#it is in the hands. idk. but its in the hands.

[hatsukeii]

think fast / childhood bsf!tsukshima kei x reader

genre(s): childhood best friends x soulmates???? past lives and normal people by sally rooney coded im a sally rooney MEATRIDER!! angsty, gut-wrenching longing, bittersweet / hopeful ending so it's not all bad!! nostalgia is going to carry this fic so hard it's going to be a fun, fun time...

warning(s): eventual smut!! all characters are aged up to 21!!MDNI (at least up until the observatory)!! wrap it before you tap it!! (sorry kids), female leaning anatomy because smut but pronouns are gn all throughout and honestly you could read it as gn anyways:)) dead dad warning (my dad is NOT dead this was just convenient to kick off the thing), i fw the timeline of the world??? pretend flip phones were still in use in like 2012 or something idk

wc: ~6.3k

tldr; time has a way of reminding Kei of its presence, and its escape. you are the reminder it has been sending to him for six years.

Fate: A power believed to cause and control all events, so that one cannot change or determine the way things will happen. 

It is a sunny afternoon when you step foot into Sendai, Miyagi. A beautiful day of golden warmth beaming onto petals of pink, red, and white, wrapped in coffee-stained newspapers and tied together with a spool of twine. The bouquet lies on browning grass, a contemptible reminder of the time that has passed since your last appearance here, six years ago, and you crouch down to the ground. Now face to face with the engraving of a full name on a slab of polished granite, you hesitate. Your father lived in a language that you can no longer speak, died in a country you no longer call your home. When you whisper blessings and apologies at the gravestone in broken Japanese and slurred syllables, you sound like a stranger. A stranger who sits in a graveyard at noon, with nothing but a bouquet from the nearby florist in hand, and a promise, stuttered out in half-decent Japanese, to return again the next year. 

When a second bouquet falls to the ground behind you, and you turn around, Tsukishima Kei thinks this is what English speakers like you would call fate. He’s a little taller now, and bulkier too, and you have to crane your head higher than you remember just to meet his eyes. You don’t recognise the glasses he dons anymore, the black rectangles from his teenage years swapped out for rounded squares and silver frames. But he has a towel in his hand, a towel that has his initials poorly stitched into the corner with red string. You wonder if the matching one he made you, eleven years ago, is collecting dust somewhere in your dormitory, halfway across the world. 

“You’re back.”

“It’s been a while, Kei.”

You can no longer differentiate Japanese syllables clearly, and your statement jumbles into nonsense in your head. Kei hears the English woven into your accent in the way you roll your tongue like foreigners do, and in the odd intonations that don’t exist in your mother tongue. You don’t even remember your father’s dislike for white flowers. London has truly done a number on you. 

“Why? Why now?”

You bite your nail, a persistent habit that Kei frowns at. He picks up his flowers, and steps towards the gravestone, just close enough for your knee to brush against him for a moment. The bouquet in his hand is wrapped in plastic and filled with red and pink, the white from your own sticking out like a sore thumb when he places his flowers gently on the grass beside yours. He tosses the towel in his hand, opening it up against his palm, and you take it from him. If you cannot get the language right, or the flowers, this is the least you can do. Cobwebs stick to the fabric as you sweep at the granite slab, watching soot and dust fall to the grass. The curves and dips of the gravestone are familiar once again, and you dig the towel into every nook and cranny. You feel Kei’s body shift, before his knee is touching yours and his face is finally level with your peripheral vision. He glances at you, waiting. His knees bounce in anticipation. 

“Never had the chance, college has been a lot.”

Your phone rings as you finish cleaning. The ringtone is familiar, unchanged from when you used to have a flip phone, in fact. Kei hums along to the jingle for the four seconds that the call is left unanswered, before it cuts off into a flurry of English. He catches something about research, and a thesis, his shabby English unable to fill in any more than that. He’s never known you were interested in research, let alone what it is that you’re researching. All he’s known is your aspiration of becoming a librarian when you were six, and his promise to borrow books from you for the museum that he swore he would one day work at. Now, he works at the museum, sorts antique scripts and yellowed books into cabinets and display shelves. He does not borrow books from you. Now, you talk, but nothing makes sense to him.

You end the call, mumbling foreign curses as you shove your phone back into your pocket. Clicking your tongue, you turn to Kei, who stares at the flowers on the ground. He pushes his glasses up when they slide down his nose, and you resist the familiar urge to nag him about buying the right frames for his face. 

“Yeah, college has been mostly phone calls like that.”

He nods, a half-hearted chuckle huffing from his nose. He’s forgotten what it’s like to sit at a graveyard with somebody else, the annual reminder of a lonely death replaced by another this year as you dust off his towel, and drop it onto his thigh. He swipes it from his leg, folding it into quarters and sliding it into his pocket. 

“So you choose to come now, without a word? Not even a heads up? Six years after leaving?” Kei’s voice rises at each question, the same way it did six years ago when you broke the news of leaving Japan to him. This hurts him to ask, that much you can still recognise.

“I would have come sooner if I had the chance. I’ve missed everyone so much.”

You pluck a petal from a white flower in your bouquet, then another, until all that remains is the naked bulb, and scatter them onto the ground beside you. Perhaps the next person that’s been buried under six feet of dirt used to have a liking for them. Kei remains unmoving, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly. His knee stops bouncing. 

“How long will you stay for?”

“Today, then Friday and Saturday too. Flight back is Sunday night.”

Six years of waiting, and this is what it amounts to. A weekend and a bit. Despite that, Kei still thinks this must be fate, in all the languages that it exists in. Six years of life, and love, and hurt, all to be condensed into four measly days. Yet as Kei pushes himself off the ground, dusting his trousers off, he still thinks that this unlikely, yet conveniently timed visit must be the answer to his pleas for your return. That this must be some heavenly reward, good karma for visiting your father’s grave annually on your behalf. You watch him turn to leave, and he calls out to you as he walks away from your father’s grave. 

“Everyone’s at Hinata’s old place tomorrow. You should come by if you can.”

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Change: to replace (something) with something else, especially something of the same kind that is newer or better; substitute one thing for (another).

All it takes is one coincidental exchange of panicked glances at the first throw up of the night for you and Kei to leave together. Hinata slurs a drunken farewell, tries to embrace you as you slip your sneakers on at the door, and you make a note to yourself that you really do not miss most of the people here, spare for the volleyball team. Kei waits at the door, holding it open for when you finally shake Hinata off of your back, and step through. The night is chilly, the warmth in your skin from the indoor heating system emanating into the midnight air. You kick rocks along the pavement as you walk, scattering pigeons that remain awake and active at this time, and Kei smiles at your antics. You still hate birds, and you still remember the trick he taught you when you were nine for chasing away pigeons that flocked around you for food. 

“Who are you staying with?”

“My mom’s.”

The road leads the two of you to a high school. Kei has not come back to Karasuno since graduation. You squint in the dark, scanning the school, and you don’t recognise the new building that stands in place of the old auditorium. He watches you crouch at the plaque next to the front gate, tracing the letters engraved on it with the pad of your thumb. Some part of him blames Karasuno for being a bad place to you, the other parts blame himself for not being good enough to outweigh it.

“It’s changed.”

“Everything has.”

You rattle the locked entrance, the chain and padlock hitting against cold metal. It won’t open, so you look up through the gap of the gate. Six years ago, on that rooftop, was where you stood over a cold lunch box and emptied convenience store drinks, back against the wire fence, saying to Kei, I’m leaving tomorrow. On that day, you had packed yakisoba for his lunch, and nothing for yourself. He could barely respond to your announcement, only dropping his chopsticks and asking you, why? You told him something along the lines of being an expat, and a better school for what you wanted, all in the fluent Japanese you once spoke. Nothing made sense to him anyways. 

When you turn back to him, his hands are in the pockets of his jacket, and his nose is red from the cold air. You stand beside him, staring aimlessly at Karasuno from outside its barriers. 

“Do you still play volleyball?” 

“Yeah, Sendai Frogs.”

You hum, and then wonder why you only asked tonight, and why you’re surprised. He shrugs, clouds of white puffing from his mouth when he breathes out. He tries to blow a wisp of hair away from his face, and you suddenly realise that his hair has grown too, along with his height. It fails, and he tries again. You reach up to swipe at his bangs, before running your fingers backwards through his hair. It parts itself as you lift your hands from his head, and falls into place neatly. A cold breeze whizzes by, and undoes your work, sending strands of gold into his face once again. You snicker a little.

“You know, you could ask my mom to trim it for you like she used to.”

“Nah, I prefer this.”

It isn’t until you turn to look at him properly that you see how much time has passed. He likes his hair longer these days, the choppy hairdo of his teenage years now nothing but an old preference, and you wonder if he is still a loyal customer of your mother’s salon. When he pulls his hands from his pockets and blows hot air into them, calluses line the bases of his fingers, the blisters of his high school years hardened by trials of time and effort. There are bags under his eyes, eyes that are now a little rounder, and softer too. When he speaks, monotone and tired, you realise his snarkiness has dissipated into general frustration. You stare until his eyes dart to you, and turn away quickly, ashamed. Leaving Karasuno has taken your hand and led you to a purpose that you never knew you were capable of. You wonder what the hell it has done to Tsukishima Kei. 

“It looks good.”

He breathes in sharply, then exhales with a huff, shoulders relaxing as he stuffs his hands back into his pockets. You suddenly realise that your fingers have gone numb from the cold of the night, fingertips tingling like a million frost-bitten needles poking into your skin. You also stuff your hands into your pockets, rubbing your fingers against each other to generate some heat. Then, Kei’s looping his arm around yours, and pulling you away from Karasuno High School. He keeps on his straight path, and you stumble along behind his leaping steps. When you round a corner, the night breeze grows into something less imperturbable, and more vicious, pushing the two of you forward from behind in slashes of cold. The sea is near. 

“Is this the beach we used to go to?”

“You still remember it.”

He drags you down a flight of stairs to Fukanuma Beach, and the misty sea air rushes to your head. When he leads you to the shoreline, you hesitate. The sea has been off limits since the two of you were five, a regulation put in place in remembrance of the Great Sendai Earthquake. An earthquake that saw Kei and yourself hunched beneath the same table in the middle of class, huddled next to each other as you cried for your parents. Now, in your final years of college, as the water slips beneath the soles of his shoes, pushing and receding in layers of aqua and bubbles of white, it seems that time has slipped by just as easily too. Time, that saw the fading of the earthquake’s devastation, despite the loss of thousands, including your father. Time, that frayed the string connecting yourself to Kei as you moved through life halfway across the world from Japan. Time, that passes through you like sand spilling between your fingers on a beach you once thought you knew, but has changed like the unprohibited water that seems to push further up into the shore at each tidal wave. 

“They lifted the ban?”

“A few months ago, yeah.”

You step into the next wave that fizzles into foam, and the water crashes into the toe of your shoes. Crouching, you push mounds of wet sand into a cylinder, flattening the top and pushing divots in equal intervals. Kei joins, moulding shorter ones beside your own and drawing windows into the side. You finish, and he stands, smiling at the creation. You cover the top, afraid he will stomp on it, a trademark of Kei’s whenever you built sandcastles with him in childhood. Instead, he laughs, and walks further into the water. When you get up to join him, the hems of his trousers are soaked, shoes also covered in a sheen of wetness. You hop over the castle, and the next wave that comes sends its foundations crumbling back into the sea. 

“We used to do that. You’d destroy it every time.”

Kei chuckles, and looks back to see the half destroyed castle. Clicking his tongue, he returns to the rubble, and you watch his hands push mounds of sand towards what is left standing. 

“I’d always build a better one for you afterwards though.”

He dusts his hands off when he finishes, and the waves fizzle out just before they hit the two-tiered sandcastle. You sniff, holding your arms close to your chest. When Kei looks up, he feels like the summer of being seven years old again, smiling at you with his missing front tooth when you sniffle and laugh at the improved castle he’s put together for you. Now, it is winter. He only grins with the corners of his lips. You only sniff because it’s cold. 

“Kei.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s really been a while. How have you been?”

He steps over the castle towards you, careful not to break it. Your hair blows in your face from the beach breeze and your eyes squint from the sand that flies into the air, and Kei takes it all in when you’re face to face with him. When he opens his mouth, some selfish part of him thinks about casting his words into shackles of regret, so heavy that they weigh you down and keep you in Japan, in Sendai, on this beach, somewhere close to him.

“Do you want to stay the night? Like you used to?”

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Nostalgia: A sentimental longing, or wistful yearning for a return to or of some past period or irrecoverable condition.

Kei does not take you to his family house. He leads you up stairs that make no sense, and hallways that stretch on forever, until you finally reach his flat. He wipes his shoes on the doormat, throws his keys into a glass bowl upon entry, and hangs his jacket on a hook mounted to his front door instead of the coathanger that used to stand beside it. You look around, searching for the shells you once collected in a jar for his tenth birthday. When your eyes land on a jar filled with conches and cowries, you let go of a breath you were unaware of holding. They sit on the top of his bookshelf, above textbooks and file organisers. A knot forms in your throat at the realisation that the jar sits alone in its compartment, with nothing beside it. You’ve done the same to the jazz vinyl Kei gifted you at the airport before your departure. You don’t realise that he’s disappeared somewhere as you stare at the shells, until a shirt and a pair of shorts are thrown into your chest. He stands at the entrance to a hallway, donning sweatpants and an old hoodie, one that’s clearly a size too small. The pocket is lousily sewn on, a result of a mishap that occurred when you had borrowed it once. He doesn’t know that you spent the night learning to sew fabric just to fix it.

“Change. It’ll be more comfortable.”

You scurry through the hallway to his bathroom, pulling the shirt and shorts on hastily, before balling up your clothes and returning to the living room. Kei sits at his couch, now bound in leather instead of fabric, and clicks at the television. You join beside him, legs splaying across his own subconsciously. He doesn’t move. He stops at a movie, one you’ve seen hundreds of times before at his old house. It drones on in the background as he watches in silence, his arms now draped over your knees. The first time he watched this movie, it was in his old home, cross-legged on the carpeted ground with you on the couch behind him. Your hands used to press into his shoulders from above, shake them whenever your favourite scenes came on, squeeze them when you laughed until tears rolled from your eyes. Now that his new flat lacks a rug, he’s willing to settle with your legs on his own. Flashing lights illuminate the dark room in sequences that you can still recall perfectly from memory. He watches the movie. You watch him. 

“Have you been doing good, Kei?”

Turning to you, he pushes his glasses up into his hair, leaning further back. You shuffle closer, legs bending as your shoulder digs into the leather couch. A strand of blond falls into his face, and you lift his glasses to tuck it back, before smoothing your hands over his mess of hair, combing and pushing with your fingertips.The words from the television melt into gibberish when he hums in satisfaction, what is unspoken between you two is more glaring than ever.

“I’ve been okay.” He cuts off, then finds himself thinking of what to tell you first, amongst the recollections of life that rush through his head. “Started working at the museum a couple years ago.” He wishes that you still remember the building, where the marble floors squeaked beneath your slippers, and glass panels lined the walls, hiding away treasures and artefacts that have withstood centuries, maybe even eons of erosion and weathering.

You nod, mind filling with the many museum visits you had with him there. He’s always liked the dinosaurs more than the shells. When you breathe out a chuckle, he knows you’re recalling the time he almost pissed himself at a life-sized, moving tyrannosaurus rex model. 

“What about you?”

“Research. I’ve been doing research about…” you sign in the air, searching for the Japanese words that have slipped from your mind. Surrendering, you whip your phone out, searching for a translation. 

“Archaeology?”

“Yeah, that. No more librarian dreams for me. More dinosaurs, though.”

A smile finds its way onto Kei’s face, one that softens his cheeks and flattens his eyes into crescents. He wonders if amongst the silver plaques and digital displays, your work is engraved in there somewhere. If each time he explains something to some bright-eyed child, who scuttles around the museum as you and him once did, he is unknowingly speaking in your language, translated until he can decipher the thoughts that run through your mind in your research, your memories, your dreams too. 

