#look at me even in here Im writing a novel

[mymoshangthoughts]

okay, okay, okay, bear with me

mobei jun already knows about shang qinghua as airplane

oki ive decided to take advantage of the fact that WE NEVER GET A MOBEI JUN POV AND I'LL BE FORVER SALTY ABOUT THAT SHIT

but like, shen yuan figured airplane out REAL fast, right? they barely spent time together before the immortal alliance and then it takes one surprise before airplane is saying stupid shit, right?

and i cant help but think, mobei jun aint dumb and he's been spending How Many Years crashing at shang qinghua's leisure house whenever the fuck he feels like it?

he also finds shang qinghua to be Hella Sus because come on, ofc he does. a human just declares their undying loyalty to you after one fucking meeting??? even if he believes shang qinghua is being sincere in the moment, the fact that he was so quick to betray his sect doesnt speak of a loyal servant

so why wouldnt he snoop? why wouldnt he pay extra close attention when shang qinghua says shit that doesnt make sense? why wouldnt he notice when shang qinghua speaks or writes in a language that he doesnt recognize? airplane canonically isnt fluent in english so if he used a bit of it, especially chinglish, wouldnt mobei jun be able to learn some of the meanings of the words just by context clues? especially when he has YEARS to decode it? like if airplane was fluent, maybe he could hide the meaning, but a limited vocabulary adapted to another language isnt actually super hard to decode. it's the same reason that you can generally understand what slang means before you look up the definition. you might not know what 'rizz' means, but you can pick up the meaning from context clues.

anyway im over explaining the linguistic aspects ALL IM SAYING IS what if airplane kinda depends heavily on chinglish to be his Secret Language that Theres No Way That Anyone Here Can Get. and sure, for most people, it does seem like gibberish. but again, mobei jun has YEARS at his side and reasons to nitpick at it and decode it.

like what if airplane had a habit of writing out pidw plot points in chinglish bc look he is Going to forget shit no matter what, he wrote that novel a lifetime ago, but theres some info thats pretty important for him to Not Forget. so mobei jun is just left with a huge stash of Impossible Information that shang qinghua writes about

everything ranging from future events to obscure demon world facts that theres just no justifiable reason for shang qinghua to know about and just everything in between.

but also what if shang qinghua wrote his feelings? his thoughts? his issues? like cmon, he literally has NO ONE to consult with about the insanity of his life before cucumber-bro, and his life is really crazy, and he used to be the person who wrote out his feelings via novel but look dude he's not about to tempt fate by writing out another novel rn so a diary makes sense. or at least like, random venting

and again, this isnt even mentioning airplane having some potential verbal fuckups that mobei jun can add to his ever growing file of "shang qinghua has something fucking going on"

and like, maybe mobei jun hasnt actually figured out the exact truth but he has some eerily close guesses. or maybe airplane wrote a lengthy journal explaining literally his entire fucked up life and mobei jun knows Everything.

look im just a little bit obsessed with mobei jun casually being aware for YEARS that shang qinghua is from another world and might have once had god-like powers over this world. i think this is very funny and i think it could work in a canon compliant way. cuz i also like to think that some of mobei jun's aggro at shang qinghua was a mixture of

you literally wont tell me who you really are. you claim to be my loyal subject but you wont even tell me your real name and Yes I'm Upset About That

you fucking fucker, you literally PLANNED that horrible event to happen???? you suck so bad omfg. THAT WAS TRAUMATIZING FOR ME YOU JERK NO I DONT CARE IF YOU FEEL BAD ABOUT IT NOW

your handwriting sucks and im mad that i didnt just have to decode your weird other language, i also had to decode your fucking horrendous handwriting and i dont know if i can ever forgive you for that

you barely ever show your real personality in front of me and i have to learn how you really feel by reading this fucking notes and YES IM UPSET ABOUT THAT

i also just love the idea of Something Happening to do with the multiverse and basically mobei jun is the only one who isnt remotely surprised lmfao. binghe is in crisis mode, cucumber thinks he's gonna die, airplane is freaked out, and mobei jun is just like "yeah, figured some dumb shit like this might happen. you didnt know binghe? dont you pay any attention to your husband :/ dude, they're not even good at hiding it, i thought you were supposed to be smart"

also the simultaneous heartattacks that cucumber and airplane would have that mobei jun just KNOWS like thats hilarious. imagine they need to talk about something secretly in public and its super urgent and mobei jun just starts using chinglish or webspeak or something perfectly and cumplane are FREAKING THE FUCK OUT

mobei jun: that mofo is hella sus, but keep it on the dl. ttyl i need to do a vibe check

cumplane: ?!?!?!?!?!?

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Hey

Please don’t take this as anything mean. I really want to read your story’s, but I can’t get my self to do that. Not because they aren’t/ look good, it’s more the layout. And of course if you like it this way, then just ignore me!

But you write like this”: _y/n_'s shoulder. _y/n_  “ and I personally (idk about others) but I find it easier to read when it’s just “y/n” instead of the _y/n_. Especially when it’s used so often, and maybe some gaps between the text sometimes?

Again totally understand if you want to ignore this, I just feel bad because your writing just sound so good otherwise:)

Hello lovely Anon!

I didn't take this as mean at all. I often think about my writing and accessibility. I think a lot of my writing choices come out of my job as an academic. Much of what I read and write for my work has these big paragraphs of text. So I'm very used to seeing that, but I know that others might not be. I will try and add line breaks more often in my fics so it breaks up the big chunks of text more

As for the _y/n_ being formatted that way, I actually don't know where that came from. I must have been in fics that I read when I was younger and I just copied that format? I might put up a poll later today to ask others their opinion on it. I do find that when I am going back and editing it makes it easier reading it on my end. But once I'm done with the final edit I can always go into find and replace and get rid of the _y/n_ and change it to y/n.

Sorry that was a lot on my writing process, but I really appreciate your comment. I do think about these kinds of things when I'm posting as someone who is obsessed with aesthetics and the appearance of my blog. I want everyone to be able to enjoy my work and I'm happy you think it looks interesting. Let me go back and add some line breaks to my latest story: Dead Center, and if you want maybe you could tell me if it's easier to read after?

I hope you have a lovely day and weekend, Anon, and thank you for your constructive criticism! Love Levi - ❤️

[edit] I did add some more breaks to Dead Center.

I accept and appreciate all comments and constructive criticisms of all my work. As a teacher, it is highly appreciated. I also love mail, so if you wanna tell me something about our fav little guys or have a story idea or request, feel free to ask me.

Text Break Banner by: @cafekitsune

[dovedwings]

getting to go back to being s*nnav*rstappen tomorrow… holy fuck. genuinely holy fuck.

[rosesradio]

as much as i grew to loathe kiera cass’s “selection” & joke about how i “cringe” at my sanders sides selection au, i still like that i wrote it. It’s 100k words, still my longest fic to date (one day I will beat it though!) & i really appreciate the comments i got on it. even five years later i still look back and appreciate the nice things everyone said and how it did wonders for my mental health at a time i needed it most

(there’s your “yes authors care about your comments” post—i still care deeply about comments i received 5 years ago!)

i make a lot of jokes about how my 15 year old self was an asshole—and they kind of were, lol. but she was also a kid that needed a lot of improvement and encouragement, and i appreciate how writing that fic really did help me on my writing path overall

[awearywritersworld]

she mumbled that i was peculiar

sukuna x reader summary: impressively, sukuna is still trying to find ways to deny his feelings for you. nevertheless, he keeps you safe from harm when a late night trip to the store doesn't go as planned. will seeing his violent nature for yourself change the way you feel about him? he seems to think so. w/c: 4.2k (oops) tags/warnings: angst to fluff. attempted kidnapping. canon typical violence. depictions of blood. reader throws up. reader is in shock for a bit. cursing. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter* a/n: i'm sorry this took so long! im ngl, i struggled quite a bit to write this chapter. i'm still unsure about the pacing, but here it is anyway. thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! series masterlist // masterlist

it's not often that you go out for the evening, but tonight is one such occasion. you leave around seven, excited to meet nobara and maki for dinner.

when yuuji falls asleep a few hours later, sukuna doesn't take over right away. he spends a while in his domain, engaging in what some people might call sulking.

before long, however, he begins to feel restless and he tells himself it's because he's grown accustomed to his finite hours of freedom. of course, it has nothing to do with your absence.

so he assumes control of his vessel's body and pulls a short novel from your bookshelf. settling on the couch, his fingertips brush over the cover: the stranger by albert camus

it's the first time he's ever been alone in your apartment, a fact he's well aware of, and his eyes wander to the front door. it'd be all too easy to pull it open, to make his way downstairs and out onto the street.

how long would it last before yuuji regained control? are you nearby? would you get caught up in the havoc he'd doubtlessly wreak?

the thought makes him grimace. returning his focus to the book in his hands, time seems to pass by faster as he makes his way through the pages.

even so, he deems the narrative a bit boring. in his (what's the opposite of humble?) opinion, dead mothers and nagging girlfriends don't make for the most captivating story, so his mind begins to wander once he happens upon the quote:

"so why marry me, then?" she said. i explained to her that it didn't really matter and that if she wanted to, we could get married. besides, she was the one who was doing the asking and all i was saying was yes. then she pointed out that marriage was a serious thing. i said, "no." she stopped talking for a minute and looked at me without saying anything. then she spoke. she just wanted to know if i would have accepted the same proposal from another woman, with whom I was involved in the same way. i said, "sure." then she said she wondered if she loved me, and there was no way i could know about that. after another moment's silence, she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

sukuna thinks about you— the woman who forced her way into his solitude.

although, what if it hadn't been you? what if the brat had been involved with another woman? would he have eventually taken an interest in her too?

are you really that special, or is he just going crazy inside the cage that is itadori yuuji? the latter is much more likely, right?

he supposes he prefers the idea of madness over... feelings for some human.

all of a sudden, your apartment door seems much more inviting. would it be so bad if he were to step through it? what did he really have to lose?

yeah, that's right. he'll get up any second now and act on every horrible impulse he's been repressing. any second now... any second...

he can't quite figure out why he's unable to bring his limbs to move, weighed down by some force that's beyond him.

it's at that moment the door clicks open and for a split second, he thinks it must be his sign to go, but then you come waltzing in.

"'kuna!" you greet in an excited manner, disrupting the peaceful quiet.

kicking off your shoes haphazardly, you make your way over to him and promptly drop yourself into his lap. it elicits a bout of unwelcome clarity for the king of curses.

no, he wouldn't have taken an interest in just anyone, that much becomes obvious. it wasn't through a medium as flawed as chance that he came to... tolerate you. you're much too annoying for that to be the case.

"hello???" you wave your hand in front of his face. "i'm home."

"i can see that."

"welcome home, darling," you say in a deep voice, a poor imitation of him. "i missed you so much— that's what you're supposed to say."

yeah, definitely too annoying.

"but i didn't miss you." one of his hands comes to rest on your thigh, a betrayal of his preceding assertion.

"you're sitting alone reading—" you pause to inspect the book lying open beside him. "existential fiction about a nihilistic frenchman. of course you missed me."

he changes the topic rather swiftly. "you're drunk."

"i'm tipsy, at best." you roll your eyes. "can't i just be happy to see you?"

"you'd be the first."

"i don't mind making history."

you place a kiss on his lips, casual and affectionate in way that makes sukuna's body stiffen, and stand up.

"i need to get ready for bed, then we're gonna watch tv together because i missed you— gosh, see how easy that was?"

you run off to the bathroom and his body doesn't fully relax until he hears the shower turn on.

the thought of missing someone is a strange notion to him, because it implies eagerness and desire. for as long as he cares to remember, those emotions have been reserved for proclivities much more sinister.

so he hadn't missed you. he just would have preferred it if you stayed home. that's all.

when you return to the living room around fifteen minutes later, you're wearing one of yuuji's shirts, and as far as sukuna can tell, very little otherwise.

making yourself comfortable on the floor between his legs, you pass a hair tie behind you. "can you braid my hair?"

he's watched you get ready for bed enough times that he's fairly certain he can manage it. taking the tie from you, he still asks "why can't you do it?"

"because i'm sleepy," you frown, reaching for the tv remote.

gathering your hair in his hands and carefully dividing it into sections, he sighs. "you require so much looking after."

"you're not going to die if you can't have cookies tonight." sukuna states dryly, glancing at the clock that reads eleven o'clock.

"please don't trivialize my struggle," you begin, pulling on your jacket. "i want miso butter cookies— my grandma's secret recipe."

most of what you need can be found in the kitchen, but a trip to the store is in order for a few final ingredients.

"my mistake," he huffs, rising to his feet. "how insensitive of me."

"oh, it's alright. just don't let it happen again."

"sure. i'll keep that in mind, princess." sliding the apartment door's chain lock off the track, he does little to hide the vexation in his tone.

just as he reaches for the handle, you stop him and wrap a scarf around his neck, forcing a hoodie into his hands. "put this on. you'll be cold."

he looks at you as if you're crazy. "i don't have to worry about things as insignificant as the weather."

