#would the red string be long enough to get tangled you say

[hischierlovebot]

Red string of fate au where one of them doesn't believe in soulmates and after the string gets tangled in his skates one too many times, he cuts it off

[stardustlixie]

i love you?

☆

"how long in the relationship did it take for you to say i love you?" was always such a strange question for you. if you loved someone, why would you wait to tell them? maybe you wouldn't say it out loud, but there would be silent confessions..

a bowl of fruit delivered to their desk on a particularly busy day, 'i love you'

a sketch of their sleeping form, illuminated in faint sunlight, face nuzzled into their pillow, hair tickling their skin, 'i love you'

a small sneaky bite into their shoulder, 'i love you'

countless poems written in their name, with all the words that you could possibly use to say 'i love you'

letting them pick their movie for the hundredth time, 'i love you'

the vulnerability of them trusting you enough to fall asleep in your arms, a soft kiss on the forehead, 'i love you'

looking after them on sick days, running fingers through their hair as they curse their headache, 'i love you'

entangled pinkies on busy roads so you don't lose them in the crowd, 'i love you'

drawing red strings on each other's hands, a promise to always find each other, 'i love you'

perhaps you love too easy, feel too much, but that's okay. what was your heart made for, if not to feel?

as long as you were capable of loving, you would love easily, trust easily, get hurt easily, and start over again. that's how you were. until fates twisted themselves in a way that rendered you incapable of feeling anything but a never ceasing emptiness, a dark void of nothing is what was left of your heart.

until he came around. hyunjin, who wore his heart on his sleeve much like you used to. hyunjin, who loved easily and got hurt easily. hyunjin who was so, so beautiful. from then on it was only him.

loving him was surprisingly painless, and oh-so-easy. he was a beautiful soul.

you brought him fruit that day he was stressing over an assignment, you sketched his face when he fell asleep in your bed after crying his heart out about something that hurt his sensitive heart, you bit his shoulder out of nowhere during a particularly boring lecture, getting a barely audible yelp in return.

you gifted him a notebook filled with poems about him on his birthday, you laughed and rolled your eyes when he picked tangled to watch for the nth time, you brushed his hair out of his face to plant a kiss on his forehead when he feel asleep on the couch, on top of you, conveniently immobilising you.

your fingers ran through his hair as you tried to soothe his headache, entangled your pinky with his on a busy street filled with bookstores he took you to and you drew red strings on the hand that was in your own as you both absentmindedly lay on the floor.

as he cradled your sobbing figure as you cried out your misery, he was balm to your heart, tincture to your wounds, calmness to your nerves and healing to your soul. and then he said it, "i love you."

and maybe that was all that mattered.

[sparrowrye]

The Archivists’s Oath || Alastor x Reader, Chapter 4

Synopsis: some things are just too good to be true

Master List

Chapter 4: broadcast of betrayal

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Stop it." I smacked Al's hand away from his arm.

"It itches," he hissed. He went to itch it again but I caught it in a tight grip.

"Suck it up or it's going to itch more."

His ears turned away in response as he stuffed down a growl. I released his hand and went back to the kitchen sink. I had an itch cream but it had been difficult to get it underneath his fur, so there had been a few places I missed. We had fallen asleep under the stars and woke with an array of mosquito bites.

I soaked a towel in water and draped it over the handle of the kettle. After it had warmed enough, I wrapped it around the arm he was still itching and told him to lay down. I then left him alone as I went out to continue my long list of chores.

I made my way to the little creak that ran along the edges of the oasis. I scavenged for berries and other herbs to store for later use. It was one of the most mind-numbing and time-consuming chore, and it was also the one that took me furthest away from my alcove.

However, I could no longer contain myself. I dropped the old basket and sprouted my wings. My claws dug into the nearest tree as I climbed up and jumped through the branches. My wings were slightly open to help me glide from tree to tree. I laughed like a kid, even when I missed a branch or two and smacked my face into a trunk.

I hung my legs on a branch and swung upside down, stretching my arms and wings as far as I could. My own laughing was contagious. When was the last time I felt this way? When was the last time I felt happy? The last time I felt hopeful?

Would he actually take me to see the outside world? Where did he live? How far was it? Would he actually want to come back after he's been back in his own, familiar world?

The thought sobered me. I shouldn't get too hopeful. He could already have a partner or someone he's interested in. He could be saying all these things and not actually follow through. I wouldn't be surprised if he got caught up in the outside world and completely forgot about me.

I grabbed the branch and unhooked my legs, but froze when something caught my eye. I lowered myself to the ground and peered through the tangle of roots, catching a glint of something red. Using magic, I pulled the branches away to find a strange, metal, teardrop thing. I turned it over, noting the metal rod that was bent at a 90 degree angle, and found a microphone sitting in the dip of the teardrop.

Was this his staff?

It hadn't gotten taken by the White Angels?

Something about this staff made the hairs on my arm stand up. I could feel the magic from this simple tool, magic that tasted oddly like Al. I didn't even know magic had a taste until that moment. There were faint lines along the teardrop shell, strange markings and symbols that represented him—his power, his life out there, his magic, and the truth I didn't want to face.

I idly walked back with the damaged cane and old basket in hand. What would happen if I gave him the staff? If he needed it to get home, would he up and leave me without a word? Would he take back his promise on showing me the world? Technically he didn't even promise that to me. But...it went against my moral code to keep something, with obvious importance, a secret.

Had our time finally come to an end?

I found myself back at the alcove sooner than I wanted. I raked my hand down my face, mentally braced, and slid through the bramble. I found Al messing with the string again. When he turned to look at me, his eyes immediately went to the staff in my hands. He went eerily still. Then abruptly stood up.

"You found it." He crossed the room slowly, gaze zoned in on the staff.

"It was—uh...stuck in some roots." Head lowered, I extended my arm. "Sorry that it's broken."

"Nothing a little magic can't fix." His claws wrapped around the metal and, when I let go of it, his other hand grabbed my hand before I could pull away. It wasn't a tight grip but a tense hold I wasn't expecting. He leaned down in my ear and said softly, "Thank you."

He removed the cane, and his grip, and I wrapped my arms around myself. "G-glad I could help."

He looked me over for a moment. "Is something the matter?"

"'Course not." I quickly slipped out of the bunker.

~*~

Alastor sat on the worn couch, the staff resting on his lap. His fingers traced the carvings on the back of it, as though reacquainting himself with a piece of his soul. Despite the damage, it bled magic into Alastor's veins and reinforced the amount he had been born with. It made his leg tap with a funny feeling of adrenaline.

Even so, he felt the gravity of his situation fall upon his shoulders. The quiet was too quiet. The shadows too dark and closing in. He had expected this moment to happen but he hadn't expected it so soon, but he knew he was only fooling with himself.

He dropped his cane on the table then buried his face in his hands. All he could think about was the look on your face—the forced smile and the flicker of pain behind your eyes. You had tried so hard to mask it and push him away, for his sake or your own he had no idea.