“Maybe it’s in the museum somewhere. I’m willing to bet.”

“I hope it is.”

Your conversation fizzles back into silence, and the characters on the television do too. The two on the screen sit in a field, mere inches apart. The two of you look at each other, your knees now leaned into Kei’s chest and one of his arms draped along the back of the couch. When he pulls his glasses back to his eyes, and studies you all over again, it hits him that you really haven’t changed all that much, even after your six year separation. Six years older, with the exhaustion of a functioning adult, but you still gnaw on your cheeks, and tilt your head as you ask questions. Six years apart, and you are still you, who taught him to build sandcastles, and introduced him to his favourite movie, and fixed his hair whenever it stuck up in stubborn peaks of gold. When you let your eyes close, and drop your head onto his shoulder, you wait for lost time to tick backwards, until you’re on the rooftop with him once again. In this version of time, you blush when you tell him that you’ve chosen to stay in Japan instead. Pushing your head further into the crook of his neck, Kei’s chin reaches over to rest on the top of your crown. The credits of the movie roll in the background, and you mumble into the skin of his pulse. 

“Can you take me there? I’ve missed it.” Your words send vibrations down his spine, sending his head into a frenzy as he pushes his hands against the couch harder. 

“The museum?” It will be closed for the weekend, but Kei nods anyway. He’s sure he can find his way in through the back. Maybe he’ll take you to the fossils again, let you run your fingers along smooth amber and stone engravings. Perhaps he could show you the new exhibitions, ones that you won’t miss this time, as you have for the past six years. For now, he thinks he will let you sleep on his shoulder, listen to your soft snores, tremble at every hot breath that fans onto his neck. 

The credits roll to the end, and come to a stop. Kei removes his arm from the couch to grab the remote from his coffee table. He rewinds the movie to the start.

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思慕 [しぼ, shibo]: yearning; deep longing, especially when accompanied by tenderness or sadness.

On the final night of your stay, you learn that Kei still giggles when he breaks rules, as he drags you through the back entrance of the closed museum. He maneuvers through hallways of antique paintings and repurposed junk, slips into dark stairwells illuminated by the flashlight of his phone, traps your wrist between his fingers and chuckles to himself, shaking his head as he takes you higher, and higher, and higher. You’ve lost count of how many flights of stairs have gone by when he taps his keycard against a sensor by a backdoor, and pushes it open. The museum observatory, once a mess of bamboo scaffolding and green covers, now allows silver moonlight through its glass dome, boasting billions of iridescent stars nestled in a blanket of hazy midnight. A decade of your anticipation has resulted in a circular space, hundreds of plush recliners lining the circumference of the room, and you wonder how many eyes have watched the stars from those seats before you ever had the chance to. When Kei leads you further into the observatory, you step foot onto the north star plastered on the ground in the centre of the room, where nothing but a telescope remains in a ten-foot radius. He takes a spot on the ground, back pressed against the cushioned edge of a seat.

“I figured this is the best spot. Better than any of the seats, actually.” He plants his feet on the ground, bending his knees and spreading them just wide enough for you to sit in between. You cross your legs, wagging them up and down as your hands hold your shins, and he lowers his legs, stretching them out in front of him. Leaning back, your spine hits a spot between his ribs, the same way it did when you were thirteen, and fourteen, and fifteen, staring at stars from the grass of his backyard. You pity the visitors that have yet to discover the simplicity of stargazing from the ground, hands pushed into the ground for stability, dirt and moisture seeping into the fabric of clothing. Pushing further into him, his breathing is heavy against your back, chest rising in rhythmic ups and downs. For what feels like hours, you sit in silence, eyes trained on your fingers that pick and fiddle. At the realisation that you haven’t looked at the stars in years, something bubbles in your stomach, pervasive, relentless. When you finally loll your head backwards to fall on his shoulder, and the tip of Kei’s nose grazes your cheekbone, you wonder how long he has not looked at the stars for as well. 

“Why’d you stop calling?” His sudden question sends a haze rushing into your head.

You swallow thickly. If the passage of time were a sin, you’d burden it with all your explanations. Telling him that now would seem like some lousy excuse.

“It stopped going to your line a year after I left.” You pause, searching for the right words to use amidst the sea of Japanese and English that you must now sort out. “I only stopped trying after another month, the voicemail just said your number was no longer in use.” 

Kei wishes he could dig his fingers into his chest and rip his heart out. If only he hadn’t stupidly broken his phone that night, five years ago during volleyball practice. If only he had checked his pockets before entering the court, just as he has done hundreds of times before. If only he had this, if only he had that, he might just torment himself for the rest of his life. His breath hitches, shoulder freezing rigid. Time does not differentiate between the knowing and oblivious. It slips and leaks beneath the noses of all that it encompasses, and it is but the cautious few that know to grab it, and join in on its journey. He knows now that he is not one of them, not after he’s cursed at the passage of time over and over and over for his own blunder.

“I broke my phone in a game. Got a new one so the number changed as well, fuck me.”

You laugh dryly into the empty observatory. The occasional twinkling of the stars above do nothing to make his explanation any easier. You think you’ll blame it all on doomed fate that you’ve spent five years trying to find somebody that felt the same as Kei did, to no avail. Blame it on cursed luck that you’ve clawed and grabbed at anything familiar enough, archaeology, jazz vinyls, old DVDs of the movie shared between two, all to remind yourself that he too, was once within grasp. You say nothing, because you don’t see a reason to. Instead, you push your head into his neck, drown in the scent of his cologne, ease yourself into his now grown body. You don’t see him wipe a hand across his mouth, then rub his eyes with pinched fingers. 

When Kei decides to speak again, it is what feels like another hour later. He’s readjusted his posture about fifty times by now, arms removed from the ground and draped over your shoulders. The sensation of your hair against his skin is suddenly more prominent than ever when your hands find his own, holding them closer to yourself.

“If I didn’t find you at the grave, would you have looked for me?” His question is heavy, weighing his chest down as the words leave his throat in a hesitant cluster. You turn to look at him, and your eyes linger on his own when you squeeze his hands once, twice, then a third time. 

“I’ve been looking for five years. Nobody else could take me home.” Your heart rushes to your mouth at your confession, and the bob of Kei’s throat does not go unnoticed. One of his hands comes up to hold your shoulder, pushing it towards himself until your body twists, rubbing against his. You let go of him, pressing your fingers into the ground between his legs instead, and he breathes out shakily, his windpipe suddenly cleared of its uncertainty.

“You’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Yes, I am.”

His fingers slide down to grab your wrist, before going numb completely. His unoccupied hand peels itself from the floor and settles on the side of your waist. Your mouth goes dry when Kei breathes, hot and heavy, his eyes travelling to every inch of you. A bout of heat rushes from his chest to his head, and his legs, and his arms too. The air between the two of you is thick, and it sends your head into a feverish blur. The ground collapses beneath your knees as they shift to press into the floor, and you come face to face with Tsukishima Kei, who prefers his hair parted in bangs on the sides of his face, and wears silver frames instead of black ones. Tsukishima Kei, who has been visiting your father’s grave on your behalf for six years, and still plays volleyball even in his adulthood. Tsukishima Kei, whose eyes are finally finished with their ventures across your figure, that is pushed up against him on the ground of an observatory, and is learning whatever he can about you when his fingers tighten around your wrists and he kisses you without a warning. 

Once, at the young, innocent age of seven, Tsukishima Kei kissed you in this museum. You had run a little too fast, stepped on your loose laces and fallen onto the ground face first. You sulked at a bench facing some random painting of melting clocks, red dots scattered across a purple patch right beneath your eye. When he kneeled in front of you to grab your face, and pressed his lips onto the bruise for a fraction of a second, he must have kissed the pain away, mending the leaking capillaries beneath your skin as he separated from your cheeks with a pop. Now, he pulls against your wrists to push himself closer, traps you in the embrace of his legs around the back of your thighs, wheezes and stutters against your lips at the lack of oxygen in his lungs. His head is running in circles instead of straight paths, and everything is spinning. When your hands reach to grab at his shirt, and palm at his chest, he pulls away only to rip his glasses off and toss them to the ground. Beneath the glow of the moon from above, everything but your flushed cheeks and swollen lips is a blur. You take half a breath in, before it is interrupted by Kei’s palms pulling you in by the sides of your neck, and his mouth on yours again. At seven years old, he ripped bruising pain away from your face with a kiss. At twenty-one, he forces his pain, and grief, and regret rushing into your heart by pushing himself against you, fingers tangling themselves into your hair as he kisses you, desperate, almost distressed. Every tug at your lips is a confession left unspoken, every time Kei opens his mouth apologies spill out into you in choked groans and sighs. At the sensation of his hand leaving your neck, your arm searches for him aimlessly, before he’s palming at you through your pants. He swallows your sudden gasp, and your fingers grip his wrist until your knuckles go white. 

“Did you ever like me?” You can do nothing but choke out a question against his lips, one you’ve pondered about, day in and day out, since your departure from Japan.

By the way that Kei nods frantically, you’re certain that this is what six years of separation has amounted to. 

Sparing no time, your fingers tug at the hem of his boxers, pulling them down just enough to release himself from the fabric constraints. He does the same, hands roaming until they find the waistband of your pants to push them down, fingers tugging your underwear to the side with a flick. He grabs you by the waist beneath your shirt, yanks your body towards him until something feels right and he can’t help but let out a trembling sigh into your shoulder. And when you finally begin to sink yourself onto him, agonisingly slow, you wish that you had never left Japan in the first place. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you wish that you could spend the rest of your life in this observatory with Kei, your hands wrapped around the back of his sweat-slicked neck. 

When he pulls you down to push further, more pervasively, you fall into him, head hanging over his shoulder and arms squeezing around his neck. His inexperienced hands rock you back and forth against his hips, pulling a flurry of gasps and moans from your throat. He lets himself learn how you taste when his teeth tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling it down to expose your bare shoulder. His lips latch onto your collarbone, biting and sucking a trail of red marks up to the side of your neck. You shudder at his advances, and he studies the way your walls flutter around him, the erratic pulses that draw stars around his head, how your nails dig into his shoulders, and send his mind into a senseless orbit. 

When he pushes and pulls at you a little harder, you whimper his name into his ear, reduced to nothing but a babbling mess that nibbles at his neck and kisses up his jaw feverishly. First friend, first kiss, first love. The notion that this is another first that Tsukishima Kei has brought upon you sends your mind spiralling. He should have been your first prom date, first roommate, first dance too. If only you hadn’t left him first. You push your head off his shoulder, hands moving to hold his face instead. A wave of pleasure washes over you when his palm presses against your stomach, and you hang your head low again, a shaky sigh released from your chest. 

When you look up, there are tears in Kei’s eyes. He rolls his head back onto the plush seat behind him, hands lifting you off himself fully, just to push you back onto him again. You collapse into his body, palms pressing against his heaving chest. 

“I- fuck! I fucking loved you! I still do!” He speaks it into the glass ceiling as one hand reaches for his face. He wipes his palm across his eyes, only for more tears to form. They are uncontrollable, relentless as he turns his head away from you. He isn’t sure how he will live again tomorrow, not when he’s finally come to a reckoning with the pang in his chest at every thought of you. He thinks he could die the second you step onto that flight back to London, ripped away from him once again. The reality that he cannot stay buried inside you for any longer than the next couple of minutes haunts him to no end, the idea of being separated from you a second time unbearable to even imagine. When he turns back to see you, head on his chest and fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, he decides that reality can wait until he’s finished with you. 

“I love you too- shit, Kei! I never stopped!”

You rut against his hips senselessly now, chasing some unfamiliar high as your vision fades to black and you scream his name until your throat goes hoarse. Kei barely gives you time to breathe, before he’s coming undone from right beneath you, shuddering and groaning as you relax against his body and go limp. He holds you against him, one hand pushing your head against his chest and the other wrapped around your back. He tucks your damp hair behind your ears, places kisses along your temple so he can hear the hums of satisfaction that sound from your curled lips. 

“Can you stay forever?” He mumbles into your hair, and you turn to press your ear against his chest. His heart pounds as he pushes his cheek into the crown of your head, and your hands crawl up his chest to wrap around his neck. When he looks up through the glass ceiling, the stars have not moved one bit.

“I’ll find you again, wherever you are.”

Time may slip away from Tsukishima Kei like petals that fall off the buds of flowers, water that seeps beneath the soles of his sneakers, stardust that hovers above the atmosphere. Yet he has learned that it has a way of always coming back to remind him of its presence, and its escape. You are the reminder that it has been sending to him for six years.

author's note:

ERM! never writing nsfw again that's for sure but this piece defs had some stuff that i was very, VERY proud of coming up with!! sorry to my minor moots who probably won't read this in its entirety bc of the big MDNI warning... but I honestly don't know how to feel about this piece as a whole... i was super excited to write it but i think i got a little impatient towards the end esp since im always writing at like 3am LOL but i hope you guys liked it anyways!!! i tried really hard to make the dynamic work and i hope it did!!!!!

also ps they exchange numbers again js a little extra bonus that i didn’t get to put into the actual thing

anyways tags!!

@staraxiaa @chuuya-brainrot @akaakeis @laughingfcx @writingsofanomnivore @t0rchknight @bailey-reeds @wyrcan @hiraethwa @fiannee @catsoupki @anonymity-222 @wishi-selfships @kuroppiii

ok love u guys thank u for being patient

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [4]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 7.1k

[1] [2] [3] [4]

nothing much to say this time but this is not beta read, my friend who was supposed to read it is unfortunately unavailable, idk if the argument makes sense in the end cause I personally run from confrontations so idk how to write good arguments so yeah.

This is a bit shorter than the previous chapters but the next one is longer again since-- GUNSHOT

ANYWAYS, Happy reading!!

Also I hope I got the taglist right, please if you don't want to be in it, do tell me. If anyone else wants to be added to the taglist, please comment down below.

TAGLIST: @wildestdreamsblog @canarystwin @prettywheenicry @jmnscutie @sassy-snassy @misuguru @11thenightwemet11 @yoongibaybee @rinkud

___________

In all of your years working for Bangtan, as one of their staff and the youngest stylist, you've been included in every life events and celebrations there is. Birthdays, first wins, comebacks, everything there is even something as important as family dinners. You've never skipped or forgot a single member's birthday, period.

But as Guwon stands before you, a plane ticket to Jeju in hand with the departure scheduled tomorrow and returning just a day short before the tour, you find yourself at a crossroad. It’s Jungkook's birthday tomorrow and Jimin has planned a small party tonight at their dorms before the formal celebration at the company the next day.

While you've been trying to rectify the awkward air between you and the maknae since his confession by starting conversations, the maknae only replied to you with silence before promptly vanishing in two seconds flat.

But despite the strain in your relationship, you could never think of not attending his birthday. You'd never thought to be petty enough to return his energy. His present was already wrapped in a pretty bow under your bed for a week now for Christ's sake!

“I-I can't… It's one of their birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Oh.” His smile falls. “Can't you just give your gift today? Surely they can party for one night without you.”

It was a genuine question, logical and true but for some reason, his tone raised concerns within you. You swear to the highest heavens you could hear a bit of irritation hidden beneath dejection.

You winced. “I can't, I'm really sorry… I-I can pay you back what you've spent for the trip. I'm really sorry, I just never missed any of their birthdays. I swear I'll make it up to you next time!”

Guwon's shine dulled the further you went on and your heart twinged with guilt. In another universe where some humans gained animalistic features, he'd have dog ears pressed to his skull, staring at you with wide and glistening eyes.

You waved off the image immediately, disturbed.

“It's also my fault for not asking for your schedule. The tour is next week and then you'd be away from me for months so I kind of… panicked. I'm sorry.”

