#reader uses he/him

[dogsinspaceandyou]

Cat enter the M-Bark and he disguised himself as a dog. Cat join the Pluto crew.

How do the Pluto crew think of the cat before discovering his true identity as a cat?

Disguised cat on the Pluto crew and their thoughts on him:

Their first impression is that he’s weird for a dog. They don’t recognize him at all, not even the fuzzyest memory of him walking by in the park. And he says odd things, like he’s only learned he’s a dog recently and keeps reminding himself. It reminds them a lot of how Kira used to act too doglike so they decide to just ignore the weird for now -the Pluto crew is already weird enough so he fits in perfectly.

Ed is suspicious of him, even after weeks of the guy being on the team. Ed doesn’t trust anyone, really, but there’s something off about this dog. He can tell he’s hiding something, but he won’t tell anyone else on the crew about this since the other dog isn’t above helping him steal. That makes him okay in Ed’s book... for now at least.

Something about the new guy rubs Garbage the wrong way. He bickers with him a lot at the start. The corgi doesn’t know why the other dog bothers him so much. It takes intervention from Stella for them to eventually be friends but... Garbage still feels odd around him.

Chonies doesn’t think too much about the new dog, but he does take Garbage’s side whenever they fight. He feels mostly indifferent over the new teamnate thing, the last new one they had almost took over the M-Bark so... he’ll just focus on the missions and the friends he can actually trust, thank you very much.

Nomi immediately likes the new guy. He’s weird but she likes weird! He’s always tense like Kira so it makes her feel like Kira’s back in a way. And he’s really good at fighting so she really likes that!

Stella is hesitant about the new guy. He’s always doing weird things like studying the M-Bark’s layout and defense systems. It’s suspicious really, but she can’t afford to spend time on figuring out what he’s up to. She has a team to run and a co-captain to keep in check. Hopefully she’ll be wrong about him.

Loaf avoids the other dog for a long time. He doesn’t like meeting new people. The last new dog was really scary and turned everyone back into regualr dogs so... no thanks to new dogs, he’ll just stay away. Eventually he does spend time with the new guy (in a group setting of course) and... he’s nice, just very, very weird.

Pepper doesn’t trust him. All of the data she’s collected so far has pointed to him being suspicious and possibly dangerous -though her data is insufficient on that matter. No matter how relaxed the rest of the crew, and eventually her, get around him she can’t help but still feel a nagging bit of doubt. She likes him, sure, but can she really be able to trust him?

I love specific requests like this, they give me a lot to work with. I hope you enjoyed this.

[neveroceanblvd]

he might be the love of my life

[sanatomis]

cw. none except satoru being disgustingly cute (part 2)

satoru isn’t used to people calling him anything other than his surname. gojo-san to most, gojo-sensei to others. it’s simple, and gets the job done.

only a handful of people stick to calling him by his given name. to them, he’s satoru. it’s easy, and rolls of the tongue, and he greatly prefers it over the sound of his surname. it makes him feel like an actual person.

satoru never entertained the possibility of being called anything else other than those two names. he didn’t think it would ever happen.

for once, he was glad to be proven wrong.

“tough day, pretty?” you ask gently, and he sighs with a nod as he throws himself into your opened arms. his body moulds easily into yours, and he lets out a heavy groan as he settles onto the couch with you. the groan is loud, and over-exaggerated.

it’s so satoru.

you have to stifle a giggle.

“everything went horribly wrong,” he grumbles, his voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “the higher ups were up my ass again, my students laughed at me again, and when i finally made it to that bakery you liked they were out of your favourite pastries so i couldn’t get them for you—again!”

“oh, my poor baby,” you coo, and gently push his bangs out of his face. he nods in agreement, faking an immense amount of sympathy for himself. “‘s okay, at least you tried, hm? i think that’s very sweet.”

satoru hums, as if he’s deeply thinking about your words. “’m still your baby?” he mumbles, deciding that’s the most important thing right now. his eyes briefly flutter shut, consumed by utter bliss as you play with the hairs on his undercut.

“mhm, still my baby.”