"well, put it on anyway," you insist.

he decides that acquiescing will be easier than arguing for the next five minutes and slips the hoodie over head. when you both step out into the chilly air of night, there are still a decent number of people traveling the streets.

stopping at a crosswalk the next block over, you begin to prattle on about what you need to pick up and the different steps in your recipe. naturally, you completely miss it when the pedestrian sign turns green.

"come on," sukuna commands, his hand wrapping around your wrist and tugging you along with him. "i don't have all night."

you scoff. "to be fair, i didn't say you had to come with me."

"yeah well it's late. you shouldn't be out alone." there's a hint of exasperation in his voice, like he truly had no choice in the matter.

despite that, once you reach the other side of the street, his fingers slide down your palm and thread through yours.

you glance over at him and find he's looking off to the side, so you bite your lip to suppress your pleased smile. is he avoiding your gaze intentionally? you decide that bashfulness suits him better than you would have expected.

offering him a light squeeze of the hand, you hope it conveys your appreciation of his small display of affection.

"so, are you going to help me make the cookies?"

his lips press into a thin line. "as thrilling as that seems, i don't particularly have a penchant for baking."

"you think you'd humor me a little! you know, since i'm your only friend and all."

"if anyone else asked me such a ridiculous question, they wouldn't live to see tomorrow." you ponder whether he's joking and quickly decide that he isn't. "this is me humoring you."

"you're so mean to me."

"hardly."

"fine," you pout. "then you can't have any!"

"now, hold on." the threat does make him hesitate. you've come to learn that if there's one thing he loves as much as reading, it's food. "let's not be hasty."

you're approaching the store, the sliding doors just a few strides away.

"it's only fair! besides, you're not going to die if you can't have cookies," you throw his earlier words in his face.

he exhales deeply. "have i ever told you how irritating you are?"

"woah! now you're definitely not getting any, mister!"

"alright, alright," he groans as you step inside. "i'll help you bake your stupid cookies."

"perfect!" you exclaim as if you knew he'd give in eventually (you did). "then you can start by finding the miso paste while i get everything else!"

you scamper off before he can tell you not to order him around like some common servant. he's never even been grocery shopping, how the hell is he supposed to find anything in here?

wandering the aisles, he stews over how domestic this is. for god's sake— the king of curses, shopping for ingredients and making baked goods. what have you reduced him to?

just as he considers giving up, he spots the item he's looking for and grabs it so aggressively that it knocks a few packets of instant miso soup to the floor. wrinkling his nose in distaste for the entire experience, he sets off looking for you, though his efforts are to no avail.

he wonders where the hell you could have gone off to when a flickering light catches his eye, filling him with a strange sort of unease.

it's emanating from a narrow hallway tucked away in the back corner of the store. at the very edge of the hall, a phone with a familiar case is lying on the floor, the screen shattered.

his blood runs cold, a sensation that is fully unknown to him, and the miso paste slips from his fingers. he appears in the hallway the very next second and the sight that greets him ignites a furious hostility in the center of his being— heavy and consuming.

you're struggling against one man as he drags you out of the backdoor and into an alley. another man is holding the door open, urging his partner to hurry up.

the hand over your mouth keeps you from yelling, but you're unsure you would have been able to make a sound regardless.

one second you're cast into darkness, and the next, the light seems blinding. the flashing is unceasing and it makes your head hurt.

two limbs are wrapped around your torso, keeping you firmly in place, and your arms are trapped at your sides. you might be kicking your legs, but they may just be dragging along too. you really can't be sure.

there's a thrum of a heartbeat at your back. it's pace is unforgiving, the intensity mirroring that of your own. you've a vague concern that your heart may very well beat right out of your chest.

then there's an abrupt shift in the air and a sickening crack echoes through out the night. crumpling onto the concrete, you think it must have started raining before you realize that the droplets on your face are warm.

you wipe at your cheek and your fingers stain crimson, the color matching that of an increasingly large puddle seeping across the pavement beside you.

there's a heap lying a few feet away and you recognize that it's wearing clothes. it's a sight you struggle to make sense of.

needing to focus on something else, your eyes find sukuna and the expression he's wearing is fierce and unreserved. "tell me what you wanted with her."

you've never heard him speak in such a way. his tone is low, his cadence nothing short of threatening.

"s-s'kuna?" your own voice sounds foreign to you and it goes unheard by him.

he has your attacker pressed against the brick wall of the alley, both hands wrapped around his throat. he's too livid to realize the pressure on his windpipe is preventing him from answering.

sukuna throws him to the other side of the alleyway out of frustration, the man rolling onto his back and wheezing to appease his lungs.

"tell me!" sukuna commands again, louder this time. less collected.

the man scrambles away from his looming figure. "th-they sent us, told us they needed her for an important matter."

"who?"

"they'll kill me if i tell you—"

sukuna crouches down, laughing dryly. "and what do you suppose i'm going to do?"

his eyes are almost unrecognizable to you. they're frenzied— a few shades deeper than the scarlet you've grown so fond of.

"you'll k-kill me either way, so at least i'll die with honor—"

"tch. useless." sukuna waves his hand, and you can hardly comprehend what happens right in front of you.

neat red lines appear across the man's body, then it ruptures into nothing at all. the only evidence that he was ever there in the first place is his blood.

the stench of which is perhaps the worst part— intense, coppery, and hot. it makes your eyes water, and before you know it, you're hunched over and emptying the contents of your stomach onto the ground.

sukuna is at your side in an instant, pulling your hair away from your face, but while one of your hands is braced against the concrete, the other endeavors to push him away.

his body doesn't budge at the contact, but he takes a step back anyway in an attempt to respect your wishes.

your mind is a mess filled with racing thoughts— what the fuck? this cannot be happening. what the hell even happened in this first place? that man was there and then he wasn't.

inhaling sharply, you wipe at your mouth and shift to pull your knees to your chest.

"what..." you trail off, surveying the unutterable, incomprehensible scene before you. "what did you do?"

he doesn't respond, though his features noticeably soften. somewhere in the back of your mind, you know very well what he did, but you can't help repeating. "what did you do?"

"we need to leave." it's not that sukuna couldn't handle whoever might show up, but seeing as this is your reaction, he has no desire to. "if you let me touch you, i can take us home."

you take a moment to think about it, then nod wordlessly. as soon as his hand falls on your shoulder, you're met with that same sensation you felt the night gojo teleported you and yuuji home after one too many drinks.

though this time, the sick feeling in your stomach isn't caused by liquor. you don't stand up, you don't so much as move a muscle when you feel the surface beneath you shift from concrete to carpet.

sukuna breathes out your name, his uncertainty evidenced by the way he's shoved his hands into his pockets. meeting his eye, you reiterate the same inquiry once more. "what did you do?"

it's almost as if you want him to tell you that he didn't do anything. that the whole experience was some disturbing nightmare.

"those men would have hurt you."

"that doesn't mean they deserved to die." you choke on the final word.

"yes— it does."

with that, silence hangs in the air like a suffocating miasma.

looking to your hands, you're reminded of the blood you've been spattered with. "i need to wash up."

you still don't move from your spot, too fixated on your flesh and the dreadful hue that it's been painted with. sukuna notices now that you're trembling.

he approaches you hesitantly before extending his hand. "let me help you."

you decline his offer, shying away from him. "i think you've done enough already."

god, the look in your eye is utterly despondent. he struggles to swallow the lump that forms in his throat.

his arm falls limply to his side and he looks across the room, your copy of the stranger earning his attention.

he's overcome with chagrin when he realizes that his concern brought about by camus' quote the other night was wholly misguided. he'd been focused on his own feelings, whether they were genuine or simply wrought by his isolation.

how foolish was he to ever question what you truly mean to him? with the anguish that's settled in his chest at the sight of your current state, the fact he ever doubted it makes him feel like a hopeless idiot.

had he any sense at all, the part that resonated with him would have been—

she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

disgust. is that what you're feeling now? he's certain it is.

it was just last week that he relayed the story of his past. you're the only person alive to know the truth of how his wickedness came to be, and you met him with unconditional sympathy and understanding.

you pulled him close and embraced him, but now that you've seen him for what he truly is...? you can barely stand to touch him and it's like a knife to his heart.

you're so fucking warm— like the sun against his skin after weeks of endless rain.

and if you're the sun, surely he is the moon— cold and barren on his own, but brilliant when in the presence of your light.

to be without that? to be without you? it's a prospect too terrible for him to bear. it makes his stomach twist miserably.

you're startled (as is he) when his form falls to the floor, his knees meeting the carpet with a dull thud. he calls out your name again, but this time, his voice cracks as he speaks. "please."

he doesn't have a clue what he's even asking for. a chance to explain? forgiveness? a way to turn back time?

you don't say anything, but you do shift your gaze to him. he knows that he needs to fix this, so he wracks his mind for the right words.

"i didn't enjoy killing those men." he's somewhat surprised to find he's telling the truth.

"you didn't?" your voice is so small and timid that he can hardly decipher your words.

"no. my only concern was to keep you safe— to make sure they never put their hands on you ever again. all i felt was rage and... and... guilt. i should have never left you alone and it's my fault—"

"stop," you interrupt him.

there are tears welling in your eyes, making it difficult for sukuna to breathe. he's positive you're going to tell him that his intentions were of little consequence and that you never want to see him ever again.

instead, you push yourself forward and collapse against his body, your own wracked with violent sobs. the reality of the situation is only just now hitting you. it'd been much easier to focus on what sukuna had done, rather than what almost happened to you.

"i was so scared, 'kuna."

and still, despite the way you're clinging to his shirt and burying your face in chest, he's under the impression that it's him you were afraid of.

"i'm sorry," he tells you earnestly. "i never meant to frighten you."

"n-not of you. those men." you're struggling to speak in between desperate gasps. "why did they do that? what did they want with me?"

"i don't know." though, he is going to find out.

sukuna is not a man well versed in comfort, so he's not entirely sure why he begins rocking you back and forth, but he does it anyway.

when you finally start to breathe a little easier, he mumbles into your hair, "come on. let's get you cleaned up."

he doesn't give you a chance to respond before he scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. setting you down on the counter gently, he searches the linen closet for a cloth.

it's quiet, save for your intermittent sniffling, as he runs it under warm water and wrings it out. his free hand moves to rest against the side of your neck and he dabs at the blood on your face, rinsing the washcloth every now and then.

he tries his best not to show it, but sukuna is agonizing over what might be going through your mind.

do you still feel safe with him? have your feelings changed? do you still love him, even when you've been so harshly reminded what he's capable of?

when you speak for the first time your words are hoarse, barely above a whisper. "thank you for saving me, sukuna."

he thinks about telling you not to thank him, not when it shouldn't have happened in the first place. he left your side, an error in judgement he'll never forgive himself for.

he considers your mortality— your weakness— in relation to his feelings for you. he's always seen this exceptionally human quality as despicable.

but now? all it does is terrify him.

"in the past, i was only concerned with my own whims and desires." his hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb running over your cheekbone. "though after tonight... you have to know..."

it's clear that he's struggling. his eyebrows draw together and his mouth twitches as he ponders his next words.

"i care about you, angel." his voice is hushed when he adds, "very much."

your eyes widen briefly and you murmur his name, but your mind is still reeling from the events of the past twenty minutes and you can't think of anything more to say. you're emotionally exhausted in a way you would have never thought possible.

it's plain to him too, so he knows his next question is selfish, but he can't go on without knowing. "does what you saw tonight change things between us?"

the silence preceding your answer seems to stretch on forever.

"i thought it would," you confess eventually. it was as if you'd put up a wall in your mind separating sukuna the king of curses from sukuna the man you spend your evenings with.

and it's difficult to reconcile the fact that the hands you saw used to murder two men are the same hands that are caressing your face so delicately.

at some point, however, you realized that the only time you felt fear tonight was when you were without him. his arrival and ensuing actions inspired shock and apprehension, though in some twisted way, you knew it meant you were safe. "but it doesn't."

the next question tumbles from your lips thoughtlessly. "does that make me a bad person?"

he chuckles and some of the tension in the room dissipates. "i think i'm the last one on earth that can pass moral judgement on you."

he tucks your hair behind your ear and scans your face, relief coursing through his body when he sees you smile. in this moment, there isn't anything else in the world he would have asked for.

"i guess you're right."

and now, the hand over your mouth is your own, an attempt to stifle your tired giggles. the light of the bathroom is warm and steady. sukuna's hands rest atop your hips, his touch firm but comforting. while you can't feel your own heartbeat, you're positive it must be beating in time with his.

when you crawl into bed that night sukuna pulls you close, your back pressed to his bare chest. you're thankful for the softness of his demeanor, because you need it tonight more than ever.

he doesn't recede to his domain until yuuji wakes up the following morning. he's determined to keep an eye on you as you sleep, to watch the slow rise and fall of your chest with newfound gratitude.

he knows he needs to speak with the brat about what happened. someone is after you and while he hates to admit it, he knows he can't ensure your safety alone.

and he will keep you safe, no matter the cost.

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @risuola @lirasmoon @disaster-rose @archivist-ghoul606 @creative1writings @sloppyzengarden @omismicrowave @cecesharktales @tanyeonn @hiqhkey @ruixrei @yellowsubiesdance @thefallofruins @anything-and-everything-here69 @emzalot @elusivemoon @annoyingstrawberryballoon @miabiar @hyeon-yi @iluv-ace @thepup356 @browneyedgirl22 @lantsovheiress // users in bold could not be tagged. if i forgot to tag anyone, my apologies!! just give me a heads up.