He should've known better than not to do research on your bosses , a voice at the back of your head scoffed and you waved the thought away as you put a hand over his. 

“I should've notified you as well. Tell me if those are refundable or not, I'll pay you back.”

He waves you off. “Cute but I've been raised well to know not to ask a lady to pay for my mistake, so don't worry that pretty head of yours about not being able to go.”

The date continued and thankfully, no dead air remained and conversation eased out of the both of you. Guwon sorted out his reservations early on, he'd stopped eating every once in a while to pick up his phone to either receive a call or respond to an email.

With how often he answered the chimes of his phone and how long it took for him to finally put it down, you figured he must've prepared a lot for the week and it made you feel more guilty every time he did it.

Today, he brought you both to an indoor park he rented for an hour for a picnic. It was on the outskirts of Seoul and he also cooked most of the food placed between you both, his mother however, was responsible for the side dishes.

Speaking of mothers, yours called earlier to congratulate you on whatever it was she was adamant on keeping secret but you already knew what it was and you were glad Jungkook’s mother gave birth on such a perfect day almost 21 years ago.

Guwon was planning to propose to you during the trip.

It left a bitter taste in your tongue. Sure you had expected to be married to him at some point but you barely knew the man outside of his colorful stories, and knew none of his actual behavior in his home. You haven't even visited his house yet for a vibe check so why is he rushing too fast?

Despite the guilt in your heart, relief is more palpable knowing you'd have more time to figure out if you truly want Guwon in your life.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you took a glance at it.

[17:29] Jinnie: I'll pick you up at your apartment by 6.

[17:29] Jinnie: please be prepared😊

Seeing the t̶h̶r̶e̶a̶t̶e̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ friendly smile attached at the end of his message, you're suddenly reminded of the present. You hadn't told any of them of your date today, something that had drawn out longer than you thought it would. You frowned, fingers drumming on the side of your phone as you pondered on what to reply.

You had promised to help with the food yet here you are, out of town and on a picnic date inside a garden observatory.

“Who is it?” Guwon asks, seeing the frown on your face. Your mind immediately picks up the odd tone he has.

“Their oldest, Jin. We're supposed to cook together before the rest comes home.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I thought the birthday was tomorrow?”

“Oh, we're planning a small party before it, just his closest friends.”

Guwon nodded, eyes distant and thoughtful as he took a bite of his sandwich before continuing. “What time are you expected?”

“Their eldest said he'll pick me up at six.”

He looked at his watch and frowned deeper. “It's already 5:30. Maybe I can drive you to their dorm instead?”

You immediately shook your head. Remembering the promise you had with Jin and Jungkook. The maknae had recently begun to look at your direction again yesterday after Hoseok had talked to him, inviting Guwon would ruin the smallest progress you’ve had. 

Not to mention, you can't reveal their dorm location even if he is to be your husband. Company rules and you've signed an NDA.

“Company rules, can't reveal their location.”

“If we're going to be a couple soon, I'm going to need to know more about these guys you're hanging around. I don't trust them.” He says as he turns to the picnic basket to take another sandwich out, unable to see the twitch in your eye. 

“Well, you have to learn how to, they’re my bosses and my best friends.”

“I’m having a hard time believing that. I mean,” He scoffed. “Did you notice how they look at me whenever I’m around? That rapper—Yun–Yoonmi stared at me like I’m an insect he stepped on.”

Anger boils deep within your soul and you’re sure it's visibly contorting your face at this point but the man didn’t notice it and continued chewing on his food.

“Besides, their location is pretty well known already, no? Just a couple searches away, why be so secretive about it?”

You refrain yourself from frowning and it takes all of the energy within you to not react as wildly as you would’ve. It was amazing how the illusion of something good could shatter with only a few words and you set down the sandwich in your hand.

There's something terribly humbling upon realization that the man you're talking to is indeed, a man.

Noticing the shift in the air, he set down his cup of coffee with a slight raise to his brows.

“Why are you looking at me like that? It's true though, I just think it's pointless to try to hide it when some people already know, so what's the use of trying to hide their dorm?”

Where's Jimin and Taehyung at times like this?

You dreaded the conversation you're about to bring up to your mother once she calls, and could hear her scolding you for having such high standards. Guwon being indifferent to the possibility of being stalked, and your boys’ privacy being breached immediately raise red glaring flags over his head.

A lawyer himself who shrugged at the threat of crimes, the joke just writes itself.

“Don't look at me like that, I'm just… trying to understand why you didn't want me to interact with them after our second date. It makes a man overthink, know?”

Whatever thread you were holding onto, a sliver of hope that you might've misheard or misunderstood him, decayed within you and you picked up your phone to stuff into your bag.

You had hoped, wished, that after your deep talk on the night Seokjin had scolded your ass to the nines he'd understand your dynamic better with the boys or at least try. You could already hear Yoongi's drawl out ‘I told you so’ as you packed up, even imagine him bringing up Namjoon’s statistical analysis and how I should've listened to it.

“If you're implying what I think you are implying then I don't think we should meet each other anymore.”

Tossing the food back into the basket carelessly, you slung your bag over your shoulder and stand, only for his hand to shoot out to grab your wrist in an iron grip.

“Wait, I-I'm sorry! I just got… jealous, that's all.”

Even with the apologetic look displayed clearly on his face and the fear swimming with them, nothing could bring back to life the trust you had on the man and you pushed his hand away.

“I can't stay with someone who can't understand why those boys are important to me, sorry Guwon but we're over. Don't you ever contact me again.”

“You can't possibly be breaking up with me because I said what I felt? Over them? Really?!”

You don't even recognize the man sitting opposite you.

He knew, he saw how close you are with them and even sat through the stories you told him during your dates. Guwon knew you cherished every single boy in the group yet he disregarded it all because of jealousy? If that isn't a warning, then you might be blind.

“It's like I never even knew you at all.”

He scoffed. “Same with you. Can't believe I actually believed your words telling me you were friends but I saw how those boys treated you!”

Sure your relationship with your bosses is unusual but it was built from hardship and loneliness from being taken away from home and surrendering their time for a glimpse of fame in a field where they're at a huge disadvantage. It was special in ways not many could fathom because in their head, what reason would there be for a man to befriend a girl other than having the intention to fuck them?

It was the mindset of the old and “ wise” and it had infuriated you to the nines.

For him to reveal himself as one of those old cogs when he expressed himself as a gentleman and be convinced by his act of kindness, even the word disappointing could express how greatly upset you are.

“Bet you've slept with all of them at least once, hell, I don't even know why your mother bothered when you're already busy whoring yourself for seven men.”

Anger flooded your veins, it was hot and rampaging under your skin. Before your mind could even register your actions, your hand had already moved, making contact with his cheek in one swift motion. The slap echoed like a clap of thunder in the silence of the observatory.

Even after seeing the angry red mark beginning to mar his skin, your anger remained.

“Goodbye Guwon, I hope we never see each other again.”

Walking away was easier said than done.

You got picked up by Guwon earlier and since you've run far enough from the indoor garden, away from your supposed ticket back home, you're now waiting for an uber at a small library sequestered between towering and loudly designed buildings. You had half a mind to ask your friends that lived nearby for a ride but decided against it.

They might be busy with their own family. 

Unlike you.

As you sit there waiting for your ride to come, your mind takes you to your mother and her genuine glee at the thought of you getting married. Ever since your second date, she had been sending you photographs of weddings for inspirations, links to event places and tailors, and flower shops where you could have your bouquet arranged. She was beyond ecstatic, if she heard what had happened, she would be devastated. 

A loud, exasperated sigh left your lips, the volume catching the attention of the bookkeeper who was quick to shush you.

As you waited longer with only the deafening silence of the library to accompany you, doubt began to form at the back of your head. 

Was breaking up with Guwon really the right choice? 

An angry, louder voice screamed at you for doubling down on your decision. You knew your boys longer than you knew him, if the trip had gone through, Guwon would've proposed to you despite the short time you've known each other. Something you didn't want. Not to mention, he would've gone through the idea while contemplating on your loyalty.

So yes, it was the right decision!

But you were to be married .

Your mother was so happy to have finally matched you with a guy you attended three dates with. The thought made your heart clench, she was excited to see you on the altar and has most likely spread it around your town with pride. She was about to have three married children.

Gods, you don't want to imagine the conversation later on, she'd be distraught.

Your phone buzzed and you dreaded looking at the screen to see your mother's name. Luckily, it was Jin instead.

           [18:01] Jinnie: where are you?

           [18:01] Jinnie: knocked on your door but the neighbor said you were out.

           [18:02] Jinnie: you're late😒

           [18:02] Jinnie: I'm going to have them deduct your pay this month for making me wait

           [18:03] You: I'm sorry your highness for disappointing you, please forgive this servant of yours🤧

           [18:03] You: was on a date

           [18:03] You: not that it matters anymore, I broke up with Guwon

           [18:04] You: does it even count? I mean, we weren't official, he didn't ask me to be his girlfriend yet.

You paused, face souring as you realized what you've just typed. 

Guwon hadn't asked for your hand officially even after three dates, he had the chance on your second date during the stroll but he didn't. Despite this, he went and asked your parents for their blessings when he hadn't even asked you first.

           [18:04] You: wow I just remembered that

           [18:04] You: then he had the audacity to propose to me!

There's a pause in between his usually instant replies and you had an inkling he's already spreading the gossip around the group somehow.

           [18:08] Jinnie: wow there's a LOT to unpack there

           [18:08] Jinnie: but worry not

           [18:08] Jinnie: I'll have Jimin get us the strongest drink there is for later

           [18:09] Jinnie: we'll drink that sorrow away and you're going to tell me what the hell you meant by proposing while not being official 

           [18:10] You: I don't think I should tell you that…

           [18:10] You: considering… ya know

           [18:11] You: also don't you guys have an early schedule tomorrow?🤨

           [18:12] Jinnie: bold of u to assume I don't want hear how massive of a failure he is

           [18:12] Jinnie: nothing better than hearing your enemy’s downfall😌

           [18:13] Jinnie: also what do you mean ‘you guys’??? 

           [18:13] Jinnie: you're literally our make-up artist!

You scoffed at the message but before you could type up a reply, the notification from your uber app popped out to inform you about your driver now waiting outside the library and you walked out.

           [18:23] You: and just because I'm your make-up artist, doesn't mean I should let you all get away with this

           [18:23] You: and I won't even drink much :pp

           [18:24] Jinnie : if I ever see you stumbling around the house, you owe me 100000

           [18:25] You: WOW

           [18:25] You: AREN'T YOU RICH ALREADY????

           [18:25] Jinnie: money is money😌

           [18:26] Jinnie: just get ur ass over here already before I add more zeros to the bet

The smell of Jin’s cooking, both spicy and something savory, welcomed you first before the sound of sizzles did. At the sound of the door closing, Jin appears round the corner with an apron hung from his neck and a tong stained with red bean paste in the other.

Despite the disappointed look he's going for, reminiscent of a mother who caught her daughter coming home past curfew, the relief you feel upon seeing his handsome face after earlier was palpable and the knots in your stomach loosened.

“I should have your pay deducted for showing up late.”

You winced. “Sorry boss, can I appeal for a heartbreak discount on that?”

“Only if you give me a hug and cry on my shoulder.” 

He opened his arms wide, plush lips widening into a smile when you approached to wrap your arms around his torso. The fabric of his sweatshirt was soft and the scent of new laundry overtook his usual scent of freshly baked cakes and gentle vanilla perfume, it almost made you boneless in his hold. Moreso when he started stroking your head while the other ran up and down your back with his palm, fingers still wrapped around the tongs.

He didn't pull away despite the awkward position with him bending down and practically melting against your smaller form. In your years of being friends, you could never recall Seokjin being the first to pull away from a hug and once more, you're grateful for that.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll do it while cooking, we might burn whatever you're cooking if I told you all about it here.”

He shook his head, his rubbing motions on your back turning into gentle pats. “We can just order it online if it does, I even bet that they'll still eat it even if it was. Hoba was relentless today.”

His nails raked through your scalp and you resisted the urge to shiver. 

“He was being an ass towards you guys. Then when I defended you all, he accused me of sleeping around.”

His first instinct was to curse the man down to his ancestors who bred with each other until he was born, but stopped himself when he realized what he's about to say and cleared his throat.

If his arms coiled tighter around you, you only leaned into him further.

“Normally I would say "I told you so" but I know Yoongi has it covered later. So I'll just say—"

"Don't you dare. Jin don’t you dare finish that sentence."

"I knew it."

He let out a cry when your hand slapped his arm but it quickly dissolved into a fit of squeaky laughter and he pushed your head back under his chin before you could even continue hitting him. Hand continuing their petting as you let out an annoyed groan.

“My mom was so excited! God. I hate that bastard for disappointing me and her. She was sending me links to wedding planners and dressmakers because apparently he was supposed to take me to Jeju tomorrow and propose.”

He stills in your arms, the hand in your hair stopping its motion as his breath hitched in his chest. It took him a moment before he recollected himself and continued to pat your head, pressing a kiss on top of your crown.

“I'm sure auntie will understand, I know that she would've wanted you to find a good man like she and your sister did.”

A voice at the back of your head told you he was referring to himself but you threw the thought away as soon as it went.

“Personally, I would've taken the ticket and ditch him.” He laughed and you hit his arm with a barely concealed grin. “All I'm saying is that free things should be used and if it's gifted then better! You get to decide how to use it so refund it!”

“I don't think it's that easy.”

“Just say Kim Seokjin of BTS asked for a refund and they'll immediately accept it.”

Pulling away, you playfully rolled your eyes at him, earning you one last laugh as you walked to the kitchen where the sizzles of the food being fried on the pan had long been muted. Jin followed you with an onslaught of words spilling from his lips, justifying and detailing how he would've done in your place as you placed your bag down on the island counter before reaching for the spare apron.

Hearing his rants filling the silence made it easier to relax, made forgetting how upset you were at Guwon a walk in the park.

It was familiar and his voice, despite his fiery indignation, was oddly comforting.

Soon enough, your conversation halts and you both position yourself over the counter, following his orders mindlessly; which is mostly dicing the vegetables and the slabs of meat he marinated last night in soy sauce and spices. 

You found the repetitive motions of chopping soothing and silently thanked the man now hovering over the saucepan, gently stirring the seaweed soup. 

As if sensing your eyes boring holes on the back of his head, his ears reddened and he looked over his shoulder to meet your gaze.

“W-what is it? Wh-why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just admiring how huge your shoulders are and how reliable you are.” 

You recalled how dearly he cared for his group despite the exhaustion from practicing singing and dancing the whole day. Despite being the youngest in his family, Jin took on the mantle of the oldest brother in the group easily and selflessly provided for his members alongside Yoongi and Namjoon. If it were anybody, you were sure the boys would've been sick or had long given up, especially when the company was about to file bankruptcy in their earlier years.

From the bone shattering dances, exhausting practices and routines stretching from dawn till dusk, you were thankful Seokjin was there to catch the others when they fall.

It was a hard task nobody would've assumed since selfishness is a built-in trait of a human yet Seokjin proved you wrong when he stayed up every night despite the muscle cramps and exhaustion weighing his bones to cook for his members, taking the role of the eldest like it was a second nature despite being the youngest in his family.

He barked out a half-hearted laugh as his red ears brightened from the compliment. “I already know that of course!”

“Thank you for everything, Jin.”

His face crumpled when he laughed bashfully, the bright hue in his ears crawling to dusk his cheeks as well. It didn't take long before he recovered and like clockwork, in reaction to being flustered by compliments, he got defensive and raised the saucer threateningly at you.

“Ya! If you're planning to compliment me, at least be original! I'm done hearing about how wide my shoulders are from ARMY and how reliant I am from the others! We've been together for years, do better and be original with your compliments!”

It was a joke, obviously.