His staff glared back at him, a reminder of his life outside this sanctuary and of his responsibilities he'd been neglecting. He could only imagine what his district must be like if they learned of his sudden disappearance. Perhaps Vox finally made his move to step into Alastor's role, but even he knew that was entirely impossible. His mages—while they didn't exactly like Alastor all the time—would never accept a non-mage. If anything, Zestial was the one who took over.

His magic pulsed. He closed his eyes and reached out, his heightened magic seeping through the cracks and invisible wavelengths to where you sat crouched in the alcove. Crying. Wings wrapped tightly around yourself.

He opened his eyes to the red staff. For all his power, all his cunning, and all his control...he was utterly powerless in this moment. You had pulled him out of his element in every way and it reminded him why he had spent so many years crafting and chiseling himself into who he was—he never wanted to feel this way again.

And yet...here he was.

Another ripple through his magic. He ran his hands through his hair, pulled on it, then finally stood. He yanked the heavy door open and stepped into the afternoon light. Birds chirped overhead as a breeze flowed through the trees and bramble protecting the sanctuary.

You recoiled your wings back to their spot on your back and turned your head away, arms holding your knees to your chest. He silently sat beside you, making sure to keep enough space. His long legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned back against the stone. He had hoped he would come up with something to say by the time he sat down. But he hadn't. He was at a loss for words.

You sniffled softly. "I guess this means you're leaving soon."

He clasped his hands together so he didn't risk touching you. "Think me eager to leave your charming company so quickly?"

You shrugged, refusing to turn your head in his direction. "You have your staff back. You've got...some mission or job to do back home. I just figured..."

"That I'd forget all about you the moment I left?" he finished.

You didn't reply immediately. You wiped your eyes with your sleeve then turned your head to stare straight ahead. "The world is full of temptations. It's easy to get lost."

The words sounded like a recitation. Was it something you'd been told as you were growing up? That the world is full of dangerous temptations that could distract an Archivist—that could pull them away from their work? Could some of the world's long lost Archivists have given up their way of life in exchange for a blissful world of temptations?

"Well...the temptations become far less inviting the longer you live with them." He was hurting his hands with how hard he was gripping them. He wanted to touch you, to provide some sort of comfort. The him before your sanctuary would've been appalled at him now. "But yes...the world doesn't stop turning even if I've found a temporary reprieve here."

You winced at the word temporary and more tears started to build. You turned your head away again, sending more ripples through his magic.

Blast this magic. It was trying to adapt to his new mindset and it wasn't a smooth transition.

"I'm sure your...team or whatever will be happy to know you're not dead."

"Not yet."

Your body froze, then you wiped your head around, finally meeting his gaze with those beautiful eyes, albeit a little red and swollen from crying.

"I'll stay one more day," he continued, fingers finally unlocking and settling on the grass between you. "Perhaps two. I'd hate to leave you without properly overstaying my welcome."

Finally a crack of a smile on your lips. You shifted closer, accepting the arm that wrapped around your back and guided your head to lean on his shoulder. You took in a slow, deep breath of his natural scent and he did the same, soaking in that earthy scent like the day after a spring storm.

This is going to be painful, he thought.

Luckily for Alastor, he was accustomed to pain.

{|}

Alastor let two more days pass before he accepted reality.

It was time to return to the world.

He had been gone for...two weeks? Three weeks?

He waited for you to leave for a chore, giving it two minutes to ensure you weren't coming back for anything. Then he sat up, grabbed his staff, and cranked the radio on your counter. He cracked his neck then brought the wounded staff up to his mouth. He tuned the frequencies to him and his voice fizzled through.

"Good afternoon, my dear listeners! It is said that even the mightiest can fall. That the wind may tear them down, that the earth may swallow them whole, or that their enemies might, by some stroke of luck, strike them down. But legends—true legends—don't fall so easily."

He glanced over his shoulder to ensure you hadn't opened the door.

"And I've heard the rumors. I've heard the whispers in dark alleys, in the busy markets, and in hurried prayers that I may have met my demise. I would find it rather aggravating if I didn't find it so amusing. You had hoped, maybe even believed, that the storm had passed and you could continue your broken ways of living off scraps. But here my voice now—" he was really starting to get into it, "as I assure you that I remain unshaken, unbroken, and...unkillable."

He hoped Husker was listening to the radio by this point. "I have gone to the edge of the world and returned, standing before you very much alive and whole. A beacon in these dark times. For who else possesses the capability of guiding you through the chaos and uncertainty? Who else can bear the weight of Humanity's future? Of your future?"

Please get my hints, Husker. He couldn't imagine the hint passed over the feline's head. He was an alcoholic but he wasn't incompetent.

"Let this be a reminder to those who dared to raise a hand against me, to those who posses the stupidity to even consider such a notion, that their act of foolishness was just that. Foolish. I'm still here. I'm still alive. And I will remain here while there's breath in my lungs and magic in my veins."

He cleared his throat away from the microphone and changed his tone. "Now, to my faithful...worry not. I am closer than you think and watching over you as I always have. The winds have carried me to great heights and the ground beneath my feet is unfamiliar but not untamable. Trust your instincts, follow the trail of the stars to Orion's Belt and you will find me.

"This is Alastor, the Radio Demon, reminding you all that there is no hope for the future without me. Sleep well...if you can." The frequency jittered then went to white noise. He lowered the volume and let out a huge sigh of relief.

That had felt good.

"You're him."

His heart dropped and he whirled around to find you at the entrance. Your face was pale and your eyes as wide as he'd ever seen them. Why hadn't he heard you walk in?

He didn't know how to answer. You had caught him. Plain and simple. His secret was out.

~*~

"I should've known," I whispered. Al was short for Alastor. The microphone on his cane was how he tuned into the radio. The complete silence from the Radio Demon for the past three weeks while Al was here. And his voice? How did I not recognize it?

"My dear, I had planned to tell you but I—"

"You needed to tell everyone that you were unshaken, unbroken, and unkillable?"

His rubbed his fingers together. "You weren't meant to hear that. It wasn't...it was about ensuring the world knows I'm still here to keep everything in control."

"Control? You talk about guiding people through the chaos but all I hear are lies. You're not a guide. You're a conquerer." I spat the word like a bad taste in my mouth. It was.

His chest swelled with upset. "You think it's easy, what I've done? What I'm still trying to do? You think it's easy trying to keep this fragile world from descending into chaos and being devoured by their own stupidity? They don't know any better."

"And you think ruling with an iron fist—" I snapped back, "—ruling with fear as a mystic monster that everyone's too scared to defy, will save them? That's not living and that's certainly not saving Humanity."

"What would you know about saving Humanity? I've had to make sacrifices. Sacrifices that you could never understand while you sit upon a mountain of knowledge that could change everything. But you refuse to share it, giving out only slivers of that knowledge that you deem necessary for Humanity to know."

My blood ran cold.

"That's right. I know what you are. You're an Archivist." He put a hand behind his back as he crossed the room until he had backed me against the door. "A prideful legacy of manipulative hoarders who think they're higher than everyone else. All in the name of some ancient, outdated oath."

