can patch up her wounds, but I can’t stop her from bleeding. Talk to her, please.”

Izuku’s horrified that he didn’t notice anything. You’re always full of smiles, warm like sunshine and gentle like clouds. You’ve always helped him when he needed it and you were a solid partner in practicals when paired up. You’d just arrived in class in the middle of last year, but you fit in so well. What happened?

“You’re the closest to her, Kacchan, surely you must know something?” He says, looking up at the blond with eyes full of green.

“I don’t.” Katsuki grits out. Lie. “The note was addressed to you, wasn’t it?

Why don’t you ask her to find out?”

[mrcleanheichou]

Wolves Are (Not) Scary Chapter 13

Pairing: Werewolf!BTS X Female human reader

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst

Warnings: There’s smut in this chapter :) some brief pussy eating and doggy style (wolfie style?) also Jimin is a bit of a jerk.

Word count: 3,028

Summary: All Y/N wants to do is find her creativity and motivation but she finds 7 werewolves instead.

Author note: Everyone please get your tomatoes ready to throw and boo at me because I’m a liar and I deserve it. Remember when I said this chapter was gonna be 5k? Welp that didn’t happen. BUT this is my longest chapter. The dang smut scene tripped me up so if it seems rushed please know I threw in the towel for my own sanity and said fuck it Joonie is a 2 pump chump today.

Taglist: @dustyinkpages @thickemadame @moonlitehunter @thedarkwinterrose @momoriki @iistrangers @openup-yourmind @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @lovelyseokjinnie @scuzmunkie @bjoriis @maddypool31 @tfkp0p @blubearxy @stealth-liberal @potaetopic @zae007live @totallynoalien @dvoz-writes @purplelady85 @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal @blushyrawrz @skyys-universe @harmonie-writes @gamer-mask @savagemickey03

Chapter 12 //  Chapter 13 // Chapter 14

1 year ago

If you had to pick a favorite room in the spacious house your pack resides in it would be the library. Before you came along it was mainly Namjoon’s refuge away from the rest of the members. After many years together the younger wolves have learned that if Namjoon is reading to only bother him when its an emergency. Reading and gaining knowledge on many different subjects is one of life’s many pleasures for Namjoon. Getting lost in a good book lets him escape his many responsibilities even if it’s for a short while.

That all changed when you showed up. Namjoon saw you fall in love with his sacred dwelling and he let you carve your own little space within it. He reluctantly let some of his philosophy books be replaced with your beloved romance novels. With you spending a large portion of your time within the space eventually led to the three younger wolves coming in too. That lasted a week until the alpha’s patience wore thin and once again banished them from the room. It may or may not have been partly due to Jimin’s constant pestering to read the smut scenes in your novels with you. You offered to lend him your Kindle so he could read the ‘Ice planet Barbarians’ series on his own but he said it wasn’t the same without you.

In the relative darkness the only light emanating in the room is from a tall floor lamp next to the comfortable red suede sofa you’re sharing with Hoseok. Who was currently softly snoring, splayed out on his back in wolf form, paws in the air and head your lap. You ran a hand through the thick tan fur on his chest and held a thick vampire romance book in the other. You were finally getting to the ‘spicy’ scene after 500 pages of slow burn enemies to lovers when a hand on your shoulder made you jump slightly.

“Hey, it’s late lets get you to bed.”

“What time is it?” You ask stretching your arms and groaning. Time always seems to fly when you read.

“Midnight” He answered while helping you carefully maneuver out from under Hoseok. Learning from experience that the older wolf does not like being woken up and will curse out anyone indiscriminately for doing it.

Once your other mate was situated you followed Namjoon up towards your room.

The house you lived in was huge so every original member had their own bedroom. The royal pack allocates housing funds based on amount of pack members. The bigger the pack the bigger the housing fund was. They often build houses for packs before they’re even finished being formed. For as inclusive the moon goddess is, it seemed the court hasn’t upheld that value when it comes to making space for potential children. Adoption is definitely a thing in the werewolf world, and many packs that are all the same sex do still have parental desires. Unfortunately room isn’t often accounted for them. The sale of original pack houses is permitted it’s just a long process but many packs seeking extra space will jump through hoops to buy and trade housing to get what they desire. Often child free packs are willing to move or packs that decide to relocate to other cities or countries all together. It’s like the human world with more (annoying) rules.

