#king bamboo bed

[east-coast-stars]

Bedroom - Master Example of a large master bedroom design

[tranceindia123]

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[fairmaiden8]

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[spectralreplica]

But do you think the plan will work?

Oumota: tarot reading edition! I had this idea during Oumota Week and just got around to finishing it now 😔. At first I thought about giving Sun to Kaito and Moon to Kokichi (a la Reversed Sun by grayimperia), but I think it works better to have them both in each card, to highlight the parallels. (If you want more explanation of my design thoughts, I'll put it under a cut at the end.)

General tarot meanings:

The Sun: happiness, confidence, success, optimism, innocence/childhood, inspiring others, internal motivation, truth

The Moon: illusion, imagination, uncertainty, secrets, confusion, intuition/the subconscious, fears influencing you, insecurity

The Star: hope, regaining inspiration, renewal, healing, moving on, new purpose, calm after the storm (Reversed Star: despair, lack of faith, pessimism, boredom, anxiety, being overwhelmed by past problems)

.

I feel like while Kaito is naturally more Sun coded and Kokichi more Moon coded, they have some qualities of both cards. And Star vs Reversed Star is so temping to bring in for DR.

I was thinking of it as a past, present, future kind of reading, but also maybe situation, action, outcome. Starting out with high self confidence and some childish black and white thinking. (Maybe a little over confident and childish to the point of egotism and inflexibility, shades of reversed sun...). Covering for insecurities by projecting a fake persona to everyone around, doubling down on the lies and self-deception a la chapter 5. Finally, either coming through everything stronger, with renewed hope, or else crashing and burning, overwhelmed by unacknowledged issues that have built up.

.

As for the specific imagery...

Sun: I stuck pretty close to the traditional imagery here. The flag/banner has their respective prints on it, and I put Kaito on Mars while Kokichi remains on Earth. It's also sundown or sunset for Kokichi; is he moving towards the Moon or away? The horse is obv. very chess piece inspired. Kokichi gets his King Horse a la the mask on his bed, and I gave Kaito a pegasus because flying.

.

Moon: Moving a little bit away from traditional imagery as more of the canon situation seeps in, but still pretty close. The moon floats "outside" the cage, wearing their respective false faces. (We know from the ending that the skyline on those glass panels isn't real...) They both have an Exisal in the background in place of one of the towers, but Kaito has a bamboo grove a la Princess Kaguya; Kaguya came from the moon and she will go back, no matter how much people on Earth love her. Kokichi has one of the racks that sits beside shrines where you're supposed to tie bad/unlucky omikuji (paper fortunes) so that the bad luck doesn't follow you; living in purposeful denial of bad things, but they lurk there on the horizon.

They both still have at least one dog/wolf, but I gave Kokichi a fox because of their association with being tricksters. Also, wolves and foxes, as predators, are framed as villains in stories, but at the same time it's also not uncommon to see them as heroes (stereotype of predator/hunter vs stereotype of bravery/nobility and cleverness). Also, contrast of fox and hound, like the clash of Kokichi presenting himself as childish + annoying vs a genuine threat. Kaito has the dog, monkey, and pheasant that accompanied Momotaro, continuing his fairytale theme.

Everyone seems to argue over what the crawfish means in the original, but I went with the interpretation of moving from water to land, evolution, things coming to the surface. So, Kaito has a koi. I think most people know about the "koi climbs a waterfall and becomes a dragon" thing because of Magikarp, but here it is again just in case! Kaito's got an aquatic creature struggling against its nature in hopes of someday actually transforming into something grander. Kokichi has a poison dart frog. Already amphibious, so it can go between water and land freely, but visibly harmful to anyone who tries to get close.

.

Star: The least traditional imagery and the most V3 canon imagery. There's still a tree, but it's a pine tree. ...I dunno, no explanation for that, it just looked nice 🤷‍♀️The two jugs are replaced with the poison and antidote bottles. Originally, they're supposed to represent the conscious and subconscious and pour in two different places, but here they're mixing together directly. V3 resolves the "truth vs lies" theme by arguing you have to accept ambiguity. Also, Kaito and Kokichi's whole plan rests on them managing to work together to obscure exactly who is in the Exisal in the end.

There's a figure in the foreground in Kaito's jacket, but they're just a silhouette (a la the culprit); it's not either of them, it's both, and they're reaching beyond the bounds of the game. The star in the sky is ringed by the trial podiums, since all of their hope for the future rests in derailing the next trial. Can they win? Well, Shuichi and Kiibo are at the top, the two people they (or at least Kokichi...) know can be problems, but Tsumugi is specifically blocked from view, always overlooked...

[kentocalls]

fushiguro toji | love you a latte ♡ sfw. soft toji w/established relationship. fluff for a WIP. inspied because i wanted to enter @tsukimefuku's JK foodies and goodies.

mornings have become a fast favorite ever since you’ve turned his space into your home. he’s wrapped in a marigold comforter that feels lighter than air and softer than clouds. maybe he should invest in real cotton or bamboo fibers or whatever you were deliberating over. funnily enough, the same heavily fretted comforter is so viciously pulled off him by your sleeping form, he feels his chest fill with warmth, even in your sleep you’re no less eager to glue to his skin.

toji smiles soft as he watches you start to shift, it’s way too earlier for you to be up. it should be toji’s usual hour to head out for his leg day but he’s finding less and less reasons to leave you alone in the mornings. afterall, this is your third attempt to resettle in dreamland.

he’s used to it by now, the nights you don’t sleep dead like a log from grading assignments you’re rolling along his extra large california king sized bed. there’s nothing california sized about it since toji is relegated to his tiny slice as you roam free. exploring the vastness of comfort foam and some spring technolog that’s done wonders for toji’s back. but somehow it’s not giving the relief you need, body still bending and turning and stretching. damn, can he get you into those positions too? or is conscious you somehow less flexible than asleep you? he wonders if you dream of dancing, your arms and toes stretch, extend prettily like a ballerina

except your face scrunches when somehow you know you’ve drifted too far. legs swirl and sway to find him, body swimming into his side; when he’s close you breathe in deep, head bobbing under his arm, then on top and honestly, toji’s can’t keep watch. he’s knows you won’t get comfortable without his help, he pulls a leg up and over his hips, as the other snakes around on its own. and you’re so good for him, even in your sleep; easily laying your weight onto him, head nestled on his chest, the top of your head close enough to his lips.

he gently eases a few stray hairs from his mouth and out of your face and waits for the rhythmic deep breathing that lulls him back to his own rest. does he dream? if he does, they’re ones he has have been led by your soft breathing. maybe he dreams of a boat or a picnic, it’s all forgotten by the time he wakes up.

and he does, try his best, not to jolt awake when the sun is too annoying to ignore. he’s gotten better since sharing a bed with you, he doesn’t startle awake with violence. now it’s more of a quick jerky motion that’s soothed as soon as he touches your skin.

on autopilot he moves his hands but is met with his own skin? his own chest? he reaches out across the mattress to find it cold. like you’ve been missing for hours. despite all the logical reasoning, panic sets in. where are you? why aren’t you next to him? did you fall off again? he moves like a lion, sprawled over the edge of the bed but he’s met with his own discarded clothing.

head assessing the rest of the room and nada. you’re not in here.

he hears his expensive coffee machine whirl and exhales, falling flat onto the mattress. the sheets smell like you and that almond lotion you adore and he takes an extra deep inhale before getting up.

padding out to his walnut and cream kitchen, you’re moving about the giant island and following a video about — latte art?

he leans onto the island, takes in your form while you concentrate, practice how to move your wrists with an empty class and milk container. he takes the plate of french toast and his favorite fruit over to his dinning room table. another one of your purchases that breathes order into his abode. he’s never really eaten at a proper dinning table unless formally meeting a client at thei home but now he can’t seem to eat anywhere else. no more takeouts on the couch or coffee in the bedroom. you like eating together and that’s it for him.

he eats slowly, still watching you hum a song and repeat the latte art video. perhaps you’re a teacher now because you’re such a diligent student. but your eyes meet his and your voice is full of amber honey, “oh! good morning!”

bright, you’re so bright and walk ever so slowly. eyes moving between him and the mug of coffee? latte? that you gently gently gently place in front of him. it looks…like a circle. he tries to offer the best smile he can, “thanks sunshine.”

you look at him expectantly, “it’s a heart.”

he pulls you in for one kiss, then another and another before you push away with a pout. “it looks like a heart right?”

“whatever you say, doll. the circles a heart.” he’ll erase what a circle is if you deem. you wipe at some syrup on his lips and give the nape of his neck a small squeeze. attempt to make your way back to the big kitchen but he wants more of you, hands firm. he’s been robbed of his morning touches. hasn’t touched the skin of your back, hasn’t gripped your thighs and it’s part of his day off routine. he skipped leg day for cuddles and keeping you on his lap—why are you being so torturous and walking away?

you don’t even like lattes.

“we had a barista visit the school, they said i had a real talent for this and i should swing by his cafe. said he’d hire me on the spot now i think he was lying.” toji hums.

“yeah? he say that with dreamy eyes?”

you shoot him a look, he glares back, watches you replay the barista interaction and your hushed “toji, no.” has him laughing big.

“doll, i’d say anything to get you on a date too.”