[darling-i-read-it]

Burns

Charlie Swan x fem!reader, Carlisle Cullen x fem!reader 

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: age gap (for both men, both are legal but carlisle is like 223297493 years old so do with that what you’d like lol), burns (second and first degree), doctors office, me knowing too much about twilight 

Author’s Note: IM WRITING A PART 2 RN BUT WANTED TO SEE IF YOU GUYS LIKED THIS <3 I literally randomly had a burst of inspo to write this and i lowkey love it…

Summary: You’re a waitress at the local diner to pay off tuition in the summer. You have a small crush on the chief of police who comes in to get his coffee from you. You thought that was all it was until you met the resident doctor when you have a mishap and now you’re stuck between two incredibly charming men that both have a little crush on you. 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Forks, Washington was under a near constant cover of rain. You were aware of it when you woke up in the morning, prepared to see the dreary weather that greeted you through the window. You could smell the rain on the pavement before it came, see it in the clouds as they hovered above. You were always prepared for it, always ready for it. 

Today, the sun was out. Summer usually calls for something more temperate. You found that those days weren’t necessarily unwelcome, but never your favorite. Everyone went outside when it was sunny. You could see people you hadn’t seen in ages. You never made an effort to see them in the first place for a reason. There was an uncharacteristic amount of skin showing. It may only be mid 70s but everyone suddenly acted like the ocean water was a relief to their burning skin. 

You sweat easily, especially in the diner. The Lodge had little to no air conditioning and the sun brought people in droves. Everyone wanted a bite to eat. They all remembered the diner had milkshakes. It was never a great mix for a waitress. 

You turned the corner on your heel, giving a quaint smile to Cora, your coworker. She looked like she was going to melt away. 

“Do you think anyones gonna leave early today?” she asked quietly behind the counter. You shook your head. She had the coffee pot in her hand and was holding it tightly so it didn’t spill. You looked around the packed diner, laughter bubbling from sections where it normally was silent. You shook your head, giving her a sad look. 

“We’re in for one.” 

“I should’ve called out,” she muttered. “You should’ve called out. This place needs us.” You shook your head. 

“You’ve gotta put food on the table,” you reminded her. She had a kid who was going into middle school. You had met her when Cora brought her in, her headphones stuck in her ears and reading some trashy teen novel. 

“Always the voice of reason,” she muttered. “Plus, you gotta pay tuition.” 

“Don’t remind me.” 

You were going to college in Seattle but always worked the summers back in Forks. You loved the little town despite its insanity. You found that most of it was quiet, even on louder days. Plus, it was always easy to find a job back home. You were practically shoved the waitress apron when you returned this summer. You had been doing it since you graduated high school, always trying to find something to keep yourself occupied. You were coming upon your senior year in college and the extra money helped immensely. 

“Hey, your boyfriends here,” Cora teased. She pushed herself off the counter to refill someone’s coffee cup. You furrowed your brows in confusion even though you knew exactly who she meant. 

You watched as chief of police Charlie Swan walked through the doors with a clink of the bell above his head. He met your eyes and gave you an awkward half wave, which you returned slightly more enthusiastically. He walked up to the counter, squeezing between the people sitting there. Someone said hello to him and he gave them a nod in acknowledgment. 

“You guys are busy today huh?” he questioned, scoffing. 

“Just a bit,” you admitted. His presence never ceased to bring butterflies to your stomach. Maybe you were harboring a small/not so small crush on the sheriff but you tried your best not to show it. You assured Cora it was just something silly for you to feel as you passed through your work day. Still, her eyes lingered on yours as she went around the counter to greet someone else because she knew you were busy. “It’s the sun.” 

“Brings out all the loonies,” he said. 

“I imagine you’re busy out there too.” He was always scanning around to make sure no one was doing anything wrong. His eyes flicked from you to the people beside him, then back to you. 

“Taking my 15.” 

“Just to see lil ol me?” you teased. Even as the words left your mouth you felt self conscious of them. This time though, he gave a half smile. 

“You make the best coffee I’ve ever had,” he promised. You tried not to get flustered. 

“Well, it looks like you need a double today, Sheriff.” 

“Charlie, how many times do I have to tell you?” You rolled your eyes. He leaned against the diner counter even though there were no seats. You turned around, every other table lost in your mind. Cora would help you out until he left.

“Well Charlie, it might be too hot for a hot coffee. You could’ve gone to one of those fancy coffee shops,” you offered, grabbing a coffee pot. 

“Yeah, can you imagine me ordering there? I have a hard enough time with you.” 

“I think I get what you mean by now,” you joked. You poured him a cup and grabbed three sugars and two creams. “Anything else?” 

“You always this quick with your service?” he questioned, looking at the people down the line who hadn’t gotten their food. 

“I’m just the coffee girl with a pretty smile. I don’t control the food orders.” You handed him a stirring stick as he opened his sugar packets. “Plus, you’re the chief of police Charlie. I don’t wanna get arrested.” He chuckled, a real genuine laugh. 

“I think I’ll let you off for this one.” You smiled at your success. The laugh was guaranteed to be the highlight of your shift. 

“Thanks Charlie.” You turned back to the kitchen which was starting to call things out. “Anything else?”

“No ma’am.” He grabbed some cash out of his wallet. “Keep the change.” 

“You’re my favorite customer Charlie,” you joked at his more than generous tip of 100%. He did a little salute with his finger and raised the cup to you. 

“Go do your job otherwise you’re bound to get more angry customers than I am.” 

You nodded once and bowed out of the conversation gracefully. You grabbed the food from behind you and started to bring it out. Cora gave you a look as you passed her, the smile plastered on your face a clear tell of your conversation. 

“Peach cobbler,” you said to one of your regulars. She was a small old lady who always came in on Saturdays, at exactly the same time. You enjoyed talking with her and catching up on her life. She got the same thing each time and the consistency was something you appreciated. “Sorry it’s been slower today Miss. Heidi. The heat has the whole of Forks out!” She shook her head, brushing you off. 

“No worries at all,” she assured you. “It’s not like I’m not gonna come back.” You shared in her shaky laughter. She picked up her fork just as you were about to leave and pointed it at Charlie. “You making heart eyes at the chief over there sweetheart?” You flushed immediately. Maybe you weren’t so great at hiding it. 

“Maybe. But keep your mouth shut Heidi,” you whispered with a smile. She chuckled. Her eyes lingered on Charlie who was finishing his coffee already. He had started a conversation with the man beside him. Charlie seemed to know everyone in town. 

“Aren’t you a little young for him?” You rolled your eyes. 

“It’s perfectly constenting and legal,” you assured her. “I’m plenty older than his daughter if that’s what you’re gonna say.” 

“I was gonna mention.” Her eyes wrinkled at the edges, shaking her head. Her movements didn’t feel like she was disagreeing with you. More so that she was gossiping with a friend, just girls being girls. “He had his heart broken by her mother, you know. He’s a good man.” 

“Is that your consent Heidi? Because I don’t even know if he feels the same way.” Your voice was lighthearted. She grabbed your hand, her saggy skin feeling comforting. 

“I wouldn’t worry too much sweetheart.” You scrunched your face a little and shook off her words. You were still on the clock. 

“Enjoy your peach cobbler Heidi.” 

-

You brushed your hair out of your face. The sun had finally subsided for the evening, giving way for the clouds. You embraced their presence, appreciating the way that the cool air felt on your overworked skin. Cora was still hanging around after her shift, waiting for her husband to come pick her up. You sat on the back steps of The Lodge, watching the trees sway. 

“The air feels so crisp,” you muttered. 

“You say the weirdest things,” she grumbled, laughing. She was leaning against the building. “It’s the trees.” 

“I know.” You were going to leave right after work and finally drive back home but you needed a moment to sit and enjoy the day. It had been a long shift. Cora and you were officially trauma bonded. 

“How was the chief?” 

“Good,” you promised. “Sweet.”

“A guy can be sweet and catch criminals?” 

“He’s assertive,” you argued. When Cora laughed she did it with her whole chest. 

“Honey, you’re down bad.” You rolled your eyes and stood up. Cora’s eyes followed you as you did so, turning back to the door inside the diner. “You’re goin back into that hellhole?” 

“Forgot my phone,” you said. “Also, I am not. It’s a work crush. I’m entitled to one! Just like you like the produce guy!” 

“I do not like the produce guy. I think he’s hot. Big difference!” You rolled your eyes as you opened the door back inside. The heat hit you again, unpleasantly. You had to weave through the cooks to get back to the front. You couldn’t remember when you had put your phone down. You were making a phone call during your break. Maybe you had left it on hte steps outside after all? 

“Hey Jerry?!” you called to the cook in the back.

“What?!” 

“You seen my phone?” 

“No! All I’ve seen are burgers!” You rolled your eyes harder this time and dipped underneath the counter to see if you had put it with the sugars and stuff. You let out an annoyed groan when it wasn’t there. 

You turned too quick and ran right into the closing waitress. She was holding a hot pot of coffee and effectively spilled it all over you. You gasped involuntarily, the feeling of scorching coffee seeping through your clothes. The gasp turned into a seethe as you packed up. You could hear her speaking, the high pitched, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” reverberating off your eardrums. You had dropped coffee on yourself before. All you could think of was that you needed a towel and some cold water. 

You turned on a dime and walked back to the kitchen. You turned on the sink back there and fumbled your hand around for a towel to use. 

“Jerry, towel,” you mumbled, the burning skin now setting into a tingle. He turned his head around and saw you. He started to fumble around. You walked in front of him to grab the towel and just barely lost your balance, causing your hand to fly up onto the table. 

Right onto the stove. 

This time you yelped. The coffee was already forgotten as there was now more of an issue at hand. 

“Woah dollface!” Jerry exclaimed. He grabbed your wrist because you were just staring at your red hand. You had put your entire palm down. You looked up at him, tears staining your eyes from pain, and he brought you over to the sink. 

“Oh fuck,” you groaned as he put it under the cold water. It didn’t subside any pain, just added another sensation. “Jerry that hurts!” 

“Hey Y/N, I have your phone in my apron.” Cora came through the door to witness you breathing heavily next to the sink, Jerry the cook practically holding you down. 

“She burned her hand on the stove,” he explained. 

“She spilled coffee on me,” you blubbered childishly. You could feel all your body parts at once, like you were on fire. You had no brain power to say anything else. 

“Oh Jesus,” Cora muttered. She rushed forward, grabbing your wrist to look at it. “You gotta get this checked out honey.” You gave her a somber looking face. “I know, I know. I’ll take you. Where’s your car keys?” You reached in your apron with your non burnt hand. It was soaking wet from the coffee. 

“Is she okay?” the waitress asked, sticking her head through the window. 

“She burned her hand on the stove,” Jerry said. 

“She what?!” 

Cora put her hand on your back, leading you out the door. You took deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth. You were fine. You were gonna be fine. 

“I’ll be okay,” you whispered. “You have to g-”

“I’ll have Steven do it,” she said. Her husband. You gave her a look of pure thankfulness as she helped you into the passenger seat of her car. 

“I really don’t have to go to the hospital over this,” you tried to say. 

“I know you don’t. But I think it’s safer than waiting.” You put your head against your headrest. 

-

Cora dragged you by your free arm to the front desk. She was the one who gave your name and your information as you stood beside her, holding your hand. You looked like a mess, given the coffee all over you. You were sure this could all just be fixed by some water and ointment from the store but Cora insisted. 

She rambled on about how a family member hadn’t gone in for a burn and it ended up being more severe then they thought, damaging below the skin. Her words were not comforting. 

Eventually they called you back to be looked at. You sat on an exam table with a thin paper on top. A nurse had come in to check on you and give you something for your hand while you waited for the doctor. 

You were in a row of beds. Cora pulled the curtains aside to give you privacy. 

“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” you said. 

“They don't get to know all your business. HIPAA or whatever.” You squinted. 

“I don’t think-” 

“Ladies.” Carlisle Cullen stepped through the curtain at the open side. He was holding a clipboard, a charming smile plastered on his face. Your breath hitched at the sight of him. He was gorgeous. “Y/N, I hear you burned your hand.” You nodded. 

“And her chest,” Cora muttered. She must have noticed Carlisle’s looks as well. Or maybe she just noticed your reaction to him. You cleared your throat. 

“I had coffee spilled on me.” 

“No, you should check it out. It’s bad.” You gave a look. Carlisle’s smile remained, shaking his head. You had heard of him but never had a reason to come out and see him. You wouldn’t even call this a valid reason. 

“Sounds like an awful case of bad luck.” You nodded. “Can I take a look?” He sat on a spinny chair and pulled it towards you. You extended your hand to him. 

“I’m gonna go call Steven,” she said to you. You nodded. She patted your back, her eyes lingering on your doctor even as she left. Carlisle held your hand in his, gently looking it over. You looked down at him. 

“A stove did this?” 

“Yeah. It was dumb,” you promised. “I lost my balance looking for a rag for the coffee burn.” 