All of that meant there was no room for you in the beginning. Instead of packing up and buying a new place that no one including you wanted to do, Jimin ended up giving up his room and voluntarily moving in with Taehyung. The pair sleep together the majority of the time anyway.

Although often the members preferred to sleep with a varying number of other members together rather than alone, but having a personal space to themselves where they can be alone is also important. Since you were human and not used to pack living they all definitely wanted you to be able to have your space as to not overwhelm you.

You always wondered how the higher ups got a hold of so much money. Yoongi said that they do lots of dealings with Governments around the world and some officials were actually werewolves. They operate behind the scenes and take steps to make sure human and werewolf relations remain civil.

The public may not know of their existence but the international elites and the chaebols of Korea know of their existence. Back in the age of royal dynasties many kings used werewolves as close body guards. Even when not shifted a werewolf is more powerful than a normal human. Enhanced hearing and sense of smell were huge advantages which made their existence beneficial and solidified the safety of the werewolf species as a whole.

Opening your covers and helping you into bed Namjoon gave you a quick kiss before turning to head out.

“Can you sleep here tonight?” you ask grabbing his wrist before he could leave, giving your best attempt at ‘puppy dog eyes’ you could muster.

He let out a fake exasperated sigh and an exaggerated eye roll before flashing a dimpled smile, “I guess.”

You let out a noise of triumph before scooting over to make room for the large man. He got comfortable wrapping himself around you from behind and relaxed his seemingly always tense muscles. After thirty minutes you could tell by his breathing that he wasn’t asleep. Knowing he was awake was keeping you awake so you deciding to do what you know could have any man sleeping afterwards.

Starting to slowly push your hips back into his you smirked when his hold on you tightened.  A few well practiced circles had resulted in his unmistakable hardness poking into your butt.

“What are you doing?” Namjoon asked in a voice that implied he knew exactly what you were doing.

“I’m helping you sleep.”

“You’re doing the exact opposite,” He teased while moving to give you room to lay on your back. He snorts as he sees you rush to pull down your pajama shorts and underwear. “Someone’s eager.”

“It’s not everyday I get to have my alpha like this.” You say as you open your legs for him to slot between them. This causes Namjoon to frown and lean down to look in your eyes and gently stroke your cheek.

“Do you feel like I neglect you?”

“No, no it’s not like that,” You stammered trying unsuccessfully to get Namjoon to back up so you could sit up. Giving up when he wouldn’t budge you sighed, “It’s just that… I know I've already been here for a while so I should be used to it by now but I’m still trying to get used to the whole pack thing.   Living with seven men with different personalities it sometimes feels like someone gets lost in the fray. I feel guilty for spending so much time with the maknaes and not enough with everyone else. When you came home and I went upstairs with Hobi I did feel bad for going with him.”

Namjoon frowns a little before moving back and grabbing a pillow to place under your hips to elevate them to his liking.

“Let me see you.” He says rubbing your outer thighs as you rush to pull down your shorts and panties. The articles of clothing were unceremoniously tossed behind him landing near your dresser. He uses his fingers to spread open your lower lips and stares at your warm inviting hole as if he wanted to eat you whole like the big bad wolf he is. “Pretty girl.”

You sigh happily as he scoots down the bed to lay on his stomach and then licks a slow swipe up your pussy ending at your clit. The feeling had your spine arching up off the bed as Namjoon’s lips create a delicious toe curling suction. “Oh shit!”

As an alpha Namjoon liked to be in control at all times, that included during sex. You found that out the first time you tried to straddle him. It’s in his nature to take that as a dominance challenge. That action resulted in one of the roughest fucking in your life. You finally found out what Ariana Grande was talking about in the ‘Side to Side’ song. You also learned that Jimin loved doing that to him because he was a little glutton for punishment.

Unfortunately alphas can be exhausting to deal with as a whole and practice a bit of toxic masculinity pushed by their inner wolves. So keeping that in mind you were actively trying to not tangle your hand in his hair and grind onto his face. You were gonna get what he gave you, the way he wanted to give it and you were going to like it.