“am ? that bad?” you’re bringing another mug over to him, moving at a snails pace but stop your face so focused on the mug that toji has to take pity on you. stomps over with his tall self and bends to look at the second attempt at the latte art.

“it’s a…rabbit?”

your shoulders drop and you click your tongue before taking a giant gulp, toji’s hand on your hip, thumb massaging gently. “i’m good for nothing.”

you’re being pouty and dramatic but the barista really had you believing you had a talent for this! “could’ve made more money on the weekend.” you sigh, toji moves the mug into the kitchen island, long strong arms pulling you close.

“you don’t need the money doll, i’ll buy whatever it is.”

“it’s not the money toji.” another sigh and toji doesn’t like it, has a hand under your chin, eyes serious. if its something on this green earth, he’ll bring to your feet. you just have to ask.

“thought i could work part time when you’re working your longer jobs, something to pass the time.” oh.

you get lonely.

toji pauses. he hasn’t felt lonely since…the day he met you. the time before he knew you feels like a fog. he wasn’t really living them, just getting through day by day. “sorry doll.”

you shake your head, pulling him close. it’s silent safe for your breathing and the angry expensive coffee machine whirling. when you do pull away from him he follows, hands lingering on your hip, makes you both waddle like a penguin and you can’t help but laugh.

it’s his favorite sound now, bounces off his spacious walls, fills the apartment with joy.

“teach me how.”

“toji—“

“you’re really good at teaching, so teach me how.” He grabs an empty mug, “and when i do a really good job, you’ll give me a reward.”

☕️

toji leaving the curtain open doesn’t usually happen, he’s super duper considerate of your schedule and knows sleeping in is a rare luxury given you’re a teacher and have to report to school earlier than most people expect. but he left the fucking curtain, blind AND window open. the gang of crows outside better be fighting a crazy battle because they have interrupted your sweet sweet dream. you and toji had robbed a bank and moved to a cold country. it was magical, you had a talking pet tiger.

you convince yourself robbing a bank is not a good idea and that you enjoy teaching rich spoiled kids because you’re being the emotional parental figure they need. you’re doing good in the world! you kick toji’s side of the bed, its so cold and that makes you grumpy. you wanted cuddles.

you’re as fresh as possible when you stumble into the kitchen. you made a many latte arts over the weekend and the despite toji working hard to put that caffeine to use, slept escaped you. your legs are sore, hips carrying the badge of his hands as you press the power button for the machine.

once the sleep is rubbed from your eyes you notice the steamer spout is dirty. you rush to wipe it clean, knowing that stupid part of the machine is the most sensitive and then you realize your mugs are all gone. you weren’t that hyped on caffeine, you cleaned everything diligently. you have a routine, part of it includes setting things up for tomorrow so that your mornings move as easily as possible.

it’s only when you turn around do you notice all seven of your mugs lined up in a row. all of them have latte art that spell out “i love u ♡”

and a huge wad of cash.

[its-not-a-pen]

-the musician, the assassin and the king- aka, an ode to grief notes: this an edited version with *~extra~* stuff!

The concubine and the musician passed each other outside the king's bedchamber. It was past midnight. The musician was on his way in, and the concubine was on her way out. Both were carted around in a litter, although for very different reasons. 

Gao Jianli could not see her, but he knew a woman was there. He could smell her perfume and hear the creak of the sandalwood chair bouncing in time to the eunuchs’ footsteps. Her chair had only four pallbearers. Gao Jianli's had eight. That probably meant something, although he did not want to dwell on it. 

He wished desperately that he could see her face, to know what she might be thinking. How he wished to see a face. Anyone's face. 

The King of Qin amused himself liberally with the women, but they were never permitted to stay the night. He slept alone and kept a sword by his side. Gao Jianli knew this because the king had swung the sword at his face the first time he entered his bedchamber--to check that he was really blind. And he was, of course, so he hadn't flinched or even understood what was happening until a lock of his hair had fallen at his feet. 

The king had relaxed after that, and thus began their present arrangement. Gao Jianli would arrive every night, kneel at the foot of the king’s bed and play for hours and hours on end, not leaving until dawn crept in, the crickets fell silent, and the birds picked up their chorus.

It was not wholly accurate to say that the king slept with no one. He slept with Gao Jianli—and the musician suspected that he could not sleep without Gao Jianli. 

The king was drafting bills at his desk when Gao Jianli was announced and ushered inside. He could hear the rattling of the bamboo and the whisper of the brush. The faint smell of perfume still lingered in the room. 

"Ah, good evening, Court Composer!" the king amounced in his bass, ringing voice. He never did anything by halves, every word was either a whisper or a proclaimation.

"Your Highness."

"No, no, please don’t ke tou," the king chuckled as Gao Jianli tentatively got onto his knees to prostrate, "I’ve told you, it makes me feel stupid when people do that while I’m in my underwear.”

It's because my blindness makes me move like a frail old man, Gao Jianli thought, and the sight makes you squeamish.The musician ignored the kings order and knocked his head to the wooden floor three times, hard enough to make a dull thud. The wounds in his eyes were half-healed and still raw, he could feel each impact vibrating through his skull keenly.

"How virtuous!" the King's voice was hearty and betrayed nothing, showing too much deference was not illegal--yet. "rise, Court Composer."

The servants led Gao Jianli to his designated mat. Another handed him the zhu--which had been locked away and inspected every night--and he clung to it like a drowning man finding flotsam. The bamboo drumstick and taunt silk strings had become the only things that felt real in this terrifying new world of shades and vertigo. He only felt whole when his instruments were safely in his hands.

"Leave us," the king said curtly to the enunchs. He rarely dismissed his servants, but he had made a habit of doing so whenever the musician was playing. He certainly would not have bothered if he had been with a concubine, or recieving tributaries from his vassals, public life and private life were one and the same for kings--but the Musician of Yan made him as jealous as a mastiff with a bone.

“How do you like your new clothes?" said the king, once they were alone. 

"I’m sure they’re splendid, Your Highness, but I’m afraid their beauty is lost on me.”

The king laughed, “I mean, how do they feel? Are they comfortable? Easy to move in? I hope you don’t mind, but I had my tailor hem the coat a little higher than is proper so you wouldn’t trip over.”

“That’s very thoughtful, Your Highness,” Gao Jianli ran his hands over the zhu's wooden belly, checking it for any dents and scratches. 

“The colour is very becoming. You look like a proper Sage of Music now.” 

“His Highness does me too much honour,” No, no, no! Someone had tuned it wrong! The fourth string was painfully over-drawn, and Gao Jianli quickly eased it back, letting out a sigh of relief as the instrument was returned to its proper state. 

“I say! It’s drafty in here, isn’t it?” The king rose and bustled about the room. Moments later, something soft and heavy was draped over Gao Jianli’s shoulders—one of the duvets from the bed. The smell of perfume was stronger now, mingled with the king's agarwood incense. In a flash, the worried face of his beloved Jing Ke appeared in Gao Jianli's mind, as painful as staring directly into the sun, Jing Ke’s exasperated voice tickling his ear, "Gianli, Gianli, you'll catch your death..." and a wave of nausea slammed into him.

“Would you like a snack?" asked the king. A large wooden table was dragged over to Gao Jianli's left side, plates rattling. "Let’s see, there’s beef, lamb, swan, wild boar, abalone, shark-fin…Please stop and rest as often as you wish—good health isn’t something silver can buy, you know!” 

“I don’t want to eat."

“Some tea, then. Have you ever had Yellow Mountain? My physicians swear by the stuff, it's very invigorating. Accquiring it has been a headache lately, thanks to the Chu Kingdom's sanctions but we should have that problem taken care of by next year.” Gao Jianli shivered at the king's words. Four sheep had been eaten, two were left in the pen, and still the tiger was hungry...The king poured him a cup and blew on it gently, “careful, it’s still quite hot.”  

Yellow Mountain Tea is best picked in the early spring, before the Qingming Festival, Gao Jianli recalled. Qingming--was this another one of the king's games, or was he just being morbid? Would he be allowed into the peach orchard to sweep the grave, if he behaved?

Gao Jianli could not bring himself to touch the fragrant cup. The wound had been reopened and the memories came dripping out. Jing Ke was a god-awful tea drinker, and stringy, too. He'd reboil the pot if it got cold and use the same leaves from last night. "Tea is tea," he'd grin, downing that astringent witch-brew in one gulp--a low-budget reinactment of the Yue King tasting gall and plotting revenge--had he made up his mind, even then? Gao Jianli had never been able to swallow anything bitter.  The king settled back down at the desk and picked up his brush, although he was far too eager to resume his work. He watched Gao Jianli tune his instrument from the corner of his eye and played a little game with himself; what would the Musical Sage entertain him with tonight? The Kingdom of Yan, for all its sickening frivolity and excess, produced extraordinary artists. The fact that he had acquired their best and brightest star was just further proof of heaven's favour. 

The musician shunned the stand provided for him, preferring to balance the zhu on his knees. One of his little idiosyncrasies. It muffled the sound somewhat, softening each note into something indescribably sweet and inviting. 

Gao Jianli bowed his head, was still for a long moment, and did something he’d never done before. He opened his mouth and began to sing. 