“yeah? what else am i?”

this time you do giggle. he does this sometimes. you aren’t exactly sure why—but on tough days, satoru likes to crawl into your arms and listen to you call him every cheesy nickname under the sun. it’s easily providable and makes him so very happy, so you always indulge him.

“my honey bun.”

“and?”

“my boo bear.”

“mhm.”

“my sweetheart.”

“yes?”

you laugh softly. “my mochi,” you coo, and pinch his cheek. it’s a little squished because he’s laying on your chest, but it emphasises your point.

he grins under your touch. it’s adorable.

“keep them coming, please?” he asks, and you do. you always do, unable to refuse him. especially when he asks so sweetly.

“my sugar cookie.”

“my muffin.”

“my baby cakes.”

“my angel.”

“my love.”

“my husband.”

“h—huh?” satoru stammers, looking up from your chest. he lays his chin on your sternum, baby blue eyes blinking up at you. they’re filled with awe, surprise, and utter glee. “that’s, i’m not. . .”

“just testing the title, baby,” you tell him, and continue playing with his hair. he bathes in your touch and you smile softly as he grabs and kisses the palm of your hand. “what do you think, hm?”

“i think you should call me it again.”

“oh?”

“mhm,” he mumbles.

“my dearest husband.”

“again.”

“my handsome husband.”

“again.”

“my sweet husband.”

“again, please?”

you hum, impressed. “my well-mannered husband.”

satoru chuckles, and lays back down on your chest. his white hair tickles against your skin, and he sighs in content.

“i think i want to be your husband for real.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” he mumbles and nuzzles further into your hold. “y’ve got the same ring size still, right?”

“i sure do,” you say, a content smile on your lips as you watch him slowly doze off to sleep.

“hm, good to know.”

for satoru, those nicknames make him feel as if he’s something even greater than a person—it makes him feel yours.

he’s not just gojo, the strongest. he’s not just satoru, the at-times somewhat immature adult with the sweet tooth of a child.

he’s yours. your baby. your honey bun. your boo bear. your mochi. your boyfriend. your love. and for satoru, there’s no greater thing in the world than that.

[baeshijima]

thoughts on being engaged to duke!sunday, the head of the oak family, an incredibly influential figurehead within society, the close subordinate of emperor gopher wood who brought him and his sister in and raised him like his own, and the villain who faces a tragic ending in a novel you recently finished — the very same one you just so happen to find yourself transmigrated into. he is as cunning as he is blinded, a trait which brought ruin to many in the empire, and one which ultimately brought ruin to himself at the hands of the protagonists.

as luck would have it, you became a barely mentioned side character from a marquis family, whose role was to be the villain's wife stuck in a one-sided love who, too, would get caught up in the tragedy alongside him. however, now that it's you who is stuck in this position, you're determined to try any means necessary to deter him from going down that path, all in an effort to escape your predestined doomed fate!

of course, you didn't expect it to be easy. the day of your arrival in this world was already the night before your wedding, so you had little time to prepare yourself for the nonchalance of your supposed family, how they viewed you as but a means — a tool — to boost their influence and prosperity, the dismissive mannerisms of the household servants, and the absolute beauty of a man you will be married to.

(seriously. the novel descriptions did not do him justice. he was like... like... like he was handcrafted by god himself! and not to mention his sister, robin, was the very epitome of an angel! perhaps you're destined to perish by the god-tier visuals instead...)

to say the least, the wedding ceremony went by quickly. safe to say you didn't spend the night; he was cordial and gentlemanly upon letting you know that he won't do anything until you're ready, that you can take this relationship slow, but somehow you ended up feeling a tad insulted. like, who leaves their newly wedded alone in a big cold bed as they walk out on their own? a sick bastard that's who!

well, whatever. it's not like you need nor want to consummate with him! besides, you have bigger things to worry about — things such as your impending death. and, of course, the only way to stop sunday that you can imagine working is by chipping away at his resolve bit by bit, and opening his eyes to reality.