That was the complete opposite of Yoongi who loves for you to use use him to get off. If asked you’d say the best orgasm you’d ever had was the time he had you sit on his face while Jin sucked him off. All of his needy whines and groans against your pussy while he forced your hips down in a vice like grip. In the beginning you hesitated when asked to ‘suffocate’ him with your thighs. That wasn’t something you had ever done with your human exes but you grew to love it and crave it. He was the best out of your mates at eating you out and according to Taehyung he was the best cock sucker too. Yoongi called it his ‘Tongue technology’.

Namjoon working two fingers into you and immediately finding your G spot, brought you out of your thoughts. “Focus on me. Or I’ll leave you here.” He growls lowly.

A shiver runs through you in not a wholly unpleasant way. His attempts at using his alpha voice always got on your nerves except when in bed. This is the only time you willingly submit to the werewolf.

“No, please fuck me alpha.” You whine as he removes his fingers only to add a third in an attempt to prepare you for what was to come. It’s always futile, no matter how many times you have sex with any of the pack members you always have to psych yourself up in preparation of taking their knots. Over the past few years it’s definitely gotten easier but when it comes to you they all know to try to ease it in slow unlike the animalistic way they shove their knots into each other. The human body just wasn’t built to take a toll like that, much to your annoyance.  

Namjoon gets off the foot of the bed to remove his pajama pants revealing the fact he was going commando. Giving his large leaking erection a few strokes as he waited for you to turn over onto your hands and knees. Another alpha quirk you’ve learned is his favoritism of this submissive position.

“Back up,” he commanded gesturing to the edge of the foot of the bed. “Good girl.”

Aligning himself with your entrance Namjoon pushes in his girth all the way in with a groan. Rubbing circles on the sides of your waist where he was holding onto you he stayed still giving you time to adjust. You turned your head back after a minute and nodded to him to give the okay to start moving but he didn’t.

“Move, please!” you whined desperately.

“No, I’m tired.” Namjoon says with a smirk. “If you want it you do the work.”

He lets go of you and proceeds to fold his arms at his chest waiting for your compliance. With a pout you start moving your hips starting off slow before picking up rhythm. You give one good slam back which causes the headboard of your bed to smack the wall loudly.

“It’s late, don’t wake anyone up.” Namjoon chastises with a light smack to your ass.

You roll your eyes but decide not to argue. Your obedience was rewarded as you felt your alpha lean over you with one hand on the bed and the other slipping between your thighs.

“Oh fuck!” you gasp and lose the strength to hold yourself as he expertly plays with your clit. Namjoon enjoys the way your velvety walls clamp down on him as you orgasm. He takes this opportunity to ease his knot in and spill his hot cum with a loud drawn out groan of your name.

You were both flying high on an endorphin rush, it was over quickly but you didn’t care. Namjoon stayed holding himself up trying not to crush under his weight.  He very much didn’t want to move because every movement pulled on his sensitive knot. Knowing you would be stuck like this for twenty minutes he wanted to be comfortable. Wincing, he pulls you up to awkwardly carry you back to the top of the bed.

You settled in under the blankets with him spooning you from behind. Even though you were tired you still couldn’t sleep. The feeling of his knot throbbing was distracting so you decided to ask a question you’ve been thinking for a long time.

“Hey Joonie? Can I ask you a question?”

The man just hummed a noise that you took to mean yes.

“How did you become the alpha?”

“Every last full moon of the year there’s a large festival where all of the packs in the country that have young wolves who have turned eighteen converge. It lasts the full three days of mandatory shifting. Pack members are added to each forming pack every time the festival comes around and the minute the future alpha is found for each pack they are immediately put in charge. I wasn’t the original alpha it was actually Hoseok hyung who was chosen. Since he’s older than me he was added to the pack before me.”

Your eyebrows went up, It takes a special type of werewolf to run a pack and you couldn’t envision Hobi doing that. Although the older wolf definitely kept the younger three wolves in check he was really sweet the majority of the time.

“When my pack was chosen for me after five other wolves I met Jin hyung and Yoongi hyung and him. We were making plans with our respective families when all of a sudden the moon witches made an announcement that there was to be an alpha switch. It was actually a bit of a controversy at the time. It’s rare for the moon goddess to change her mind. The witches thought it might be because of my lineage. I come from a family line with three alphas. My great grandfather, grandfather and father were all alphas of their packs.”

“Was Hobi mad about it?”