The king was rather taken aback. Unlike his legendary skills with the zhu, Gao Jianli’s voice was not a thing of breathless beauty or a technical marvel. It was reedy and feeble, fluttering like a moth in the vast, high-walled bedroom. He had obviously been crying—again--and his nose was stuffy, yet the sound was still utterly bewitching, each note tugging gently at him like a fishhook imbedded in his breast. The king sat forwards, his hands upon the desk, struggling to catch the words. 

Wait. This was his song! Gao Jianli was singing Without Clothes, the Qin battle anthem. It was a simple, stout chant signifiying the people's eagerness to go to war. The king had heard it sung by soldiers, a hundred thousand voices raised as one unified roar, fit to shake the heavens. He had never heard it sung like this, had never heard anything like this. This fervent, tearful whisper. The low, agonised keening of an injured beast. Gao Jianli touched the strings as if he was afraid they might break. The zhu in his lap wailed and wailed like a lost child. He played like a man in his death throes, gutted and slowly bleeding out. 

“How can you say you have no clothes?  

I’ll share my coat with you. 

The king calls us to arms, 

I’ll prepare my axe and spear to fight with you.

How can you say you have no clothes?  

I’ll share my shirt with you. 

The king calls us to arms, 

I’ll prepare my spear and halberd to stand with you.

How can you say you have no clothes?  

I’ll share my skirt with you. 

The king calls us to arms, 

I’ll don my armour and weapons to march with you."

And just like that, the song was over, and the last note petered into silence. 

King Ying Zheng of Qin sat frozen in place, trembling from head to foot, unable to understand what he was feeling. His eyes stung, his throat ached as if it had been slit open, and his chest felt vice-tight. The closest he had ever felt like this was when that dagger-wielding madman, Jing Ke, chased him around the throne room, except this was much, much worse. It felt like someone had hacked off one of his limbs. Like a raw, jagged hole had been carved into his chest, leaving him hollow and so desperately empty. 

Ying Zheng’s first instinct was to have Gao Jianli dragged out and executed. No. That wasn’t enough. He needed to cut off the hands of every musician in the country and throw their instruments onto a flaming pyre. He was a fool to think he would be safe by taking Gao Jianli’s eyes. He should have torn out his tongue and locked that wretched thing away inside a box of salt, right next to Gao Jianli’s treacherous heart. 

“Play it again,” Ying Zheng said hoarsely. 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“It can’t be done.”

The king’s voice was dangerously soft, “can’t be done, or you won’t do it?” 

“Both, I suppose.” 

Ying Zheng was on his feet, scattering the bamboo books and brushes with a clatter. Hearing the commotion, the guards rushed into the room. The king held them off. 

“I have been more than lenient with you, Court Composer,” he hissed. “I have spared your life and given you the honour of serving me. I shower you with gifts and treat you with every courtesy, yet you have shown me nothing but contempt. First, you sing this seditious song and now you dare to defy me. You will play it again. Your King commands it.” 

Gao Jianli sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve, leaving a shiny trail of snot on the silk Ying Zheng had personally picked out for him. He was still weeping softly.

“Command the oceans to empty,” he said, “command the sun to run backwards in the sky. Command the dead to rise from their graves and bid them to speak. Once you have done all that, I will play this song again.” 

full story here

[mochiswifey]

CHLORINE

HARUCHIYO BONTEN

'For You To Stay Series`

Haruchiyo found something more addicting.

"WHERE'S MY FUCKING PUDDING! I ORDERED PUDDING TWO FUCKING MINUTES AGO! WHERE'S MY PUDDING?! AND DROWN IT ON FUCKING DIRTY MARTINI!" The girls Kokonoi brought in got scared and moved away from Haruchiyo. Kokonoi tried to calm them down but he realized it would only get worse and told the girls to go wait for him in another room.

“Yo, addict. Stop it she’s not coming back.” Kokonoi snatched the bottle of pills from Haruchiyo earning him a glare from the mad dog.

“I’m gonna kill you….” With blurred vision and an exhausted body, Haruchiyo tried to snatch back the bottle but the alcohol mixed with a few dozen of pills are taking their effects. Even his almost immune body couldn’t take the poison anymore.

Kokonoi shook his head too fed up. Koko stood up from the couch taking all of the remaining pills on the table making sure Haru won't get more that he'll might actually kill himself. After making sure there are no pills he left the dog.

Haruchiyo screamed, kicked, and swore to the aliens that he'd kill Kokonoi. His eyes were closed but he still tried his best to reach for the drugs on the table he didn't realize Kokonoi took on his way out with him.

After searching for a few minutes and finding absolutely nothing he laid down on the couch and he began sucking the Ringpop on his ring finger.

Everybody knows that he could withstand high doses of drugs but he’s been taking it much more since you disappeared from his sight.

"Y-You told me... I'm beautiful." He blurts out before his lids fully closed.

Haruchiyo never loved anyone more than Manjiro. His king was always whom he prioritized. And he hates you for changing the way his mind was wired.

“Who the fuck is that crazy bitch?”

Was his first question to Kakucho after seeing you dominate one of the strongest fighter in the ring of the illegal fight clubs.

Blood was dripping from the side of your lips and the way you licked it and smiled so menacingly caught his unswayed attention.

“Damn, girl. Lemme get some of your one-two one-two uppercut combo in the bedroom.”

He said as he suddenly appeared out of nowhere. (Haruchiyo paid a good amount of money to know where you were heading after the fight.)

You raised your eyebrow and looked at him. You were sitting alone in the bar enjoying your dirty martini and now you need to deal with a surprisingly deranged-looking man.

“What do you want?”

“I just-“

“Let’s cut the bullshit. You do drugs? I do drugs. Let’s do drugs while we fuck and we’ll be friends.”

“That was quick.” He was surprised. Traditional Japanese girls wouldn’t go out with him because of the visible scars on his lips.

Well- many girls would if he pays them which he does most of the time. That’s why he was surprised that you weren’t- that…

He was used to having women who are straight to business.

He approach them. They look at his mouth. They show fear and disgust. But then they look at his suit and watch. And the tattoo on his arm. After that they say their price.

But you?

You look at his face.

You smiled.

You tell your conditions, took his hand, and lead him to your apartment.

“You live here?” He asked as he took off his shoes.

“Yeah. Sorry, it’s small.” You tell him as you open the drawers containing all sorts of drugs you got from dealers all over Japan.

Haru is a very judgemental person. He criticizes every little thing. But your apartment felt like home to him which was crazy for him at the time. He thought that the bed pushed to the wall right down the window looked perfect. The sunlight gets in easily. The cute brown bamboo drawer which you were taking stuff from beside your bed looks cute too. He was surprised that he wasn't judging.

“What are you into? I got all kinds of stuff.”

“What do you recommend?” He says as he sat down on your carpet pulling the portable table under your bed.

“Wanna see aliens?” A dumb smile appeared on your face as you took out a ziplock bag filled with hallucinogens and waved them to Haru.

“Baby, I wanna see Jesus.”

“You got it. We’re gonna see Jesus and aliens”

That night your neighbors wondered why you were singing Hallelujah and I'm blue dabideedabidaa at 3 am in the morning.

“Gosh. My asshole hurts.” Haru yawned.

“Still here?” You kicked his ass away from you. The two of you were so busted out of your asses none of you realized it was already 2pm.

Haru reached for his phone and was immediately taken aback realizing he had missed 4 calls from Manjiro.

“Fuck babe. Gotta go to work gonna come home later.”

“Home later? Boy you paying rent?”

“Funny.”

He did what he said. He came back home. Home to you. And as much as you hated it and tried to lock him outside he always finds a way in.

The first time you pretended not to be home he went inside from the window.

The second time- well. The second time he just payed your landlord to give him a spare key.

He was so consistent and so- so-

You know who he is. You know what he is. You’ve heard rumors. And you know that every single rumors are true.

But?

His eyes. They show nothing but love for you. The way he pulls you close every night.

You know he loves you.

And as much as you tried to prevent yourself. You fell in love with him.

And he fell in love with you the day he met you.

“I don’t need drugs to see stars. I see them when I look into your eyes.”

“Haru, you high?” You chuckled before placing a kiss on his forehead. Snuggling with him every night whether it’s 11pm or 4am just feels perfect.

“No. It’s been a while since I met you- and I don’t have the need to take drugs.” He says and your body flinches.

“D-do do you still take them?” He asked you.

“Of course.”

“Stop it then.” He tells you.

“Haru-“

“Why do you do it?”

“What do you mean?” You and he sat up.

“Why do you still take drugs? Why were you taking them in the first place?” Haruchiyo raised his voice but it wasn’t the manic voice you were expecting. It was out of concern.

At first, he forgot to take them. And he swore he’ll take them the next day. But he forgot again because he was so busy watching you sleep. He had one ready in his pocket but you were eating pudding and told him to put his slacks on the watching machine so he forgot again.

He forgot, forgot until he realized you’re the only drug he needed.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You threw the question back at him.

Haruchiyo stood up and took a deep breath before facing to look at you once more. You knew he loves you and he knew you love him. Neither of you said the words but the actions were much louder.

“Because I couldn’t bear to live. Now, all I want is to live. To live with you. To live as happy as we can be in our world.” He kneels down and took your hand placing kisses on it.

“Please. Please stop. I don’t want-“ You pulled your hand away and pointed at the door.

“Just for the night.”