he is a tragic character, one who cares more about the well-being of penacony and its people than anyone else, but was manipulated into getting his hands dirty in the emperor's stead. you knew this. you sobbed over his story, cursed out the protagonists, and even fought internet randos on novel forums about sunday's motivation and how,

no, he is not just a stupid villain. he is a complex character with flaws and humanity and was cruelly taken advantage of by someone he considered family. he was deceived through the suffering the emperor wanted him to see to make him easily manipulated, creating a rift between him and robin to have that prominent separation. you know what? maybe you're just a !%#@ who can't even #@?"% read properly!

and yet you still find yourself at a loss when faced with the walls he has in place. your initial efforts went as well as it possibly could have; you trying to earnestly help him, while he "kindly" dismisses your offers! well, "kindly" being more condescending since you could read between the lines of his mannerisms and amiable demeanour, but that's fine! you expected this! that just means you have to double down on your sincerity, get through to his heart (somehow), and help him realise humanity isn't as weak as he's led to believe!

you have three years until the novel's plot officially starts, and another year after that until your demise. that's plenty of time to get him to warm up to you!

it was easier said than done, but after your valiant effort and abundance of time put into this relationship, which admittedly you could do with some of that lost time back, you could give yourself a pat on the back with the progress you made! while you definitely could have done without a lot of the headaches, it's safe to say sunday has significantly warmed up to you in comparison to your wedding day. he now willingly eats all his meals with you with some real conversation, takes garden strolls with you in the early evenings, invites you out for dinner at a restaurant at least four times a week, hell he's even joked and laughed with you more frequently! but most importantly, he has begun asking for your opinion before finalising any decisions he is required to make. and he actually listens and considers your side! now, that certainly is the best outcome you could hope for after all this time, and it most definitely will help in your endeavour to save you both from the protagonists!

however, you've noticed he's been more... affectionate? well, at the very least he now willingly holds your hand when in private (not just in moments when you're in the public eye and he has to make sure the family's reputation is spotless), sometimes he will hug you out of the blue ("i just need to... recharge. you have a way of calming me down. i hope you don't mind." ...how could you say no to his supreme god-tier face card? that's just a losing battle you won't even bother fighting against.), oftentimes he opts to just gaze wordlessly at you (robin had mentioned over one of your tea times how it almost appears as though there is no one but you in the world when sunday gazes at you with, in her words, "the eyes of a man so deeply in love!" ...whatever that's supposed to mean...), but a more recent development has been his sudden interest in kissing you; well, more specifically giving you a kiss to the back of your hand or on your forehead — certainly not anywhere near the lips! (besides, he's probably just gotten comfortable with you, enough where he can freely act without judgement. nothing more, nothing less.)

well, either way, development is development! soon enough, the time for the main plot to start has arrived. it of course follows what you remember, from the organised balls to the protagonists meeting to the political aspects of it all. the only difference is sunday's less active involvement in all the schemes and the emperor's ploy. rather, he seems more focused on you and the future of your marriage and even displayed a sudden interest in your practically non-existent relationship with one of the foreign diplomats, aventurine— wait...

"[name]," he calls your name out so sweetly you nearly disregarded it as someone else he was talking to. well, perhaps you would have done had he not suddenly appeared before you, a tight-lipped smile tugging the corners of his lips as he steadily approaches you.

oh. he doesn't seem very happy, if his tense figure is anything to go by. you wonder if one of the nobles grated his nerves a little too much this time?

sunday comes to a halt a step away from you. "i don't like that... gambler being so close to you. it... it brings me a rather unpleasant feeling." there's a slight, trembling pause. not a moment later does he close the gap between you, one knee on the ground as he matches your seated height on the fountain rim, your hands gently enclosed in both of his.

you idly wonder if this is what robin meant by the so-called "eyes of a man so deeply in love" she constantly gushed about, for the way in which he gazes up at you is enough to render you breathless.

"tell me, [name]," he begins once more. there is an underlying desperation woven within his tone, one which has your head spinning and heart thumping wildly as his trembling gaze holds you in place. "tell me, what am i to do with this fervent love and overwhelming adoration i hold for you?"

oh.

...oh.

perhaps your impending doom should be the least of your concerns when you now find yourself in the arms of a clingy husband...