My anger returned just as fiercely, adrenaline putting aside that this was a dangerous man standing inches from me in my own home. "That outdated oath is what's keeping the last shred of Humanity safe from conquerers like you. You want to manipulate, you want to control, you want to use everything in that archive for your own gain. Not for the safety of Humanity but to secure your power above them. And I won't let that happen. I won't let you twist the past to fit your twisted future!"

"You," he jerked his head forward so I flinched back, "don't understand what's at stake. Those archives could save us from extinction but you're too stubborn to see that. You—"

"I'm keeping them so that we don't go extinct!" I interrupted. "Humanity had the Great Downfall for a reason. Those archives exist to keep us from going through another one." My hands were moving on account for my fear. Tears were rising.

"But Humanity will not know how to avoid it if you refuse to share that knowledge."

I stumbled over my words as my hands threaded through my hair. "That's not...where do you think all those pictures and articles about the Old World come from? They come from the Archivists. Our job is to share the proper knowledge so—"

"So you know better than the rest of Humanity?"

"I...well...I have all the information," I said more firmly, "and not even that because I'm not done translating everything."

He leaned back, looking down his nose at me and fang poking out of an evil smile. "You lecture me about taking control of Humanity because I know what's best for them, yet you stand here believing the same thing about yourself."

"It's different!"

"Enough of this." He turned his back and walked to the center of the bunker. "I don't need your permission. I'll do what needs to be done for Humanity's sake."

I let out a maniac laugh. "You think you can force me to give up my archive? My oath demands me to die before I give anything away to the wrong hands. And even if it didn't, I won't let you control me. I won't be your pawn, Alastor. I won't let you or anyone else use me to keep this twisted nightmare alive. I won't let you!"

There was silence as my voice reverberated off the walls. My chest heaved from the adrenaline rush, my heart racing with the anticipation of his next move. I was outmatched. I would not survive this if he chose to attack me.

His back was still turned to me, but his tone shifted as he said, "You're right. I don't control you. But you're sorely mistaken if you think you can stand against the tide alone. The world is bigger than you, my dear. One way or another, I will have my hands on those books."

"I should've let you die," I muttered.

~*~

His eyes widened and he slowly turned around.

"I should've let you bleed out," you went on. "I should've listened to my instincts and let you die alone. None of this would've ever happened and I would've spared Humanity from the Radio Demon."

His eyes narrowed and his shadow seemed to darken in the lantern light.

Your voice dropped, hands reaching up to hug yourself. "I should've known it was too good to be true. That someone...that someone would want to actually...want to be with me." Alastor's anger abated as quickly as it had surfaced. More softly you added, "I would've spared myself, too."

He didn't see an Archivist. He saw you. Scared, unsure, alone, and wanting someone to just spend time with you. It made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

He opened his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. "Well, you can stop the act now. You're no longer welcome here." His teeth ground together. "I'll take you to the edge of the forest where you'll wait for your people to find you."

"So that's it?" he growled. "You're going to pretend like nothing happened?"

"You tricked me!" you practically screamed. "You pretended this whole time just to get close to me so you could have access to my archive."

"And so did you!" he returned. "Keeping your true nature a secret."

"But you didn't tell me you were the Radio Demon."

He looked away. He had been the one to hide the most secrets, but none of them weighed as much as the single secret you held onto. He hadn't wanted this conversation to go this way. He had wanted to introduce it to you slowly, gradually. Instead, he had ruined it.

No.

The Archivists had ruined it. Them and their secrets and stupid oath. If it wasn't for that oath then you wouldn't be fighting him to such an extreme.

You dragged the door open and withdrew the ribbon from your pocket. "I will take you to the edge of the forest," you repeated.

He was the Radio Demon. He had the power to confine you to this small space. He had the power to twist your bones until they snapped. He had the power to see just how far you were willing to follow your oath.

And yet...he didn't.

{|}

My arms tensed before swinging the axe down. The log splintered in half straight down the middle. I wrenched the tool out of the stump and placed another log on it, repeating the process several times more.

It had been a few weeks since Alastor left and he still hadn't shown any signs of returning to light my forest aflame. Perhaps he was still preparing.

"It's protected. It's guarded. It's hidden. It will not be found unless they scowl the oasis with a team of a hundred."

My mother's words echoed in my mind day-in and day-out. Three times a day I flew to the highest building to check the horizon, sometimes even more if I was paranoid enough, but there was nothing I could do if I saw his ship. Eventually, he would find it.

I was wracked with guilt so intense it left me horribly sick. My chores were sloppy and I came down with a cold left and right. However, there was a small part of me that was grateful. I could meet my demise as I fought for my Archive, rather than feel guilt over committing suicide. It was a honorable death for an Archivist, and I could burn my archive before he returned so his victory would be hollow.

I pursed my lips. I could still remember the feeling of our last kiss. I could still remember the feeling of his fingers interlocked with mine. I could still remember the feeling of his arm wrapped around my waist, of his teasing remarks, of him squinting at the cards in an effort to read them, of the feeling of his hands touching my feathers and messaging the muscles of my armwing.

Most of all, I could remember the stark difference between Al and the Radio Demon.

"You're right. I don't control you. But if you're sorely mistaken if you think you can stand against the tide alone. The world is bigger than you, my dear. One way or another, I will have my hands on those books."

I held the axe behind my back and swung it with a scream. Birds flew out of the treetops as I fell to my knees, still screaming. My wings sprouted and flapped once to push me quickly to my feet.

"Fuck you!" I screamed into the open air, arms swinging at nothing. "Fuck you! How dare you trick me into thinking you cared about me. How dare you manipulate me!" I fell back on my knees and pounded my fists into the grass. I grabbed the nearest log and threw it at a nearby tree. "How fucking dare you!"

My screams suddenly turned into ugly sobs. I wrapped my arms around myself as I sunk to the ground and curled up. My body shook with every sob, eventually leading to vomiting what little breakfast I had forced myself to eat. Twice.

Tears streaming down my face and snot dripped out of my nose. I tilted my head back to look at the clear blue sky. My lips quivered as I mumbled, "Fuck you for abandoning me like everyone else."

I was alone all over again.

He had made me feel happy. He had made me forget about my grim destiny. He had made me enjoy the present. He had made me feel...not alone.

Then suddenly ripped that all away, leaving me feeling even more alone than when he first found me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note:

This was a little painful to write. But remember, the bad must happen for the good to feel great! Alastor has a lot to do to make up for this ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@sirens-and-moonflowers @papas-ghoulette

[morganski-19]

Some believed that there were invisible strings that tied you to your soulmate no matter where they were in the world. No matter what, you would find your soulmate at some point in your life, and fall in love. No one really believed this theory, until there were enough reports of enough people seeing them. The only catch you could only see your strings when your soulmate died.

Steve didn't believe in them though, he thought it was dumb. After all of his failed dates and relationships, it was easier to believe that soulmates just weren't real. That way he wouldn't get excited when he started dating someone new, and less hurt when it came to an end.