“And that’s okay?” You nodded. 

“I think. I mean, my hand feels way worse,” you assured him. 

“Your friend seems to think otherwise.” 

“Cora’s dramatic by nature.” He laughed gently. 

“Well the stove fought back.” He wheeled backwards towards the table beside your bed. “It looks like second degree burns on your hand. I’ll send you home with some ointment for it and you’ll wanna wrap it up so that you don’t get it caught on your clothes or anything.” You nodded. “I’ll wrap it for you first, show you how to do it.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Of course.” He stood up and fumbled in the desks drawer. “Are you sure you don’t want me to check on the coffee burns?” He glanced back at you. You looked down at your shirt. It had mostly gotten your stomach. You could still feel pain there, probably driven by the fact you never got to clean it off. 

“If you think it’ll help?”

“Stomach burns are interesting just because of their placement. It’s harder to wrap them. I think it would be beneficial for me to make sure they’re only first degree, if anything.” You nodded. You would listen to him read the phone book. 

“Okay.” He walked back over. Before even touching your shirt he made eye contact with you. 

“Only if you’re comfortable. I can wait till your friend comes back if you want me to.” You shook your head. 

“I’m okay!” you promised. You cleared your throat and grabbed the hem of your shirt. You carefully lifted it up over your torso, holding it just above the wet spot. Carlisle’s eyes went down to your body. 

“You said the hand hurt more?”

“By far.” 

“Can I touch you?” Please. You cleared your throat again. 

“Sure.” He put an icy hand on your hip, lightly brushing your burn with his thumb. 

“How much does that hurt? Scale one to ten?” 

“Five.” He applied more pressure. 

“Now?” 

“Seven. Your hands are really cold, which could be worsening the effects,” you joked. He chuckled, his lips turning up a bit. 

“Sorry about that.” He backed up a bit. You put your shirt back down. “Those are first degree burns. It only hit in some spots. Should feel numb or touchy for a couple days. You can put the ointment there too but you shouldn’t have to wrap it up.”

“The hand needs it.”

“The hand needs it,” he agreed. He had put some stuff on the counter, which he now took in his hands. He squeezed something out a bottle and put a bit of it on his finger, taking your hand back in his. “Let me know if the pressure is too much.” 

You watched him, your free hands fingers curled under the bed you were sitting on. He gently covered your hand, using such a light touch that it was like he was barely there. 

“You’re good at this.” 

“It’s my job,” he said, smiling. “Are you from out of town? I don’t think I’ve had you in here before.” 

“Just lucky,” you quipped. “I go to college in Seattle too so I’m usually out there.” He nodded slowly. 

“Fancy.”

“The drive back is beautiful.” He nodded slowly. His hand lingered on yours as he examined his work. “So is this town.” 

“Do you work at the diner?”

“Yeah! That’s where I got this beauty.” He scooted back, grabbing the bandages.

“I think my son’s seen you there. He’s graduating high school in a year and likes his seclusion,” he explained. 

“Son?” you asked. 

“Edward.” 

“No, I’m just stunned you have a child. You look far too young,” you said, laughing incredibly. He grinned sheepishly. You tried not to think of him being married or the lack of ring on his finger. 

“He’s technically my foster son,” he described. 

“I see. Do you do it all on your own?” You winced. That was aggressive. “I don’t mean to pry.” “It’s alright,” he said, shaking his head, completely cool. “Yes, they’re all under my care. I haven’t found the right one quite yet. Plus, she’d have to take on more than a couple stragglers with me.” His eyes flicked up to yours. They met for a moment longer than they should have. You had to look away. 

“Sounds like a task.” 

“It’s definitely not for everyone.” He tightened your bandage. “There. I’ll send you home with some of this, it’ll be sent to wherever you get your prescriptions.” He stepped back from you. “Try to be careful around stoves next time.”

“Yes sir.” He gave you one more look, a kind hearted smile and then was on his way. You followed him until he was gone out of view. You were glad he hadn’t checked your pulse because you were sure it was beating out of your chest. Cora came around the corner. 

“He’s too old for you too,” she said. You laughed dryly, shaking your head. You could practically still feel his touch on your hand. So gentle. 

“You’ll learn to get used to it,” you teased her. She rolled her eyes. “Were you waiting out there the whole time?” 

“Wanted to give you and Doctor Dreamy some alone time.” 

“You’re such a wingwoman!” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell the Sheriff.” 

Part 2

[yandereend]

Yandere King x gn reader

The meeting

Tw: implied noncon, age gap, king is an delulu

Btw English is not my native language so please keep that in mind

P. 1 ? (let me if I should write more of the king)

The crown sat heavy on your head , it was no easy feat to carry it even outside of your royal duties but your dear husband just loves to see you in it. And he didn’t made your collar match your crown for nothing, right?

So here you are sitting on your king size bed with your king or rather husband reading one of his favorite romance novels. Until he suddenly kisses you on the cheek and asks:

Do you remember when we meet …I see it clear as day my darling.

You remember it, just clearly not as fondly. It was on your first week in the castle, even though you came from a poor family you showed your ambition and determination to everyone in your village until you finally landed that one job interview in the castle. Your days were long and the work was hard but you pushed through sending the money you could spare to your family.

One day while gathering the old clothes from the royal chambers you got your first glance at the king. He was a strong man in his late thirties, you finally understood what everyone was going on about with him. He was clearly the most handsome man you have ever seen muscular, the right bit hairy and not quite as pale as the other royals.

Oh my god …

That moment he shuffled on his bed opening his hazel eyes to look into your (your eye colour) ones as you collected his clothes from the floor. You quickly looked away not realizing how is eyes were pinned on your body the whole time you nervously tried to do your work.

„Im sorry for disturbing you your majesty. It’s not going to happen again.“

You rushed out while trying to hide your embarrassment over the whole situation. At least you have something to tell your friends and family on your next visit to your village, you thought.

Oh, if only you knew at that time that family and friends were a thing of the past, Edward was already planning on courting you as his new queen. The man as heartless as he seemed was a romantic since his childhood loosing himself in the fairytales he loved so much. He always hoped to slay a dragon or climb a tower to prove his love, but instead he got handed the first princess his father could thought of.

But killing the queen in the your name would surely prove his love.

And Edward was not a man of empty promises.

Thanks for reading its one of my first works so please have mercy 🙏

[iwritefandomimagines]

NOTES — JESS MARIANO

based on a request

masterlist

pairing: jess mariano x reader

description: after months of mutual pining, jess arrives at luke’s having read your favourite novel. oh, and he has some notes.

warnings: swearing, jokey sexual reference, other than that just tooth rotting fluff vibes

author’s note: thank you so much for this request, i loved it sm i had to immediately start writing!!! i hope it does jess justice — i love writing him so much. i may go back and edit some bits im not 100% happy with — but i hope you enjoy!!!

pleaaaaase let me know what you think — i love love love reading you guys’ feedback <3

———

“I finished it.”

If you were anyone else, you’d have jumped out of your skin at the sudden, and rather loud, appearance of someone beside you.

But this was you, and it was Jess, so you were more than used to your ‘peaceful’ study sessions at Luke’s being interrupted by his ever-present smirk, his flirting and his endless supply of smartarse comments.

Not that you could complain.

You’d grown used to his omnipresence over a year ago. And it had been months now since you’d realised that you no longer just tolerated his company — you enjoyed it a ridiculous amount and instead longed for it when he wasn’t around.

You eyed him quizzically, noting how proud of himself he looked for reading your favourite book, but also noticing an unusual lack of self-assurance glimmering through his expression.

“I would ask if you mean this trig stuff for Mr Elton,” you gestured down to the homework you’d been painfully poring over for the past hour, “But I know you too well to expect you to actually do your homework, so what are you talking about?”

He didn’t mention that the real reason he never studied in your trig study sessions was because he was more often than not too busy staring at you and coming up with things to say to make you laugh.

Jess raised his eyebrows, but then shook his head and cleared his throat to do a godawful impression of you, “Oh Jess, I can’t believe you’ve never read it. My favourite novel in the whole world and you’ve never read it!”

You scoffed, “If that was supposed to be me, get out of here.”

“Please, like you really want to get rid of me,” he teased, gesturing to the pile of papers in front of you, “Then you’d be miserable and heartbroken and, even worse, have to actually finish your trig homework. Besides, I enjoyed it.”

Your eyes brightened up at this, and you could tell he noticed, “Don’t look so surprised, Y/N. Your taste isn’t that bad… I mean, you hang out with me don’t you?”

“For some reason, yes,” you pretended to grumble, feigning ignorance of the butterflies in your stomach at his usual smug smile, “But you really liked it?”

He sat down in the seat opposite you now, pulling the book from his bag and slamming it down in front of you, “Well, I have notes of course.”

You rolled your eyes, at which he couldn’t help but laugh, “Hey, it wasn’t terrible. I did say I enjoyed it… Some of the notes are nice.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure.”

“You wound me,” Jess feigned a pout, “Romance isn’t usually my genre and you know that.”

“Of course. Hemingway fanboy is too cool for my sappy romantic books, huh,” you joked, heart still racing wildly at the notion he’d even started reading it, let alone finished it.

“Pfft. Austen fangirl should be less rude and give more Hemingway a try, I say,” he quipped back, tongue in cheek.

“Hey, I like Hemingway,” you shook your head, “I just don’t go to bed and jerk off over how great I think he is like you so obviously do.”

He shook his head and pulled a face that faked shock, “And how much time in the day, on average, would you say you spend thinking about what I jerk off over, huh?”

“You are such an ass,” you tutted, swatting his arm, “Approximately none, thank you very much.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

“Anyway, if you’re done being gross, let’s get back to the important thing here. You read my book,” You reached to pull the book towards you, only for him to snatch it back and rest his elbows on it.

You furrowed your brows at him, “What’ve you got to hide in there?”

His eyes narrowed, his lip between his teeth now as though he was thinking hard about something.

“C’mon, Mariano,” you leaned forward, “I assumed that since you brought the book with you, I’d get to see at least some of your notes.”

His fingers were picking at the edges of the book’s cloth sleeve, his toes drumming on the floor anxiously like they’d recently begun to do more often when he was around you.

He heaved out a deep sigh, “Look. I’m going to give you this, and then I’m gonna leave the diner, alright? And then, and only then, you can open this book up, and you can read what’s in there. And if you never see me again it’s ’cause I’ve died of embarrassment or something. Got it?”

You rolled your eyes, chin on your palm.

He slid the book in your direction now as you watched him swallow thickly and cocked your head to the side like a curious puppy, “Ever so cryptic, aren’t you?”

“You’ll figure it out, Miss Marple.”

With that, he rose to his feet and darted out of the diner before you could even say another word.

You briefly made eye contact with Luke behind the counter, who watched you carefully for a moment before looking down at the book now carefully clutched between your fingers.

You wasted no time then, pulling open the book and desperately skimming for whatever the hell he was talking about.

You weren’t sure what on earth you expected to find when you flicked through its pages, but it most certainly wasn’t a plethora of sticky tabs with scrawled notes on about how the protagonist reminded him of you.

You expected even less, then, to find a note in Jess’ handwriting at the very back of the book declaring that he realised halfway through — when the two love interests whose relationship bore a crazy resemblance to your own, realised that they were in fact in love — that he’d been stupid to deny that he even liked you, let alone that he’d quite obviously fallen stupidly in love with you.

Shock coursed through you, your heart racing at the uncharacteristically romantic and yet somehow still so incredibly Jess gesture.

You stood up, almost knocking over your chair as you placed the book under your arm and turned to leave, “I’ll be back—uh, soon.”

Luke nodded, “Go get him kiddo.”

You smiled, butterflies whirling in your stomach as you left the diner almost as quickly as Jess had just minutes ago.

You knew exactly where you’d find him — perched on the bridge swinging his feet and letting his mind convince him you wouldn’t in a million years feel the same.

When he heard the sound of your footsteps approaching, you saw him clench his eyes shut as if in hope that he was imagining you and that you’d soon disappear.

“You can’t confess your love for me and then run away, Jess,” you bit your lip as you teased him softly, “It’s not fair not to give me a chance to say it back properly. You do get bonus points for how much of a romance novel cliché that move is, though.”

He sighed, a deep heavy sigh of relief, and it was as though suddenly he reverted to his usual self, “Technically the book confessed my love for you, actually. And the window for reciprocating hasn’t quite closed yet. I’m all ears, pretty girl.”

You loved this.

You loved how easy things always were for you with Jess.

Everything that went unspoken still never went unsaid — sure, you’d been flirtatious friends for a while now, uncertain of quite how seriously he reciprocated your feelings, but deep down you always sort of knew.

You loved that ever since he’d come to Stars Hollow, he’d shown that he cared in his own silly little ways.

And he loved you.

And you loved him.

You sat down at his side, still clutching the book tightly as he finally looked across at you with a small smile.

“You’re such a romantic, huh? I didn’t know you had it in you,” you nudged his side teasingly, “But I— Jess I do love you, and I’ve probably loved you for a long time even though I didn’t want to let myself admit it.”