But staring at the older man childishly brandishing his cooking utensil like a bludgeoning weapon, you couldn't help but ponder about what truly pulled you into him only to realize that you've never truly dove deeper than surface level details. It was disappointing to find out how shallow you've been when expressing your appreciation for the man.

Like he said, you've always pointed out how reliable he is but never have you pointed out the small things such as the warm food he claimed have been extras and the hot soups sectioned off for you on cold days.

He was the first to approach you on the first day despite being the member who mostly kept to himself, asking you if you wanted to celebrate their Rookie of the Year win with them instead of the rowdy staff behind you. 

The first one to build a bridge leading to this deep companionship you had with the rest of the members, have you really never thanked him for that?

“You're so caring and humble despite your background and where you are right now. If it was anybody else, they would've left the boys to fend for themselves once they were able to yet you didn't stop cooking for them, for us. I don't think I have ever met a man so down to earth and as loving as you are,” You paused. “Well, except Jimin but if you want something more original I'd say I love your hands even when you think they're weird because they—”

You didn't even realize Jin crossed the distance between you both until his hands clasped around your lips, silencing you completely.

Unlike earlier with only his ears blushing, his cheeks now glowed red, the flushed skin spreading down to his neck, continuing past the collar of his dark blue pajamas. When your eyes meet, you find his glistening with unshed tears no doubt touched by your hastily put together declaration of your appreciation for him. 

When it was clear you wouldn't continue your rant, his arms fell to your shoulders and pulled you into a tight embrace. 

His violent heartbeats thudding against his chest was the first thing you've heard before you registered the stuttered exhales and his gentle saccharine scent filling your senses, clouding your brain completely. For a moment, it was just you and him in the kitchen, hugging a little longer than friends should be.

But then again, since when have you guys ever drawn the line on how platonic touches should last?

“God… You gotta stop doing that.”

“I'm just following what you told me like a good dongsaeng and I think I did exceedingly well on it. Does that guarantee a deduction on my pay deduction?”

There's an odd, invisible weight that lifted off of you, something you didn't even realize you were carrying. But there's also a tinge of guilt pinching the edges of your heart.

Jin was the first to approach you, and the first to confess four years ago. He was all shy looks and sweet smiles, his sweet words accompanied by a bouquet of flowers that must've cost him more than he could've gotten from being an idol of a new group. 

When Jin loves, he gives his all and doesn't think twice to give half of himself as well. In a way, he and Yoongi were alike, just with different approaches.

He was open and unapologetic while Yoongi was subtle and often silent.

His laugh twinkled in your ears but it dwindled later on, as if he remembered something towards the end of his mirth. “You're driving me crazy, how am I supposed to move on when you're this lovely?”

Hearing him confirm your suspicion about his crush—is it even called that at this point?—relieved you from an unknown anxiety most likely sparked by Jungkook's words a few nights ago. Why are you even relieved hearing him still liking you when all you've done is hurt him?

“You're such an idiot, you know that?”

“Love makes you do the stupidest thing but I don't think I've ever regretted ever falling for you.”

He pulls away, a gentler, softer smile now tugging his lips up.

“God, you made me sappy! My god, my soup!” 

Even without the warmth of his embrace, you could feel it radiate in the small space of the kitchen. You continued your work as Jin fuzzed about the seaweed soup behind you, bathing in the domesticity of it all.

Your phone vibrates loudly in your bag on the island counter. Wiping your hand on your apron, you opened it to see Jimin’s messages.

           [18:56] Mimi: seokjin hyung told me to buy the strongest alcohol 

           [18:57] Mimi: any idea why he’s being weird?

           [18:57] You: I’ll tell jin that you called him weird

           [18:57] You: but yes

           [18:57] You: I’ll tell you all later why

           [18:58] Mimi: 🤨

           [18:58] Mimi: not if I get you drunk in the first ten minutes

           [18:58] You: I’d like to see you try, pretty boy

Your phone vibrated again. Namjoon had texted you, seeing the preview you rolled your eyes.

            [18:59] Joonie: Seokjin hyung didn’t say but I already figured it out

            [18:59] Joonie: You'd hear enough from Yoongi hyung later but

[18:58] Joonie: I told you so

[18:58] You: I hope you trip and fall on shit🥰

[18:59] Joonie: Love you too, noona😁

[18:59] You: blocked🚫

“I'm not seeing enough chopping, young lady. Get back to your station!” Jin jokingly scolds. With a laugh, you return to your spot.

By the time some of the boys arrived—except Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung, no doubt pre-gaming somewhere—it was already ten and some of the dishes were plated, ready to be eaten in the dining room. If it wasn't for both your and Jin's advanced thinking to ready the bowl of rice and their plates beforehand, they would have starved to death as Yoongi dramatically puts it before blaming Hoseok for draining them out the whole day.

The man in question just laughed in response before shrugging and rebuking their ‘accusations’, saying it wasn't even that hard. To this, Yoongi grumbled under his breath and Namjoon rolled his eyes.

A few minutes later, the maknaes entered, cheeks all flushed except for Jimin who was holding up a bag full of canned alcohol as if it was game from an all-day hunt.

You thanked Jimin silently for drinking the birthday boy tipsy enough to make the dinner energetic instead of the awkwardness you thought it'd be due to what happened a few days ago. There's fleeting eyes you've caught in between jokes he made, either pouring with adoration or longing, you tried to not to pay it much mind.

But of course, the alcohol pouring could only go for so long before you're all lounging in the living room to talk about anything that comes to mind. It was half an hour short from the clock tickling to twelve, signifying Jungkook's actual birthday.

The conversation started off tame with Taehyung questioning the animals who sleep standing to something more elaborate with Yoongi asking everyone's opinion about some decrypt conspiracy theory surrounding the rich of the west. It was all fun and games when Taehyung, lost in his own mind running with the most random thought, sluggishly pointed at you and asked:

“Wh-why aren't you checking your phone? G-Guwon hyung haven't been texting you yet?”

Many heads turned to you who was practically boneless in between a tipsy Hoseok and a still sober Yoongi. You didn't even need to look to know the look of concern Jin was throwing your way.

But everything was hazy, your head throbbing from the alcohol. The words slipped past your lips before you could think about it.

“We parted ways… He accused me of sleeping around when I said I didn't want to go on a trip with him tomorrow ‘cause I didn't want to skip Jungkookie's birthday.”

Hoseok patted your shoulder and Yoongi nodded, face indifferent as usual. Despite the reaction of the boys on both sides, not everyone in the circle held the same opinion it seems.

“You didn't have to decline it, noona. You-you’ve been with us for years, missing one wouldn't hurt me much.”

Jungkook's voice was softer as if he had sobered up from the revelation and you waved him away.

“What are you saying? I couldn't leave when we weren't alright.” You glimpsed at Jin before continuing. “Besides, he was planning to propose and I'm glad he couldn't anymore.”

In your drunken mind, the information didn't carry much weight but the pin drop silence following your words did, you guessed that it must've been. However, it didn't last long when Taehyung jumped up to his feet and punched the air as if Korea just scored the final score in FIFA.

The boys look at him with wide eyes, shocked by his reaction. Jimin recovers and tries to tug him down but a drunk Taehyung is determined, with a will stronger than a monk's resilience and patience, no one could stop him from doing what he wanted.

And that was bumping his glass on your forehead, a little harder than it should've been if he was sober and you reel back, a hand over your forehead.

“Noona! you're free again! Do you know what that means?!”

“Ok that's enough for you tonight. Let's get you to bed.” Jimin says, chuckling awkwardly as he stands behind his best friend, wrapping his arms around his waist before dragging him away.

“Why? Can't I just congratulate noona from recognizing something was off instead of ignoring it like most do? Noona,” He turned to you, bottom lip jutted out. “It's not bad that I'm celebrating right?”

Seokjin’s laugh was nervous when he rose to usher the man away as well. “Alright, lets all calm down so we don't accidentally say something while drunk.”

“Fuck yeah! I-I don’t even know why I even believed his lies, he’s a lawyer for fucks sake!”

“Not that it ever stopped you before. I still don't understand why you couldn't have married one of us instead.” Jungkook cuts in, suddenly irritated.

Somehow, the tension in the room grew tenfold and everyone sits up, alert and ready to interfere if their youngest decides to let the alcohol take control of him. Your brain clears once it registered the annoyance in his voice, heart dropping to the soles of your feet.

“Jungkook—”

“I just think it's a bullshit excuse and you know it. You told that to Jin-hyung four years ago and have repeated it ever since. We’re all adults now, we can handle a little rejection and who’s to say we can’t date when we’re the only idol running the company. You say it's because you don’t want to choose but aren’t you just instilling false hope in us?” 

He stood as he grew more agitated but Jin pushed him down, eyes stern as he stared down at their youngest. Seeing the conflict brew between them, the growing guilt built by years of spending time with them reawakened.

It tied your stomach in a knot and felt like a building had dropped onto your heart.

As if sensing your emotions, Yoongi’s hand found your shoulder to give it a squeeze.

“You’re not thinking straight so stop it,” Jin excuses as he turns to you with an apologetic smile. “He’s just drunk, he doesn’t—”

“I know what I’m saying and I think you’re being too biased here hyung!”

“Jungkook…” Hoseok calls from next to you, voice low, a warning.

“You too! She’s also your friend, why aren’t you pointing out how she’s just playing with us? Why are you only calling me out?”

“Because you’re being a stupid drunk right now, Jungkook. Stand down .” Yoongi ordered, voice firm and warning. His arms are crossed as he stared their youngest down but the maknae wasn’t intimidated by it, if anything, the fire in the older man’s eyes only fueled the anger boiling within him.

In years you’ve watched over them, never once has Yoongi scolded their youngest past Run BTS contents, leaving the reprimanding to their oldest and leader. For him to call him out and seeing them grow agitated by each other’s presence, dread loomed over you with your nightmares threatening to come true. 

This isn’t how tonight’s party was supposed to go.

“Isn’t there anyone who’d agree with me at how absurd all of this is?!” His head snapped at Namjoon who’s watching with a careful eye. “Hyung, surely you can also see it!”

Throughout the exchange, Namjoon had sat back and watched the interaction from the sidelines instead of interfering on the first hint of a fight breaking out. Even when the situation becomes a little aggressive, he stays silent but you don’t doubt that he’d be the first to stand if the disagreement becomes volatile and inching towards physical.

That's what he always has done, observed and let the high rise of emotions eventually tides down to a calm on their own. He's a leader, he's supposed to be fair and to do so, he must first understand both sides before taking action. He also trusts his own team to temper their own ire after years of being together.

But now that he's forced to join the argument, he sighed and stood. Seokjin stepped away as he approached their youngest with both hands placed on his shoulders to sit him back down. 

Obediently, Jungkook follows.

“While I do see where you’re coming from, I think it's a bit unfair that you’re blaming her for being scared.” Jungkook opens his mouth but a firm shake of Namjoon’s head shuts him up. “Don’t start again. There’s a power imbalance here kid. If her choosing someone could cause a problem, we’d get off scot free but not her. In the eyes of the company, she’s disposable—”

“But she’s not.”

“She is. In their eyes at least. By having her around causing problems for us, she’s nothing but a thorn in their side that they should remove. If she had dated one of us and eventually broke up, it would cause an awkwardness and riff between guys especially if it ended on a bad note and BigHit won't stand for it. You know how important this job is for her, right?”

They stared at each other for a long while, both unrelenting in silence. You all waited with bated breath, Namjoon was the only one who could diffuse the situation and if he fails, then who else could possibly calm the maknae down?

Turning to the clock, you bit your lip at the time.

It was nearing Jungkook's actual birthday, three minutes short before both hands ticked to twelve.

Which meant it would have to start during the denouement of an argument. The thought planting discomfort in your stomach. Such a happy celebration shouldn't be welcomed like this.

In the midst of raised voices and pointing fingers, Taehyung has completely sobered up from where he sat between Jimin’s thighs, staring beady eyed at the situation in his friend’s arms. Sensing your gaze, he turned to you with a sheepish, apologetic smile when Jungkook's heavy sigh broke through the silence.

His head fell to his chest as Namjoon removed his hands from his shoulders yet his eyes remained on their youngest’s hunched form.

“You get what we're trying to say now, do you?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Anything you want to say, gguk?” Namjoon was talking to him like he was a kindergarten teacher and you both were kids who fought on the sandbox for the shovel, warm and understanding but the disappointment in his tone is clear as day.

Jungkook doesn't reply but he shoots up to his feet, surprising Hoseok next to you, with eyes still trained on the floor.

When he did look up to meet your gaze, it was brief and cut off by a deep bow. You reached your hands out, trying to stop him from doing so but Yoongi took one of your hands and pinned them down between his and your thighs.

Jungkook never had to bow for you and it felt wrong seeing him bent down to apologize.

“I-I’m sorry noona, I—” He trails off.

In his speechlessness in a room full of people who—while understanding where he comes from—stood behind you, he clams up and then in a flash, he’s gone, bolting from the living room and skipping up the stairs. The sound of his heavy footfalls echoing like the clock ticking down to his birthday.

The argument has been dissolved, yet it left a bitter taste on your tongue, it made you feel queasy having everyone back you up without reprimanding you as well. It was true, what Jungkook said. 

Weren't you practically leading them on by not choosing anyone? No matter how unintentional it must be, if he thinks that way then maybe everyone else in the group does, just silently.

You turned to the clock again. A minute closer to the next day.

Frustration made you want to pull your hair out but the long, lithe fingers that have entangled with yours in the middle of it all, forbade you from doing so. As if he could hear the internal debate between logic and emotions, Yoongi gave you a comforting squeeze.

But it didn't feel right, you shouldn't be sitting on your ass while Jungkook blamed himself for expressing his own opinion, sure it was a bit aggressive but you understood his frustration.

“Jungkook!” You called out, rising to your feet to follow him when Yoongi tightened his hold on your wrist and shook his head.

“He needs time to process, leave him be.”

Yet despite this, you shrugged his hold off and followed the youngest’s heavy footfalls upstairs and presumably into his room. You caught onto him in the hallway, with the door to his room opened and half of his body already inside.

“Jungkook, let us talk.”

“I-I don't want to see you right now, noona please.”

The desperation to correct the wrongs gives you a short burst of energy and you catch his wrist.

“Jungkook please, I—”

You heard the joyful chime of the clock downstairs before you heard the sweet jingles of bells.

Then you felt it.

Electric jolts shoot up from your connected hands, waking every cell and your mind awake and you almost keel over from the wave of relieving warmth washing over your body. There’s now a low hum accompanying the bells chiming in the background, the soft harmony between them sending shivers down your spine. 

You've thought of first meetings like those scenes in Hollywood movies where a kaleidoscope of colors explodes behind your eyelids, like fireworks celebrating the precious moment where the protagonists finally meet and fireworks shoot up to the sky. They talked of a brief moment of reprieve from reality, the world slowing down and feeling the most calmed you've ever been with your soulmate in hand.

Like your soul finally recognizing its pair and suddenly, everyone became a blur in the background.

Yet when you stared back at Jungkook's mirrored astonishment, your stomach bottomed out.

Because no way in hell, after all this time, you're soulmates.