"Maybe you just haven't found the right person yet," Robin would say, secretly hoping that she would find the person on the other end of the string. But Steve still thought it was better to just stop believing.

That was until he saw the strings for the first time. At first, it was so fast that he barely even noticed it. Just a small string of red that showed up on Robin's finger as he helped her down the Creel House stairs. He didn't think anything of it really, until it happened again.

When he, Nancy, and Robin were walking back to the trailer, he saw the strings again, just for a flash. A short red string connects Robin and Nancy's pinkies. Looking down just in time, he saw his own red string tied around his right pinky, severed, before it disappeared again.

Fear built in Steve's chest. He thought he was crazy, that this was just some upside down hallucination. But he can't get rid of the feeling that this is real, that his soulmate is dying before he can ever get the chance to love them.

When the three of them find Dustin crying over Eddie's body, Steve forgets all of it for a moment. Just worrying about getting Eddie out, and keeping him alive.

They get him to a hospital right before he flatlines. Eddie is rushed to the emergency room as soon as he is resuscitated, but not before Steve is met with a sea of red.

String tangled and stretched all over the hospital. Tying themself to people in the waiting rooms, their strings running down the hallways and through the doors. The doctor's red strings leave the hospital doors, making their way down the street. But Steve's is left severed again.

He doesn't see the strings for another hour until he does for a full two minutes. Looking down at the severed string on his finger, he can't help but think that he'll see this string forever. That he spent so long believing that soulmates weren't real, he didn't even notice that he found it.

Glancing over at Robin, he sees her string cross the room to where Nancy is sitting with Lucas in Dustin. Lucas's runs down the hall to where Max is, and Dustin's goes to what Steve can only think is Utah.

Within the blink of an eye, the strings disappear again and stay that way, leaving Steve with the knowledge that soulmate's are real, and his is alive.

if anyone wants to do anything thing with this, be my guest. might do a longer version of this myself, but lord knows when I'll have time to do so.

[leviismybby]

Imagine helping Levi relax after a bad day. I got a little carried away while writing this...

TW: NSFW 18+, minors dni, sub!Levi

His muscles tense under your every touch, his head thrown back on the pillow, his whimpers music to your ears.

"F-fuck baby put your m-mouth on it." you have been teasing him for a while, hand stroking his cock. Your run your thumb on his slit, more precum coming out. His hips buck into your hand.

"And why would I do that? You didn't say the magic word." Normally it's the opposite, you're underneath him begging him to give you what you want but not now. Levi is the one who is completely dumb under you, his face flushed, tips of his ears red.

He has had a bad day today, full of stress from training the cadets. So what better way to help him relax than to make him all putty and a whimpering mess in your arms?

"P-please baby." You kiss his cheek loving the way he clings the sheets with his hands when your hand goes faster.

"Hmm? What do you want?" Your kisses trail down to his neck, marking his skin with bruises. He almost isn't able to speak as his high is approaching. Maybe you'll make him cum more than once if he deserves it.

"(name)! P-please love!" Your lips attach to his nipple and that's all it takes for him to unravel, white strings of cum blasting all over his toned abs.

You smile kissing down further his body, he is so sensitive that he moans with your every touch. Smirking you lick the cum off his stomach, tasting him on your tongue. It's not an unfamiliar taste but something about seeing him so powerless like this made you feel powerful.

Levi is still painfully hard, the sight of you is enough to get him going again even if you're almost fully dressed. Coming back up to his ear, you nibble on his earlobe as his hands grip your hips.

"You want more?" He nods turning his head away in embarrassment. You take his chin with your hand making him look at you. "Use your words baby."

"Want more, please. Want your mouth." You smile kissing him on the lips tongue first. He moans into your mouth making you bite on his lower lip as you pull away.

"Good boy." His cock twitches at your words, he is so needy. "I'll give it to you baby." You lower your head down to his cock, teasing him by lightly kissing the head.

His long fingers tangle themselves in your hair, it's obvious that he is enjoying himself. Levi would rather have a titan eat him than admit that he loves it when you dominate him.

You look at him once more before taking his length fully in your mouth, your hands resting on thick thighs. "Y-yes. Fuck!" He is a mess, desperately bucking his hips into your mouth.

Your head bobs up and down making Levi grip your hair tightly, he is close to cumming despite you only having him in your mouth for only a few minutes.

Pulling back, a string of saliva is connected from your lips to his cock. You smirk when you see his chest heavily moving up and down as he looks at you with half-lined eyes.

Levi can't speak, he can't even think anymore. All he wants to do is cum in your mouth but you're denying him that pleasure for your own selfish one.

"Want my mouth back on your cock baby?" Instantly he nods his head, pushing your head down with his hands. You oblige, swirling your tongue around him before sucking.

He is moaning your name loud however he doesn't care, not now. Levi needs to fill your mouth with his cum, he craves that sight of you.

You see the way his abs tense, hips bucking off the bed, his hands pushing your head down making you gag around him.

"(name)! I'm gonna-!" And with that, you feel his warm seed fill your mouth. You suck him dry, milking him for all he is worth.

Pulling away, you lick your lips swallowing every drop. Levi looks beautiful, so spent and weak before you.

"My good boy." You kiss him on the lips and he eagerly kisses you back. "Wonder what others would think if I tell them that I dominate you in bed sometimes?" Teasing him is always fun.

"Shut the fuck up." Laughing you kiss his cheek laying your head on his chest. Levi leans his head on your, deeply breathing.

You really know how to make his days better.

[colderdrafts]

11: What do we do now?

The Great Assembly, gender neutral reader x monster (male naga). Sfw. Previous Next

"Where are you?”

It’s a question you’re not inclined to answer. Heavy footfalls are approaching your hiding place.

“I would never hurt you, you know I wouldn’t! So why are you running?”

You put a hand over your mouth to stifle your breathing. Don’t see me. Don’t see me. Please please please don’t see me -

It’s brief, a small flash of red in the dark passes by your hiding place, but it’s enough. You startle, and the smallest of whines escapes you.

“I heard that~” they drawl, and red returns to your field of vision.

You know the gig is up.

You burst out of the cabinet you were hiding in, dashing outside and into the cold night air. Your bare feet patter loudly over the icy pavement.

Someone is yelling your name and it carries a demand, prickling like needles and tugging at the strings running under your skin; Come back. Come back. COME BACK.

You don’t know how long you’ve slept for, but when you wake it’s with a start.

It takes a second for your brain to catch up to with where you are. And why you're stuck. A small quiver of relief travels through you as the nightmare slowly loses its grip, chased away by the assuring gentle realness of another person's breath.

You’ve somehow moved around during the night, so that you’re now laying with your front against Amren’s torso, while he’s on his back resting against his coils, with some of them traveling up over your back. Your head is resting on his chest, his arms around you, and your arms around him. The sleeping bag lies crumpled up in a corner, discarded.