(though, it's safe to say you did, in fact, manage to prevent him from succumbing to his tragic fate! you just gained a loving, yet slight slightly emotionally challenged husband along the way.

well, you can help him work through it; you have the rest of your lives now to figure it out, after all.)

[equestriagirl16]

YALL IM-

IM LIGHTHEADED IM LIGHTHEADED IM LIGHTHEADED-

Btw his song from my playlist is Defying Gravity by Matt Copley I don’t make the rules💖

[heavenbarnes]

when do we talk about art fucking you on his n tashi's private tennis court because he has no decorum and needs your little tennis sneakers bouncing by his head stat.

right neeeeeeoooow OH MY GOD-

he gets you down onto the court with the premise of needing you to serve to him so he can practice but it doesn’t last long

not when you end up on your back with your skirt flipped up and his hips literally pounding you

sounds of tennis balls bouncing replaced with the slap of his balls against your ass

sounds of his grunts after serves replaced with his grunts as he pulls your hips back onto his cock

your tennis shoes are up round his ears as he grips one of your calves draped over his shoulder, pressing his lips all the way up to your ankle

your pathetic little whimpers and moans seem to be reverberating as art’s lost in you- running his mouth about how good this “pretty little cunt feels wrapped around me- oooh just like that my baby- take me just like that”

you cum flat on your back on the tennis court with art literally filling you with a thick load he’d been saving up for you since your last “lesson”

the neighbours probably heard- not that you care

not when you know tashi heard (and saw) from her spot above the court

all you care about is whether she thinks you did a good job

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Feelings Thawed

Character; Cater Diamond

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, pining, ice skating (to various degrees of success)

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; This is a present/thank you to my mutual @i-like-forgs. I hope you enjoy this ice skating scene with Cater, and that you get to skate soon!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

The brisk wind bit at your nose, and you pulled up your scarf, trying to keep away the offending wind. Around you it was a winter wonderland, all made possible in the temperate conditions thanks to Cater, who was filming you skating around on the frozen pond’s surface.

“You know,” you hollered, making sure that you caught his attention, “you should join me! It’s fun!” You came to a stop by the pond’s edge, where Cater was standing with a large thermos.

Cater just shot you a wink, handing you the thermos. “This is for you though, silly!” 

He was deflecting, you could tell; behind that bright and cheery smile that he always seemed to wear around others, you knew when there was something off with Cater. You accepted the thermos though, and took a sip of the spicy apple cider, still piping hot.

You gave him a look and pulled lightly on his coat sleeve. “Yes, but it’s more fun with others, come on Cater!” You stepped back onto the ice, and slowly skated near him, waiting with an eager smile.

He looked at you, and then back at the ice, but he stayed standing in the light snow, shooting you that smile. “But I can’t take photos if I’m out there with you!” He scratched at the back of his neck.

Liar. “Cater,” you looped back around and stepped onto the bank, balancing on your skates, “do you not know how to skate?”

Cater’s smile turned sheepish, and his ‘ahahaha, looks like my gig is up’ chuckle made its appearance. He had been found out. “Never got the chance to,” he hid his face slightly in his scarf, either to keep the cold at bay or to hide that his cheeks were turning pink. “So I’d just slow ya down.”

You took his hand into yours, “Well, I could teach you if you wanted. Just a warning though, you’re gonna fall on your butt a lot, might get a few bruises.”

Cater looked down at your entwined hands. Mittens and gloves separated your skin from touching one another, but Cater could swear that he could feel the sensation nonetheless through the layers of fabric.

“You would? Even if I pull you down with me?” 

The last question wasn’t just about the ice skating; Cater didn’t want to force you to do anything that you didn’t want to… and that included being his friend. His heart seemed to whisper stronger emotions though, but he didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had.

You walked him out to the ice, and the both of you swiftly fell down on the ice, hard. But you just laughed and got right back up again, “Well, we did just fall. There isn’t anything scary about falling down; yes it stings and might leave a gnarly bruise, but in order to move forward we have to fall and get back up. So yes, is what I guess I’m saying.”

Cater looked up at you, the sun illuminating you and the snow glittered behind you. You were holding your hand out again, waiting for him. And Cater took your hand. 