“Wow, okay Mr Darcy… Wait ‘til Luke hears that the real reason you’ve only just told me that is because you think he’s embarrassing,” he mocked, but you felt him shuffle closer, “I’ve definitely loved you for longer than I thought I had too, if it makes you feel any better.”

“Much better, Miss Bennet,” you laughed, linking your arms and leaning against his shoulder as he pressed a small kiss to the top of your head.

You felt Jess’ chest rise and fall as you closed your eyes and let the sound of the stream beneath you wash over you.

“So, like, I don’t know the protocol with the whole ‘best friends to lovers’ trope like you do, so you’re gonna have to help me out here,” Jess chuckled.

You sat back up to look at him whilst still keeping hold of his arm, “Hmm, I think what’s meant to happen next is you kiss me and ask to take me on a real date. Pretty sure that’s right.”

“Right, everyone’s favourite cliche moment,” Jess rolled his eyes jokingly but cupped your face with his palms, “God, what have you done to me?”

“You looove me,” your response was muffled as he pressed his lips to yours to shut you up, at first gently and then with a touch more urgency.

When you pulled away, he let go of your face and smiled softly, “So about that date?”

“You got it, Mariano,” you grinned, kissing him quickly once more as you paused, “But you’re going to have a tough time doing anything as romantic as annotating my favourite book and writing me a love note, you know.”

He scoffed, “Oh I’ve got plenty more where that came from, Y/N.”

“Is that a threat?” you giggled, leaning back into his side.

“Just you wait and see.”

———

ok so i kinda lost my way with this a bit eventually and i’m sorry it’s quite short but i had sooooo much fun writing it. i love jess so fucking much and i’m so grateful for all the jess requests i get — trying v hard to work through them asap because it’s so fun.

thanks for reading! here’s my masterlist for more <3

[ceilidho]

This is in no way of hating but i want to know why do you enjoy writing noncon/rape? When I first downloaded tumblr which was couple of months ago i was surprised by the amount of noncon fics here. I eventually came to enjoy them which makes me question myself. Whenever i read a noncon fic and enjoy it i feel like im betraying women who actually went through those traumatic events. Plus I actually don't really like dark romance books? I love cod dead dove and that is mainly because i really love the characters and the authors are so talented. I rambled so much and i hope you don't get this in the wrong way i don't mean to hate AT ALL i love the stuff you write. Maybe i shouldn't think too much and let myself enjoy what im reading lol

first of all, no worries! i wasn't sure about your tone/intentions at first, but by the end i was totally fine with the question.

i actually don't mind talking about this stuff - i just sometimes avoid it on main because i prefer chatting about it privately.

second, i'm no psychologist or sociologist, so i probably won't be able to give you the most satisfactory answer, but i think there are a lot of different reasons. i can only name a few. one thing i should mention right off the bat is that rape fantasies are very normal (and this is true whether you're a survivor of SA or not) and writing/reading fiction can be a safe way to process those thoughts/feelings.

one of prevailing reasons is, of course, that many survivors of SA use noncon/dubcon literature/art as a way of processing their experiences and taking ownership of their trauma.

and look, people are going to go back and forth on this point (i've seen it all before - many people refuse to believe that engaging with noncon lit/art is helpful, and in fairness, it's NOT helpful for everyone because every person is different), but at the end of the day, if a survivor tells you "writing/reading this was helpful in my recovery" then that's that!

additionally, for many women and non-binary folk (i can only speak as a cis woman, but i'm sure this is a shared lived experience across many different people), we're also taught from a very young age to suppress our sexual desires / that being open about our sexuality is morally reprehensible and shameful. and a lot of people carry that shame for years, impacting them well into adulthood. so dubcon/noncon fantasies can be a way of being able to enjoy sexual scenarios where you don't have to be the initiator, thus taking away some of the emotional weight and shame.

plus, at the end of the day (and im sure many people will disagree with this take, it's something that i'm still figuring out myself), there is a kind of weird underlying consent implicit in dark fics. like, you might be reading a fic or novel that's ostensibly noncon, but you're also actively seeking out that literature (hopefully it's not just sprung on you - i do very much agree with tagging to the fullest extent and my lukewarm take is that I think all books, even traditionally published ones, should come with content/trigger warnings too).

there are a medley of reasons why someone might write or read dark fiction/dark romance. again, i'm just one person and i can only speak from my own experience!

i think at the end of the day, the important thing to realize is that fiction is fake, and as long as the writer appropriately tags their work and ensures that the audience is aware of what they're getting into when they start reading, they're not coercing the reader into something they aren't prepared for.

and it's totally fine if you have limits (like, you can read and enjoy dubcon, but not noncon) or can't engage with the material at all, but it's also unfair to say that it reflects someone's real life values - the same way that we don't say that the people who enjoy crime fiction must love murder.

and the last thing i want to say because this got a bit out of hand lol, is that, yes, for some people dark fiction is genuinely harmful, whether or not they're a survivor. it's not for everyone and that's completely fine and i'm aware of that, which is why i agree that you should tag as much as possible (even if you feel like you're overdoing it sometimes), but someone else's discomfort doesn't give them the right to tell you how to process your own emotions/experiences/desires/etc.

as long as no one's getting hurt, there's no issue as far as i'm concerned. and sorry but, no one's getting hurt by reading a fic or a novel unless the author didn't give proper content warnings - if you "forgot" to read the tags or read anyway DESPITE being warned, im sorry but that's life.

[futureplayboibunnie]

Spiderman Kiss

Miguel O’Hara x fem! black cat! reader

- i wanted to write a little fluffy, very flirty upside down romantic rainy spiderman kiss w miguel just because. black cat is in almost every spiderman story and i really wanted to include that for this one cause she’s a badass. just a cute little blurb to get me out out of my writing slump, i was thinking of making a part 2 cause lawd it’s steamy. (yeah i did make a part 2 im just too lazy to link it😔)

warnings: there is some dirty stuff, lil bit filthy but just a lil bit (i’m the worst) streamy sloppy makeout but overall just some romance for y’all.

You were walking on the damp, cold streets of New York, the soft pitter-patter of rain colliding with your umbrella as your sad eyes were glassy, street lamp lit. The neon buzzing and humming a little in the air as the dark clouds rolled over your head, promising heavier rain in the next few hours. Your boots were fitting for the autumn chill, your little black dress and a mid-length trenchcoat made you look like a detective from a shitty 50s novel, but it was fitting. It felt…romantic. As you walked down the street you caught yourself smiling at nothing. Well, not 'nothing' per se.

Spiderman.

Miguel O'Hara.

The self-appointed leader of the infamous Spider Society, aptly remembered as the Spider with the stick up his ass and a temper akin to that of a raging bull being flagged down by a red tarp. He had been on your coattails for months now. The Black Cat. The thief. One wrong-manicured finger or one slip of that vulgar tongue could end in you being an anomaly, which is a bigger problem than just a petty thief. Miguel wasn't from your universe but he had been watching you from afar...just to keep a watchful eye on you, making sure you were behaving yourself-which was never the case. What was jarring though is that he never stepped in on you making your own mess, he just surveilled you. You never seemed to notice and even if you did, you wouldn't care or give him the time of day.

Miguel watched you stroll confidently as the rain hit his broad shoulders, he had never seen you so casual. He cocked his head to the side to survey you from the rooftop you weren't far away from. You didn't fear the elements, the elements fear you. You boasted a certain naturality, your eyes glassy and the bridge of your nose pinched a pretty pink. Huh, cute. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, his eyes narrowed as your hair bounced with each step, lips parting in the process as the cold chilly air started to get to you. See, Black Cat was this force of nature, mysterious, sexed up, a siren seducing her prey into a strangle. Black Cat always gets what she wants, those silk lips ready to bite and those eyes ready to roll back like second nature. Miguel wanted to turn a blind eye to you acting in such a way but he couldn't help but admire your tactics: men would quite literally throw themselves at you, they would beg at your feet, they would lick the ground you'd walk on, they would be desperate for mercy and you didn't even have to touch them to do it. It was something that you just had the ability to do.

But now, here you are. Without the mask. Without the suit. Beaming against the damp night, giving him the opportunity for him to see who you really are when you're not being someone else. Showing the real you when no one else was looking. Miguel had a problem with admitting things. He could never admit when he was wrong, he could never admit the thoughts that buzzed his brain awake at night because no one would understand. You were dangerous, you were a threat. Then why did he want you? Why were you his calling? Why did he catch himself thinking of you?

Miguel was agitated because of it, acting out in the shadows, being more aggressive and hot-headed than usual. He had to do something about it.

Miguel swung to the alley that you were just about to walk past, hanging upside down from the metal fire exit. Thank God for his adhesive feet. Your boots clacked as you walked past the opening. Something blue and red flashed against the corner of your eye and you stopped in your tracks, the breath almost leaving your lungs dry. You couldn't believe it. You scoffed, a smile tugging your lips upwards as your tongue licked at your back teeth.

‘’Late night?’’ Miguel questioned in that low voice of his, you turned your head to face him squinting your eyes slightly. ‘’Couldn't risk getting your hair wet, could you?’’He insulted but there was a playful tone in his voice. Fuck you. You make him playful. He's always fucking serious- the weight of the multiverse rested on his broad shoulders, and here you are not doing anything and he was already letting go. He really needed to check himself.

‘’Take off the mask, couldn't risk getting your hair wet, could you?’’ You walked towards him as he dangled upside down, his massive reached for the flexible fabric of the mask and pulled it off of his insanely structured face.

Lord above, even upside down he looked fucking delicious, his bone structure and dark eyes made an ache form inside of you. A few strands of his raven locks stuck to his forehead due to the rain. He looked dreamy, you couldn't fucking lie about that. You had eyes, after all, you weren't blind.

‘’I think we know each other enough to not be bound by masks.’’ You added completely serious but a smirk played on his lips and his gaze softened just a little but enough for you to notice.

‘’Mask or no mask...’’ Miguel trailed off, unsure of how to finish his sentence.

‘’What are you doing here, Miguel?’’ Your voice was above a whisper as your gaze fell to his lips. This was coming from a case of genuine and undying curiosity- Miguel always has so much to deal with. What made you worth the precious minutes of his day? Well other than being a criminal, today wasn't one of those days though. ‘’You want me to prove to you I can get my hair wet?’’ You closed your umbrella and the droplets of rain started to dampen your hair and slide through the strands.

He couldn't give you an answer, he just cocked his head and looked at you. Fuck, you were beautiful. It was almost scary. You raised your eyebrow at his silence, his face went hard like his thoughts were racing a million miles per hour. And they were, relentlessly. A few burrowed thoughts pierced through the front of his mind.

Miguel let himself be selfish and he let himself wander when it comes to you. He wanted to fuck you, any red-blooded man would. He didn't want you to do all the work though like you usually would expect, he wanted to worship your body and praise you. He wanted to paw at you like an animal. Hold your hips down as he kissed and bit down your thighs, eat at you, devour you, spending hours at a time just tasting you to make you feel good.

Though he did want to take you over his knee for so blatantly misbehaving. Oh, but he did find it impossibly cute though when you were trying to act all smart defying his orders- you'd end up on his knees, ass up face down. Whimpering and on the verge of tears as he had to spank and fuck the disrespect out of you. The dirty thoughts so obviously transferred onto his face, his eyes darkened instinctively as he glared at your lips, he was worried his fangs would pop out unprovoked. The sexual tension between you two was astronomical and difficult to ignore. He didn't want to ignore it anymore, it was affecting him in so many different ways.

‘’You're a million miles away.’’ You bit your lip, eyes going heavy as your perfectly manicured hand tangled in his hair. Fuck, your touch was like magic.

‘’Stop biting your lip. I need to do that instead.’’ Miguel whispered. Your mouth popped open slightly at his words but you definitely knew this was the PG clean version of what was actually going on in his head.

‘’I'm afraid you'll tear them right off.’’ You flirted back, the proximity between you closing with every second.

‘’No, you're not.’’ Miguel's eyebrows furrowed as if he could read your mind. You swallowed the lump in your throat as his response started to shimmy and have an effect all over your body, your eyes widened and you wet your lips with your tongue. A daring invitation.

Miguel closed the gap between you, the rain sliding across his face as he leaned in to capture your lips with his. You expected his kiss to be mean and filled with anger, he was half expecting you to grab his lips and cut them off with a pocket knife for being so callous but no. It was soft. Sensual. Romantic. It felt...meaningful.

You moaned a little and he took it as an opportunity to open your mouth wider to slip his tongue in. It was slow. Messy. Wet. Tongues gliding against tongues, he even nibbled at your lips with his fangs. The strings of saliva kept pulling you back together like an invisible string. It felt so wrong but so good. It was a sloppy kiss turned makeout session, you swear your heart was burrowed inside of your throat as the butterflies in your tummy were starting to turn into hummingbirds. That ache he was making you feel was unmatched. Damn, that's surprising.

‘’Ah.’’ You moaned softly against his lips, finally detaching yourself even though it pained you to do so. Those soft noises shot down all the way to his cock. What was he, a fucking horny teenager? He wanted to hear you moan into his ear. You smiled as you pulled back from his mouth, your tongue darted out and flicked against his lightly protruding fangs, and licked it all the way to his bottom lip. Jesus Christ, you were fucking toying with him. It was like a cat and mouse game with you but in this case, it was cat and spider. You lifted your head to stare into the dark abyss of his eyes and to your surprise they were gleaming. You ruffled your hand into his damp hair messing it up for him as to further prove your point.