You feel heat in your cheeks. You’re completely tangled up in him, and you remember faintly how you just broke into his tent and flung yourself on top of him like a lunatic. Perhaps you can justify the situation by reminding yourself that Amren most certainly didn't seem to mind.

Laying here with him, listening to his gentle breathing and steady heartbeat, nuzzled against his chest is almost unreal. You’ve been at each other’s throats since the day you met, and now you’re providing him your body heat.

Somehow, even though everything in your world came crashing down in a single day, and you should be on your toes running to the nearest police station - you don’t want to move.

You shift slightly, as much as Amren’s grip allows you, and rest your face against the crook of his neck. He responds by shifting his arms and pulling you into him. You lie there for a while, just enjoying the closeness of another person.

Your eyes go heavy again, and you feel the alluring call to just fall asleep again right there. But something else is tugging at your heart, and you can't ignore the fact that you still have pressing matters to attend to anymore.

“Amren-?” you call out gently.

“Hrmf,” is the intelligent response. His voice gently drums against your head through his throat.

“Come on, wake up,” you say, gently butting the top of your head against his chin, since you currently can’t really move any other body part much.

“What is it?” he mumbles, voice groggy from exhaustion.

“I thought maybe getting up was an idea," you tell him.

He pauses. “Incredible.”

“What?”

“You start your obnoxious stream of terrible ideas before you’ve even gotten out of bed,” he groans, and grips you a bit tighter.

“Hrk- okay, Jesus, calm down,” you push against him, to no avail whatsoever. “Damn, I would never in a million years have guessed you were a cuddler.”

“I’ve never done it before, so I don’t exactly qualify,” he says with a shrug.

You blink. “Really? Like. Never?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I mean, in general you do have the cuddly-ness of a rude sentient cactus, so I guess it makes sense.”

“Why on Earth would you then come to me last night and be here now?”

“Well, I can’t exactly move right now,” you say, straining to prove your point and expertly avoiding the first part of the question.

He doesn’t relent. “Learn to take responsibility for your actions.”

“I was trying to help you out, and here you are reprimanding me again,” you complain, headbutting his chin again.

“Because you are being completely senseless,” he grunts.

You scoff. “Okay? Thanks? Why the sudden hostility? Are you embarrassed or something?”

“Embarrassed- what? No. I’m just surprised. You saw me almost dismantle that coyote and not even an hour later you put yourself in the same position as her. You have a survival instinct net zero, and I for the life of me cannot figure out why.”

He slowly pushes you up a bit, and shifts his tail so he can rest his back against it in a more upright position. He doesn’t let you go as he continues:

“Maybe it’s because you hums are so social. So accepting, in each others faces, always talking, touching, seeking each other out. You trust so easily. I don’t get it.”

You shrug against him. “Well, you’re trusting me right now, aren’t you?”

“Not as much as you’re trusting me. I could crush you right now.”

You butt your head against his chest in annoyance. “Oh, would you quit it with the whole ‘I could maim you if I wanted’ bull? That's been old news for a decade. Humans are a lil’ squishier than most! We know! Why do you think we’re so goddamn good at figuring out who to trust and rely on? Evolution didn’t give us natural weapons. We’ve survived as we are for centuries because we help each other.”

You feel his eyes on you, but you don’t bother looking up.

“..I didn’t realize it bothered hums so much."

He sounds somewhat apologetic.

You sigh again. “It doesn’t for the most part. As I’ve said, we’ve made do for a long time. We may not be the strongest, but we’re pretty resilient. We just don’t like feeling powerless. It makes us antsy.”

“As it would anyone else,” he concedes. He pauses for a moment, and then adds: “You realize you weren’t powerless when you stopped the coyote from strangling me to death?”

Huh. Guess you weren’t. “As I said – Helping each other.”

There’s silence for a bit, taking in each other’s words.

“I think I understand a little better now,” Amren says eventually. “You trust your partner, and helping him makes you feel stronger?”

You guess you could put it like that. There is a genuine psychological benefit humans get from being kind to one another – at least you think you’ve read that somewhere.

“But even so it is very different from person to person how easily we trust someone. It generally takes a while before we truly start to feel like we know someone," you elaborate. "Well. Unless you’re Irwin, he thrives on oversharing.”

“And you don’t? Could have fooled me.”

“There’s a difference between your deepest darkest secret and discussing the goddamn weather, Amren,” you grunt. “And you’ve not shown interest in any of those things with anyone. It’s kind of worrying, you know? Aren’t you – you know, lonely?”

He pauses for a bit. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that. Elise talked to me about that too,” he grumbles, “but I don’t experience solitude like you do. I make do with help from myself. I’m fine on my own, and I’m more than fine no one knows more about me than what I can present at work.”

You finally strain you neck back to look up at him. He cogs an eyebrow at you.

“Who hurt you?” you ask, genuinely concerned. "And don't you dare say 'none of your business', I will stab you," you add just as he's about to open his mouth.

"I won't say it, then," he replies dryly, earning him an eye roll from you. He pauses. "And Tiny?"

"What?" you grunt.

"Thank you for not letting me freeze."

You but your forehead against his chest. "Thank you for not letting me get kidnapped."

Eventually you can’t ignore the other giant elephant in the room, and Amren finally releases you. You start shrugging out of his coils, somewhat reluctantly, you admit to yourself. What business does this jerk have being comfortable.

You need a plan. With everything that’s just happened, you figure the best course of action is heading back the way you came, to hell with the competition, clovers and everything else. You need to get back, call the authorities, figure out if Irwin’s actually missing, and if anyone else is too.

It’s early, and you’ve slept maybe four hours. Your head is still a bit fuzzy from yesterday, and your arm hurts when you move it to take down the tents. You notice Amren deliberately avoids putting the injured parts of his tail on the ground, and spares his arm as much as possible. With shared effort, you manage to push through the exhaustion and take down camp.

Eventually you sit with Amren around the campfire, eating a quick breakfast and trying to come up with a plan.

“Why would the coyote single you out of all people? And how did she know about the conference?” Amren muses out loud, sipping on some coffee.

He’s kept his hair tied back in a lose ponytail, and the way the light of the fire hits his face really brings out the bags under his eyes and the bruises he acquired last night. The golden sheen looks a little duller than usual.

“And Irwin,” you add. “I’m assuming since she had his phone she’s got him somewhere – but where would they take him?”

Amren looks at you. “I don’t know. And now I regret even asking, because I don’t think we necessarily are the ones who should figure that out, Tiny. Right now the best we can do is put someone who’s actually professional on it.”

You huff through your nose. You know he’s right, it just doesn’t feel right to sit around and not do anything. But what can two simple office workers do in this situation? Even though Amren’s security, he’s in no way equipped to handle something like this.

Irwin’s been your friend for a long time, and not knowing if he’s gone, or if he’s somehow escaped, or anything is making your stomach churn with worry. Being rendered incapable of doing anything is just – aggravating.

“I know,” you relent after a beat. You look back up at him. “You can direct people to come get us, right? So maybe we should just head back and see if anyone else have turned up. Maybe someone can tell us more of what happened up north.”