“He was definitely resentful, he rarely spoke to me the first couple months I lived in the pack house but he eventually got over it. He has since told me multiple times he is so relieved it’s not him because he feels like he wouldn’t be as patient and might have strangled the maknaes by now.”

You laugh at that, Namjoon’s breath hitched as your core squeezed him rhythmically.  Satisfied with his answer you tried again and succeeded in falling asleep. You didn’t feel when Namjoon’s knot released or when he got up and cleaned you up with his discarded shirt before settling back behind you and drifting off as well.

Present Day

“None of you can look me in the eyes and tell me you’re okay with this! You know what’s gonna happen to them!” Taehyung yells exasperatedly at the rest of the wolves who were sitting in silence in the spacious hotel room. The tension so thick all it took was this outburst to make it boil over.

“It’s what Namjoon wants so drop it.” Hoseok says lowly as he lays on one of the two king sized beds, stroking Yoongi’s fur. The older wolf was still transformed and unconscious after Yoona fixed his arm. The witch gave him a potion to stay in that state to aide in healing.

“Drop it? You expect me to drop it?! How can you be so fucking heartless?” Taehyung’s voice shakes as he’s fighting to stop from breaking into a sobbing mess. “You’re the one who could talk the most sense into him.”

Hoseok drops his gaze and turns his head away.

“Please just try!” Taehyung grabs onto the older wolf’s shoulders shaking him and finally letting the tears escape.

“Taehyung,” Jimin grabs the back of his shirt and pulls him away. “You’re thinking with your heart and not your brain. Jungkook is dangerous, it may have been an ‘accident’” he emphasizes with air quotes, “ but this has been a running theme with him. He is not a pup anymore, he’s had years to start acting like an adult and he can’t manage to do that so now we’re all suffering for it. It was only a matter of time before he fucked up enough to get unmated.”

Taehyung looked at him incredulously not believing his ears that Jimin could just say those things about their other mate. Jimin pushes him back into the wall and looking into his eyes with their foreheads almost touching.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Face.” Taehyung snarls.

“I’m right and you know it. You just can’t handle the truth. Both Jungkook and Y/N are detrimental to the health of this pack. She continuously babies him and feeds into his behavior. Our alpha knows what’s best for us, it’s about time you realize that, fall in line or get out.”

“Jimin! Knock it off.” Jin growls walking out of the bathroom. “You’re not helping.”

“You know what?” Taehyung snaps, “I’m leaving.”

Pushing away from Jimin and bumping into the smaller wolf’s shoulder he practically runs out of the room completely ignoring Jin calling out for him to wait. He knew the minute the door slammed behind him he might have made a mistake but he just couldn’t live with Namjoon’s decision. Even if it means going through the unmating process too.

[nortism]

doctor who liveblog pt 22

s4 ep10 midnight

- i’m glad donna’s getting a nice holiday

- COLIN MORGAN OF BBC MERLIN FAME??! katie mcgrath next pls

- “ladies and gentlemen and variations thereupon”

- ROSE ON THE TVVVVVVV

- oh god was she possessed

- FUCK SHES REPEATING LIKE THE THING OUTSIDE

- SHE GOT HIS VOICE

- that was such a good episode, genuinely unsettling

s4 ep11 turn left

- omg are we in a country that’s not the uk?? i didn’t know the tardis knew how to do that 😭😭

- oh never mind they’re on a different planet, should have known

- and billie piper!!

- oh the doctor’s dead

- get the screwdriver donna!!

- ROSE TYLER!!!!!!!!!!

- oh she’s vanished

- donna’s so funny

- NO MARTHA’S DEAD this sucks

- SARAH JANE SMITH’S DEAD?!?! this au is awful

- ROSE

- i love donna’s grandad so much it’s not even funny

- london’s gone??? thank god the world is free!

- not leeds

- uh oh america

- ROSE

- oh fuck jack as well

- oh great, now the uk is turning into nazi germany

- that’s a big old bug

- rip alternate universe donna

- BAD WOLF?!?!?!!????