‘’I usually hate spiders. Cats eat spiders.’’ You mused.

‘’Do you now?’’ He teased back. ‘’It seems like you don't hate them enough.’’

‘’I like that you've been watching me, Miguel.’’ You exposed that you knew what he's been doing, the man is 6'9 he's not good at hiding things.

‘’Needed to make sure that you've been behaving.’’ He said huskily and it made your knees buckle a little.

"You already know that I haven't been."

"I should punish you.’’ He scolded coldly, he was being deadly serious and you fucking loved it

‘’Swing by my universe whenever bug boy.’’ You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and he was salivating yet again. And bug boy? That's just unforgivable. ‘’Call me.’’ You smirked playfully, giving into your teenage fantasy of a boy falling head over heels for you, wrapping the telephone cord around your finger and twisting it whilst whispering sweet nothings across the line. But you were both far too dangerous to have anything normal.

‘’Maybe I will.’’ He replied in a rich low tone that made your insides melt, he said it like it was a promise.

You shuffled his hair one last time before your eyes fell on his, eyebrows wilting as an expression of sad tenderness. ‘’Goodbye, Miguel.’’ You breathed as if it was the final moment you’d share with him, finally taking the necessary steps back to successfully be back on the main pavement. You opened up your umbrella and then you were gone, Miguel sighed.

‘’Parting is such sweet sorrow.'’

[oakskull]

I wanna see your pony moshang 🥺🤲

ask and you shall receive!!

my drawings do come with worldbuilding rambling, terribly sorry (not sorry at all)

Side note: "windigos" are creatures in My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic (FiM) and I am using them here, but I am changing the name to frost spirits and changing some of their behavior, they look the same.

Design Notes:

SQH has ink stains on his mouth because non magic users write like that. He was a unicorn pre-transmigration and mourns his loss of unicorn magic and technology regularly. The world he transmigrated from is like the far future of FiM, with modern technology and the internet. (not the latest gen, I honestly remember jackshit about the lore in that movie...)

I've seen Earth pony SQH and I get the appeal. But here me out: Pony maigu ridge needs Qinghua to fly! And he's literally a flight risk!

His cutie mark is a brush and a paper airplane, because its his pen name (get it?). PIDW (mlp ver) has a level of technology more similar to SVSSS, but instead of flying swords there's trains. Im taking away xianxia flying swords and giving you trains. Ponies on swords just look too silly! they'd be unstable! (not that this whole AU isnt very silly >w<)

The Northern Kingdom in this au would be the Crystal Empire equivalent, except there is no crystal heart. The Northern desert is kept in a perpetual blizzard by the frost spirits (there is a barrier against storms around the capital created by the northern kings, redone as part of the ascension ritual but otherwise free standing) Instead of love and light protecting the kingdom, the crystal ponies use the power of incredible violence to keep the umbrums at bay.

Additionally, the crystal ponies of PIDW (mlp ver) are physically stronger, have higher base levels of magic, and are generally more cold resistant, due to living near the frost spirits for so long. They are still flesh creatures; the crystal skin is more of a replacement for their coat rather than the skin itself. Crystal ponies are also hypercarnivores, whilst regular ponies are omnivores (this isn't FiM also the horses are magic. they have basically human diets)

I also couldn't decide on a coat color for MBJ so there's two versions. I'm leaning towards the white fur for contrast reasons. And yes, I Did forget to render the crystal part of crystal pony on MBJ, thank you for noticing (lmao)

MBJ's cutiemark is the flag for the crystal empire, because he's part crystal pony, he still has a cutiemark, but all direct descendants have the same cutie mark after they absorb their ancestors power. Before this, they do not have cutiemarks, and gaining a different cutiemark means the frost spirits didn't acknowledge them as a potential decendant, and they can no longer become king.

Pre-Asension Mobei-Jun:

In PIDW (mlp ver) MBJ is a crystal pony decendant of the frost spirits which keep the Northern Desert perpetually cold. They gave the first northern king their power in the war against the umbrums (the things that made King Sombra in FiM). There's no friendship fire to chase away the frost spirits because this is PIDW (mlp ver) it's a stallion novel (pun intended); Instead, the frost spirits are sated by the constant war. There was an umbrum unicorn created to infiltrate the Crystal Empire like in FiM but they just became a regular pony instead of trying to take over and basically just created a new clan of ponies with shadow powers. MBJ's mother was part of this clan, and the abyssal shadow pony ancestry cobined with his frost spirit ancenstry gives him the ability to shadow step/ teleport through the shadows.

MBJ didn't get his pretty hair until he absorbed his ansestors power, which works similar to SVSSS canon. The previous northern kings die and pass on their power to the next generation because they are technically still frost spirits, and not really alive in the same way that regular ponies are.

SQH in an MLP style coat:

Ponies in FiM don't really... wear pants, even when it's cold. In Airplane's world they definately wore pants, and SQH will never go back (like the opposite of SVSSS LOL). In PIDW (mlp ver) ponies don't wear pants for bad porn reasons, Airplane justifies this by pulling the history card (peerless cucumber is not impressed)

Also! you can see SQH's mane better because its profile view, he's not a crystal pony, but he wheres the crystal pony hair bands as an homage to a bun without me actually having to give him one. Because ponies have ears on their head it always feels to me that a bun takes up too much visual space, thus, fancy hair bands.

Moshang flirting:

SQH can dish out flattery all day but he absolutely does Not know what to do when MBJ returns the favour (lol)

Alicorn Shang Qinghua:

In PIDW (mlp ver) I like to imagine that Airplane cut out alicorns because acending through nice things like friendship and love did not fit the vibe. Alicorns were instead like, the old gods who controled elemental stuff, like Celestia and Luna (renamed in PIDW (mlp ver)). Ponies don't control the weather or sun and moon and have less inate magic (earth pony magic, pegasus magic, and unicorn magic), instead, all the alicorns dispersed into spiritual energy that controls the elements and weather and stuff. Ponies cultivate this spiritual energy to gain a golden core of their inate energy, and eventually immortality, but they don't get the trappings of an alicorn.

So, like there aren't really any gods in SVSSS, there aren't any (living) alicorns in PIDW (mlp ver) they're more like myths than anything, and reside in the heavenly realm. I won't be getting into this AUs binghe/ heavenly demon equivalent because this is a moshang post, but Heavenly Demons are changling royalty, which have their FiM powerset on steroids and are sort of corrupted alicorns.

So alicorn SQH is bascially this AUs equivalent of God!SQH. It's not nessisarily canon to the AU but this mostly exists for me and I really like God!SQH so it basically is. Schrödinger's canon.

("Small Matters" style is a reference to the series by Coffeetailor on Ao3)

[wooahaes]

tender and loving

pairing: non-idol!mingyu x fem!reader

genre: established relationship au. romance.

warnings: reader is in a dress. food. gyu and reader are down bad for each other im afraid

word count: ~1.3k

daisy's notes: the day i actually push myself to write a romance novel w some of this prose its over for u bitches /j

“I thought about bringing a guitar, actually.” Mingyu stretched himself alongside one side of the picnic blanket, propping himself up on his elbows. His eyes were twinkling as he looked at you, beaming at you as he watched the way the wind fluttered your skirt and rustled your hair. “But I thought it’d be too much.”

It earned a laugh from you as you shifted on your half of the blanket, carefully folding your dress’s skirt underneath your legs so that it would stop flapping against your legs. Thankfully, you had on tights so flashing anyone wasn’t much of a worry, but you were still a little annoyed by the way the fabric smacked against your legs. This spot wasn’t perfect in location, but the company you kept made up for it plenty. Mingyu had made all the food that sat between the two of you now, and lovingly fed you the first bite of whatever you wanted, just to dote on you even further. You had told him days ago that you didn’t want to do anything fancy for your birthday—no parties, no big elaborate dinners, no expensive restaurants… Just the two of you enjoying the day out together. You would celebrate with your friends later during the weekend, but you just wanted to spend the actual day with the love of your life. 

So he woke you up that morning with a kiss and a question: how about a picnic tonight? It was lowkey enough that you agreed easily, and he kissed you again before saying he’d be back after running to the grocery store. He needed to make your favorites, after all. His only request for you was to wear something that made you feel pretty, hence the dress you were wearing now with its flouncy skirt and soft fabric. He was just in a button-up and nice pants, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Simple, but still nice enough looking. When you asked him about it on the drive here, he’d just reached over, squeezing your hand.

“I can’t outshine you today,” he teased with a playful grin. “It’s your day.”

It just earned a laugh from you as you swatted at his hand, only to take it back within your own a moment later. Some days you could get Mingyu giving you the sweetest praise, worshiping you wholeheartedly and lovingly telling you how beautiful he found you. But most days, you had this Mingyu: a silly man who adored you with his whole heart, but felt teasing you like that. The two of you had been together long enough, after all. You poked fun at him, too, when the mood struck you. All of his friends did, so why wouldn’t you? There was an unspoken line between the two of you: if it bothers you, we’ll talk about it and apologize. And you did, a few times back when the two of you were still navigating the relationship. He made a comment that rubbed you the wrong way, you teased him and accidentally hurt his feelings…. Every incident was met with a patient conversation afterward.

“We’re adults,” he had said to you one day, playing with your fingers idly. He always seemed to be touching you in some way, as though he was tethered to you, unable to go too long without reminding himself of that. “Aren’t we? I used to fight with people when I was younger and didn’t know how to talk things out.” He stopped for a moment, fingers intertwining with your own. “I think you’re good for me like that.” 

You had rolled your eyes. “I think your friends did more for you than I did.” 

“Mm. Maybe.” He ran his other hand through his hair. “But I think I’m more patient because of you.”

And maybe he was. He’d taught you to be bolder, to accept compliments better. Mingyu had been good for you, too. Now you just admired him as he looked out at the setting sun in the distance, golden rays kissing his skin and warming your own. Was this it? You quietly began to pack away empty containers into his bag, leaving the dessert aside as you moved to sit next to him. He looked over, watching the way you slowly reclined back so you could gaze at the sky. He shifted next to you, back pressing fully against the ground as he kept his eyes on you. 

For the longest time, you couldn’t define the way Mingyu looked at you. “With love” had been the most basic way you could, because it truly was the simplest way to boil the look down. The tender look in his eyes was unmistakable, especially when he started to smile softly at you no matter what you were doing. He wore a similar look when he was with his friends and family, though: that gentle sense of nothing but love for the people in his life visible in his eyes. At first, you’d had a little bout of jealousy that he could simply love so much. But with time, it grew to be something else you adored about him. Mingyu was a lover, through and through, and it astounded you how much he cared for people without limit. 

But that didn’t change the fact that you noticed he looked at you in this slightly different way. Then one day, it hit you while the two of you were in a museum. He’d been staring up at a piece, his hand holding yours, as he quietly whispered to you about some facts he’d read online about it. It wasn’t the exact look he gave you, but the way he lit up in intrigue was enough to tell you that that was the missing piece. He looked at you as though you were a puzzle he was still figuring out, every day showing him a new detail. Like you were a masterpiece he wanted to understand, brushstroke by brushstroke. The soft look of love in his eyes always carried this need to know every little thing about you and commit them to memory. Was that why he was always touching you? So that he could remember the exact feel of your skin underneath his own? And was why he studied you so intensely on the nights you shared baths together, always pointing out a different little spot or blemish or scar he hadn’t noticed before? Perhaps it was.

Mingyu reached over to take your hand in his own, loosely playing with your fingers as he watched you. “I love you.”

You turned your face, meeting his gaze. With a smile, you curled your fingers around his hand and drew it to your lips so that you could press a long kiss against the back of it. Yet you saw the way Mingyu’s eyes burned into you. He moved so that he could give you a chaste kiss that almost lingered for a few seconds too long. But with the two of you still in public, Mingyu wouldn’t push. Not when there were families around with their kids and older couples enjoying the warm weather. Instead, he just pressed a second kiss against your temple.

“Happy birthday,” he said for the third time today. “Let’s go home. Okay?”

He took the words out of your mouth, and you just giggled as you gave him a quick peck. It wouldn’t be a complete day if you didn’t tease him at least a little. “After dessert?”

He just chuckled, reaching for the container. With a tiny peck against your nose, he answered you with stars in his eyes, “After dessert.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao @synthetickitsune @wonuziex @porridgesblog @staranghae @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

[honeyhotteoks]

Okay I'm 5'7 too so thank you for your detailed description of the members and I'm not surprised but kinda am at the same time about their appearance??

Low-key love seeing all the live content but also feel left out as an Aussie atiny BUT I'm seeing skz in October so I'm excited for that!!

Speaking of their appearance, the members of skz are a lot more muscular in person than how they look.

I was expecting them to be skinny and boney but they all look incredibly strong and fit-even Han and Felix-

Han actually looks slightly more buff and muscly then Felix which surprised me and Lee Know is just as defined and muscular as Changbin which no one talks about.

Anyway- yunho brain rot.