Amren nods. “Yes, I’ll get us back. If Elise is still there, it should be enlightening.”

“And then we should call the authorities and and tell them of attempted trafficking and report Mira,” you grimace. The memories still send a chill down your spine.

Amren’s previous question still rings in your mind, however. Indeed, why single you and Irwin out? What was that about a family who ‘wants someone just like you’? For what reason?

Mira was the one to approach you first, lulling you into a false sense of security with her friendly demeanor and helping you out – maybe after tripping over Amren, you just happened to catch her eye?

And then you brought her directly to Irwin. A ping of guilt travels through you. Rational thought says you couldn’t possibly have known back then, but it’s there all the same.

“I should call the lodge,” you say, pulling out your phone to disregard any negative spiraling. “Let’s get them to pick us up so we don’t have to travel back injured.”

Amren nods in acknowledgment, patiently settling on his coils while you make the call.

You thank the stars there’s still service, and almost collapse with relief when you hear the goblin receptionist's voice cut through. You put it on speaker.

“Mrs. Hansen? It’s them-” there a scuffle on the other end, as someone, supposedly Mrs. Hansen, snatches the phone, the sound of it landing on the desk with a loud clack as she fumbles with it, and then her clear voice cuts through as she calls your and Amren’s names.

“Yes, it’s us-” you start, but she cuts you off.

“Oh my STARS is it good to hear from you. Where have you been?! We sent out word for people to back off the mountain! It’s too dangerous right now! Are you alright?!”

You judgmentally deadpan at Amren, silently blaming him for the lack of cell service on his abrupt goose chase. He ignores you.

“We’re alright, slightly injured – it’s a long story – no need to yell – can you come pick us up?”

You chat back and forth with her, Amren occasionally pitching in to give instructions to where you are. Apparently, Mira did not lie about there being a pick-up place in the area – though it will take you a few hours to get to it.

While you’re not entirely fond of the prospect of spending yet another day walking, knowing safety is just a short hike away spurs you on.

After packing up your things, you head out again in the same direction as yesterday.

As you walk, you actually manage to have a conversation with Amren to take your mind off things a bit. He’s finally opened up a bit, though you suppose shared traumatic experiences can do that to a person. He still does his utmost to keep the adverse attitude, but you surmise you have to take what you can get here. He actually starts answering some of your questions, and you learn a couple of things.

For one, his family apparently carries an, in his own words, 'obnoxiously formal disposition', and he doesn’t really see them anymore because he didn't want to be part of that. He didn't clarify what it was about, but you let him have that. Baby steps.

You learn besides work, he hunts roughly every two weeks, and secures the majority of his food this way. He frequently spends days at a time at the mountain if he doesn't have any shifts. He apparently also likes reading and rock tumbling of all things, which came slightly as a surprise.

In turn, you tell him a little about yourself and your story of moving to the city and your time at the company. It doesn’t really seem he’s very invested in what you’re telling him, but he remains quiet as you talk, so you’ll take it.

As you walk you note that, even though you’ve gone in the same direction as where Mira found you yesterday, you don’t see the body of the boarbeast she killed or the traces of the struggle. It’s because you haven’t passed them by. Perhaps Amren is leading you around them on purpose.

Given how he’s been quietly hovering near you almost every step of the way, repeatedly tasting air and keeping a very sharp eye out on anything moving in the forest, you surmise he is.

It’s slow going, but eventually you reach a clearing where you spot a makeshift parking lot, with an actual trail large enough for a single car to pass by running down the mountain.

You set down your backpacks, settle down on the ground, and wait. The sunlight is filtering through the canopy above, and you breathe in the pleasant breeze in silence for a while. It’s odd sitting still like this, the harmonious surroundings a stark contrast to the churning emotions inside of you.

What will happen now?

"What do we do after.. well, all of this?" you ask after some time.

Amren finishes taking a swig of his water bottle and looks at you. "Could you elaborate?"

"Things aren't going to just go back to normal. I don’t think I can just return to my apartment and my job pretending everything's fine after all this,” you frown. “Can you?"

He pauses. "No," he admits. "But I'm going to try."

"Do you really want to do that?"

"I don't see what else I can do," he shrugs. "I didn't lose anyone."

You openly stare at him.

He looks back puzzled for a second, but then averts his eyes, seemingly realizing from the look on your face that the remark might have hit a sore spot.

"That was.. insensitive,” he concedes.

"Near damn heartless," you groan, turning away from him and rubbing your face with your hands.

"..I'm aware," he mumbles. "Do you know what you're going to do?"

You mutely shake your head no.

"Reasonable." He studies you for a beat. "Are you .. alright?"

"No," you huff, looking back up at him. "I'm scared."

Your admission makes something in his face shift, but you can't pinpoint what exactly that emotion is. Worry? Determination? He stares at you for a minute, opening and closing his hands like he wants to do something but he doesn't know what.

"That's - also reasonable," he settles for. “I’m sorry about your partner.”

You sigh. At least he’s trying. "Thanks."

You truly don't know what you will do. If you just return home and hope for the best the inability to act will most certainly drive you insane.

Things have changed for the worse, and you don’t want to deal with all of this on your own. After last night and this morning you surmise you may have acquired at least an ally in Amren, albeit reluctantly. But if he's content to go back to his solitary existence then this might be one of the last times you’ll hang around him. When you started this trip you felt this moment would be utmost welcomed, but now you’re hesitating. Do you actually want to split up?

"So like - is this farewell? After we've talked to the police and everything. Are we just going to -?" You don't really know how to finish the sentence. It's a little difficult to explain. Would you be sad if you didn't keep in touch after all this? Maybe you would. Maybe that’s weird. Especially considering how he's been treating you and everything that's happened.

But maybe that's just the thing. Something about this situation has made you want to keep him around. His presence has an oddly reassuring effect on you.

Which is very frustrating, given he has the social amicability equivalent to a sledgehammer.

He looks baffled for a minute, probably surprised at what you're insinuating. You can't tell if it's just because he hadn't thought that far ahead and that spending time with you will, from now on, have to be an active choice for him. Or if he just genuinely doesn't understand why you'd ever want to see him again.

He's about to finally come up with a reply when a large gray van rolls into the parking lot, mud-trails and dirt coating most of its surface. You both immediately turn your attention to it, a silent mutual gratitude for the distraction. You stand up and wave to greet the driver. It’s Elise.

She very quickly turns and parks, rapidly getting out of the van and rushing towards you, her eyes wide with worry. You note she’s also sporting some fresh bruises and a bandage around her shoulder.

Having a large injured troll barreling towards you is not something for the faint hearted, you learn, as your body involuntarily takes a step back. You don’t get far before Elise wraps her massive arms around both you and Amren, squeezing you tight.

Amren hisses in surprise, and you feel his tail flickering nervously as he strains in her grip. You wince as she puts pressure on your injured arm.

“You’re okay!” Elise yells, unaware, and you actually feel her shivering as relief course through her body.