- shitttttt

s4 ep12 the stolen earth

- oh fucj the earth’s gone

- MARTHA

- ohh fuck the companions r all gonna come together

- ROSE WITH A GIANT GUN WOOOO

- oh yeah the whole gang in the opening credits

- oh great we’re gonna find out what a shadow proclamation is

- ofc the british are celebrating the end of the world by drinking and rioting

- ofc it’s the fucking daleks

- i feel like there was easy ways to exterminate the human race i won’t lie

- the crucible?? always with the religious imagery

- idk if i trust the space cops

- not the rhinos again

- ohhhh they’re building a mega planet

- for what it’s worth, i trust martha to save the world. she’s done it before

- NO MARTHA

- the loss that is yet to come???

- also which god??

- BEES ARE ALIENS?!?!

- i knew i couldn’t trust the space cops

- ROSE

- when he was a 90 year old teenage girl

- HARRIET JONES MY LOVE

- yay martha’s alive

- aww rose is jealous

- is everyone here a jones?

- HARRIET NOOOOOO

- he’s still thinking about rose 😭😭

- jfc what is that

- ewww

- FUCKING DALEKS RUINING MY REUNION

- oh my polycule did reunite, just under the worst circumstances possible

- FUCK HES REGENERATING ALREADY

- noooo sarah jane

- whatttt

s4 ep13 journey’s end

- did he just regenerate back into david tennant???

- MICKEYYYYYYYYY

- JACKIEEEEEEEE

- oh the whole gang is back together i missed them 😭😭😭

- oh donna i love u

- they gotta stop leaving the tardis lying around!!!

- that’s nice of the daleks to translate for different countries

- that’s a lotta daleks

- donna?!!

- DONNA?!?!!??

- hello is donna regenerating?!?!

- ITS ANOTHER DOCTOR?!?!?

- dw rose this is just an avg day for jack

- nah is the new doctor technically donna and the doctor’s child???

- pls leave my girl and her mummy issues alone

- oh they’re soulmates

- when did martha learn german??

- oh yeah on her world tour

- it would be cool if they subtitled the german bc i’m getting none of this

- not loving the sound of a reality bomb

- omg they’re disintegrating

- oh so we’re destroying all matter now???

- won’t this also destroy the daleks??

- apparently not

- SHES GONNA BLOW UP THE EARTH

- oh fuck the whole gang’s been teleported

- it’s up to u now donna

- uh oh rip the other doctor

- uh oh rip donna

- this is a bit awkward

- YES FHEN DONNA

- the doctordonna

- SHES PART TIMELORD?!

- they oppenheimer-ed him

- K9!!!

- finally an explanation for why he sucks a flying the tardis so much, he needs more guys

- he’s got the biggest family on earth 😭😭

- she’s getting her own doctor?!

- aww she got her kiss?? i think aww?! this is a weird situation all round

- oh no donna’s malfunctioning

- wait what

- is she fucking dead

- HER MIND’S BEEN WIPED!!?!?!

- awww she’s forgotten him

- this is so sad

- aww granddad

- jesus that was bleak

[ryusuisloveinterest]

Hello!~ I would like to ask you to write headcanons about Sai Nanami (Dr. Stone) and his everyday life with his s/o in the modern world. Thank you in advance!💖

Hello girlypop! I hope you’re doing well! Imma name you 🔹anon! I love Sai so much I got so excited when I saw his name so I hope you enjoy💝

Sai Nanami Headcanons💘

Let’s start with how you two met

There was a preview to a new Dragon Quest that was exclusive to attendants at a gaming convention 

So Sai definitely had to go! 

Francois and even Ryusui helped him disguise himself so a whole mob of people wouldn’t bombard him 

He stood in line super early like any good fan and was even one of the of the people in the front row

It just so happen that you were sitting right next to him 

While he was waiting for the preview to start, he pulled his phone out and began playing Pokémon Go

“Which team are you on?”

Your voice startles Sai. He looks to his side and sees the most beautiful person he’s ever seen

You show him your screen. “I’m Valor.”

“M-mystic…”

“Dang! Guess that means we’re rivals!” You giggle softly

You mess with your hair, a little embarrassed. “My name’s (y/n).”

When you see his blushing red, nervous face it’s got to be the cutest thing in the world

“S-Sai..” he mumbles.

There’s an awkward silence between the two of you until the show starts, then the both of you get lively 

When you both see your favorite characters and new ones you cheer and clap

What’s the trailer is done you get your stuff to leave

“D-do you w-wanna hunt Pokémon with me?”