It took him a while to get the hang of it, and he fell down quite a bit, but every time he fell down you helped him back up. And by the time that the sun was setting in the west, the both of you were cold, and both were going to wake up tomorrow with some bruises. It was fun though, which is all that mattered… but that whisper in Cater’s heart was by now singing, and maybe he would listen to it, but for now, he was happy with how the way things were, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, especially with how much you had smiled today. Your smile and knowing that you had fun with him was enough.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tags; @eynnwwyjth, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @silvers-numberonefan, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[buttercupshands]

can you even call it a warm up if I'm going to bed without drawing anything big

and a sketch I made while sitting in the park today

[ffsg0jo]

yeah manwhore gojo is great but what about touch starved gojo who fantasises holding your hand. spends his nights dreaming about the way you would feel cuddled in his arms. his entire face red and blushing at the mere thought of your lips chastely pressing against his. he can't stay thinking about that too long though because it'll result in him giggling and kicking his feet all night and getting no sleep.

gojo who sits downs next to you and almost combusts feeling your soft thigh lightly pressing against his. he just yearns to be close to you in any way possible. his leg wrapped around yours whilst you're sitting opposite each other, his pinkie always reaching for you. he's always blushy and giggly around you and it's the most adorable thing ever. this man loves you so much and he's not afraid to show it at all. he wears the simp title like a badge of honour.

it's not just physically either. he no longer thinks in his own voice. his entire brain has literally been rewired ever since meeting you. your voice is always replaying in his head, the way you say his name is on repeat 24/7. the sweet little nicknames you give him too.

like yes, he is your sweet little cuddlebug and he is your cutie patootie blue eyes white dragon. and he's so proud of it. yk those titles people have after their names like DClinPsy and MBBS, he has that in his bio too, but it's just silly little nicknames you've given him.

this man is a true loverboy through and through.

[stellewriites]

marrying johnny was an easy choice, in that you had no choice at all.

he needed a wife and you were too old to stay at home any longer, already well past the average age other women in your town got married. the wild west wasn’t kind to young women, so it made sense to cling to the offer johnny made even if you knew his heart wasn’t in it. it was unlikely you’d find a better option in your town, no one interested was as young or as handsome.

it didn’t matter the rumours that spread about him. in fact they fell in your favour.

you barely had the chance to get to know him; told on your first night to keep house, left with his set of rules and chores to occupy you while he rode off with his tall masked friend.

it could be days, weeks even, between the morns you saw him. you didn’t ask where he went or what he did when he didn’t come back home. you didn’t care, happy to take advantage of the empty bed.

and for months, crossing paths only a handful of times, it worked for you both. you kept your horse fed and brushed, used it to travel into town for your perishables each week and made sure the space out back was kept neat for if johnny arrived back on his own mare.

it worked. you were happy. but then johnny was shot; part of a train robbery gone wrong, the sheriff had told you stiffly.

he apologised for your loss, but you could tell he didn’t mean it. he told you if you had any clue who johnny’s partner could be then it’d be wise to turn him in sooner rather than later before leaving you to organise the funeral. closed casket, he’d advised wryly, in fact just ask the undertaker to seal him in a box and pay him direct. save yourself some time.

watching johnny’s casket get lowered into the ground you couldn’t help but think about how you’d never even kissed. husband and wife, though a true sham of it behind the walls of your home. not that you’d admit it so.

you stand next to his friends, people you hadn’t gotten to meet, and watch them grieve at his funeral. the tall man, his lower face still masked, seemed beholden with his grief; shaking with anger as his wet eyes stayed firm on the casket as it was lowered to the dirt.

you once again deigned not to think of where johnny may have been staying when he wasn’t nipping back home to you or how likely his partner in crime may have also been his partner in life. you’d let johnny keep his secrets.

you take the deed to his house - now your house - and shake and cry yourself to sleep that evening. it wasn’t grief that kept you awake though, but guilt. guilt over feeling thankful for his death since it brought with it your freedom, no strings attached.

johnny’s gentle, if not disinterested, countenance towards you had been reassuring, but not a guaranteed permanence. this however, was.