[harksness]

She’s giving rich milf in this episode 😌

Like rich milf who’s kids you babysit and oh no her husband is not here and she needs to destress

BRO I WAS THINKING SOMETHING SO SIMILAR?? I GOTTA POP OFF ABT THIS ONE AND GET IT OUTTA MY SYSTEM

I was imagining a kinda Stacy's Mom situation pls help me im in shambles thinking about it 😭😭😭😭 just all the hot situations with milf agatha ugh 😭😭😭

ok some nsfw under the cut

like... she's your best friends mom... and you make any excuse you can to be around her. oh no you need someone to mow the lawn?? yes ma'am anything for you. oh you need help cleaning the pool?? absolutely youll be there. you come over to hang out with her kid??? she's a little too flirty when youre alone. one day you come over when your friend isnt home and you know it, just to see what happens. she insists on inviting you inside. she gets you a snack, sits a little too close to you and starts playing with you hair before commenting on how pretty you are.... maybe things escalate and she fucks you on the counter. maybe you start coming over to stay the night with your friend more and more only to sneak off into her moms room at night. maybe she needs to keep her hand clamped over your mouth to keep you quiet while she fucks you, breathing hotly against your neck.

or babysitting for her akjjdjf you stay up with her when she gets home after the kids have gone to bed and let her vent to you. quickly shes sharing a little too much about how her husband doesnt satisfy her, esp with his long weekends away for work... and when she leans over and rests a hand on your thigh you lose your mind a little bit. you dont think it can be real when she confesses that shes had her eye on you for awhile. idk maybe all of her frustrations cause her to snap a lil bit and she starts greedily making out with you on the couch you fell asleep on waiting for her to get home. maybe she gets on her knees and begs to eat you out. shes so desperate for a taste, its all shes been able to think about since meeting you. shes so pent up and desperate, she needs to relieve some of her stress and youre just too tempting. youre so so so happy to help her. maybe it starts to become tradition for you to wait up for her, for the two of you to fuck on the couch when she gets home from work after a long day. imagine making out with her and snaking your hand up her pencil skirt... shes grabbing at you, legs spread wide as she moans and praises you and calls you her good girl.

idk maybe she starts giving you little gifts. an expensive necklace she thought would look pretty on you... a nice lingerie set she tells you to wear for her. a new laptop for college.

idk maybe she sorta becomes your sugar mommy

uggghhh pls im not gonna be able to stop thinking about this milf agatha is the source of all my horny thoughts

[alixmarauders]

Ah hello~ :3 I heard you were looking for requests and uh I got an idea but its Remus x reader :"3 if that's alright?

So the idea is... Remus has this chocolate thing right? And he knows everyone's favorite chocolates... But no one knows his. Reader (who is a Ravenclaw) observes him and realizes what his favorite flavor is :3. So she first tries it by leaving a stash of it on his book in the library one day to which Remus LOVES. Then... Idk you do the rest 😅 I want them to interact in the end tho 🤧 like he discovers or like she gets caught dunno aha

Pomegranate chocolate | Remus Lupin x reader

LOVED this idea had to start writing as soon as I could, hope you enjoy this’

fluff

You had always had a crush on Remus. While everyone seemed to be lusting over Sirius’s bad boy vibe, or falling for James’s outgoing behaviour, you had always found Remus’s calmness endeavouring and kind of intimidating at the same time.

You never were the one to initiate things, could barely speak to people you didn’t know, but this time, you wished you could. You wished you could just tap Remus’s shoulder and introduce yourself like every other girl in Hogwarts did. You wished you could have his attention, even for just a few seconds, even if it meant being made fun of. But you couldn’t.

So, you kept on watching him like a stalker. You knew that it was creepy, and kind of out of character for you, but having a crush on the same person for three years straight makes you do crazy things. You knew his favourite book because he always seemed to read it in the library, at least once a month. You knew his favourite classes and his least favourite ones by noticing if he was there or if he was skipping them to go smoking in the astronomy tower. You knew his favourite chocolate, of course, and you noticed that it had been a while since he last bought it. Every time he went to Honeydukes, he came back with his friends’ favourite chocolates, never his, and it seemed quite sad.

That explained why you were now standing in front of the cashier, three stashes of pomegranate dark chocolate piled in your hands, sheepishly handing them over, your face the one of a thief who had just been caught.

You didn’t even know what to do with them, you didn’t know Remus, you couldn’t just come up to him with his favourite type of chocolate like a desperate schoolgirl, begging for attention. You just knew you wanted him to be happy, you wanted to see the scars above his lip crinkle, his eyes light up, and that cute little dimple showing, knowing it was you who made him that happy.

You walked back to the library, bag secured, and looked inside from shelving unit. It was then that you spotted Remus leaving, probably going to smoke, as he always did. You looked around: no one was there, it was Saturday night, after all. Slowly, you got up from your hiding spot, positioning the chocolate on his book; you didn’t stop at that, though: you picked up one of his pens and draw a little heart on a piece of paper, positioning it right above the sweet treat.

You weren’t  stupid, you knew he couldn’t know it was you who draw that heart, still you wanted to accompany the gift with some type of card. You decided to go back to your dorm, staying in your hiding spot would have been to risky.

What you didn’t see was Remus reaction to your little surprise. As soon as he saw the little heart, immediately knew it was you, his little obsession. He smiled down at the gift, finally you were showing him some interest. He had been making everything in his power to get you to like him back: looking at you in class just to see your cheeks becoming the sweetest shade of red, spotting you on the bleachers during practice only to use the hem of his jersey to wipe his face, showing his six pack. His heart swelled: he was going to make you his sooner than he expected. A plan slowly started to take form in his head.

After a week, you still had two other boxes to give to Remus. You decided to leave one of them in front of his locker during Quidditch practice, and the other one on his desk right before potions. Every time you gave him the sweet treat, you always draw an heart on the box, just so he knew that it was the same person who decided to gift him his favourite candy.

When he came back from his smoking break, you watched as he looked down at his desk, his face lighting up as he saw the chocolates, making your lips curl into a little grin. What you didn’t expect, though, was for him to be looking around, spotting you. In mere seconds you had become redder than the sweetest cherry, you looked down, praying he didn’t see your reddened cheeks from across the room, sprinting once the bell rang.

You decided to spend your day in your dorm room, too afraid of running into him. Sure, he couldn’t be knowing that you had a massive crush on him, right? You had been so careful, he couldn’t have seen you. You heard a knock on the door, and as you went to open it, right under your eyes were five boxes of white raspberry chocolate, your favourite.

No one had ever gifted you anything before, and no one knew your taste in chocolate, so that left you kind of surprised.

You gasped loudly, and then you saw Remus coming out from a corner, making you nearly faint.

“I know what you did” He was smirking down at you, the height difference making you feel even more powerless. You decided to play it off.

“And what did I do now, Lupin?” He chuckled, one of his hands coming to cup your cheek, making your false bravado fall as fast as it came.

“You gifted me chocolate. Three boxes, to be more specific. Always with those little cute hearts. My favourite type of chocolate, no one knows what my favourite type of chocolate is, but you do. My smart girl” He was staring into your eyes, his hand preventing you from looking away, even if you wanted to. “My question is, why?”

“Could ask you the same question, Lupin. No one knows my favourite type of chocolate, either.” He chuckled.

“I know why I did it. I really like you, Y/N, have been sporting a massive crush on you for a while. Are you insinuating that you feel the same about me?”

Your mouth opened, you widened your eyes. He was kidding you, this must have been a joke. “I- Is this some type of marauder prank? Because I’m not falling for it, Lupin, take your spiked chocolate away from me” 

“You’re so cute when you get mad” He caressed your cheek with his thumb, his face now dangerously close to yours. “I mean what I said, you know that?” He whispered, right above your lips.

“How did you know it was me, though?”

He smiled. “You always draw those little hearts on your books while you read them. Been observing you for a while now, I could swear there isn’t one of your books who has blank margins.”

Your heart swelled. The idea that he had been as obsessed with you as you were with him making you dizzy. You reached up for his collar, pulling him close to you, pecking his lips. He groaned loudly, his hands gripping your hips as he devoured your mouth, while you reciprocated the kiss with as much fervour.

After a while, you took a big breath, pulling away from the kiss. He licked his lips, making you blush once again. “So, Friday night at Hogsmade? How does that sound?”

“Good” You pulled him once again close to you, afraid he would vanish in thin air if you didn’t.

tag list: @sxmnc

[higgs-the-god]

dogs and dogs and dogs and...

[adoresia]

— Trust, Intimacy, and Irresistible Desire.

⋆.˚ Featuring : Geto suguru x fem!reader

⋆.˚ Warnings : Mature themes, strong language, emotional intensity, romantic content, suggestive content, emotional vulnerability.

⋆.˚ Hey..Sia here! : Yep so this is what I was talking about 😅 maybe its because I was listening to collide idk…..nothing more to say really x (gulp)

The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the paper-thin curtains of your small apartment, casting delicate shadows on the walls. The air was thick with anticipation, a quiet tension lingering between you and Suguru as you stood in front of him, your heartbeat thrumming in your chest. The night was still, save for the distant sounds of the city outside, but here, in this moment, everything felt intimate —like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you. Suguru stood tall, his dark eyes watching you with that familiar intensity, the kind that always seemed to pin you in place, making you feel like he could see right through you. His long, inky hair cascaded down his back, a few strands falling across his face, framing his sharp features. The slightest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and it sent a thrill down your spine.

"You seem tense," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, like velvet against your skin. His gaze never wavered, unwavering in its focus as he took a slow step forward, the space between you shrinking with each movement.

You swallowed, unable to form words under the weight of his attention. Suguru had that effect on you-he always had. Even when he was just standing still, it felt like he was in control, his mere presence filling the room.

Reaching out, he cupped your chin with his hand, tilting your face up to meet his eyes fully. His touch was firm, yet gentle, the contrast of his dominance and care leaving you breathless. "You don't have to be nervous," he whispered, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, sending a jolt of warmth through your body. "I'm right here."

There was something about the way he spoke, so confident and calm, that always made you feel safe, even when the tension between you was at its peak. He had this unspoken command about him, but it was never overwhelming—it was the kind that made you want to give in, to let him lead, because you knew he would take care of everything.

His hand slid down from your chin, tracing the line of your jaw, and you leaned into his touch instinctively, your body reacting to him without needing to think. He let out a soft chuckle, low and warm, clearly pleased by your response.

"You trust me, don't you?" he asked, though the question felt more like a statement, like he already knew the answer.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips curved into a full smile then, the kind that was rare for Suguru but always made your heart skip a beat. "Good," he said softly, leaning in closer until his breath ghosted over your ear. "Because I want you to let go tonight. Let me take care of you."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling in your chest as his lips brushed against your neck, a featherlight touch that left you craving more. His hands moved to your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you aware of his strength, of the control he held. He wasn't rushing, though—he never did. Suguru was the kind of man who took his time, who savored every moment, every reaction, like he was orchestrating something delicate and beautiful.

"Relax," he murmured against your skin, his voice a soft command as he kissed the sensitive spot just below your ear, making your breath hitch. "Let me hear you."

Your hands found their way to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as he continued his slow, deliberate exploration of your neck, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. He was always so composed, so in control, and it made your pulse quicken-knowing that he could undo you so effortlessly, with just his words and the faintest touch.

When he finally pulled back to look at you, his dark eyes were filled with something primal, something raw, though his expression remained calm, composed. "I want to see everything," he said, his voice low and rough, but steady. "I want you to let me in."

You nodded, breathless under his gaze, and in one smooth motion, Suguru's hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, his palms warm against your skin as he pushed it upward, slowly revealing more of you to his eyes. The sensation of his fingers grazing your sides, tracing the contours of your body, made your skin tingle with anticipation. He wasn't just undressing you-he was unwrapping you, savoring every inch like you were a gift he was privileged to receive.

Once your shirt was discarded, Suguru took a step back, his eyes raking over you with a mixture of admiration and hunger. "You're beautiful," he said simply, but the way he said it, the way his gaze lingered on your bare skin, made it feel like more than just words. It felt like a declaration. You felt a flush creep up your neck, your body responding to his praise in ways you couldn't control. Suguru noticed, of course-he always noticed. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he reached out, his fingers brushing your cheek. "I love how you react to me," he said, his voice soft, buyed with that quiet dominance that always sent your heart racing. "Every time."

Without breaking eye contact, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. His lips were soft, yet insistent, and you could feel the controlled power behind every movement. He wasn't just kissing you-he was claiming you, marking this moment as his. His tongue slipped past your lips, teasingly, coaxing you to respond, and when you did, he deepened the kiss, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if he couldn't get enough.

You melted into him, the kiss becoming a shared rhythm, each of you moving in sync, like you were made for this-made for each other. His other hand slid down your back, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel the heat of his body, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, matching your own. When he finally pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, you were both breathing heavily, the air between you charged with something electric, something you couldn't put into words. Suguru's eyes were darker now, filled with a quiet intensity that made your heart race.

"'ll always take care of you," he murmured, his voice rough, but steady, as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "You just have to trust me."

And as you looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, you knew that you did-completely. Suguru Geto, with all his quiet strength and unspoken power, was the one person you could give yourself to, without fear, without hesitation. Because with him, you were safe, cherished, and utterly consumed.

[rotthepoet]

I saw you say you have writers block so feel absolutely zero pressure to do anything with this, it was just a thought I felt like you could appreciate w/ me! I saw a Ron work forever ago (cannot remember the author unfortunately) where he was your bestie and you went on a date and came back unsatisfied from your date/hookup so he took it upon himself to take care of you but can you just for a moment imagine that situation with bestie Theo 🥹

He’s already angry because you’re his girl, and pretty much everyone in the school knows that so he cannot believe the audacity of some boy asking you on a date to begin and then for you to come back teary eyed and frustrated?! He felt like he could kill the guy for it. But obviously he’s not going to leave you like that- he’d never. So he fingers you with his pretty, thick, ringed fingers until you’re so relaxed against the bed that you’re not even sure you could stand. BUT You want more. He’s so hot and god the things he whispered in your ear while he had his fingers inside you were to die for. So you ever so sweetly blink up at him, batting your eyes so cutely, and ask him to pretty please fuck you. And of course, he happily obliges.

Other boys don’t ask you on dates anymore.

Maybe you call him daddy idk I can’t really make up my mind if that would be something he’d rock with or not

oMG I DO APPRECIATE THISSS I LOVE IT

nasty ass Slytherin boys i love toxic and manipulative men 🙏

Because Theo is literally pissed all week, Mattheo keeps making a joke that hes on the rag, because theo is unfocused, smoking constantly, adhd off the wall, shits going down

If the slytherin dorms didnt have stone walls there would 100% be a hole in them.

Regardless, He’s fucking pissed. Especially the day that uou go on the date. Hes staying up all night, pacing in the common room because his ruminating was too loud for his dorm mates, and in you walk, heels in your hand, lips downturned and obviously pissed off.

And omg theo is about to kill a man. Because why the fuck do you look so fucking upset??? Holy shit.

“Bella, whats wrong? What did he do?”

“It’s not what he did, its what he didnt do. Couldn’t do, i guess.”

“Oh?”

“…”

“Oh.”

And i mean. Theo cant just leave his girl hanging, all needy and clearly unsatisfied. He approaches you, slowly, afraid you might run away. He holds your face in one hand, leaning into your ear and promising he’ll make it all better. That he’ll step up as your best friend, this is what friends are for, right?

And god when his lips are kissing down your neck, biting and sucking over the marks your failed date had left, making them his own, you cant even argue.

So its really no surprise when he has you in your bed, your dorm miraculously empty for this time of night, and uour back is to his chest, and his fingers are spreading apart your folds, and he’s mumbling so sweetly in your ear. And fuck its so hood. Its SO good. You’re finishing in now time, pussy spasming around his long fingers, the once cold metal rings now warm and stained with your arousal.

But its not enough. Nothing will ever be enough when it comes to theo. And youre so fucking whiney and pathetic and how coukd theo say no when you practically beg him to fuck you, to fill uou to the brim with his hard, heavy cock.

I mean, he would never have said no anyways.

And so there you are, face down in bed, your tears being kissed away as Theo brings you to release over and over again, your core all puffy and sensitive from overstimulation.

He isn’t stopping until half your neck is purple with his love bites, and hes sucked a makeshift “T” into your shoulder, marking you as his.

[cordeliawhohung]

I’m taking advantage of this open request inbox and am requesting a Simon and chip carving pumpkins because because because because because idk

pumpkin carving | an In Limbo extra | simon riley x reader | fluff

happy fall <3

A silvery sheen glints off of blades in the amber light of the kitchen. 