“N-no. No! You won’t-“

“Haru. I won’t leave you. I’ll stay here.” You smiled at him.

“Come back here tomorrow and we’ll do anything that you want. I won’t do drugs anymore.” You tell him and his eyes widen.

“Really?”

“Really.” He took a deep breath before nodding.

“Marry me then. That’s what I want.”

“Ring?” You joked as you wipe the tears falling from your eyes.

“Ruby, Diamond, Sapphire?” Haruchiyo asked eagerly his eyes lighting up.

“Ringpop.” The two of you laughed before sharing a kiss. He kissed you so deeply you thought he’ll inhale you. You stopped him before everything turns into something else.

“Hey, tomorrow we’ll be husband and wife right?” He asked you before stepping out of your tiny apartment he had asked you to move out of many times. You sniffed before nodding. It assured Haru and he went on his merry way to plan a wedding you would’ve never forgotten.

If you went through it.

He hates sleeping now. He sees your body lying limp on the bed you two shared for such a long time. Bubbles on your mouth. Unresponsive.

He only read your letter once but he remembers every single word.

To my beautiful boy.

I have never said this in person because I was scared on how you would react. But I know that you love me. And I love you too.

I want you to know that I found someone I truly love for the first time in my miserable life. I love you Haru. I love the way you look at me.I love the way your thick eyelashes curls so perfectly up whenever I do your makeup. Lol. I love when you make me dirty martinis, and I know you get grossed out but I love the face you make when I mix it with pudding.

I love you more than myself.

And I won't ask for your forgiveness because what I did is unforgivable.

It's not your fault. I want you to know it's not.

This was my decision.

And I did it because I know I'll ruin the beauty of our love. Because that's what I do. I ruin everything.

I'm scared. I'm scared. I'm scared and I want to be in your arms. I want to see your eyes. The eyes that only have love for me.

I don't wanna die Haru. I don't want to leave you.

But I can't ruin you. I've always ruined everything that I touch.

And I don't want to ruin my beautiful boy.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Thank you for reading.

Plagiarism is a crime.

[crowandmousewritingco]

Quite the Reunion

Pairing: Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x transmasc!reader

Words: 2.1k

Summary: Jack finally comes home after a long mission, and gets a thorough reunion.

Rating: M (18+ Minors DNI!) fluff, language, pet names, porn with a crumb of plot, reader calls Jack daddy, praise, reader keeps his binder on during sex (please don't do this!) mentions of gender dysphoria, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) oral (reader receiving) gender affirmation (readers genetalia are referred to as: cock/dick, slit, hole), creampie, aftercare.

Author: Mod Mouse

Notes: This work is 18+. If you continue passed the "Keep Reading" that is what you are getting into. Also this was created for the 2024 bangathon put together by @prolix-yuy Check out their blog for more information! I ended up rolling the Splitting of a Bamboo position which looks like this. This challenge was really fun to do!

Jack was tired. This damn mission kept him away longer than he expected and he wanted nothing more than to return to you. But with a stroke of luck he was able to finish the mission and he was on his way home. His cock twitched at the thought of being inside of you soon and he couldn’t help but palm himself through his pants as he drove back to his ranch. 

By the time he got home he was ready to hear your moans again. Abandoning his bags in his Branco and hurried inside. You were relaxing on the couch watching a rerun of your favorite show when Jack burst through the door. You jumped at the unexpected noise, but when you realized it was your husband you smiled.

“Jack!” You rushed to his side and practically jumped in his arms. 

Jack caught you and wrapped your legs around his waist. Whiskey smiled his iconic wide smile and started kissing you with reckless abandon. You shared in that hunger, running your hands through his hair. You had tried to satisfy yourself with your toys while he was away, but nothing was as good as Jack’s cock. 

“Fuck darlin’, I’ve missed you,” Jack murmured in between kisses. His hands grabbed your ass, massaging it, having missed the feeling of you. 

“M-Me too, god you wouldn’t believe how lonely I’ve been,” You break a way, pouting a little. “My toys are never as good as you.” 

Jack chuckled a little and nuzzled his nose into your jaw. “Awww now don’t pout cutie.” He leaned his head and gently nipped at your earlobe pulling a small gasp from you. “How about I make it up to such a handsome fella. Do you think hmmmm a couple of orgasms would make it up to you?” 

You squirmed a little feeling yourself getting harder just thinking about all the many ways he could get you to cum. “Yes please Daddy,” You moaned softly. 

“Mmmmm good boy,” He purred and carried you back to the bedroom, making sure that you were constantly getting some sort of attention. The king sized bed you shared was waiting in the middle of the room for you. Jack gently sets you on the bed and lets his hands roam your body. “Glad my absence didn’t affect yer manners.”  

“I could never stop being such a good boy for Daddy,” You flirted tilting your head back so Jack could kiss your neck. 

“That’s my good boy,” he growled softly and bit down on your shoulder. His mustache scratched at your heated skin adding an extra level of sensation. You moaned and clutched the sheets as you felt him suck on your skin. He was determined to leave marks on you, making up for the lost time. 

He breaks away from your shoulder. “Such a pretty canvas for me to paint,” Jack growled and kissed you hungrily. Flattening his tongue he licks a strip over the now forming bruise. 

You shuttered under his touch. Somehow Jack always found the simplest way to make you shiver under his touch. “I want to see you” You purred as you lifted your hands to his shirt. With each button up undo, you kiss the now exposed skin until you get to the top of his hips. Taking one of your hands you let it slide over his toned stomach. Swiftly you unbuttoned his pants and hungrily slid your hand into his underwear. You moaned when you felt his hardening cock in your hands, throbbing against your ministrations. “Someone missed me,” You purr as you pull his cock free from his pants. 

Jack grunted softly as he felt your soft hand against his member. “Damn right someone missed you and this handsome body of yours.” His cock twitched in response. 

You chuckled and slowly began pumping him. You continued this until he was fully hard in your grasp. “It seems like you weren’t the only one who was pent up.” 

He backed away to shimmy off his pants and tossed them aside. “As much as he loves your touch, I think he much rather see you squirm,” Whiskey moaned and played with the hem of your shirt. 

You sat up and helped him remove the material.  Now you were just in your binder and underwear. Jack took in your body, but then looked back up at you. “How do we feel about this darlin’” He asked, thumbing the bottom of your binder. 

“Stays on,” You whispered. Your chest dysphoria hadn’t been great this morning, but Jack hummed and gently kissed your forehead. 

“Okay sweetheart,” He whispered back and continued his affections. Jack’s hands wandered down your torso, careful to avoid your chest, and settled against your stomach. “Such a handsome fella. All splayed out for me.” 

You keened under his praise and sat up on your elbows to kiss him hungrily. You needed every fiber of your being to be touching this man. 

His mustache twitched against your mouth as he kissed you. “Such a needy boy. I reckon I should do something about that.” 

His hand finally slipped into your boxers, his work worn fingers working up and down your cock. You tried to arch your back but his other hand kept you firmly in place. “Now baby boy I’m gonna give you what you want.” Jack took his time rubbing steady circles into the head making you moan louder. This man had studied your body and aced every test he could when it came to your pleasure. 

“Mmmmm you like that darlin’? You like it when Daddy strokes you just how you like it?” He coos as he kisses your heated skin. Each kiss sends a tingle up your arm adding to your already high bliss.

“Oh fuck yes!” You moan and nuzzle your face into his shoulder grounding yourself in the dream of pleasure. 

“Good boy,” He praised as he paused his motions. You whined at the lack of friction and looked up at him. 

“Shh baby boy just gonna get these off of you,” He kissed your cheek and leaned back. Swiftly with both of his hands he grabbed the sides of your underwear and pulled them off of you.

He smirked when he saw you. “All hard and ready for me. God damn I’ve missed you.” You glistened so much from just his foreplay, and your cock was red needing any sort of stimulation. 

You looked up at him with half lidded eyes. “I’ve missed you too Daddy.” 

Whiskey kneeled in front of you kissing up your thigh. He paused at your cock blowing on it softly, causing you to whine. You were desperate for friction, so you did the only thing you could think of, move your hips, grind on something. Grind on him. “Jack, don't tease me.” You whined. 

“Yer right darlin shouldn’t be teasing such a good needy boy,” He smirked before diving into his dinner. He sucked and licked at your dick like it was his last meal. It was moments like this when you were happy you didn’t have any neighbors. You threw your head back against the comforter and moaned loudly. You fingers tangled in his dark black hair grounding yourself from the onslaught of stimulation. 

“Oh fuck daddy,” You gasp and Jack looked up at you not breaking his rhythm. He chuckled, feeling how much he was doing to you. He flatted his tongue and lapped up your slit and briefly dipped his tongue into your hole. He moaned at your taste. He would be damned if he didn’t think about this moment everyday he was gone.  It was better than any bourbon he had ever had, and could get him drunk on you just the same. 

You felt the familiar coil of heat started building in your stomach. “D-daddy” You moaned and Jack pulled you in closer, increasing his pace. His lust filled eyes met yours as he felt you getting closer to the edge. Your hole fluttered as your orgasm ripped through you and Jack continued to lap at you dick as you rode out your high. He hummed in satisfaction as your legs shook from him and only him. Finally you settled back down on the bed gasping softly. 