I was listening to the audiobook of haunting Adeline because I finally caved in from the TikTok influence and my friend telling me how sexy the novel is.

Idk if it's because I'm going to therapy or I'm too old but I thought it was over-hyped-

I did love how the author described the themes of fear and stalking because when I did get tense when she'd leave the room, come back and there would be a 🌹 on the counter.

BUT I did get delulu and I was reading some scenes where zade is just consumed with Adeline and I was gasping 'like omg yunho could be like this' because his natal chart indicates if he was psychotic and unhealed enough- could delve into stalking territory.

And yes okay- this shit is toxic and scary and awful in real life BUT LET ME FANTASISE FOR A SECOND!

What if yunho was that borderline toxic boyfriend that just CANT leave you alone??

Watches you from afar, sends you messages all day-

Somnophilia thought here-

You don't live with yunho but have given him a key and go to bed with no panties on b/c it's a common occurrence he'll drive over in the middle of the night b/c it's been too long since he's felt you under him and he has to ravish you.

You wake up to his tongue on you clit as he moans and breathes your scent in which eventually leads to you making love with him as he virtually suffocates you with his body and words?

You're mine, you're not leaving me, I'm destined to be with you, on top of you, inside you, I can't breathe w/o you.

EMOTIONAL DAMAGE!!

MY FRIEND THE WAY YOU ALWAYS SERVE UP THE GREATEST IMAGERY OF ALL TIME TO RUIN ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

first of all........ love that you're seeing skz!!! i'm hoping if and when they announce tour dates for north america next year there's a chance for me to see them

as far as your yunho brainrot goes................. IM DIZZY. i love your natal chart content, and i've been so obsessed with the idea of yunho being like perfect boyfriend great guy................but................there's that part of him that just can't help being possessive and having this sense of ownership over his partner.

i was just actually reading a fic for another fandom along the lines of what you're describing and i was like YUNHO YUNHO YUNHO the whole time. i might write my own version but......... brainrot under the cut

so i think there's two yunho possibilities that i love within this like possessive/stalker/dubcon realm, and one is straight up like suuuuuper healthy relationship but they play with CNC in intense ways and do full on like roleplay OR my current favorite brainrot which aligns with your idea and the fic i was just reading which is like...... desperately obsessed desperately in love fully fixated on reader not leaving him because he just has to consume her fully at all times.

he and reader have been dating for a while and he's honestly the 10/10 perfect boyfriend (she thinks) only.... she knows he gets a little funny about certain things. when other guys talk to her he just has to have his hands on her, and when he worries about her he really worries, almost too much. he gets jealous about the funniest little things, and he's always nervous about change, he just doesn't want anything to burst their little bubble so much so that he's controlling the situation a little too much. but.... she also loves him, and he hasn't really stepped over the line of toxic.......... until she catches him stealing a pair of her panties and realizes his phone is full of pictures of her.

and it starts off like an argument, until he starts to confess his real fantasies. and he knows it might be too much, but she makes him so insane it's like he can't help himself. and the longer he talks about all of those fantasies, confessing how fucked he knows it is and how she really could do better, she just keeps getting more and more turned on. and it's shocking to her too, but she really fucking likes it. she's never had someone take care of her, really and truly take care of everything and just let her exist without having to make all the decisions or take control, and he's just offering it all to her on a platter she just has to let him take it.

and so while he thinks revealing his desires is about to break them up, and he's losing his fucking mind about it, she's ready to double down hard on the relationship and on what they do behind closed doors. so she shocks him when she not only agrees for more but asks for more.

and so that's when she gives him the key, that's when she tells him that he's allowed to come in whenever he wants. to touch her whenever he wants. she wants it all, but all she asks in exchange is that he stops hiding his desires from her, because that's what was driving the wedge between them. he's patient about using the new found control though, because he doesn't know what that will do for their relationship and she doesn't necessarily know what she's allowing him to do..... he can't smother her ALL at once.

but that changes when she falls asleep one night before texting him goodnight, she's been stressed and worn thin and he's not had the opportunity to see her let alone take care of her..... and he's feeling a little neglected too. and he waits a couple of hours for a response, but finally he decides it's time to use the key. so he drives over, slips in quietly, and finds her sound asleep, phone still clutched in her fingers and a video looping on repeat.

he's hard in a second, desperate in a second, and he has to do something about it. so he starts off slow, peeing off her clothes and gently teasing her nipples, getting a blush in her cheeks and making her perfectly hot and receptive to his tongue teasing her sweet clit.

she’s been so tired lately that she’s well and truly out, and she doesn’t really wake up until he’s teasing her wet cunt with his cock, not quite fucking her yet but everything in between. and when she wakes it’s mid-orgasm and desperate for more, and she's aware that something feels different but she just woke up and she's caught between realizing yunho is actually here and pushing himself inside her and thinking it might be a dream.

but he's whispering to her, clutching her close and begging her to just let him have this.... and of course she will, she agreed, but as she comes more and more into consciousness the feeling of him and his words start to make sense. he’s not wearing a condom for the first time ever, and that's not something they've ever agreed on going without before. she's just trying to figure out what is going on but he's fucking into her harder and deeper than before, with a whimpering need on his lips that makes her body curl up in pleasure and she knows she should stop him but truthfully she doesn't want to.

and while she clings to him, yunho's delirious. the feeling of having her completely, of knowing he's the only person who's ever been inside her fully with nothing between them, of knowing that the risk might be worth it. his mind starts to spin until he's a babbling mess, telling her he's going to leave a piece of himself behind for her, make them whole, make sure she can never ever leave.

and even though she knows it's a terrible idea, a decision only made in the middle of sex because it feels good, she finds herself clutching him closer, goading him on. no one has ever wanted her quite like he does and it makes her want to throw everything she's ever cared about right out the window if it means he'll look at her like this forever.

ANYWAYS now i have to write full lowkey toxic possessive yunho with a reader who is down to be fully consumed by him like AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[jinkicake]

~ ♡ Dear Lover ♡ ~ 

a tiny peek into your relationship

(( Day #3 )) Diluc, Kaeya, Tighnari, Xiao x Reader

A/N: all i know abt this is that when i wrote it i desperately wanted fluff.... as you all know im not good at writing it but here is my attempt.... i love love love these four T T why am i soooo obsessed w fluff rn i dont knowwwww