Sterile. Laid flat. Spoons made for gouging litter the countertop next to toothpicks and bowls. These are tools for gutting. Tools made for hurting. Ripping out entrails and the essence of life in ivory seeds and webby viscera. 

Victims sit in perfect silence atop the counter. Cold. Unknowing. Unable to speak.

“It’s pumpkin carving, sweetheart. Not surgery.” 

“You take it… very seriously,” you humor. 

Simon’s smirk gleams brighter than the knives sitting near his fingertips. There are very few times when you’ve caught that ardent excitement brewing in the depths of his eyes, but you never expected him to be so ecstatic about carving pumpkins. 

“Course. This is a serious occasion,” he deadpans. 

“Uh huh.” 

Knuckles tap against the two pumpkins in front of you. He must have found the two largest ones at the market. Fresh and unblemished, they’re so big you swear they’ll burst. Their circumference trumps that of Simon’s own noggin. If you hollowed one out and put it on his head, he’d look like some blinded astronaut. 

“Want me to cut your top off for you?” he asks. The blades adorning the counter are long, yet Simon’s hands dwarf them as he picks one up. 

“My top, or the pumpkin’s?” you quip. 

The next time he smirks, his teeth peek between his lips. “Whichever one you want, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes, and it isn’t long before blades are sunk into taut orange flesh. Stems cut away, the fibrous strands are left exposed beneath the unforgiving lights above you. Tilting the pumpkin, you dip your hand into its guts. Nothing but sinew and cold goop greet you, and you try to hide your discomfort in the way it burrows beneath your nails. You toss the entrails into a bucket where they fester and sit. 

“How do you do this for fun?” you question, looking at the mess in the palm of your hands. “The texture makes my teeth hurt.” 

“Had worse on my hands before,” Simon admits. He’s using the side of a spoon to scrape and thin out the walls of his pumpkin, nearly twenty steps ahead of you.

“Dare I ask?” you mumble as you shake your hands. 

“Used to be a butcher,” he shrugs. 

“I feel like a butcher now.” 

“Least you don’t smell like one.” 

He helps thin the walls of your pumpkin when it’s sufficiently gutted. Black sleeves ripple and curl around his biceps, having rolled them up to keep them clean. Forearms exposed, you watch the muscle dance. Tendons pull taut as his arm moves repetitively back and forth. He’s so involved with the work he doesn’t catch sight of you staring. Gawking. You hate the feeling of pumpkin guts caught in your fingers, but you think you could watch him carve them all day. 

Next, he has you plan out your design by poking guide holes with toothpicks. Simon has a system. Expertly planned and thought out. He tells you how much Joseph loves carving pumpkins, and how Beth was the one who came up with the idea with the toothpicks. It’s hard to drive back to Manchester just for pumpkin carving, but now he has you now to partake in the Halloween festivities with him. 

“Careful now,” Simon warns. “Just sharpened them earlier, yeah?” 

“I know how to use knives, Si.” 

Hands up in playful defense, he lets you get to work. 

Simon is an artist, you learn. Really, it shouldn't surprise you that he takes an interest in it, saying how nearly half of his body is covered in sharp designs and ink. It’s nice watching him work. Brows furrow with focus while deft fingers transform a simple gourd into a sculpture — he looks like a work of art himself. 

Chiseled out of marble with pick and hammer, the hands that made him were clumsy, yet you’d kiss them all the same. Just the same as you’d kiss the crooked bridge of his nose and the deep settled scars and keloids that jut from his body. The soft curve of his abdomen. The rigid lines along his back. 

“Ow, fuck…”

“What’d I tell ya?” 

You’d even kiss that stupid smirk on his face. 

It vanishes the moment he sees the blood drip from the side of your finger, choosing instead to coo and corral you out of the kitchen. Arguing with him, you tell him it’s not as bad as it looks as he sits you on the sofa in the living room, but he doesn’t listen. It isn’t long before he’s knelt in front of you, wiping the blood clean and patching up your trivial wound. 

“Gotta prevent cross contamination,” he says just as the blood stops flowing. 

“Cross contamination?” you repeat. 

“Yeah, between you and the patient.” It takes everything within you not to scoff at him as he secures a band-aid around your finger. “Y’know, I always thought surgeons had steadier hands than that.” 

“Insulting my work?” 

“You might never practice medicine again.” 

This time you truly flout him with a huff. He’s finished patching you up but he stays knelt before you, pinching your finger between his own as if he can’t quite cauterize the wound. 

“Anythin’ else I can do for you, doctor?” he hums. 

Sighing, you look over your shoulder toward the kitchen. Your oversized squash sits midway through surgery with a half formed eye. “Might as well finish up my work for me. You know, since my license is about to be revoked.” 

Simon gets you to look back at him as he gently tugs on your finger. You watch as he raises your hand to his lips where they gently curl around your digit in a kiss. His eyes don’t stray from you for a moment. Unrelenting. Adoring. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

You’re left sitting there with a sliced finger that burns with the weight of a kiss as he goes to finish carving your pumpkin. It’s too late to worry about contamination; you’re already afflicted with warmth. Some raging sickness that leaves your skin on fire. Still, you thumb over the fox themed band-aid with a smile as your lips begin to tingle in jealousy. 

[meo-eiru]

meru, i always did like elias but he really really has been growing on me lately and i just have so much appreciation for the way you crafted his character like it is legit so beautiful😭💔

there was this advertisement that used to play on tv when i was a kid, and i can't really remember what it was for or abt tbh, but it had this man that lived on the moon and everytime you post elias content i kinda just remember it somehow.

there's this sort of isolated air around him, all he has is his self and his darling, and even then — it's not like he can always keep them around, no matter how hard he tries. so he's kinda left there, stuck with himself so to say. someone he doesn't love, and in turn, struggles to see how anyone else can love. in his head 24 hours a day, thinking how he can use the only trait he has to his advantage.

i can imagine all those things eat him up little by little, which is why he's volatile at the slightest indication his darling could be losing interest. their stopping him from hurting himself, somewhere is soothing, like a headpat, bc it feels like they're telling him they still care despite all odds.

how does one recieve love they feel like they don't deserve? in a way, he builds a bubble around himself bc of that w/o knowing and then there's just this surmounting distance he doesn't know how to lessen. so man on the moon, staring at earth through his telescope everyday, but failing to feel its warmth bc though he revolves around it and monoplises the fact that he belongs in its orbit, he makes no move to get closer. constantly trapped in the thought that he is stuck where he is, and that place is an undesirable home.

idk know where i'm going with all this and i rambled a lot so you can just ignore it actually ahaha all i really wanted to say was that you're amazing and elias deserves quality hand-holding time😩💕

I LOVE THIS ASK!!!

You captured Elias as a character so so well.

Elias truly is like a miracle. People who used to ask me stuff about him should remember, he basically didn't have any story. I don't know if it was just sheer force of will, or if it was thanks to you guys, but he developed so much within these past few weeks he existed.

I've never seen the ad you mentioned but based on what you said it fits him so well. A lonely man who was thrown out of the bubble due to his biggest blessing, and keeping himself there without realizing.

So lonely, so desperate, so self aware yet too far gone to fix any of it. Thirsty for your love yet thinks he doesn't deserve it causing him to always be on edge. So contradictory, so unstable.

A man who so desperately yearns for your love, to feel alive, to know he exists, to know someone is seeing him. He doesn't care what happens to him in the progress, he just needs you and your love.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Observant

Being the Hand's young, second wife came with a lot of responsibilities, one of which was mellowing the frustrations of your husband.

Otto Hightower x Reader | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, age difference/age gap, smut (piv, slight dub con, degradation kink, breeding kink, overstimulation, anal fingering, dacryphilia, sadism, praise kink) fluff I guess, typos, etc.

A/N: so i made a poll on what to write and fluff won and this is literally pwp but it has a fluffy ending (???) so it counts HAHAHAH IDK OTTO BRAIN SHOT. LOBOTOMY ME IDC I HAVE TO GO TO WORK NOW BYE. A great day to be an otto fucker amirite HAHAHAH cross posted on ao3

You take in a breath the moment you reach the Hand's office. A chill runs down your spine as the night air seeps through your robe and night dress.

In truth, you figured your husband would have appreciated not being interrupted by you, though his pointed instruction otherwise, but there was another truth you answered to: that is, the ache between your legs that your fingers could not quell.

Even now, there was a heat that spread, which only intensified at the thoughts you knew would come to life the moment you knocked on your husband's office door. So you do.

"Who is it?" the deep voice snapped with as much intensity as a rabid dog.

Your belly instantly rolls. You rub is as you tighten your robe with one hand. The other, which was holding your lamp, shivers under its weight. You weakly manage to muster, "tis I, my lord."

A beat of silence.

You stiffen at the sound of heavy footsteps marching your way. A soft gasp leaves your lips when the door swings open and the face of the Lord Hand was glares at you.

"What is it, girl?" Otto hisses, both his hands resting on the sides of the door opening. His frame overwhelms you. His eyes are tired and his jaw is tense. 

Yes, you did always feel like some petulant little girl under the scrutiny of your much older husband. You lick your lips and exhale deeply to calm yourself. Simply, you remind him of his own words from earlier today, "tis the hour of the owl."

Lord Hightower is unmoved.

"I've come to fetch you."

A vein at the side of his neck threatens to pop. He pulls away and heads to his desk, "I have much to do, thanks to the fucking king."

You purse your lips at his words, thinking about the said man. Aegon was around your age, if not a bit younger, and at some point you had been friends, until you were promised to his grandfather.

You walk up to Otto's side and he rather instantly makes a spectacle of his abundant papers. He rants heatedly about it for a good moment, before turning to you. His face is worn and his shoulders squared, "I will not waste my time further by explaining this to you. Leave."

Otto places a hand on your bum and pushes you off. You budge, for after all, he was a man much bigger than you, even if no longer in his prime. Your hand darts to his desk to keep yourself upright, and the hand holding your lamp grips it firmly so that it would not slip. You return to your previous position as the man continues with his work.

"L e a v e," he drags out with audible vexation, "now."

"No."

He freezes.

"You will leave," you correct "—this room. Tis the hour of the owl."

Otto turns to you, offended, "you command me?"

You clench you jaw, "you command yourself. I am simply your obedient servant, lord husband."

Your lord husband stands. He towers over you and presses close, so close that he takes your lamp and puts it out, leaving it ignored on his desk, "am I not commanding you now?"

Your heart races when he takes your neck, thumb pressing on your throat as he rubs it. He can feel your raging pulse and it excites him, but not as much as your next words do, "you are you unkind when you are exhausted."

"To whom?" 

"To everyone," you mutter, "you must retire."

Otto releases your neck and heads for the door, "I will not."

Your brows furrow as you watch him storm off.

You realize only what he meant after following him into your shared chambers.

He grabs you from behind and sinks his face into your neck. You feel his beard against your skin and his hands eagerly clawing down your body. He pushes you into bed and you manage to look over your shoulder for the few seconds as he undoes his breeches. Not a second later, he pushes you on the sheets and pulls your skirt up.

You whimper into the cushion, bringing your face to the side as he rests his weight between your shoulders. He clenches his jaw as he grabs your hip. You obediently shift on your knees and gasp when he rubs his groin into yours. He sighs out a string of profanities when he feels your wetness. He pulls back and looks at the softness of your thighs, inspecting the pooling lust on your cunt. He rubs your clit, "my cherubic wife, so ready to be taken by her aged husband."

Your belly trembles as he uses your warm slick to flick your sensitive nub, leaving you to do nothing but curl your toes and whine into the sheets.

"Body so eager to be molded by my cock," he mutters. He slowly sinks two fingers into your weeping folds. He stretches you with his fingers and sinks deep, relishing the warm stickiness coating his digits, "so pretty like this. More so with my seed mixed with your arousal, dripping down your puckered cunt."

He continues to serve you with his fingers until pressure builds in your stomach. Then, with no warning and little care, Otto replaces his fingers with his hardened cock and fucks you thoroughly from behind. The hand he hand by your shoulder blades tingle into your hair. His other hand tirelessly works on your clit, expertly rubbing them that your body writhes under his weight.

You are trapped beneath him, however. He need only push on your head and lock your legs with his; you can do nothing else to do but take his cock and his fingers.

The sound of wet slapping skin and your uncontrollable whimpers dampen out the creaking and thudding of your bed against the stone wall. Quickly, your breathing began to grow strained and Otto gave no indication of slowing, especially not when he merited a scream from your lips from the pleasure building hotly in your stomach.

"Otto, Otto-" you begin to whine, nails ripping into the sheets, "w-wait— I-"

He furrows his brows at your words, offended that you would instruct him grant your reprieve. Just as he felt your slick building against his clothes? Even if he wanted to stop to catch his breath, he would not.

Alas, mortal man still was he, and his plowing had to slow. Slow, not stop. Though his arm began to tire, his fingers did not relent their assault on your swollen clit. He made up for any delays with slower but harsh flicks of his hip.

Your peak caught both of you off guard, and you came around his cock with a ghastly noise that made him stab your womb roughly in surprise. He stops moving altogether soon after.

Upon realizing the absolute bliss that seized your form, he puts all of his focus on your clit, wanting nothing but to make you shake and tighten around his wet cock as much as he possibly can.

The wind is knocked out if your lungs and your eyes water at the intensity of it all. And soon, it was all too much for you. It was all far too much, and yet he did not stop.

"Otto," your voice is hoarse as you sob into the dampened sheets, dampened with your tears and saliva.

He does not acknowledge you at all. He continues rubbing your pulsing clit with his fingers no matter how much your belly shook or your thighs trembled. He adores your mousy noises. He pulls your head back by your hair bit and slowly begins to thrust into you until the bed begins to creak at the intensity again.

It's too much, and the noise that rips out of you is nothing but further indication of this.

Your body struggles beneath him, your parted thighs that turned to putty were now shifting frantically in the hope to be free of this overwhelming sensation. You clench and unclench around him, hips pushing forward and back in an attempt to break away, but it, in fact, only makes your heady husband double down on his efforts to keep you in place.

His fingers only then finally leave your abused clit, but any form of recuperation you could get is stolen by the way both his veiny hands grip your hips and his manhood invades your cunny, intent on staking its claim.

He grunts as he looks down at your helpless form. He does nothing but use you for his pleasure and he cares little of whether or not your pretty pussy will tighten and quiver around him again.

Otto rubs your bum then coats his thumb with your slick before pushing it into your vacant rear, enough to hook into you and to make you squeal.

Soon enough, he can feel his legs ache and his belly burn. He ignores the former and his energy is sustained by the promise of filling his shaking bride with his come and watching it drip out of her.

Otto is silent while you noisily protest beneath him. Just as he begins to feel his balls tighten, he feels your cunt squeeze him again. Your neck strains as he bends down to lean into you, "take it, come slut. You know want you want to."

"S't-too much," you whine, tears rolling down your face.

Otto could not care less and begins to rub your clit again. You scream out in response and it's enough to make him reach his peak.

He slams into you with no steady tempo. He cares only for the pleasure raging on his cock and wants only to empty his balls into his warm, raggedly bride. As he does just that, feeling come and sweat drip from your garment to the sheet, he takes a few more thrusts, shallow ones where he does not move out of you very much, to ensure he thoroughly stuff all his heated lust into you.

And ever the dutiful husband, he plays with your clit for as long as it takes to make you scream and spasm into another pretty peak

Your nose is running as you sob, but the twist of your expression tells him that you were enjoying every second of it. He laughs, deeply, contentedly, pinning you against him and the bed. He doesn't listen to you until he is more than assured every bit of pleasure is wrung out of your darling body.

You begin to whine again like the tearful babe you were. You whisper an exhausted plea, "please, no more, Otto. Please."

He shushes you and pinches your clit, just to see you flinch and hear you beg some more. And beg you do, "n-no more, please," through sniffles.