He popped off of your cock and brought his fingers to caress your hole. If Jack was anything, he was an expert at making your cum with just his cum. A small whimper escaped your lips at each pass. Jack leaned his head on your thigh and looked up at you. You sat up bracing yourself on your arm. You smiled down at him and gently played with his hair. God you were in love with this man. 

“That’s one,” He added cheekily, kissing your thigh. 

You chuckled in return. “You did promise at least three.” 

Whiskey smirked, “Ready to again so soon? That testosterone of yours does something really nice to your libido,” He chuckled and ran his finger up your slit gathering your need. It glistened in the low light of your bedroom and Jack brought it to his mouth to savor his seconds.

The sight sent tingles down your spin and you squirmed your hips. “Please I want your cock,” You moaned. “I need you inside me.” 

Jack sat up and leaned down to kiss you. You mewled as you tasted yourself on his lips. No wonder he loved going down on you. You tasted as sweet as the whiskey you both enjoy.

Whiskey broke the kiss leaving you a panting mess. He chuckled and settled himself between your legs. With one hand he braced himself on one side of your hip and the other guided his cock to your slit. “Now how would my sweetheart like me to fuck him hmmmm?” He asked looking up at you. 

“I’ve been looking up new positions,” You blushed looking up at him. 

“Oh is that so sugar,” Jack smirked and tapped his cock against your cock bringing a moan from your lips. “Tell me what position you want. Either way I’m seeing my cum drip out of you tonight.” 

You flushed at his words. “Here take this leg,” You gesture to your right leg, “and press it to my chest. Then you just settle your left leg over here. A perfect position to make me forget you ever left.”

Jack did as he was instructed and moaned at the sight. “Damn right sweetheart this is gonna make ME forget I ever left.” 

You chuckled and kissed him deeply. “You better start that therapy then.” 

“Of course baby boy,” He smirked and gave your slit one last swipe before pushing inside. 

You moaned as you felt his cock stretched you just how you liked. “J-Jack!” You moaned and he twitched inside of you. 

“Fuck baby boy that feels amazing fuck,” He muttered as he pushed all the way inside. 

When you adjusted to him, Jack braced himself around your lifted leg and began to slowly thrust. You moaned at the new sensation. This hit so many new areas, so many new places for his cock to rub against giving you even more pleasure than you could ever dream. 

You threw your head back against the pillow, chanting his name like a mantra you’ve known forever. Jack was just as turned on as you. He had his own mutters of “Fuck sweetheart” and “Good boy” as he thrust into you. Normally he would take his time drawing his cock in and out of you to hear all the needy whimpers it brings out of you. But by the way you were clenching around him and the way he just wanted to see you come hard on his cock had him pounding into your hole. 

That familiar feeling of tension steadily grows. “Oh fuck daddy I’m so close!” 

“Cum for me darlin’.” He moaned as he stroked your cock in time with his thrusts. That quickly sent you over the edge and your legs were shaking around him. Jack was soon to follow in pleasure as you felt his cum shoot inside of you with familiarity. You whimpered at the feeling and Whiskey leaned down to kiss you through his high. 

He broke apart panting. “Damn what a hell of a reunion that was.” 

You chuckled and kissed his cheek. “You’re telling me.” 

Jack pulled out of you, dripping his cum out of you, and made his way into the bathroom. He returned with a wet rag and quickly cleaned you up. Whiskey tossed the used rag into the dirty bin and crawled back into bed beside you. You cuddled into his chest and sighed when the warmth filled you with comfort. 

“I love you,” Whiskey huskily whispered into your ear. 

You gently kissed his chest. “I love you too Jack.” You were so happy to finally have him back and safe. Long missions weren’t too bad if it meant that this is how you would reunite.

Pedro Character Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

[thecynthh]

confide - M.S

summery - y/n escapes to the balcony of you and matt’s room while a whole party is still buzzing under you, he finds you and lets you know that he still loves you no matter what

notes - MORE FLUFF, guys we needed more fluff, i can make a part 2 with smut in it if u whores like this one 🫶

a/n - this is me putting off smart ass 🤗

——————————————————————————

——————————————————————————

trying to escape the madness of the party happening underneath me i choose to sit on the outdoor couch on the very high balcony i sit at. i started the mini fire pit in front of me as all the supplies for it was just in a box near the door. 

the blanket that embraces me is fluffy and soft, as much as i love matt i couldn’t breath in that horrible blanket of tension his mother threw onto me. i was drilled with questions by her knowing the reason for the excessive amount. matt went through a rough break up before me, and i can’t blame her for wanting to make sure her son doesn’t go through something like that again. 

the fire crackles and pops while i just enjoy the city lights and soft jazz that plays on the upper level of the penthouse, i lay my head down on the other seat cozying up on the bamboo woven couch, the thick padding cradle me as i feel myself being lulled to sleep. 

not long after i fall asleep im woken up by the sound of the sliding door behind me, a shadowy figure walks to the side of the couch, it was matt. 

“hi sweetheart, did you get tired?” matt says, folding over to get closer to my face, the glow of the fireplace reflects every chiselled feature in his face.  i give him a soft nod while he peels his suit jacket off resting it on the chair that is also stationed towards the fire.

“hey move your head up,” i do as i’m told and he slides into the seat on the couch my head was recently covering up, he lays my head back onto his muscular thigh letting me use him as a pillow. 

“im sorry, i was so overwhelmed by your mom,” i say shameful of when i tripped over my words and made a fool of myself. 

“yeah, nick told me about it, he already told her to calm down on the questions, he also led me here to you and i don't think my mom is the only factor of you coming up here.” he says, dipping his head down to kiss my forehead. his fingers push my hair away from my face as i turn to look up at him. 

“i don’t know matt, i feel weird. i don’t belong in this sparkly dress or these high class parties. i’m so new to all of it, and don’t get me wrong, i love all of this and you so much to keep pushing through but if i’m being honest it’s really hard for me to be down there.” i hope matt understood what i meant by all of that because it really felt good to get off my chest. 

“i get it, we grew up differently, but that doesn’t change anything between us. i dont care if you were dirty and homeless on the street as long as i knew who you were i would have picked you up, housed you and loved you forever. and i'm willing to do that right now too. i don’t care if my family is worried about me, because i know that i'm alright now. you healed me.” he cupped my cheek making sure my eyes were still connected to his while he assured me of his intentions and beliefs. 

“i know i’m not what your mom envisioned who you would be with, so thank you for all of this. from the dress to the heels and your sweet words, thank you for sharing your beautiful life with me.” i sit up and begin to straddle matt, my red dress pools around us while i take matt in for a large hug. he returns it pushing my head into his neck letting me become way more calm then i was when i came up here. 

i look back up to him with a tear escaping from my perfectly done eye make up. “don’t cry please, it breaks my fucking heart when you cry.” he kisses the tear before it can run fully down my face fully. “how about we go to bed, i’ll get you all cleaned up and all i have to do is tell nick and chris that i’m not feeling well and we can cuddle all night, sounds good?” i eagerly nod, giving an enthusiastic yes. 

he wraps my straddled legs around his torso and carries me inside, keeping me bundled up in my blanket as I'm moved to the bed, before promptly putting out the fire i started. he retreats back to me bringing one of my silk black cami tops to change into while he goes to my large vanity and brings back a soaked cotton pad to use to clean my face of running mascara and concealer. 

he gently rubs and wipes across my face seeing him extremely focused on the task in front of him. he tosses the stained pad and he lets me crawl into bed. “okay i’ll be back im just going to find chris or nick to update them, i won’t be long.” he lingers at the door handle while telling me his exact actions while he heads out the door.

i check my phone for messages and notifications while before he comes back to our room, he strips off his button up abandoning it in the hamper that crowds a corner of the room. his dress pants hang low on his hips as they fall slightly while he pulls his belt through the multitude of loops on his pants. 

he’s now just left in his plaid print boxers as he slips under the charcoal grey duvet and snakes his arms around me pulling me in, embracing me just like he said he would. his chest is flush with my back and his legs entangle with mine. he’s warm and still smells like the intoxicating cologne he adores. i take a deep breath in being very content in where my life ended up and how i’m now engaged with my fiance and now letting the rest of his family know at a party. life is great when you find your person.

taglist - @westwiing13 @comet235 @mayhem73

[simplydnp]

idk. To me it just seems more likely that they have separate rooms. Bc why would Phil put his closet and bathroom in a a different room than the one he sleeps in? He'd have to go to the green room to shower and get ready. That's such an inconvenience. I think the green room is probably just Phil's room. There's no trace of Phil in the other room either, whereas the green room seems to be more his style. Idt the picture or phil's books being on the shelf confirms anything bc they'd just moved in and might have put whatever they had unpacked on the shelf to make it seem less empty. That bed also seems way too small for two people over 6'. I'm not saying that them potentially not sharing a room/sleeping in the same bed means they're not together. There are numerous reasons why a couple might want to have separate rooms or not share a bed. I just wouldn't take it as a foregone conclusion that they share a room when there's quite a bit of evidence to the contrary.

my haunches go up when i detect a patronizing tone. so forgive me if this comes off as harsh.

'quite a bit of evidence to the contrary' is a very strong claim to make when the pictures we have feature both of their things intertwined; phil's phlonde selfie is in that room; dan says if phil fills this room with cardboard boxes, he'll poo on the floor (if it wasn't his room, why would phil leave boxes in it); they had to have a discussion on putting carpet on the floor vs hardwood (separate bedrooms they couldve done whatever they liked); and dan only ever calls it 'the bedroom'--missing the possessive adjective.