you continue to keep house, visit the stores in town and generally continue on as before for months after. you don’t see his tall friend and you don’t hear from anyone else that had been present at the funeral throughout the entire time. in fact, it’s almost a year later to the day of his death when you’re disturbed in your home.

steps crunching along the dry mud out back, irregular scratching at the windowsills and knocks on the doors inside the house.

when you think you see a man in your mirror you finally go to one of johnny’s friends still living in town and ask about your late husband, if they’ve seen or heard anything, but they just look at you pityingly.

you leave before they can get a doctor involved, blame it on a bad night’s sleep and a lonely heart - the horse wouldn’t settle for the wind and it is close to the anniversary as you know - and wave them off when they offer to come to the house. instead you buy a peashooter from a condescending clerk at the hardware store and hope for the best. hope to god it’s just big rats.

but you should’ve accepted their offer.

you should’ve moved out as soon as the noises started because finally one night when you’ve been kept up for hours and frozen still by the noises and movement in your house, you shakily take the gun and drag yourself downstairs. you follow the sound to the front door and sling it open.

you gasp at the sight before you. johnny sat on his horse, wearing the same clothes as he was a year ago when he was lowered into the ground; but dirtier, dustier, and his horse’s front leg has too many bends in it to be natural, its jaw hangs too low, its eyes too cloudy.

you daren’t look at johnny’s face beneath his hat, tilted low until your shaky breaths register and he looks up with a growing grin. grim and broken and hollow. his eyes are a cold grey, no longer blue, but clear and seeing unlike his horse. he stares at you as you take in the blood staining his chest, the unnatural, sporadic twitch in his hand as he removes his hat. you gasp a second time, shudder with it, when you finally see the wound that killed him.

a hole in his temple, gaping and splitting out into minute cracks and bruises across his forehead and down his cheek. hairline fractures and ruptured blood cells reaching out like tree roots.

his smile didn’t reach as high on that side but you tried not to dwell. you didn’t understand what he had to smile about in the first place.

“johnny…?”

“in the flesh, hen. come give yer husband a kiss, eh?”

“i don’t— i don’t understand. this can’t— you died. i saw them bury you.”

“aye. ye let them bury me.”

“i didn’t— i didn’t know—”

“ah ken, ah ken. i forgive ye. or i will, if ye let me in.”

you swallow thickly. there was a heaviness to his words that suggested you’d be doing more than just letting this… man, your husband, back into your home. you know he meant more than that.

“it’s late, johnny.”

“all the more reason not to dawdle. ne’er thought you were one to waste time even if ye were skittish.” he eyes your gun, held in shaking hands but still aimed higher than the steps before you, not fully dropped yet. “ah see ye’ve gotten past that in my absence.”

“it’s late.”

johnny huffed through his nose like a bull. angry like one too.

“so ye’ve said an’ ahm well aware. hen, let me in, before dawn comes knockin’. now, c’mon.”

you frown, clear your throat even as it felt full of cotton.

“what— what did you say to me on my first morning here after we woke up together?”

he squints at you, clenching his jaw tight before letting his unnatural smile stretch back across his lips. “forgive me if mah memory’s spotty but ah think ah said ‘good morning’.”

you raise the gun and point it towards him. “me and johnny never shared a bed. he left me alone here that first full week and he took the chair downstairs when he did stay. always.”

johnny’s grin turned mean in front of you, the cracks splintering further across his face.

“i was happy to try an’ do this the nice way, but now…” he threatens, twisting to drop off his horse.

you shoot him in the chest when his feet his the ground but the bullet doesn’t stop his even pace, doesn’t even startle his horse, and you feel dread finally rise above your adrenaline and chill you to the bone.

“shouldnae a done that.”

[dogsinspaceandyou]

How do the Pluto crew react if they find out he is actually a cat who disguised himself as a dog

Sequel to this post.

How the Pluto crew reacts to finding out their new member is a cat spy:

The Pluto crew finding out doesn't go well. If he had told them on his own, maybe it would've been better. But he didn't and now they know and now he has to face the consequences. Will they turn him in or protect their new friend?