He grips your jaw and kisses your salty cheek. He pulls you both to your sides, unwilling to pull out just yet. He has to ascertain his seed catches in your snug womb. He massages your breasts, imagining them get bigger for the babe he fucked into you. He pinches your nipples, making you whine again.

"O-Otto-"

"All is well, wife," he mutters, releasing his hold, only because you pushed his hand away. You lean into him as he rubs your belly. He rubs your nape with his nose, "good girl."

[gemini-atz]

Seonghwa as your Boyfriend₊˚⊹♡

('Realistic Imagines' + Astrology Based)

Background/Disclaimer: !!This is all my own interpretation based on my personal astrology knowledge and research. I consider myself an amateur!!

✩Gemini Notes✩ IDK what happened but I ended up getting really into writing the NSFW part of this and it got long so I'm making a part 2 for it which I'll post tomorrow night! I'll create a link at the end of this post and in my Astrology Series Pinned post. If you'd like a tag please comment!

SEONGHWA SUN Aries MOON Cancer MERCURY Aries VENUS Aquarius MARS Aries

Dating Seonghwa is pretty much like being with your best friend. He's such a caretaker and protector in your life almost from the moment he enters it. You guys probably had a base of friendship for a bit before you started dating, and it would have probably (definitely) been you crushing on Seonghwa hard first before he even notices his own feelings for you.

Aquarius Venus and really anyone with their Venus in an Air sign tend to seek intellectual or stimulating connections with people before falling romantically. For Seonghwa his partner should be someone he also considers a close friend. He'd be like the guy you'd meet in your second year of college in class because you were put in a group for an assignment and of COURSE you two turned out to be the only two that even gave a shit and tried. Showing a sincere interest in his hobbies or likes would really endear him to you, and he would try to return the favor by getting into yours. For Seonghwa, a comfortable kind of friends to lovers thing is ideal. He loves spending quality time with you but his idea of quality time is very much giving parallel play, where you both do your own thing in the same room, maybe listening to a playlist you made together. With his three Aries placements, he has the potential to have a really explosive temper. It's a little diminished by his Moon in Cancer but he's probably the type of guy who holds in all his annoyances until he can just get them out at the end of the day either through his hobbies or physical activity. Basically, he likes to keep his mind focused and his hands busy. Air Venus signs can come off as aloof occasionally to other passionate signs who literally want to be with you all the time. He's the kind of boyfriend that will give you some space if you need it, because he'll need it too. You'll be soooo tempted to go an interrupt him when he's focused on his Legos because he's just so beautiful and cute when he's focusing but the thing he loves about you is how much understanding you always give him; its all you can do to just kiss his forehead and go to read a book while laying on the couch. Eventually he'd come over to you, bouncy and energized and flop onto the couch, wiggling up to rest his face into your chest and wrapping warm, solid arms around you. "Can I show you the set I just built?" He'd ask, and of course you say yes! His eyes get so sparkly while he shows it off to you, smiling so proudly at your reactions. If you're a person who loves being spontaneous or adventurous with your plans, having Seonghwa as your boyfriend means you two will genuinely have a lot of fun together. He's the boyfriend that wants genuinely does want to go to art museums and fashion archive exhibits with you, and you guys can chat excitably about your opinions of different works, be it games, anime, fashion or music. As a couple, you are always ready to try something new and probably always have weekend plans.

As a Cancer Moon Seonghwa might gravitate toward the caretaker role in your relationship and tends to anticipate your own needs before you do, just doing little actions to look after you, like preparing your coffee or tea in the morning while you rush around getting ready for work. He isn't super big on PDA, maybe holding hands in public is as much as he's comfortable with but once you're alone....he's your personal giant teddy bear. So many hugs, so many cuddle sessions where you both play on your Switches and pause occasionally to show each other something cool or cute in your game.

You'll end up thinking its funny that some people have the impression your boyfriend is quiet or shy; If he's not saying anything, he just might not be interested in the conversation. Once you get him talking about his interests he's a certified YAPPER. And, surprisingly one of the most stubborn people you have ever met. Like, good luck feeling like you can ever "win" an argument. With both a Sun and Mars in Aries, Seonghwa feels like he can give you energy just from being near him. Aries men tend to have a lot of physical stamina and can push themselves pretty far in that aspect.

Which brings me to my next point......

NSFW

I see Seonghwa as someone who eventually gets into orgasm denial on his partner because of just how long he can go for. That Aries stamina feels like he's the type who can cum and be ready to go again faster than you were expecting.

Read More (WIP)...

[rinnstars]

impressing you!

itoshi rin attempts to tell you he likes you in questionable ways

itoshi rin x reader : fluff, crack, use of brain rot terms, dti mentioned, super bad ending i’m so sorry idk anymore school got me, not proofread + likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

growing up with itoshi rin with all his personality quirks, you were pretty sure you could expect anything and everything from him - whether that be him showing up at your house at midnight without any warnings, or him wearing your hello kitty pajamas after school for ‘fun’, or even eating frozen cheese straight out of the fridge for breakfast. but nothing could prepare you for what the hell he just asked you.

“what.” one chance for him to take back, or more so one chance for you to regain back your sanity from whatever you just swore to god he asked.

“.. i asked if you’d like to play dress to impress together.. you know because youre always playing it during class.” what the hell.

maybe the world was ending, and you look outside only to now be even more dismayed that the sun is in fact shining, the sky is perfectly blue, and there was no cloud in sight. then maybe this was all a dream after spending the previous night playing games, you pinch yourself and to your horror, you do in fact feel the pain as you nip at your own hand, almost yelping to the oblivious rin sitting beside you. or maybe your eyesight is failing you and you’re seriously deluding yourself that its rin simply after being apart from him for months, you think, removing your glasses and wiping it and nope - that was in fact rin, still wearing a blank face that youre far too used to.

“do you even have a roblox account..” you were 100% sure that whatever horror games you’ve seen him play does not involve roblox and he’s probably more likely to be a discord mod than a roblox player - credited to you friending him on steam and seeing the horror of games he has bought on that app

“.. ill make one now.” and you think maybe blue lock has actually rotted rin’s mind or maybe his friends there has corrupted the rin you once knew.

and instead of spending your math class, you know paying attention and doing the work assigned, there you were at the back row playing dress to impress with itoshi rin attempting his best but clearly not dressing to impress anyone to say the least.

and maybe this is a miracle and an awakening because you were so sure since a little kid that itoshi rin, your best friend in this entire world, do not have any weakness - whether that be in sports (for obvious reasons), in arts (getting an A even though he ‘winged it’), in games (carried you in shooting games and horror games) that maybe you’ve finally discovered his achilles heels that is apparently fashion.. and handling getting humbled by kids on roblox.

“why the hell is this kid calling my outfit skibidi toilet” if anything, in your honest reaction, you’d call me something worst than that looking at the total mess of a outfit he was wearing because why the hell is he wearing two hairs at once that do not merge at all. in fact, you’d be polite to even call whatever he’s just made an outfit in the first place because it looks like he genuinely spun a wheel and picked pieces at random.

even funnier is that you can practically see rin’s ear letting out steam - clearly upset that he’s apparently not winning the top place. if anything, you think its funnier because he doesnt even rage like this playing his competitive shooting game, or when he doesnt get a good grade for his exams, or even when he drops his ice cream when you were little, only when he plays soccer and apparently dress to impress. now maybe with his ego, or whatever he said learnt at blue lock, would be able to let him score a goal (win top place with a good outfit)

however, to his dismay, and to your expectation, he in fact does not win top places, not even top 3, by the end of the hour long math lesson.

and to him, he practically just lost the first tip that bachira told him and as he quotes “if you like someone you’ve got to like have shared interest right?” and clearly and unfortunately he just cannot get into dress to impress in the same way that you just aren’t really interested in football which he completely gets. but now he’s in doubt about his own situation and by that he means the love test percentage thing he was convinced to take by again bachihara - failing at a whooping 15% that he was meant to be your soulmate. but if there’s something he’s good at, its perseverance and he will not give up just because multiple kids in the game called him skibidi toilet

and right now he thinks hes absolutely down bad and he is only proving the allegations that he really has a crush on you when hes spending time after football practice to play dress to impress. even worse, hes looking up online guides on “cheatsheets” to get outfits, entering millions of codes to unlock hidden items, spending the entire night playing this game.

and of course, its at 4:30am when you log in only to find one person playing dress to impress and youre pretty sure this is the equivalant to a sleep paralysis demon as you blink all the sleep away in your eyes to confirm the words in front of you: itoshi rin is playing dress to impress in the middle of the night. more specifically, itoshi rin who preaches about taking care of ones body by sleeping early, eating all three meals, doing yoga every single day is ruining his sleep scheuldue for a roblox game. and as all sleep deprived people do, you send him a message to confirm that its in fact him and not a hacker.

chat

you: r u playing dti or have u not logged out of dti since class 😭😭

rin: playing

you: R U ACTLLY INTO DRESS TO IMPRESS… who r u impressing 🙏🏻🙏🏻

rin: you

and you feel your heart stop - and not because of caffeine, or another realisation that yoive forgotten to do your work right in class or winning a lucky draw from the ice cream you share with rin. but then the realisation hits and youre now instead let down because of course sleep deprived him would say such words that unfortunately made your heart pump because of all the years you’ve known him, you know that whenever he doesnt sleep well, he always becomes a different person, spouting nonsense about everything and anything as all the logic that he’s so used to melts away from his brain. and so you without thinking close your phone and leave itoshi rin on read.

and maybe its even worse that when you wake up, you realise rin sends you the number of stars he’s collected over his overnight grind that’s somehow more than the amount you’ve gathered throughout the weeks of playing dress to impress and even funnier because he’s clearly texting the wrong person.

chat

rin: (1 attachement)

rin: is this a good rank bachiara

rin: should i check if mine n y/n’s soulmate on that love website increased

you: shld be 100%

rin: from 15%?

you: i’m more accurate than it btw r u still on dti

rin: ?

rin: oh ignore

you: no lets play tgt actlly vote me 5* i need to have more stars than u

and you can’t wait to go to math class to play dress to impress with rin at the back of the class (spoiler alert: he won all the rounds somehow) now dating (he gives you five stars)

[angelyuji]

Do you think ford would try to make a clone of the person he's obsessed with? Idk i feel like it might be up his ally to pull something freaky like that. Like obviously it's not actually them but they would have similar reactions to certain "stimuli" 👀. He's curious and no one has to know.

Also on another note about somno stuff, what if before you wake up from being drugged you have a wet dream about him and you feel so bad like hes so much older than you and here your lusting after a man thrice your age. He could be your father for christ sake but hes so goddamn cute and sweet and brilliant, its like watching nuclear fusion in real time.

You offer little acts of affection that can be brushed off or you think fords sleeping while you kiss his cheek/forehead or touch his arm or hand. You think you're not good enough for a literal genius and he's just going full send into creepville.

Using while you sleep, stealing your things keeps MULTIPLE journals on your habits, preferences, and anything password protected from him wont be for much longer. The man cant be bothered to touch himself anymore because its utterly lackluster in comparison to being inside you.

Also seeing you be sweet to mable and dipper?? Mans is gone, he's thinking about everything he missed out on while he was stuck running for his life for decades but the domestic moments have him hook, line, and sinker. He considers what it would be like to start a small family or just pretends that his great niece/nephew are his and your kids. Just desperate for the normalcy he lost for so long.

tw // implied noncon, somno, stalking

omg so yes on the clone thing. like absolutely he’d make a clone of them. he’d definitely use the clone as practice for the real you tho.

also the somno thing, you feel so bad for it and you can barely look him in the eyes. and he’s still reeling at the fact that he managed to get away with it. he starts to notice how you’re becoming more affectionate too and he takes that as sign to be even more aggressive with his behavior cuz obviously you’re falling for him.

i feel like seeing you interact with the kids is def one part of why he fell in love with you too.

[crushedsweets]

ej x nurse ann but in a will they won't they flirty friendship kinda way🤭 they are always trying to one up the other when it comes to medical work too so it's like lowkey flirty rivals.. do u see what I'm putting down Sweets?! Long story short I'd let them both operate on me

wait omg i was gonna draw smth for this but its been so long n im tired so i should jsut type.

also it feels so weird to go back to talking abt creeped lore cuz i feel like i have so much information but idk how/if anyone could emember it cuz its been sooo longgggg LOL so if anything is like "??? this isnt canon ???" its cuz my AU is very specific and changed etc etc. CREEPED DISCLAIMER WE ARE SO BACK

OKAY SOOOO. in my au specifically, nurse ann is a fake nurse! she was a red-room sorta cam girl (killed ppl for donos), and used a sexy-nurse-persona to draw in more views!

meanwhile, jack only got a few internships in at hospitals during his masters program before the sacrifice.

i could see jack meeting ann because he's close to Lulu and feels really protective over her. so he'd be guiding lulu back to the hospital one day, holding her hand and being all soft spoken while Lulu goes on her little ghostly rants.

and of course, Ann pops up !!! and she's so beyond horribly annoying!! quickly peering over Lulu's shoulder and being like "hi handsome, youre so tall, whats your name, your voice is so deep" whatever. i think it would embarrass the hell out of jack and he'd just be pretty stiff n awkward. polite, but awkward.

eventually he'd scamper off and ann would tell lulu to "get your little tall friend over here". and maybe it would work, HOWEVER, in my creeped canon, it wouldnt go anywhere beyond jack being like T_T and ann eventually giving up . she wont tim too bad.

HOWEVERRRR, if we diverged from creeped canon(which already diverges from creepypasta canon...) for the sake of ann x EJ...

i think it would be cute if she kept flirting, and he was kinda like Jesus Christ you are beautiful . LMFAOOO. and she picks his brain about college life and just him in general, out of curiosity, while he picks her on....well... being some sort of zombie demon vampire thing.

and she'd love him quietly pulling her apart at the stitches. making quiet little observations and scribbling notes and i think EVENTUALLY, he'd get to the point where he is just being snarky with her. theyll be sassing eachother and bickering and she'll be like "well if you keep talking to me that way im not gonna let you make a single note on me ever again" and he's like "you know that isnt true."

LOL.

WAIT. IM KIND INTO THEM RN WAAAIIIIIITTTTTTT

[muffinsin]

hi hello hola bonjour aloha 😵😵😵😵

OKOKOK SOOOOOOO ........ i know this request is weird BUUUUTTTT could u maybe possibly do the dimitrescus being with someone (as in, having an s/o) thats a humanoid arachnid??? If im spelling that correctly? rahhh idk

like, imagine those spider-people with like, agile spider legs on their back, sharp fangs, multiple, red/purple/gray eyes, dark fluffy hair, red/purple/other markings, etc etc. I think it would be funny since theyre literally flies dating a spider .. which eats flies

u can use doctor octavius as reference for the spider leg placement if u didnt understand, or like, angel dust??? Its up to ur interpertation, really, but id prefer if they did have normal human legs .. and features .. since a giant spider with a human head feels unnatural .. giggle, giggle

AS ALWAYS!!! take care!!!!!! Make sure to take breaks inbetween requests!!!!!

WITH MUCH LOVE AND LESBIANISM 😈😈😈😈 (the gayness directed at the dimitrescus .. not u, becauze .. i dunno u .. and thats weird)

-- 🐾🧃, AKA JUNGLE JUICE 👽👽👽

Piece out! (Not peace, i require violence)

Hell yeah!!🙌 Funnily enough, I think there was once talk of an arachnoid reader on this blog, but the idea got lost somewhere. I’m happy to dive back into it now!👀 Let’s get into it!