'theres no trace of phil in the other room either' - it'd hard to tell which room you mean here, so i'll cover both. his stuff is in there, firstly. the 'maybe they needed to fill it for a picture' excuse is based off of nothing. next, consider the rest of the house: is there anything in the office that screams phil? what about the kitchen? or the dining room? or the lounge? i think dnp have much more compatible styles than people realize--he even says in the keep or yeet video that he doesnt wear super bright colours anymore. his rooms used to embody 'geek core'--and remember, we haven't seen phil's actual room since their first london apartment. and not that people can't keep their style while they grow up, but maybe his tastes changed. especially when his bedroom was no longer his video background. yknow, the one that was supposed to compliment his online persona and be the main part of his branding?

and the 'green room seems more his style' because the wall is green? there's literally nothing else in that room. no art on the walls, beyond the japan trip bamboo paintings from his dad, nothing on tables, no chairs--we haven't even seen the bed. what in that room seems more phil? not to mention them saying the green towels were in the guest bathroom.

re: the bed. we haven't seen a full picture of the bed. we've gotten the catboy pictures, and it looks to me like there's room for 2 people in it. like maybe they don't own a king bed, but i don't know how a queen mattress wouldn't be able to fit them. (i say this as someone with a double--there's no fucking way it's a double) sure they're long, but be fr.

in terms of the convenience of getting ready--they didn't used to have an en suite bathroom. he can walk, he'll be fine. again, we don't know where the closet is. phil seems like the kind of guy to just hang out in his pjs if he doesnt have to get ready for something. so putting his clothes near the shower/bathroom would be convenient, instead of both of them wrestling over one. and it kind of has to be by a bathroom, as why else would dan need clothes when he had to borrow some when the builders had blocked off his closet?

you're saying this isn't you claiming they aren't together, which, okay fine, but to me it sounds like another person overcomplicating their relationship. why are you so adamant they don't share one? genuinely, all you've presented is theories and opinions supported by no evidence. if they do share one, cool! if they don't, cool!

i don't enjoy being talked down to, and if that wasn't your intention, i apologize, but the way this was presented is very antagonizing.

[nanaminokanojo]

THAWING ICE QUEEN (part 22)

–one night of fooling around with the annoying campus king gojo satoru (he thinks so), turns into...well, something else more long term

CHARACTERS: gojo satoru x you | geto suguru | jjk characters

GENRE: college au | eventual smut | smau | smau + prose | everything in between | ons | fubus to lovers | aged-up characters | idk where this is going

⚠️ TW/CW: strong/mature language | 🔞 | mentions of alcohol, smoking, etc. | this will most likely have narrations | god-awful pet names | unprotected sex | cockwarming

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 22 next>>

NOTE: This contains narration.

~*~

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​You had no idea how long you'd been sitting on Satoru's lap, his engorged dick remaining in​side you, flesh on flesh. He wanted to try fucking you raw and thought it a good idea to challenge you to another bet. By this point, it was a war of attrition, with the two of you waiting for the other to give in and make the first move. The way your legs were positioned was killing you, and you seriously just wanted it to be over.

"You know you're at a disadvantage here, so why even make this deal with me?" you had taunted him earlier, but he seemed confident in himself as he said, "You'll be begging me to move sooner than you think."

Satoru was playing dirty, agitating you by shifting on the couch underneath you, claiming he was just adjusting his position. He was, of all things, fiddling with his phone while you just clung to him, arms wrapped around his shoulders while your head rested on the crook of his neck.

If there was one thing you absolutely liked about Gojo Satoru without question, it's the way he always smelled good, and you weren't referring to his cologne. He could do without it, and he'd always smell clean and fresh, like morning dew on grass or rain in a bamboo thicket. As much as it annoys you when he would run his mouth when he pulls one of his outrageous antics, his scent calmed you down and, at that moment, distracted you enough not to beg for him to just fuck you to next week.

"I'm bored," you murmured against the bare skin of his hard chest. That was the least thing you were feeling there with him, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Want me to move now? I thought I was gonna lose here." He chuckled, the way his body reverberated driving you to the edge, much like the friction against your walls when he would shift. "Just say the words."

You abruptly pulled away from him. "How long are we gonna keep this up?"

Satoru smirked, his blue eyes hungrily shifting to your lips. "That's up to you, no?" He gave you a peck, but before he could entirely move away, you raked your fingers through his hair, tugging to keep him steady.

"Ooh, feisty!"

"Shut up." You moved closer and deepened the kiss then, not caring what the consequences would be. You knew you were putty in his hands once he started moving his tongue to taste you while his hands moved to play with your breasts underneath your shirt. Your little make-out session was becoming more heated, and before you knew it, you were grinding your hips against his.

At that, he gripped you by the waist, a triumphant smile spreading across his mouth. "You lose." He ground you harder onto him, and that was the last straw, making you moan wantonly.

"I don't care, baby. Just fuck me like you mean it."

A growl ripped through his throat as he stood up, carrying you to bed, mindlessly walking as he kissed you like a starved man.

"Satoru, hurry."

"I got you, sweet cheeks."

He took long strides, placing you on the bed without pulling out of you. He placed both of your legs over his shoulders as he maneuvered your body into a mating press. And then, finally, he pulled out of you until only the tip of his cock remained. The friction was enough to make you lose your breath, pulling a choked-out cry from you when he slammed back in.

His name spilled from your lips as he rammed in and out of you, spurring him over and over again to go faster, harder until you were teetering at the edge. You watched his cock slip in and out of you, the stretch and drag within your walls whenever he enters making you incoherent.

And in your fucked out state, your eyes slowly moved to Satoru's face, his white locks matting against his forehead and his mouth slightly parted, panting as he guided you to ecstasy. The little sounds he makes were pretty, you find yourself thinking as you reached out to touch his face. And what a beautiful man he was.

"…toru, kiss me," you whispered, and if he wasn't looking at you, he would have missed it and the way you smiled at him in a daze, making his heart race and for his movements to stutter. Nonetheless, he complied, savoring how you tasted and felt, holding onto him like your life depended on it.

"Oh god, sweetheart, I'm close," he told you in staggered breaths.

"M-me, too."

He looked at you, the blue of his eyes nothing but rings around his blown-out pupils. "Baby, fuck…where do you want me to –"

"Inside," you told him. "Cum inside me."

"Huh?" He looked incredulous but pistoned into you like there was no tomorrow anyway. "You sure?"

Your response was nothing but a weak nod as you let out a high-pitched moan, feeling that familiar feeling of being on the brink, your breath snagging as he drove into you harder, hitting that spot he was sure would make you come undone. One last stroke was all it took before you were cumming around him, the way you were squeezing, making him follow right after. You felt unbelievably full as he rode you through your high, thick ropes of his seed painting your walls white until you were leaking with your mixed essences despite his dick still inside you.

Satoru collapsed on top of you, broken laughter escaping his lips in hot puffs of air against your neck. "Damn, that was so good."

The two of you stayed that way for a bit, catching your breath while you played with his hair, staring up at the ceiling and enjoying the companionable silence.

"Can I stay the night?" he asked softly, to which you nodded wordlessly. "Yeah?"

"Yes, Satoru." You shrugged. "We can binge on snacks while we watch something or whatever."

"Sounds good. But first…" He pulled away but lifted you with him, still buried in you. "Let's get you cleaned up, hm?"

You merely laughed as you held onto him. "I'd like that."

-

~*~

TAGS LIST: @arxliana @neeneee @charlie-xo @aelynaneedsalottathing @arizzu @cloudxp @justpuddinglol @mikkies @nyfwyeonjun

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20230809]

[tranceindia123]

IDENTIFYING THE SUBLIME CUES A MATTRESS RESTORATION IS DUE

A restful night's sleep is the foundation of a life well lived. But what happens if your mattress, which was previously a reliable source of sleep every night, is no longer living up to your expectations? As lovers of fine bed linens made with meticulous attention to detail, we at Trance Home Linen think a restful night's sleep is an investment in overall well-being. It's only sometimes obvious when a mattress needs to be upgraded, though. Does your mattress make a lot of noise? These noise disruptions can cause more than simply annoyance; they may indicate structural damage to the mattress and interfere with your sleep pattern. Has the core of your once-supportive mattress grown an unsightly valley? This dip could cause aches and pains and compromise normal spinal alignment. Allergies may be made worse by dust mites, which are minute organisms that live in mattresses.

[some-stars]

Did y'all know it's bizarrely and inexplicably difficult to find the full text of Dylan Thomas's "Altarwise by owl-light" online? A bunch of places have what they claim is that poem but it's only the first few stanzas. I eventually found one (1) PDF of his complete poems, and then I had to extract it from the PDF except I didn't have all the tools I use at work to make that take about three minutes total. FYI if you ever need to process a PDF thru your browser, the IT guys at my work (a very large, very risk-averse corporation) have us use ilovepdf for some tasks that acrobat can't do (but it can also replicate various adobe functions), so I'd recommend that as the least-likely-to-damage-your-computer free option.