Ed, even though he suspected the guy, wasn’t prepared to find out he was a cat. It’s not that he dislikes cats, its more the fact that humans lied to them, again. He doesn’t really know how to feel about his teammate. Sure he lied about what and who he is but, he’s still his buddy right? He can’t just turn him in.

Garbage feels almost sad knowing his feelings were right. He didn’t like cats but... he’d started getting used to having the guy around. It didn’t feel fair that he was actually a cat. Garbage felt like he has to turn him in, but would that be the right thing to do?

Chonies feels furious on Garbage’s behalf. He never really cared too much about the guy but watching his best friend grow despondant over the news really bugged him. If the rest of the crew agreed, he’d turn the cat over in an instant... for Garbage. (Chonies doesn't want to think too much about his own feelings on the situation)

Nomi is a little hurt at first. This is too much like the Kira incident. But the new guy hasn’t really hurt anyone (yet), he’s just spied on them. Sure that’s probably really bad, but he’s really cool and he likes us, right?

Stella feels hurt. She gave him the benefit of the doubt and he turns out to be a spy? She wants to trust he's actually a good guy but... She can't. She can't even trust herself to make the decision on what to do.

Loaf now has a new phobia. He really doesn't want to think about the guy being a cat spy. The rest of the crew can do what they want with this information. He'll just be hiding in his apartment.

Pepper doesn't know whether to be impressed that her holograms called it or be upset that her new teammate was lying to them. She isn't sure what to do now. Turning him in is the most logical and tactical thing to do but... it doesn't feel right.

[teddybeartoji]

you come out of the shower and look for dazai only to find him napping on the floor of your living room in a patch of sunlight like an actual cat. he's on his back with a hand under his head and a faint smile on his lips and when you ask him why didn't he just go to the couch instead, he simply cracks open his eye and extends his hand to you, silently asking for you to join him. and you do.

you curl into his side without another complaint, used to his silly antics, before resting your head on his chest. he's warm, so very warm and it's hard to see why you were questioning him in the first place. dazai's fingers sink into your hair, mindlessly twirling a strand between the digits while humming quietly. it's like a spell, the way your eyes start to feel heavy in a matter of minutes, seconds even, as he holds you close under the sun.

you don't see the way his smile stretches wider and wider with every soft breath you take, your slowing heartrate telling him that you're fast asleep. he feels giddy. he feels proud. he feels happy.

[ping-ski]

eclipse and y/n are finally done!! (you can find EBY sun & moon here)

these refs aren't that much different from the old ones aside from small changes :3

(old) EBY DCA ref

(old) Y/N ref

[ciy0]

i just thunk a thought so please bare with me

I’m thinking about how Mingyu is definitely the type of guy that’s drawn to someone who’s severely lacking in the love department or who might’ve been hurt deeply in the past. He doesn’t do it consciously, but he just starts to notice you. How sometimes you have this far away look in your eyes, or how you keep your head down when talking to others or god forbid he overhears you demeaning yourself disguised in jest. He so full of love I see him gravitating towards someone who’s cup it’s damn near on empty but trying their best to save every last drop and he just wants to pour everything thing he has into it and then some; till it’s overflowing.

He doesn’t even realize his initial interest blossoming into a full blown crush. He wants to be the shoulder you cry on, he wants to carry any burdens you have, he wants to see that smile that reaches your eyes be directed at him. He just wants you bursting at the seams from happiness but he’s a little selfish in the fact that he wants it to be by his hand.

He notices the little things and big things about you that may go unnoticed by others and finds himself worrying over you and rooting for you even before you both have a proper conversation. Wondering if you ate, if you had a good day today, if you enjoyed the new episode of that anime he overheard you liked (he started watching it too), if you slept well even though the most you’ve both uttered to each other was a simple pleasantry in passing and a bow.

His mind reels when you kindly pick up things people accidentally dropped or that one time you helped clean up the coffee he’d spilt on the floor without a word. Or even that time when you offered a staff member your umbrella on a rainy day saying you had two, just for him to see you drenched in the rain a couple blocks away as his driver took him home (once recovered from the shock he shot out of the car running back to where he saw you last but you were long gone). His heart clenched painfully when he heard the reason he hadn’t seen you around the week after that was because you had come down with a nasty cold. You give and give without ever expecting anything in return; without thinking you deserve anything in return. But who’s giving to you?