Masterlists

Bela

What started out as a sudden introduction in the forest, soon became more

Back then already, Bela was- unsurprisingly- intrigued by you

After all, your appearance alone is enough to make most double check whether they saw right

And she was certainly no better

Though, at the very least you did the same then, not quite believing you ran into one of the infamous Dimitrescu daughters

During your first interaction, time almost stood still as the two of you inspected one another-

you, standing in place when you ran just moments ago,

Bela, stilled with her sickle held in her hand, as though frozen like a deer in the headlights upon running across you

- it was a cute moment, even, in itself. Both of you, stunned by each other

Where you saw a pair of strong, piercing golden eyes, she saw multiple pairs of eyes

You watched then as she studied them almost, her own flickering across your face

The two eyes at the center of your face, human-looking in every aspect but their colour

A dark grey, she originally thought

In time, she would find and adore the specks of red and purple in them, only found upon closer inspection. But more of that later

Then, more eyes, stretching across the side of your forehead almost

5 of them, some more slit than others, some smaller, some larger

She shivered at the sight, but even you saw the curiosity shimmer within her back then already

It was clear to both of you that neither was mortal. Not entirely so, at least

Where you saw her regal, almost gothic and Victorian dress and the sickle, she spotted torn clothing

A villager, or at the very least that’s what you used to be

Only was your clothing torn and almost webbed shut again, the strings keeping your cloths together so fine they couldn’t possibly be any fabric or wool

While her fingers held the sickle tight, your long ones moved slightly, as if restless

More things were apparent immediately, such as,

Your long, strong legs allowing you to stand tall, nearly the same as Bela

Something unusual, certainly

And then, of course, the other pair

The strong, somewhat thin pair of arms or legs- Bela could never quite tell- sprouting from your back

The fuzzy, dark hair falling down your shoulders and back, a little too untrimmed, a little too wild for even the villagers’ standards

And the strange marks stretching across your bare arms

Neither of you attacked one another, then

In fact, neither of you moved, until the sounds of the angry mob of villagers faded away

You don’t entirely remember most of what happened after, only remember begging her to take you with her

Despite its reputation, you knew working and living at the castle must be better than starving out at the forest

And, holding the same curiosity in her tone, she agreed and took you in

Only were you no mere staff member, dusting this and that

You were Bela’s favorite

And everyone knew

You worked for her only, didn’t take orders from even the head maiden

The two of you spent more and more time together, chatting and sharing bits and pieces of yourselves

Your- nature- certainly made your work more challenging and fun

As such, at times, you would hold onto the walls with the limbs stemming from your back and climb high to the ceiling to dust even the top of the shelves

Often- surprisingly often given how busy she was- Bela opted to join you

Not in cleaning, of course. You’re sure she thinks it’s below her

Instead, she’d often- and still does- swarm halfway, as if sleeping on an invisible mattress in the air

She’d watch you work, talk occasionally

At other times, she’d trace your limbs gently when no words were exchanged

And, unsurprisingly, the ever growing bond and fondness between the two of you leads to something more

While Bela was the first to initiate things, you proudly claimed the first kiss from her

Upon being in a relationship, she found out more about you still

Like the sharp fangs in your mouth, which she loves to trace and feel dig into her skin

She loves the webs you spin, her fingertips occasionally dragging against the light silk

Sometimes, a fly of hers gets stuck

That, she loves less

And still, you always take care of the little insects, ensuring they won’t be trapped in some of the smaller webs you leave

At times, you quite intentionally web her, your spidery silk-like web trapping her arms above her head, her body fondled by the many limbs you possess….

Alas, we’re trailing off, but of course, your nature, body, and abilities are appreciated in all aspects

The bedroom being one of them, too

Though, Bela loves nothing more than cuddling up together, too

Especially when held in your arms, all of them wrapped tightly around her

It’s perfect to her, and often a blanket or two will be thrown in the mix in winter

Once, you suggested wrapping her up in your webs to keep her warm, which she quickly shut down

You learn, she doesn’t like feeling like prey, dislikes the feeling of being stuck like…well, a fly in a web

Speaking of, insects are strictly off the menu for you

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t encourage you to hunt, though

Often, you spin your webs at the forest surrounding the castle, hoping to bring back a catch that might earn you the favor of her younger sisters and mother

At other times, Bela all but swoons when you trap a particularly delicious maid and deliver her to her as a snack

Still, there is one thing that amuses you to no end…

She loved you, wholeheartedly. And she loved your arachnoid nature, too. She loves every bit of you

So you can’t explain to yourself why your partner is so terribly scared of spiders

The small critters truly do a number on her, prompting screams and shrill squeals, shivers and so on

Always, you ensure there are no spiders in the castle. No webs but your own

…Your lovely girlfriend and her sisters, suffering from arachnophobia

The thought always makes you giggle

Cassandra

Looking back, you can hardly believe your luck

Not only did you survive Mother Miranda’s experimenting, the depths of the village, the infamous basement of castle Dimitrescu and its residents, but also wooed one of them

Having Cassandra sleeping soundly on top of you, your limbs wrapped around her, you allow yourself to think of how you first met

Her eyes, a dark golden light in the dark, piercing you the very same day you were sent to the castle basements

And it seems, you awakened curiosity within the sadist

Of course, a being like you would

Something so rare, someone so unique

While you were originally made to be her newest plaything, a failed experiment handed over, Cassandra had no interest in killing you

Not that this stopped her light torture

Though, looking back, you can’t help but giggle. Even then she showed you affection in her twisted ways

Like when she’d stroke a dagger along your limbs, the touch strong and grounding, her breath fast

She has always been so very curious about you

Your eyes are her favorite part of you

She loves how unsettling they look

Sometimes, she whines; she wants to pluck them from you so very badly, to hold and kiss, to preserve and carry with her always

You have learned to understand and love her twisted affection, her rough words and the gentle, almost romantic meaning behind them

While you could easily get lost in her dark golden eyes, the same goes for her and your eyes

Sometimes, she likes to just stare at them when you cuddle, her eyes desperately trying to meet all of yours

It’s an admittedly adorable sight

And even during your first introduction, when she had grabbed your face harshly, she easily got lost in your eyes

While originally chained to the moldy wall of the basement, you’re upgraded fast

You become her obsession, her pet, her favorite horror in the castle

An honor, really

You know when she calls you her horror, it’s the most romantic thing she can express with words

She loves every part of you, too

Early on already she experiments with you, your cooperative nature catching her slightly by surprise

As such, when she lifted and prodded, cut and sniffed and what not, you always took it as an opportunity to talk to her

Early on, you find out more and more of Cassandra

Later, you learn she often rambles mindlessly when utterly absorbed in her experiments, games, and torture

As such, early on already, you listened as she rambled about her sisters and her hunts

Your presence was always a refreshing one, really

Cassandra is bold

As such, when she noticed just that, and how much she had grown to care for “her experiment”, you were moved from the basement

Quickly, your relationship turned from one of a captive and their tormentor to desire

She clearly desired you, her breaths ragged around you, her heart beating fast, her lip bit, her hands touching up on your limbs eagerly

And you had no reason to hide your attraction, in turn

To this day, you like experimenting with her

In a way, it’s allowing her to get to know you more

Often, her experiments mean working out new techniques to spin webs

At other times, she wants to see how precisely you can control the limbs stemming from your back

With a nice routine of spending nearly every day together, it’s no surprise when you eventually made a move on her

One Cassandra eagerly accepted and returned

She isn’t one for terms, and has never been. You’ve never been her prisoner. Never her friend. Never her partner

Always, you are what she feels

You’re her love, her passion, her horror, her excitement, her desire, her sadism

Due to this, there has hardly been a change after you’ve asked her to be your girlfriend. To her, you’ve always been what you are to her

You’re her partner, despite how she doesn’t like naming what you have

Her favorite couple activity is spending quality time together

She loves to hunt together

Her favorite game?

To chase prey into your web

She laughs loudly when it happens, her pupils wide, her hands twitching

If you ate humans and raw meat as she does, she would grant you the first bite, sometimes

As such, she likes to watch you wrap her prey up and carry it home for her

Her second favorite activity is to experiment with you, and do art together

She likes it particularly much when you spin a web and allow her to direct you, the silky threads assuming a shape to her liking

As it comes to experimenting, she finds it particularly fun when the two of you get to chat, one of your limbs holding onto her or handing her tools

The others are usually made to hold down whatever poor soul has caught her eye and is now to die

But really, her bright smile and manic crackle of laughter seems to make all your remaining morals drip away

Other things she loves is to use your webs to create obstacles when she trains

She knows she can’t achieve Daniela’s speed and precision as it comes to flying and the swarm, but likes to practice either way

And you like to help her by putting webs in her way

Only sometimes does she get stuck, growling and grumbling to you and herself when she’s…well…a fly in the spider’s web

Oddly enough, this doesn’t bother her, yet when even the smallest little spider is near her, she freaks out

Usually, that means you get to flick it away, hunting it down and only granted a rest when you present your love with the creature’s body as proof of its passing

You shake your head, smiling fondly at this, before returning to stroking your long fingers through dark hair. Less thick, more combed and cleaner looking, yet nearly matching yours in color

She hums in her sleep. You know, she will awaken soon, ready to hunt or plead with you to please play with the maids with her

It’s so very fun to see them stumble and cry in the webs, she insists

Daniela

To say Daniela was intrigued by you at first sight would be a vast understatement

Obsessed, more like it

Having been dragged to a lord’s meeting after countless experiments done by Mother Miranda, it’s the first and ideal opportunity to meet everyone

Including the stunning woman by the tall lady’s side

Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters, you learn

Daniela’s eyes are on you the instant you’re revealed to the lords

Gold with specks of green, piercing and curious, obsessed and eager

They flicker across you, your face and body, until they move back and flicker across your face, seemingly searching for eye contact

Eye contact, which proves difficult with the many sets of eyes you have

Oh, but she immediately gets lost in them

You flinch in surprise when she moves, fast, uncaring of the audience the two of you have

She’s pushed against you in an instant, her hands cupping your cheeks

Her skin is nearly as cold as yours, her palms cool as ice

She studies your eyes intensely

While she finds specks of red and purple, you find light shades of green hidden within the pools of gold of her eyes

Both of you immediately seem to fall in love with the sights presented to you

While you’re introduced as nothing but a failed experiment, Daniela immediately sees more in you

She begs, out loud as though she has no shame-

and maybe she doesn’t

- and she pleads:

“Mother, I must have them, please!”

And, you learn early on, Alcina Dimitrescu seems incapable of denying her youngest any wish she has

And in turn, it seems Mother Miranda has difficulty denying Alcina

As such, you’re handed over promptly, officially made Daniela’s property

She’d scoff at the title. You’re hers, though

You’ll be her best friend! Her love! Her soulmate!

She’s not wrong, at the end

For the first time in your life maybe, you feel free, even as you officially “belong to her”

You receive your own wing, even, though it’s near her own

You’re a little surprised at this, though now know that you’re given the entire wing by Alcina Dimitrescu to ensure no intruders would past the deadly webs and manage to find the precious youngest daughter

You’re quite proud of that, too

You like knowing you’re what stands between Daniela and any potentially dangerous intruders

You like knowing your webs will catch them should they sneak where they shouldn’t be

The only things she asks for are honesty, affection, genuine interest and respect

Things you’re eager to give her

In return, you receive time and space, love and affection, honesty and eagerness, care and happiness

While the two of you seem to start out as friends, more builds up between you fast

Daniela, bold as she is, is the first to initiate things, to steal looks and kisses, lingering touches and more

You eagerly give in, and the two of you become impossibly close

As such, you often sleep with her curled in your arms, your arms and legs wrapped around her, your limbs keeping her pressed close to you

She loves cuddling, loves holding your hands while your other limbs are wrapped around her

At other times, she likes to fight for fun with you

It’s a game to her, to evade your webs and limbs, to tackle them only to be smacked away by one of the long, strong limbs stemming from your back

Sometimes- usually- she wins

At other times, she ends up webbed by you, giggling when you make use of the opportunity to place small kisses all over her face

When she hunts on her own, she often takes you with her

She likes to race you, seemingly ignoring that your strength is not your speed, but the tactics and strategic placement of your webs

In the end, she likes to compare who captured the most prey

Often, it’s you, due to the many small animals getting lost in the webs

Though, she usually claims the larger and faster victims

Afterwards, she likes to indulge in snacks with you, often stroking along one of your limbs absently

When you’re spinning your webs, she likes to stay close and watch, occasionally freaking out when bits of her get stuck

She’s whining and snarling then, unable to free herself until you cut the webs loose and tug them from her

Despite liking your webs and being in your arms, Daniela doesn’t enjoy the feeling of being stuck in your webs

Too often has she lost herself as a fly in some spider’s web…

[zhongrin]

To the kinich post

why can we kill baby monsters and not cats. Or dogs. Can we kill the foxes on Inazuma? The seals yes.

Hoyo is weirdly specific with that is a monsterlife lesser then a stereotype pet?

Or do cats symbolise something else in the game because of Venti being allergic?? (He is a fucking WHISP not even human he is just copying an appearence how the fuck does he have an allergy??? HE CONTROLS THE WIND HOW THE FUCK DOES THIS EVEN-)

We are the monsters here.

Have u seen the hilichurl just chilling around. The slimes playing? The evolved hilichurl watching the world? They use instruments. Slimes to fly. They know how to use instruments. Pyro slimes for explosion. Dendro to create shields (how the fuck i want that too) anemo to transport and fly.

They have a fucking language. Most are former people. We are just to ignorant and fearful to realize we've been killing sentient people who laugh and have fun and have their own traditions and-

*falls over and gets carried away by an exasperated husband* "...I know I shouldn't have given you a sight to the over darkness."

ok nvm i lied i didn't (can't) sleep bc of all the noises outside (yay /s) so here goesー

hskdjskdj no idea i mean game-design wise it makes sense sure, but lore wise??? idk why we're attacking these natlan ppl and their saurians, they look normal and are mostly just chilling in nature... why are we beating them up? lore wise? i don't think there's an explanation for it?? maybe they 'got too excited' like what the daily quests says and we're just calming them down?? lmao

and again if we approach it lore wise, it doesn't make sense for the traveler to continue killing the hilichurls either?? at this point they know what the hilichurls are. so yeah, it's all for the sake of gameplay orz

........

hnmmm. here's an idea...

cw. not proofread, word vomit, violence/light gore

you get isekai'd into teyvat. you're worshipped as the creator and all that pizzazz; we all know how it goes so i'm not going to explain further.

now imagine, one day you decide to stroll through the lands, accompanied by a few select people; perhaps the 'main team' you always use for exploration in-game. a few ways away, you see a camp of hilichurls. obviously you know what they actually are, and you got curious if you could do something for them, right? i mean, being the creator, an all powerful entity, you might even be able to reverse their curse? who knows? better try it out!

so you step closer to try and communicate with them.

but to your utter surprise, instead of doing so, you find your body moving on its own, hand raised to grab the nearest character's weapon, before swinging with the full intention to kill.

thud.

the blade decapitates the poor creature's head.

as it rolls on the ground and you stare at the gruesome sight in both horror and denial, bile rising from the back of your throat, your acolytes follow your example and proceeds to eradicate the entire camp.

your will is their command, after all.

you can't even scream. you can't find your voice. nit because of fear or sadness or frustrationー you just can't.

once they finish, they return to you, expecting praise and adoration, only to be greeted by tears and muffled sobs. they don't understand why you were crying; even before your descent to teyvat, haven't you been commanding them to do the same thing, countless times? they try to offer you the remnants of the hilichurls' bloodied masks and divine scrolls ー you've always liked receiving those! why are you crying harder? what did they do wrong?

you look like you were trying to say something, but they find the words leaving your mouth is of a language they have never heard before.

you thought you could find a home in the world you loved so much.

but you just feel..... lost.

[spoiler/explanation below]

eventually, you realize you were no 'creator' of this world at all.

you were just a string marionette of celestia's.

'the creator' had always been an illusion; an existence They created to pull the blanket over everyone's eyes. your existence's sole purpose is to control the archons, the dragon sovereigns, and the people of teyvat. like an ignorant shepherd leading the sheeps straight to the maw of the wolves.

you weren't some all knowing creator.

you weren't even a monster.

you were never yourself at all.