ANYWAY the point is, this poem is SO good and SO important and SO cool, and it shouldn't be so incredibly hard to find, so here it is. It's long. I strongly suggest reading it aloud, and don't try to understand anything the first time through, just let it happen to you and really experience the words.

Altarwise by owl-light

I. Altarwise by owl-light in the half-way house The gentleman lay graveward with his furies; Abaddon in the hangnail cracked from Adam, And, from his fork, a dog among the fairies, The atlas-eater with a jaw for news, Bit out the mandrake with to-morrow’s scream. Then, penny-eyed, that gentleman of wounds, Old cock from nowheres and the heaven’s egg, With bones unbuttoned to the half-way winds, Hatched from the windy salvage on one leg, Scraped at my cradle in a walking word That night of time under the Christward shelter: I am the long world’s gentleman, he said, And share my bed with Capricorn and Cancer.

II. Death is all metaphors, shape in one history; The child that sucketh long is shooting up, The planet-ducted pelican of circles Weans on an artery the gender’s strip; Child of the short spark in a shapeless country Soon sets alight a long stick from the cradle; The horizontal cross-bones of Abaddon, You by the cavern over the black stairs, Rung bone and blade, the verticals of Adam, And, manned by midnight, Jacob to the stars. Hairs of your head, then said the hollow agent, Are but the roots of nettles and of feathers Over these groundworks thrusting through a pavement And hemlock-headed in the wood of weathers.

III. First there was the lamb on knocking knees And three dead seasons on a climbing grave That Adam’s wether in the flock of horns, Butt of the tree-tailed worm that mounted Eve, Horned down with skullfoot and the skull of toes On thunderous pavements in the garden time; Rip of the vaults, I took my marrow-ladle Out of the wrinkled undertaker’s van, And, Rip Van Winkle from a timeless cradle, Dipped me breast-deep in the descended bone; The black ram, shuffling of the year, old winter, Alone alive among his mutton fold, We rung our weathering changes on the ladder, Said the antipodes, and twice spring chimed,

IV. What is the metre of the dictionary? The size of genesis? the short spark’s gender? Shade without shape? the shape of Pharaoh’s echo? (My shape of age nagging the wounded whisper). Which sixth of wind blew out the burning gentry? (Questions are hunchbacks to the poker marrow). What of a bamboo man among your acres? Corset the boneyards for a crooked boy? Button your bodice on a hump of splinters, My camel’s eyes will needle through the shroud. Love’s reflection of the mushroom features, stills snapped by night in the bread-sided field, Once close-up smiling in the wall of pictures, Arc-lamped thrown back upon the cutting flood.

V. And from the windy West came two-gunned Gabriel, From Jesu’s sleeve trumped up the king of spots, The sheath-decked jacks, queen with a shuffled heart; Said the fake gentleman in suit of spades, Black-tongued and tipsy from salvation’s bottle. Rose my Byzantine Adam in the night. For loss of blood I fell on Ishmael’s plain, Under the milky mushroos slew my hunger, A climbing sea from Asia had me down And Jonah’s Moby snatched me by the hair, Cross-stroked salt Adam to the frozen angel Pin-legged on pole-hills with a black medusa By waste seas where the white bear quoted Virgil And sirens singing from our lady’s sea-straw.

VI. Cartoon of slashes on the tide-traced crater, He in a book of water tallow-eyed By lava’s light split through the oyster vowels And burned sea silence on a wick of words. Pluck, cock, my sea eye, said medusa’s scripture, Lop, love, my fork tongue, said the pin-hilled nettle; And love plucked out the stinging siren’s eye, Old cock from nowheres lopped the minstrel tongue Till tallow I blew from the wax’s tower The fats of midnight when the salt was singing; Adam, time’s joker, on a witch of cardboard Spelt out the seven seas, an evil index, The bagpipe-breasted ladies in the deadweed Blew out the blood gauze through the wound of manwax.

VII. Now stamp the Lord’s Prayer on a grain of rice, A Bible-leaved of all the written woods Strip to this tree: a rocking alphabet, Genesis in the root, the scarecrow word, And one light’s language in the book of trees. Doom on deniers at the wind-turned statement. Time’s tune my ladies with the teats of music, The scaled sea-sawers, fix in a naked sponge Who sucks the bell-voiced Adam out of magic, Time, milk, and magic, from the world beginning. Time is the tune my ladies lend their heartbreak, From bald pavilions and the house of bread Time tracks the sound of shape on man and cloud, On rose and icicle the ringing handprint.

VIII. This was the crucifixion on the mountain, Time’s nerve in vinegar, the gallow grave As tarred with blood as the bright thorns I wept; The world’s my wound, God’s Mary in her grief, Bent like three trees and bird-papped through her shift, With pins for teardrops is the long wound’s woman. This was the sky, Jack Christ, each minstrel angle Drove in the heaven-driven of the nails Till the three-coloured rainbow from my nipples From pole to pole leapt round the snail-waked world I by the tree of thieves, all glory’s sawbones, Unsex the skeleton this mountain minute, And by this blowclock witness of the sun Suffer the heaven’s children through my heartbeat.

IX. From the oracular archives and the parchment, Prophets and fibre kings in oil and letter, The lamped calligrapher, the queen in splints, Buckle to lint and cloth their natron footsteps, Draw on the glove of prints, dead Cairo’s henna Pour like a halo on the caps and serpents. This was the resurrection in the desert, Death from a bandage, rants the mask of scholars Gold on such features, and the linen spirit Weds my long gentleman to dusts and furies; With priest and pharaoh bed my gentle wound, World in the sand, on the triangle landscape, With stones of odyssey for ash and garland And rivers of the dead around my neck.

X. Let the tale’s sailor from a Christian voyage Atlaswise hold half-way off the dummy bay Time’s ship-racked gospel on the globe I balance: So shall winged harbours through the rockbirds’ eyes Spot the blown word, and on the seas I image December’s thorn screwed in a brow of holly. Let the first Peter from a rainbow’s quayrail Ask the tall fish swept from the bible east, What rhubarb man peeled in her foam-blue channel Has sown a flying garden round that sea-ghost? Green as beginning, let the garden diving Soar, with its two bark towers, to that Day When the worm builds with the gold straws of venom My nest of mercies in the rude, red tree.

-Dylan Thomas

[cloud-somersault]

Wanted to dive into the reasoning behind choosing blue orchids as the flower/plant to symbolize mortality and vulnerability versus immortal peaches.

At first, I thought the plant should be a vegetable, kind of like the "opposite" to fruit. I also thought of having another fruit as a possible choice, but I remembered peach trees and peach blossoms and that beauty that comes associated with it. So, I thought to make the plant something undesirable like a withering plant or a root.

Unfortunately, I remembered in JTTW about the immortal ginseng root. So! Had to pick something else. Roots were taken, fruit was off the table...then I did some research into the common types of flowers seen in paintings in Chinese culture. I thought it'd be cool to have the plant be one of those!

There are two sets that I drew inspiration from. The Flowers of the Four Seasons and The Four Gentlemen.

The Four Gentlemen are bamboo, plum blossoms, chrysanthemums, and orchids. The Flowers of the Four Seasons are orchid, lotus, chrysanthemums, and plum blossom. There's also the Three Friends of Winter which are pine, bamboo, and plum.

Now, orchids are pretty, first off, but I loved how unassuming they look. You wouldn't think they'd be capable of something terrible. Orchids are also associated with Spring! A time of blooming and regrowth. So, you'd think "oh the orchids won't hurt me :3" but you're WRONG!

I wanted there to be a kind of "tie" to the peaches and orchids, and I think them both being popular and also just being associated with their time of blooming. I think the season for peaches starts in the spring and continues on into the summer. But mostly, I wanted that tie to MK, because of course I did.

I also think it's NEAT that the orchids are these deadly things that sap invincibility and immortality but are perfectly in bloom. The death magic turning them blue makes them look like winter flowers. Also, in Constellations, since the Ten Kings have personalities, there is a king that is particular about how the Realm of Death looks. He had much to say about the orchids, because he wanted the flower of death to be pretty.

But, getting back on track, it's also like...color association. Peaches are red/orange/yellow/gold and the blue orchids are just...blue and black...scary looking but there's a measure of beauty in them. This flower...it has death magic in it, yeah. But there's wood magic, too. Like it was grown and then infused with the death magic.

Now as for what the blue orchids do - they basically turn immortals mortal. They drain invincibility and immortality. That is how Macaque was turned mortal during his punishment, if you remember.

When Macaque was first dragged to Hell for his punishment, he got a look around the Black Spiral Palace. And he saw the flowerbeds for the blue orchids. That's how he knows where they are being kept in the epilogue.

The orchids can drain just by being near the immortal. Macaque, during his punishment, was laid upon a bed of blue orchids in that isolated room he couldn't escape from. Just that point of contact was enough to drain his immortality/invincibility.

And, the orchids being orchids, there's some versatility in how they could drain an immortal! There's by contact, yeah, but...orchids can be used in medicines and teas, too.

Maybe keep that last part in mind. 😉

[thestormthatrises]

It's all fun and games in Moshang land until Shang Qinghua gets dead serious and quiet, and firmly says "No." Tô MBJ.

People think that MBJ is the ice demon that can make a room grow deadly cold with just one look, one arched brow. But, Lord in heaven! They have never seen the whole palace freeze under SQH stern and unyielding"No."