Amren is stiff as a board, clearly not accustomed to this blatant display of affection, so you decide to take charge – Irwin has, after all, taught you well.

You gingerly put your good arm around her shoulders, as far as you can, and squeeze her back, leaning your head into her collarbone. “Rattled, but okay,” you reassure her.

“Good, good,” she trails off, finally releasing you. She gives you a sad look, and then turn her attention to Amren with a scowl.

“What’s the meaning of running off all the way out here?!” she demands, taking a step towards him.

To his credit, Amren doesn’t move back as she does so, but he does tense up quite a bit, composing himself. “I thought –,”

“For several days? So far away from help from the group?! Are you insane!”

“It’s not –,”

“With a hum? Who relies on the group to stay SAFE out here?! I don’t care how anti-social you think you have to be to survive in this world, you sad sack of a single potato, but you DON’T. Bring. A hum. Into it! They could have been killed!”

Amren opens and closes his mouth as Elise finishes scolding him, working her tusks and glaring at him with a huff. You stare at her in bewilderment, wondering if you'll have to file a protective nature under 'troll things'.

“I’ve kept them safe – I know these mountains, I didn’t leave them to –,” this time Amren stops himself as his eyes widen to realize that he did in fact let you storm off on your own.

Not that you gave him much choice in the matter.

Amren looks at you for a brief moment, and then averts his gaze at the ground. He takes a deep breath.

“I genuinely thought I was giving us the upper hand in that ridiculous competition,” he exhales, and looks back up at you again, his face neutral as ever. "I'm sorry."

You can tell it’s genuine enough however. You’ve seen more sides of him in the past 24 hours than you think anyone else has seen for the past you-don't-even-know. And you can’t say you blame him wholly for yesterday’s escapades.

But this is a conversation for a time where you can sit down and do it properly. You gently put your hand on his arm instead. He follows your hand with his eyes, and you’re slightly surprised at how he does not tense up at the contact.

“You’re lucky they’re nice, Amren, I hope you know that,” Elise says sternly.

This isn’t the first time you’ve heard that.

Your thoughts once again turn to your friend, and you clasp his phone in your pocket.

“Elise –,” you start, and she tenses in preparation for your next question. “What happened to Irwin?”

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Interwoven, but Tangled

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings: none, little angst, mild cursing

Word Count: 1,670

Summary: The red string of fate connects the pinky of one soulmate to the pinky of the other. Not everyone can see them, but since you had this rare gift you figured it was your duty to make sure as many soulmates found each other. At the very least, you could make sure your friends found their special person. What happens when your best friend’s boyfriend isn’t her soulmate though?

Your world was filled with red. If you unfocused your eyes enough, dissociated deep enough, every single red string came into view. As a kid, you thought this was normal. That everyone could see them. A lot of times you never even brought it up because you didn’t know there was anything unusual going on. People just had little red strings tied on their pinkies that traveled to distances unknown. It wasn’t until the first grade that you realized nobody else could see them, and it wasn’t until seventh grade that you realized the strings even connected.

A girl in your math class with a red string around her pinky connected to a boy in your english class. They started dating two months into the school year and it was the first time you saw an entire string, from beginning to end.

The red string of fate connecting soulmate to soulmate.

Growing up, it made you view love a little differently. For one, you noticed many times couples who were together weren’t one another’s soulmate. They weren’t any less happy, but their strings were cast in opposite directions. You kind of wondered what the point of a soulmate was if they were never bound to find one another. Why would fate create two people, perfect for one another, and then keep them apart?

The times you did see soulmates get together though… God, it was magic. A good friend at work had a string that connected to a bartender at the local watering hole you frequented, and you made it your mission in life to get them together. When your work friend, Carol, finally met the bartender, a woman who called herself Valkyrie, it was like literal fireworks. It’s why anytime you saw strings close to one another you made it you job to help them find one another.

So far, in the entirety of Manhattan, you had managed to string together seven couples. None of which were your own red string. In fact, you had kind of pushed your own string to the back burner. If it happened, it happened. You couldn’t get obsessed with searching the world for the end of your own string. It’d drive you to madness.

“Ten bucks this guy says he works as a ‘blogger’,” Carol snickered before taking another sip of her drink. One plus of getting your friend together with her bartending soulmate was free drinks at your favorite bar.

Valkyrie shrugged, “Twenty bucks that someone,” She shot you an amused look, “‘spills her drink on him accidentally’.”

“Hey,” You held your beer bottle out to her, “That was an accident. It was pure coincidence that I also hated the guy. Sharon deserves better.”

“Sharon works as an agent for the FBI.” Carol raised an eyebrow at you, “I think she can handle intimidating the duds she picks up.”

It was true. Sharon Carter was more than capable of destroying any man that screwed her over, but your close friend always had a blind eye when it came to men. Plus, her string ended somewhere in this damn city. It was bright enough that you knew that much, but you had yet to find her soulmate. If you were lucky then maybe she’d walk through the door tonight with a string connected to whoever she was bringing.

As if on cue, the door swung open with the familiar chime and your blonde friend strolled in confidently. She still had her work clothes on, and you could see her gun holster under her jacket.

“Long time, no see.” Sharon greeted with a grin. She gave the other two quick smiles before grabbing the stool beside you. “How have you guys been?”

Carol shook her head, “Cut the shit, Carter. I wanna see the dud of the night.”

“Hey,” Sharon replied, “This one isn’t a dud. He’s actually a good one.” The three of you gave her skeptical looks that she rolled her eyes at. She took the drink that Valkyrie slid to her. “I’m serious. I met him at work.”

Valkyrie chuckled, “Great, she’s dating a criminal.”

“Not like that.” Sharon argued. “He’s a therapist.”

Carol grinned, “Oh, good! We’ve been telling you to see one. Granted, we meant professionally and not sexually.”

You, Carol, and Valkyrie laughed while Sharon just nodded her head along with an amused grin. She took a quick sip of her beer, “Hey, get it all out now. I want you guys to be nice to him and not scare him off.”

“We’re sweethearts. I don’t know what you mean.” You shrugged innocently.

Sharon gave you a deadpanned look, “Yeah, okay, I remember the ‘beer spill’ quite well, thanks.”

You chuckled, “Where is this guy?”

“Parking the car. He should be in any—oh!” Sharon turned when the door opened. Your eyes drifted to the tall, black man who came into the room. He was fit, that was easy enough to see with the tight gray t-shirt he wore, and he had a brown leather jacket over that. His dark eyes drifted over the crowded area before landing on all of you at the bar.

Carol let out a low whistle.

Valkyrie clapped her hands.

Sharon rose to greet him with a kiss.

And, you, well, you couldn’t stop staring at the red string on his pinky that led straight back to your little group. It didn’t connect to Sharon though. No. It connected to you.

“Guys, this is Sam Wilson.” Sharon introduced, her arm around his torso while he rested his on her shoulders. She went on to introduce all of you, but her voice sounded far away.