And with that you both became close

To Sai’s huge relief you’ve never heard of the Nanami Conglomerate before 

“We make boats? We’re one the richest families around?”

You just shake your head

Ryusui puts on this huge extravagant setup so Sai can ask you out, only for Sai to nearly faint from nerves

You accepted either way

Dating Sai can have its ups downs 

If you’re a really outgoing person it’s really hard to get him to go out much.

“Come on Sai let’s go dancing!”

“O-oh…but I’m not that good, so I’ll just ruin your night… it’s alright go without me.”

BUT one thing Sai will quickly take back everything he said if he saw how disappointed you looked

As he said, he is not the best but he really does try

Even though he wants to leave earlier than you’d like, you still can’t deny that you had a good time

I really feel like Sai would like a person who is more indoorsy but not necessarily shy, just quiet (if that makes any sense at all)

His favorite thing to do with you of course is play video games, no matter what game it is 

I also think he’d teach you how to build your own computer 

You get so fascinated by Sai’s enthusiasm. He normally isn’t so talkative or excited but when he’s building computers it’s a while different story 

Of course he’d try your hobbies as well

If you liked to read he’d try some of your favorite books or if you liked to draw he’d do his best to draw you something nice

None of the Nanami’s are cooks💀

But he’d try to learn for you! 

He’d mainly learn the basics though, like eggs💀

Anything else he’ll gladly hand it over to Francois

Sai also doesn’t sleep

You’ll see him on his PC at like midnight 

So you’ll squeeze in on his lap and fall asleep there

It’s honestly his favorite thing in the world

It also encourages him to go to bed because he doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable! So he’ll gently carry you to your shared bed, and as soon as he feels how soft the mattress is he’ll pass out with you

[raplinesmoon]

Alone With You In The Aether (KSJ x GN!Reader)

pairing: lunar deity!Seokjin! x reader (no specified pronouns) genre(s): angst… i’m sorry, a tiny glimmer of fluff at the end au(s): some kind of mythology mixed with dystopian mixed with post-apocalyptic au word count: 2.1k warnings: implied character d*aths (non-graphic), mentions of blood, lots of sad thoughts rating: 18+

summary: Seokjin thinks he's hard to remember, but your faith leaves him surprised every time.

a/n: if i had a nickel for everytime I wrote Seokjin in a strange apocalyptic, dystopian au, I'd have two nickels. It's weird that it happened twice. Also why do the most gut-wrenching, angsty ideas come to me for Seokjin (give this man a break)! Consider this my long overdue bday gift for him. This fic draws on this prompt, the song 134340 (of course), the book by Olivie Blake (for the title and angsty vibes) and the films Sunshine (2007) and Snowpiercer (2013). It's wildly experimental and may be slightly bad considering I haven't written for Jin in so long, but I hope you give it a chance <;3

Seokjin was used to the dark. He looked out upon the night sky every night, a vast sea of midnight black as far as the eye could see, lit up by tiny specks of stars and satellites, with him at the center of it, perched on the crescent moon, mesmerized by the world below.

The humans were fascinated by him, and Seokjin by them. Every night, they’d look up at the sky, pointing and exclaiming at the bright white orb that lit everything up. They’d offer their prayers and make their sacrifices – for peace, and prosperity, for good fortune to enter their homes and bless their families. And Seokjin would always deliver – whether it was through abundant crops, or the blessing of another child to the human race.

He was the gentle, all-giving light in their eyes, shielding them from the harshness of their day-to-day lives, ruled by his much more tempestuous counterpart, Hoseok, otherwise known as the sun. 

Until the day everything crumbled into dust.

The gods had never expected Hoseok to lose the battle against the malevolent demon that tormented the world, evil at its very core. Eternity had been promised to them as the Earth’s caretakers, tending to and sowing the seeds for humans to thrive. The devastation was profound at the loss of their beloved companion, none of them able to do anything as they watched the ichor leech out of his being, plunging the world into an eternal winter.

Paralyzed by shock and grief, they’d called a tribunal, lost on how to move forward without their beloved sun. Seokjin offered up his palace in the heavens, the deafening silence at his marble table proof that none of them had been expecting any of this to come to fruition.

Yoongi, the keeper of time, was the first to speak up. 