Because like, there are a thousand and one "no's" that SQH can say:

There's the nervous "No, no!" He says when something is bothering him but he doesn't want to talk about it;

The "No, nothing" when his cunning mind is scheming;

The whiney "noooo" for when MBJ drags him away from his Work because he forgot to eat (and secretly wants to cuddle);

There's the tired "No..." He sighs out when MBJ has to leave his bed on AD, silently begging for him to stay just a little bit more (but he can't, they both know this);

So many ways and tones and meanings to one word... And yet, the deadliest comes when SQH is genuinely upset or annoyed. He grows quiet before he says it, as if giving the chance to the offender to shut the fuck up and stop bothering him. When grace is denied, he digs his heels in the ground and firmly says "No."

And he means it.

MBJ, for all the bratty, spoiled prince that he is; for all he hates to be denied things (especially Qinghua), freezes on the spot because of that one word from the peak Lord. That tone. That look!

You would think an ice demon would be ok with a cold hand over his heart but When the ice cold hand of anxious trepidation creeps into his chest, he can't bear it.

Before SQH left him, he would rally against that "no" like the brat he was and would even punish Qinghua for denying him. But he what he didn't know then was that his cowardly servant had his limits.

He bent like bamboo in the storm of his rages most of the time. But when MBJ overstepped his limits, he would grow rigid and solid and strong. He would take each beating almost silently and each hit filled those honeyed eyes with scorn.

And worse of all: after the useless beating, he would get up, bow and call MBJ "my prince".

It was disrespectful. It was a threat. It was cold, distant and... bad. It was HORRIBLE! And he hated being called a prince by someone who always believed in him-- had always said that he would be a king.

He knew better now, of course. He rushed to correct whatever mistake was made but, sometimes, the best thing to do was allow SQH to leave and cool off. A tactile retreat to regroup resources and pamper his human rotten to get back into his good graces.

Qinghua was too dangerous to be on his bad side. More dangerous than Junshang. With LBH, you could just be killed. With SQH, he would keep you alive and destroy everything you held dear. He would bring down the greatest of houses and sects, he would take their treasures, Salt their land and bring their homes to ruin and decay. And he would do it all and make it seem like it was all your fault. And in the end, when you had nothing, when you begged for death, he would make you grovel for it. Not even honor could accompany you to the grave.

(MBJ always thought that ruthless efficiency was extremely hot. He loved it. He loved how 7 out of 10 times, Qinghua used it for his king and the advancement of the Northern Desert. Qinghua was so beautiful when he was driven)

Qinghua was also too precious to lose.

It was hard to put into words, to quantify, how much he loved his human. It was an intense, insane love that took him completely by surprise. He still fumbled with it. With how much he felt. It tripped the king most of time SQH just needed to breathe, to smile, to call out to him, and his treacherous heart leaped and raced. It order his body to act before he could think. He needed SQH always there. Always near. Always his. SQH was an intrinsic part of himself And when they fought, it was like being torn asunder. He hated it. He hated having SQH mad at/disappointed by him 🥺

Luckily for MBJ, SQH had a soft heart. A marshmallow one, really. But just for him. When he shows true contrition, his future Consort easily opens up and allows himself to be pampered and held and loved. He sighs and smiles and melts in MBJ'S arms. He sweetly calls him "my king"

But in those tense hours of separation, the whole north holds its breath and walks quietly to keep Peak Lord Shang's ire at bay.

("When mom raises her voice, everybody lowers their heads" was a loop in my head while writing this drivel XDD)

[iris-sistibly]

Throughout the years, King Cheoljong and Queen Cheorin ruled Joseon together. Peace reigned for many years, the country prospered, their people were happy, and so were the royal couple. The heavens blessed them with five healthy and handsome princes, and they have been happier than ever.

However, a couple of months before their 10th year of marriage, they found out that the queen has conceived once more, and on that very same day when her mother and father got married, the princess came into the world.

Of course, the kingdom rejoiced...

Lady Choi however, had mixed emotions, she dreaded the day that a tiny Kim So-yong would come into this world. The queen was already a handful, then the crown prince came. After that, a series of pregnancies and childbirths which brought the second, third, fourth and fifth princes, all born within the decade.

The queen didn't really expect to fall pregnant again, but Lady Choi did, especially when her majesty swore not to conceive again...a vow she makes every single damn time she gives birth. In all fairness, the queen loves all of her children more than life itself, perhaps she just hated the whole pregnancy process. The older lady couldn't blame her, no mother enjoys the nausea and vomiting, being sensitive to everything, weird food cravings, feeling tired all the time, back pains and so on. Not to mention the endless pre-natal education which she already memorized by now, and of course, labor pains and actual childbirth are always the worst.

The king had been supportive of course, always making sure to provide everything his wife needs, comforting her, being with her at the birthing bed while enduring her loud mouth (Lady Choi lost count on how many times the queen cussed her husband while pushing their child into the world). However, when the princess was finally born they were ecstatic, she inherited her mother's beauty. But Lady Choi swore she heard the king mumble a prayer for her daughter to NOT inherit her mother's...unusual personality, at least not all of it. For the record, each of his sons had gotten some of the queen's traits, but he has a feeling that the princess is going to inherit much more.

The royal couple always say that their children are the most wonderful gifts they've ever received, but for the nannies who look after the royal children, it's a nightmare. The chaos brought about by five young boys in the palace has become a normal thing, so it's no longer surprising for someone who sees or comes across a nanny running after or frantically looking for a royal child. They're at their wits end, and who understands them better than Lady Choi herself? That explains why she and the royal cook have been getting more company at the bamboo forest.

"I'll give her a year, when the princess learns how to walk, the new nanny will be joining us," said Man-bok.

Lady Choi scoffed, "Oh please, the moment the princess starts to crawl it will be hell for the nanny, I'd say it's about seven months," she said with confidence.

Placing a bet for how long a nanny would last until they snap had been the old couple's habit since the birth of the king's heir. So far, Lady Choi had a more precise prediction than the royal cook.

It wasn't long after they heard rustles, like someone was coming. To their surprise it was the new nanny, she looked like she hadn't slept for days and was clearly exhausted. "Oh my are you alright? You seemed so stressed out," the royal cook worriedly asked.

The new nanny looked like she was about to cry, "The princess is driving me insane! She really doesn't like me."

"How can you say that?" it was Lady Choi's turn to ask.

"She's the calmest baby when she's with her parents, but when she's with me she won't stop crying and squirming! And her brothers..."

"Why? What did the princes do?"

"They said their sister despises me," the nanny said miserably.

"Those little rascals," Man-bok muttered under his breath.

"Well...children do prefer to be with their parents than other people, the crown prince was like that when he was a baby," said the first prince's nanny, "Just give it some time, she'll get attached to you. I'm not saying it'll get easier after that, no way. In my case, I've been hearing complaints from some elders saying that the first prince is arrogant. But he's not, he's actually confident and assertive, kind, wise and just, he has all the qualities of a king this country needs."

The other nannies joined the conversation. The second child prefers being outdoors (meaning he escapes from the palace almost all the time which stresses the shit out of his guards and nannies), but his adventurous side has made him brave, bold, and street smart. The third born is a smooth talker, he knows how to get himself out of trouble with words, but he is the most level-headed and a true gentleman. The fourth son is usually quiet and prefers to read or practice calligraphy, but when he talks he is very direct and brutally honest. The fifth son, the youngest prince and a ball of energy can already identify almost all of the ingredients used to prepare their meals and likes to banter with the royal cook, however he is also the sweetest and most loving among the siblings.

They may differ in personalities but if there's one thing the boys have in common, it's their love for the king and queen. They have immense respect for their father and they take good care of their mother even at such a young age. Lady Choi commends how the king and queen are raising their children.

"The royal children aren't who you'd expect them to be, but when you really think of it, they're just...children," said the nanny to the second prince.

"They're not perfect, but seeing them grow into fine young princes, you'll realize that our job isn't so bad after all." said the fifth prince's nanny.

"Come to think of it, it's actually amusing how the queen birthed six charming yet mischievous babies, isn't it royal cook?" asked Lady Choi.

"Oh Lady Choi, we have the king to thank for their charms, and their mischievousness? We all know where they got it from."

They all laughed, the bamboo forest had been a safe space for Lady Choi since coming into the palace. It also brought her and Man-bok together, and now the nannies whom they have formed a close friendship with. At least now Lady Choi and the royal cook know that they aren't the only ones who are losing their minds yet still continue to serve the royal family as best as they could.

"But if it really bothers you dear child, you may let all of your feelings out, it will be our little secret," Lady Choi winked at her.

The new nanny nodded, took a deep breath and yelled as loud as she could. With her newfound friends and the bamboo trees as witnesses, "I can't wait until the princess gets older," Man-bok whispered to Lady Choi, they both snickered as they watched the poor young woman pour out her emotions.

She sure has a lot to rant about, and probably more in the future.

The Bamboo Forest (by: Iris)

*

This fanfic is solely based on the KDrama, Mr. Queen and has nothing to do with the real Cheoljong and Cheorin, as well as Korea's history.

Also, this has been sitting in my drafts for a couple of weeks. I've been imagining what Cheoljong and Cheorin's (from the show) kiddos would be like since I kinda feel sad that I didn't get to see their baby be born but...oh well.