WC - 2,839

~~~

. . .

Diluc R. treasures his intimate time with you. 

The man has always enjoyed a quiet atmosphere, it brings him comfort that is akin to a warm blanket. Whenever he is in your presence, basking in the hushed ambiance of the winery, he feels the most at peace. 

For a second, Diluc lets his eyes leave the book in one of his hands in search of something more intriguing. His hard eyes stare at you while his fingers continue their light strokes against your calf, your legs currently draped over his lap. You’re reading your own book and biting on the inside of your cheek at whatever is happening within the novel. Diluc can’t tear his eyes away. 

There’s something about the way the afternoon sun is hitting your face and painting your body with a gorgeous golden hue, one so bright that Diluc thinks he needs to soon look away. He can’t, he’s always been selfish with you. His eyes find the subtle rise and fall of your chest and watch as you quietly breathe in and out, he’s certain he’s addicted to you. 

“How much longer are you going to stare at me?” Your lips quirked up as you continue to stare at your novel, you don’t even have to look at Diluc to tell that he is staring. Almost instantly, his eyes dart to a random spot in the room as if that will erase his piercing gaze. “You’re distracting me, my love,” 

Diluc’s breath almost hitches in his throat, he knows how much you despise being interrupted while reading. He almost starts to feel ashamed but then you close your book shut. 

“Good thing I need a distraction, I’m bored with this, it’s a shame.” You face him with a pout, a deep expression that Diluc just wants to kiss off and his fingers twitch at the opportunity to touch you. All he can do is wordlessly watch as you get up and shuffle your position on the couch. Now, your head is in his lap as you play with the ends of his long hair. 

Diluc’s book from earlier is now long gone. 

“(Y/N),” Diluc murmurs quietly as his gloved hand traces your jaw, his thumb rubbing your chin lightly. There’s something that shifts in his features, almost darkening, as you tilt your head back with a smile. Your throat, bare for him, has always been something of a weak spot for Diluc. 

He ignores the teasing glint in your eyes in favor of tracing one finger down the front of your neck. Before he knows it, his entire hand rests across the span of skin, his thumb now on one side of your throat with his other fingers resting on the opposite side. 

“How was work today?” You hum and Diluc starts to find it incredibly difficult to focus, he doesn’t understand how on earth you are managing to keep a decent conversation with him right now while his restraint is slipping through his fingers. 

“Work,” Diluc repeats, his low voice dragging the mumble out as he starts to gently squeeze his gloved hand around your throat. 

“You know, the thing that you do every day? What did you do today?” Your teasing is getting the better of him, not that he would ever admit to it. 

“What did I do today?” His words trail off as he lowers his face. Before he can stop himself, his lips find a home against your own without a second thought. 

. . .

No matter who he talks to, Kaeya A. always saves his gossip for you.

“That’s why Hertha left him.”

The time that you spend gossiping with Kaeya is time well spent, time that you deeply cherish. You can’t help but hang on to his every word, practically in his lap as you eat out of the palm of his hand. It’s a simple exchange really, priceless gossip for some sweet company. This time around, it’s Kaeya’s revelation that makes your jaw drop, and, despite his sultry voice, the rumors he shares are all you can focus on. 

“You’re kidding,” Gasps leave your lips as he continues to spill exactly what he knows and who told him. 

If only everyone loved hearing petty rumors and took them as if they came from the morning newspaper. Sadly, it can’t be the same for everyone. 

Diluc feels his eye twitch at the two familiar voices, hushed whispers that stand out amongst his crowded bar. He doesn’t even have to look over to see you and Kaeya with your bodies pressed incredibly close to one another. You’re nearly seating in his lap. The owner makes an exception, of course, because he’d do anything for his family. Family being you, not Kaeya. Diluc tries his best to stay on your good side, he’d hate for his brother’s partner to hate him. 

“Well, I heard from Donna that Hertha was the one who cheated-”

But if Diluc has to listen to the two of you gossip any longer, he might just rip his fiery hair out. Day in and day out, almost every night the two of you come here and talk for hours until he has to kick you both out. 

“Aren’t you a little busy bee? Did you find this out before coming here?” Kaeya softly coos into your ear, grinning at the embarrassed flush washing over you as you lean into his side. You place your chin in your hand as you lean over the bar, trying to wave down either Charles or Diluc for another drink. 

“If you want to hear my next story, you’re going to have to finish that,” You point at Kaeya’s drink, almost as if you’re offended by its presence. Your husband is pacing himself too much for your liking and you don’t want to be the only one off your ass.

Diluc notices Kaeya’s full glass too as he slowly pours you another, the owner isn’t a fool. He knows his brother better than anyone and knows that Kaeya is a gentleman through and through. You don’t often drink heavily when you spend time with either of them but, when you do, Kaeya is sure to keep his drinks lighter than usual. It is a show of affection that warms the redhead’s heart, not that he would ever admit it. Especially not to you and your loud mouth. 

You look so far gone that Diluc immediately scratches the idea of giving you another round. 

“Diluccc,” Your whine makes the older man sigh as he pulls back the wine bottle from your grasp. Despite your efforts to reach over and grab the liquid gold, you fail because of a certain someone. Someone with strong hands who tightly grip your waist to keep you from falling over and despite their cold touch, you start to feel incredibly hot. “Kaeya!” You’re drunk as shit.

“You’re cut off.” Diluc takes away both glasses of alcohol before moving on to another pair that is sitting at his bar. He ignores you despite all your cries. 

“No, but Diluc, you have to listen to this!”

. . .

Tighnari is an early riser and thoroughly enjoys getting you up in the mornings. 

This habit of his is not by choice but, is instead something that he can’t avoid. Every morning he wakes up just before the sun rises and stares at his ceiling before any existential dread kicks in. Even when he doesn’t need to be awake for patrol or for anything of importance, the man cannot sleep. 

Every morning, Tighnari gets a few seconds of peace before his entire body starts to ache. When his heart starts to feel a little too heavy, he simply rolls onto his side and looks at you. 

You’re always buried under the blanket, tugging on the material that is laid neatly across his lap. Each morning your face is pushed up against the many pillows you have so generously decorated his bed with and, Tighnari’s favorite aspect of your sleeping form, there’s always a little bit of drool spilling past the corner of your lips.

He lifts his bare hand to wipe away at your mouth, gently thumbing over the spot before catching it with his thumb. It’s cute how your nose twitches at the slightest touch, Tighnari almost coos. Once he finishes staring at you and tracing your features until his heart is content, the forest watcher will force himself to get up. 

His morning routine is very simple, get clean and ready for the day. Since Tighnari is the earlier riser of the two of you, he always does the favor of making breakfast. When he has the time, he’ll force you to eat a ka’ak or two before handing you your coffee. He’s not a fan of the smell but, he’ll do anything to see the excitement in your eyes upon the sight of your favorite mug in his hand. 

Tighnari doesn’t shy away from the fact that he adores you. Why would he?

Almost like a ritual, Tighnari fills up your cup with hot water, mixing in the coffee powder, before sprinkling in a natural enhancer. It makes the drink sweeter and easier to drink in his opinion. 

But sometimes, the sweetness gives him a toothache. He simply prefers not to drink it at all but that never stops him from bringing it back to your shared bed. 

With a light hand, he places the mug on your side table before sitting on the edge of the bed. Tighnari places his touch against your lower back before softly pressing his fingers into your skin. It wakes you up just enough that you start to squirm but, you are not fully awake yet. The smell of the coffee will inevitably wake you up, it always does. 

“(Y/N),” Tighnari and his soft voice call out to you like a light in a pitch-dark space. You instantly shift out of your slumber. “wake up.”

You swat at him with a groan and refuse to open your eyes. Every morning, it’s a battle with you. 

“Wake up.” Tighnari tries again and this time, it is firmer. You blink the sleep out of your eyes and force yourself to sit up in one go. Almost instantly, your facial expression morphs into one of a frown and Tighnari matches your glare. He’s not going to let you get off easy. “Come on,”

He gently tugs on your wrist and tries to help you up, to shake any lingering effects of sleep that still have a hold over you. You ultimately ignore him and choose to instead place a gentle kiss on his shoulder. 

Oh, how Tighnari loves his mornings with you. 

. . .

Xiao cherishes his shared evenings outdoors with you. For as long as he has known you, the yaksha has enjoyed being by your side and always finds comfort in your presence.

Today, the karmic debt that looms over him like an angry cloud doesn’t feel as demanding because of you. Sometimes when you touch him, it’s as if the pressure is gone and Xiao can finally breathe. But then, he has to protect Liyue all over again. 

And he’ll continue to give his life to it in order to keep you and the various others in his area safe. 

So incredibly safe that you can walk around at night with no worries, you’ve always admired the stars. 

“Are you ready?” You’re holding your hand out to him, a loose jacket hanging around your shoulders due to the night breeze. Xiao blinks and hesitantly places his hand in your own before you proceed to drag him around Dihua marsh. “Isn’t it nice out?” 

In his thin attire, Xiao wordlessly nods. The weather never matters much to him, he doesn’t feel too cold or too hot but, sometimes he gets uncomfortable. 

Right now, the air is perfect. The yaksha can admit it to himself and he almost closes his eyes to focus on the feeling. Whisps of wind fly past his ears and the feeling is too freeing, the burden on his shoulders feels lighter because of it. 

Under the delicate touch of your hand, the duty almost feels nonexistent. 

“What do you think?” 

Xiao almost forgets that you had been talking. You were explaining some situation about your coworker, how you think that she has a secret partner and refuses to tell you. Regardless of whether or not he was listening, Xiao has no idea what to say.

“Think?” He repeats and you can’t help the way that you start to laugh. You squeeze his hand (and by association, the strings of his heart) as you almost start to double over due to your laughter. Maybe it’s the clueless look on his face or the slight furrow of his brows that has you so amused. 

“You’re cute,” You gently wrap your arms around his bicep and press the muscle against your chest, both of your hands wrap around his own as you cuddle into his side. The new display of affection is nothing new, you always touch Xiao openly like this but, that doesn’t mean the yaksha is entirely used to it. Xiao nearly trips over his own two feet when he feels your cheek press into his arm. “well, do you think Yuhua has a boyfriend? You always know everything,”

Xiao bites on his own tongue to stop himself from admitting that he does not, in fact, know everything. Far from it but, he hates to let you down. In truth, he hasn’t been paying attention to the waitress closely. He has no idea what’s going on with her or her love life. 

“I’m not sure.” Slowly, he answers you as if he is gauging your reaction. To his surprise, you inevitably sigh before bringing your eyes up to the night sky. 

“That’s okay,” You comment and Xiao wants to ask if you really mean it. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out. It will be soon!” He’s sure of it, with your determination, nothing stands in your way. The longer he stares at you and your soft features, the more Xiao feels something inside of him stir.

Under the bright light of the moon high in the sky, Xiao finds himself squeezing your hand back. 

. . .

2023/02/05 ♡

[jermer10]

Hi! I absolutely love the falling asleep on the mercs' shoulder headcanons!

May I request headcanons for the support mercs, where the reader wakes them up in tears from a terrible day that caused terrible dreams, and asks to stay with them for the night?

TF2 support mercs with reader who experiences nightmares

gn reader | thank you sm anon!! i really enjoyed writing this one!

includes: medic, sniper, spy

drabbles under the cut :P

Medic: - he was difficult to wake up, initially swatting your hand away and mumbling something in german - medic already doesn't get enough sleep, being an insomniac, and it was one of those rare nights he had managed to pry himself away from his desk before passing out - once he heard your quiet sobs though, he sat up, rubbed the sleep away from his eyes, and immediately began questioning you - "vhat's wrong y/n? are you alright? are you hurt?" - you looked so tired, face red, hair a mess, shirt sticking to your skin with sweat - "i've had such a shitty day, i-im just so upset and tired, then i have this sh-shitty dream." he hums empathetically as you sobbed out an explanation - "vould you...like to sleep here tonight?" you look up at him, eyes still wet with tears and face puffy, nodding, you crawled into bed next to him - it felt awkward at first, having the man wrap his muscular arms around you, but eventually you melt into his warm embrace, softly drifting off - he didn't know why you came to him with these troubles, but the way your chest moved as you breathed, the pieces of your hair framing your face, the smell of your skin and hair, it was worth his loss of sleep - he was absolutely enamored with you

Sniper: - the trek to the van from the dormitories inside base was terrifying, adding onto your already heightened senses from the nightmare you had just experienced - this wasn't the first time you had gone to him for a coffee after hours, just as the other times, the outside light of his camper was on - you knocked on the screen door, the sound rattling into the silence of the night, you grew even more paranoid - "who's there?" he growled, it made you wonder if he had encounters with no so friendly faces out here before - "um, it's just me, y/n..." you sniffled, patting your hair down in an attempt to make yourself look more presentable - he opened the doors swiftly, allowing you to step inside - when he noticed you had been crying, he motioned for you to sit in his bed, and walking over to start the kettle - you talked about your nightmare, how shitty your day had been, you laughed at jokes, gossiped, and drowsiness overtook you - "d'ya wanna sleep here tonight? it's gettin' pretty late." he seemed embarrassed at his own question, waving a vague gesture at the bed - you smiled, accepting his request, and getting comfortable next to the australian - he couldn't help but stare at you, taking in your features, the way you rolled around in your sleep, how your body seemed to twitch with every subtle movement made his heart race and his skin hot - sniper wasn't going to sleep that night, he didn't need it

Spy: - sometimes you wondered if the man ever slept at all, you would often walk past his study and see him up, reading or lounging around - so when you awoke from a particularly dreadful nightmare, you knew who to look for - he had been up for hours, sleep beginning to take hold until he heard the shaky knock on the wooden doorframe - and he looked up, book in hand, to see you - spy beckoned for you to enter, a tired smile graced his sharp features, he looked so different without the mask - "um, i was just wondering if i could stay in here tonight, i've h-had a pretty bad dream and-" he cut you off by holding a finger up - "of course mon amour, come." he pet the space next to him on the lounge, you obliged and sat, peering over at the novel he was reading - "would you like for me to read it to you?" you nodded, barely making out the words in your tearful, drowsy state - the words of the novel swam in your head, each pass of the tide pushing you into slumber - he stopped reading after he was sure you had fallen asleep, placing the book on his stained mahogany coffee table, retrieving a blanket from his room to place over the two of you - spy spooned you from behind, gently holding you in place on the couch, you were so peaceful, so beautiful - he would ask about your nightmare in the morning, but for now, he wanted you to sleep

[the-californicationist]

Scenario for the gif game 😊

okay, this was a challenge! it took me a while to think of a scenario, but here's what i came up with. i hope it's okay! thanks so much for the ask, my friend!! <3

TW: ghoap written by someone who doesnt write ghoap (sorry, im trying to get better!), references to anal sex, masturbation, smoking

Menthols

Simon had been out on a mission for nearly two weeks, and Johnny was stuck in their apartment, losing his mind. He’d binged three Netflix series, all absolute shite, and finished the novel he’d been putting off for months. The house was spotlessly clean, and his hands had angry calluses from how often he had used the gym to blow off some steam. 

Nights were the worst. Johnny would lay, spread-eagle, legs wide with his ass in the air, and his mind would wander. He could almost smell Simon’s body as his scent lingered on his pillow, and he crushed it to his nose, trying his damnedest to get to his scent. 

Johnny’s cock twitched, thinking about all of the nights he’d laid here like this, prone, keening like a whore underneath Simon’s heavy thrusts. Shameless and desperate, he allowed his hips to rock into the mattress, his prick humping lewdly across their sheets, feeling the way his foreskin threatened to slip over his swelling cockhead with each vicious, teasing movement. He squeezed his thighs tight, hips popping forward, showing himself little mercy, the pillow still crammed into his face, muffling his broken whimpers. 

Each rushing thrust was like crackling, sparking torture. He was so close, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more.

He could use his hand, or…

Johnny paused his efforts, digging around in Simon’s nightstand, finding his stache. The little white box of menthol cigarettes seemed to taunt him, laughing at his pitiful need. Then, like some sort of fiend, Johnny held the half-used pack to his nose and let his hips grind into the bed once more. 

With his nose buried in the pack of menthols, the minty smell of stale tobacco filled his mind with memories. Like Pavlov’s faithful dog, he was flung backwards in time to all of the nights, after Simon had made a mess of his holes, stretching him cruelly, making his muscles ache with his girth, he would light a cigarette and come down from their high together, letting the smoke billow and curl through the open window. Meanwhile, he’d play inside of his sated sergeant, flexing his thick fingers into Johnny’s well-used hole, smearing his own come along his walls, making wet little circles with his fingertip. 

As Johnny inhaled again, he began to come. His hands hadn’t even made it to his shaft, and he was spilling his seed like a teenager, rattling through a fierce orgasm just at the memory of Simon’s affection. The mint and the harsh nicotine spurred him on like a bull as he bucked into the wet sheets, and he could feel his own spend swiping across his belly, dampening his hair and ruining the middle of the bed. 

He rolled over, panting, and suddenly brightly aware of what he’d done, more than a bit embarrassed. Johnny felt like he was his own voyeur, judging himself for being so thirsty for his partner that he’d sniffed a pack of old cigarettes like a damn bloodhound. 

“Fuck me…” He lamented, stripping the sheets and avoiding looking at himself in the mirror. 

After he remade the bed, he sat on the edge of the mattress and looked into the pack of smokes once more, studying them as they stood up in the pack, all in a jumbled group. Just as he was about to toss them back in the drawer, he heard the keys jangle in the old lock of their front door, getting stuck in the strike like they always did. 

He jumped up, thankful that he’d at least thrown on a pair of joggers after he’d cleaned his mess, and rushed to meet Simon coming through the door. 

“Si! You’re back,” Johnny smiled, going in for a hug. 

Still in his mask, the helmet of his motorcycle in his fist, Simon stopped him. 

“What’re those?”

The enormous Brit’s brown eyes peered down at Johnny’s hand. He was still clutching the menthols.

“What? Och, your smokes. I was just —”

“Are you pickin’ up my habit, love?” Simon’s voice was dark, and it made Johnny’s hair stand on end. He’d heard that voice in the field, but never in their peaceful home.

“Well, no. But I –”

Before Johnny could answer him, Simon’s gaze twisted into a fearsome rage, snatching the pack from his hands and launching it through the den. It fell with a soft slap against the wood floor, lost somewhere behind the couch.

“Don’t you dare start,” Simon crossed the space between them, clutching his lover by the nape of his neck, towering over him, pulling up the bottom half of his mask, “Don’t… I don’t want to lose the way you taste.”

Johnny was stunned by his aggression, and he tumbled into a sort of pliant submission as Simon claimed his mouth, pressing his warm, pink tongue through his lips and down his throat, forcing his jaw to open to take more and more of his kiss. 

It was everything Johnny needed. The minty flavor mixed with Simon’s own unique, human musk went straight to his core. Johnny’s cock seemed to have forgotten its recent release, and it was preparing for round two, eager to be plunged into whatever part of Simon he’d be given, hungry for that sacred gift. 

Simon pulled away, ripping his mask all the way off, throwing it down on the floor with his other gear, staring at Johnny in disbelief,

“You didn’t smoke?”

“No, you mad bastard,” Johnny smiled, shaking his head, “I just… I needed you, and… uh…”

Simon’s lips curled into a sultry grin, pressing his body against him, tugging playfully at the handful of mohawk he was still grabbing,

“Johnny… were you havin’ a wank with those?”

Johnny felt the flush rise into his cheeks, staining them red. Worse still, his cock jerked in his pants, too obvious to hide, eager at the thought of living out his fantasy in real life. He didn’t answer him. He couldn’t think of the words. His mind and his body were slipping out of his control.

Simon chuckled in a deep, warm rumble, his hands digging into Johnny’s elastic waistband, sliding over his dripping rod. He pumped him once, twice, watching as his sergeant’s eyes fluttered closed from the pleasure, so sensitive from his recent release. 

“You needy little slag. Come show me how much you missed me.”