“It’ll happen to all of us,” his voice is gruff, leading to wide-eyed stares and gasps of shock and confusion around the table. “The humans grew weary of Hoseok, and the light that he provided. They destroyed the earth that he sowed, built buildings tall enough to block out his light, and retreated deeper and deeper into the underground and the shadows. They stopped believing.”

Seokjin ponders over Yoongi’s words, a pit growing in his stomach when he realized Yoongi was right. In the eons that he’d been tasked with being the caretaker of the moon, humans had always sought to conquer the land they’d been bestowed. He welcomed them when they tried to explore his dominion up above, lips twisting in amusement at their curiosity. But as he watched them grow more and more intelligent, fueled by Namjoon’s gifts as the god of knowledge, with that intelligence came greed, and its horrifying consequences. 

“They’ll lose faith in all of us, one by one. As the earth begins to crumble without its sun, their faith too, will weaken. And when the last person stops believing, we too will vanish alongside them.”

And Seokjin, who’d always been docile and kind to the humans, realized that with the advent of this new chapter in the universe, that he’d likely be the first to die, the humans’ faith in him as temperamental as the waxing and waning of the moon they searched for in the sky every night. A moon they could no longer see. 

If Seokjin had lungs, the dust would cling to them, burning up his insides, stealing the very breath from him. He couldn’t remember how long it’d been since the death of the sun, whether it was decades, centuries, or even millennia. The dust clouded everything, rising up into the atmosphere, washing away the oceans, and Jungkook, the sea god, along with it.

One by one, the gods fell out of favour, helpless against the hopelessness which had begun to thrive amongst the humans. Seokjin wondered how any of them were alive at all, continuing to cling onto the fragile threads of life when everything that sustained it disappeared around them.

Most of all, he wondered how he’d managed to make it so long, his faint light present despite the cloud of dust. How people believed in a moon they could no longer see, one that could no longer promise hope of fertility in a barren land, where people picked at the dirt for food, where children stopped being a blessing and turned into a distant hope that evolved into a curse.

Who was left to believe in him, the weakest of all deities, powerless without the help of others?

And yet, Seokjin persisted. He watched the Earth freeze over, and what was left of the remaining humans crowd onto an old locomotive that traveled alongside whatever light remained of the fallen sun.

There were no more prayers for peace, for serenity. The prayers turned vengeful, resentful, all the gods left cowering in fear at how the tables had turned.

Seokjin stayed away from it all. He became listless, numb inside, just waiting for the day that he too, would vanish.

But that day never came. 

Dust. Dust as far as the eye could see. It was all that you could make out in the cloudy sky as you gazed out of the train, clinging to rocks, to the snow and ice that surrounded you.

You remembered the day the sun died. It’d been like any other day. Except you hadn’t been able to fall asleep. Restless on the scratchy sheets of your bed, you’d wrapped your blanket around you, staring out the window at the calming light of the moon. For as long as you remembered, you’d been obsessed with the gentle object in the sky, in awe of the radiant yet serene light it brought to the world, how it changed in relation to the passage of time. It was silly, but you’d always imagined there was someone up there taking care of the moon in the sky, fueled by stories your mother would tell you as a child.

Lulled to bed by it, you awoke to start your day as normal, remembering to give your mother a goodbye kiss before work. Nearly five hours later, while you were staring at your computer screen, the whole world exploded into darkness.

All you could hear were the screams of panic, objects clattering to the floor as people scrambled to rush outside, only to find that the darkness was everywhere, the once bright sun now a dull but sinister shade of crimson. Like the colour of blood. 

Your first instinct was to rush home, to check on your parents. Pulling up the light of your phone, you prayed the little battery you had left would be enough to sustain you. Instead, you came upon an empty building, shattered objects strewn about, and no sign of your parents anywhere.

It took nearly a week to learn of how many humans had actually perished in the panic surrounding the sun’s death, and even longer to come to terms with the fact that you’d never be able to navigate the darkness to come by.

You looked up at the smoke rising through the sky, creating the beginnings of the fine cloud of dust that would come to dominate the atmosphere, and saw it.

The faint glow of the moon, still there, still persisting. And so would you. 

From that day, the moon became your comfort, your protector. Even as the sky became more hazy, its presence in the night sky always kept you at ease.

Even when you boarded the train, knowing it was your only hope for survival in the increasingly harsh and hostile world, you never stopped looking out the window every night, imagining its soft light behind your eyes. 