He finds his gaze wondering off in your direction during social gatherings. His own features softly morphing into a for-longing smile as he sees you enjoy yourself with your group of friends, hearing that rare burst of genuine laughter at whatever you guys were joking about. He cursed his cowardice, not being able to approach confidently like how he’d imagine in his head so many times. He had some mutual friends maybe that’d be a good place to start—

He was startled out of his reverie as Seungwan pointed out his goofy expression teasing “What’s got you so distracted lover boy?” Mingyu ops to just huff a smile in into his drink as he bashfully looked away.

You, it was you who had him like this

[elsecrytt]

Satoru Gojo goes to the same cafe every day for his coffee-flavored confectionary beverage. You are the barista tasked with pumping his drink with the unreasonable assortment of syrup squeezes.

You don't blink at it. You've been in customer service forever. Everything is second nature to you. But you give him a look when you hand him a drink and he just starts going.

He likes to make small chat, you learn. About meaningless things - desserts, drinks, the weather - but he makes you laugh, and he laughs at your jokes, too. He's smiling every time you talk.

He's beautiful - in that way that makes you uncertain if he's really there - and friendly, and he seems a bit lonely, eager to converse.

Something tells you Satoru probably doesn't have a lot of close friends. He's rich, too, judging by the massive tips he leaves you.

The thing is, you do a lot of things on autopilot. It's just the way these things get after a while. Pouring drinks, "What would you like today?", "I'll have that out for you soon!", "Have a nice day!", all that stuff.

Sometimes, though. Sometimes. Wires get crossed.

He's picked up his drink to leave, giving you a cheeky smile and a little wave, and you tell him, without thinking twice:

"Love you, bye!"

Oh. Oh fucking hell -

"Love you too!"

[heavenbarnes]

I’m thinking about older bf Simon in some grey sweatpants after shower. Smelling nice and clean, warm and cosy on the couch. And the print of his flaccid cock is visible through the sweatpants 😵‍💫

fuuuuuck FUCK fresh and clean simon about to make me ACT UP 🫶🏼

it was standard for your older bf!simon to shower with the bathroom door open.

you’d queried it, leaning in the door frame watching him struggle to fit under the shower head, slightly obscured by the condensation on the glass.

“need t’keep an ear out, can’t hear y’when it’s shut”

and you never questioned it again. it was filed away with simon’s hatred for noise cancelling headphones and sleeping when you were awake.

it goes hand in hand with “i always know where you are”

so simon showers with the bathroom door open and you don’t complain.

hard to, when you can lay back on your bed and smell the wafting steam with his body wash hinted in it.

when you can turn your head and catch glimpses of the way the water ricochets off his toned body.

when it’s also an open invitation, if you ever wished to join him- he’d welcome you with open arms.

but it also meant, when you were on the couch watching something mindless- you could hear the water shutting off. knowing it meant that any minute-

simon enters the living room with water still dripping off the ends of his cropped hair. bare chested and glistening a little from a rough towel dry.

his hands are still pulling up his sweatpants, grey- the soft ones that feel nice under your cheek when your head is in his lap.

you can tell he’s not got anything under them, you can tell by the visible print that sits just over his left thigh. the one you’re trying your damndest not to fixate on.

simon slots in next to you on the couch, wrapping you up in his arms so you’re pressed to his chest. he smells like adidas after-sport, citrus and musk and inherently man.

you could bury your face in him.

he’s warm, relaxed, content and it’s the moment where you’re melting into one another a little- fitting perfectly together.

“we’re not watching this rubbish”

he breaks the comfortable silence, reaching over you for the remote- he’s been really into cooking shows lately.

and you’re just really into him, letting him commandeer the tv so he can catch up on his kitchen nightmares.

you think you fall asleep to the dulcet tones of gordon ramsay, but it’s probably more the heartbeat under your ear and the firm hand tracing circles on your back.

that’ll do it.