“I know you’re there,” you whispered into the darkness. “It’s crazy, but even though I can’t see you, Moon, just imagining you still up there, in the sky like always, makes everything seem okay. It reminds me of why I treasure this world, why I want to keep holding on.”

. . .

Seokjin is jolted out of his haze by the words — he hadn’t heard anyone speak to him in so long. He knew by the fact that he was still around meant that there was someone who still believed, but their faith had always been silent. Until today. 

Seokjin feels warmth wash over him, warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

And so, into the aether, he talks back, taken aback by the conviction in his voice.

“I’ll always be here.”

Yoongi was the only one nowadays who wasted his time visiting Seokjin’s domain. The once lavish palace, with its halls of marble as bright as the moon itself, filled with jewels that sparkled like stars, now became decrepit, a mirror of Seokjin’s own hollowness.

Seokjin envied Yoongi, his immortal status nearly untouchable. Because while time became harder to track for the humans on the locomotive, none of them could deny its existence. None of them could stop the passage of time. There would always be people who believed in Yoongi.

“I never realized how lonely our existence was until we lost Hoseok,” Yoongi sits next to him on the staircase. “How foolish we were to think that we held power over the humans, when really, their faith was all that held together our fragile state of being.”

“I know you’re lonely, hyung,” the name surprises Seokjin. Yoongi hadn’t called him that in such a long time. “But haven’t you always been that way, even before we lost Hoseok?”

Seokjin ponders on Yoongi’s words, thinking back to the eternity he’d spent as caretaker of the night sky, watching humans sleep under his care. He’d yearned for a long time to connect with them, to spend time with them like the other gods did with their subjects, but they’d always forget about him come the dawn, the day and its promises far more alluring in their eyes.

“Who could be foolish enough to still believe in someone, something they can’t see?” Seokjin spits out. “I can offer no warmth or protection to the world. Some times I think it would be better for them to just let go, whoever it is. So we could both move on.”

 Yoongi pauses for a moment, taking in the distressed look on Seokjin’s face.

“I’ve seen them, you know,” Seokjin blinks at Yoongi, a smirk twisting on his brother’s lips. “They’re very beautiful.”

Yoongi puts a hand on his shoulder, his all-knowing eyes twinkling with something magical.

“Don’t let go just yet.”

“You’re all I have,” you whisper into your pillow, eyes heavy with sleep, but also with the weight of continuing to live this half-life. “I feel your absence everywhere.”

Seokjin wishes he could comb through the aether, resist the dust and smoke, weather the frigid ice, lay a hand on his shoulder to tell you he’s here. He’s here because of you, because while you believe you’re nothing, you’re everything. You’re the only thing he has left too.

He wonders how different it would have been if he’d met you in a past life, one where the tether between you two wasn’t something that could snap at any moment. Where the red string wasn’t frayed and splitting into pieces. Maybe you would have been a daring explorer, or a regal ruler. Maybe you would have been able to see Seokjin properly, to touch him, press your lips to his.

But maybe you were always destined to fall in love in this cruel, lonely way.

Seokjin doesn’t even notice the aether vanishing around him one day, until the moon, once his noble perch, gives out from underneath him, and he’s falling, tumbling through the endless vortex that is the universe. 

That’s how he knows there’s no one left to believe anymore. That you’re gone.

His heart races, and he calls out for Yoongi, for someone, anyone to stop the madness, closing his eyes.

All of a sudden, he halts, a gentle hand reaching out to clasp his own. Seokjin blinks open his eyes, and he sees you.

But you’re not you. Not as he’d known you. You’re glowing, a soft aura to match his own, a faint smile on your face.

“I never stopped believing.”

The void shifts around the two of you, spinning until Seokjin recognizes the heavens, the bright twinkling of stars in the sky. The two of you are in his palace.

Seokjin understands the moment he looks out onto the horizon, seeing the green of forests and the blue of oceans, the earth healing before him.

It’s you. A new star born from a dying one. A new dawn, one neither of you has to face alone.

a/n pt. 2: The lore for this honestly goes crazyyy, I could have taken it in so many different directions. But in case you're confused, OC is reborn as the new sun (rip Hoseok, gone but never forgotten), and also Seokjin's consort so they will live happily ever after for eternity. And those pesky humans get a second chance too! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