Carol and Valkyrie both greeted him and shook his hand while your wheels spun in your head. This wasn’t happening. Oh, no. You were not prepared for this in any way, shape, or form. You had been paying so much attention to the red strings around you that you didn’t even notice how bright your own had been.

Sam, you apparent soulmate and best friend’s boyfriend, greeted you by name with a smile that literally made you weak in the knees. He offered his hand to you, and it took a couple seconds for your brain to figure out how to act human again. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yupp.” You replied stiffly and let go of his hand as quick as you could without looking like a bitch.

Valkyrie had to step away to serve another customer, but Carol was more than happy to lead the inquisition. She crossed her legs and leaned on the bar with one elbow while motioning to him with her drink, “So, what do you do for work, Wilson?”

“I work with the VA. Lead a few groups. Mostly PTSD and anxiety based.” Sam nodded. He tilted his head toward Sharon, “I also am not a blogger of any kind, I do not live in my mom’s basement, I don’t have seven cats, and I am not the leader of a small time cult.” He grinned. “I think that covers all the bases Sharon has hit before?”

Sharon lightly elbowed him in the side, and Carol nodded, “You married?”

“I am not.” Sam nodded.

“Then yeah I think that covers it.” Carol shrugged. She turned to you, “You got anything?”

“N—Nope.” You cleared your throat. Your eyes couldn’t stop darting down to the string neatly tied around his pinky finger. Were you hyperventilating? It felt like you were hyperventilating a little. “Can you excuse me?”

Without waiting for an answer, you hurried past them to step outside into the cool night air. It helped. Marginally. Only a few moments passed before Sharon stepped out to check on you. She set a hand on your shoulder, “You good?”

“Yeah. Just tired.” You lied. “Weird day at work.”

“Alright. I’m here if you need to talk about it.” Sharon offered, but you just shook your head, reassuring her that you were fine. She gave you a small smile and nudged you with her hip, “So, first thoughts on Sam? I did good right?”

Nobody knew about your sights. It was a weird topic to bring up to someone, so you had always kept it to yourself. It was one of the things that made this entire situation so much harder. You couldn’t even explain to Sharon what was going on. Even if you could… should you? Sharon looked happy. Honest to God happy and a part of you felt sick at the thought of ruining that. They weren’t soulmates though. Her soulmate was someone else, but… how did you explain that at all without looking like the bitch who just wanted to take her best friend’s new boyfriend.

“Yeah. He’s…He’s great.” You said softly.

“I have a really good feeling about this one.” Sharon looped her arm through yours. “I know it’s new, but… thanks. You’ve always looked out for me on the romantic front, and if it weren’t for you, I’d still be with one of the idiots I used to date.”

You nodded, “Of course.”

“And hey,” Sharon winked at you, “He’s got cute friends. Maybe it’s time I repay the favor?”

This was new. You didn’t even know Sam very well. For all you knew, this would fizzle out fairly quickly or maybe you’d be the exception and not even get along with your supposed soulmate. You hadn’t seen it before, but maybe the red strings could be wrong? It definitely wasn’t worth torpedoing your friendship with Sharon though. Not right now.

You gave her a tight smile, “Sounds great. Let’s go back in, huh?”

“Yeah. Hey, you’re really gonna like Sam. You guys actually have a lot in common.” Sharon commented offhandedly while dragging you back inside. You swallowed the lump in your throat nervously. You could do this. You could definitely do this. As you stepped back into the building, Sam’s eyes glanced over at the both of you with a small smile. You steeled your nerves and smiled back. How hard could it be, resisting your soulmate? Screw the red strings of fate.

Your best friend was more important.

[next chapter]

[forgottenluck]

Continued from here, since it got LONG

The bartender had been about to pour another glass when Sora stopped them, glancing between the two before shrugging and moving on to the next customer. Koun gave an indignant sound at being grabbed rather forcefully.

"H-Hey--that….I was--!" His words were cut off by Sora's own, and Koun went frighteningly quiet, allowing himself to be lifted and helped to the door.

Truth be told, his mind had gone hard-stop at being told he was liked. In any capacity. He…honestly hadn't been prepared for that, though he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. He didn't drink anything other than sake for this reason, he was always too loose lipped. Had he been more mentally sound, he would have pulled himself away and walked himself, would have stopped this conversation before it even began.

But he wasn't. So he didn't.

All he could do was listen numbly, feeling the crash of the alcohol in his system as it worked to purge what it deemed as a toxin. He wasn't exactly sober, per say….but he was a little more aware than he'd been. The jolt at being told he was liked was enough of a shock to his system, and now…..? It seemed that Sora was also just as loose lipped.

Koun tried to focus, his ears were flat against his head and his eyes to the ground. He knew if he lifted them while they were walking, then the dizziness would hit. And he was doing a very good job at not being dizzy at the moment.

At least until he was tossed onto the bed in the shared space that they were using. A groan left him and he rolled onto his back, putting his hand over his face. He felt movement near him, and blindly he reached out, wrapping a hand around Sora's wrist….heated grip dulled only slightly. Only enough to not burn…..though it likely would be uncomfortable.

For a moment, he didn't move, but did not release the other. He had to get the world to stop spinning before even trying to talk. His mind kept cycling back to what Sora had said….and he felt himself get irrationally angry, his face twisting in the emotion before it rolled away and he moved his hand to stare up at Sora. His eyes were still golden, still hazed, but he looked semi-coherent.

"'re a person." the words were slurred, but there. His grip tightened slightly. "Need validation that you're a person, that you mean something, I'll say it any time you need." It was who Koun was, in his core. Someone was hurting in front of him, and he couldn't not offer some sort of words of encouragement. Finally he relented, releasing Sora only to move to sit up. "Shouldn't have had to deal with that. Worth more than that. You are. Definitely. But…."

Like a puppet with it's strings cut, he moved jerkily and let his shoulders sag once he was in a sitting position, the world spinning on it's head. Ah….this was why he didn't drink.

"You….aren't the same. Not…cursed the same way." Hazed and gold, Koun leveled Sora with a flat gaze, looking amused. Words were difficult at the moment, but he wasn't about to let this go. It would be a small miracle that he wouldn't remember much of this conversation….but that didn't stop him. He raised his hands, splaying them out for Sora to see….and the air around them flickered briefly; much like when he would hide his tails and ears. It was a telling sign of when Koun was using his illusions…though he really shouldn't be trying to do so in the state he was in. True enough though, the flickering solidified into red; red covering his hands and arms….and in one hand he held something…..

An arm.

It was clear, now, that there was a reason Koun avoided anything other than sake. He stared at the arm in his grip with a strange detachment, lifting it up slightly.

"Fate is a cruel mistress…….I'm tangled and broken, unable to escape. Stained and Cursed. Caused the death of so many, by just existing, doing what I was told I had too. Protected them…I…." His grip tightened, the illusion shattering and he curled in on himself slightly. "I did my job! I protected them, provided for them! I warned them!"

When he looked up, there was something inherently wrong with his gaze. His eyes had shifted again, but to a new color….a color Sora likely hadn't seen from him yet; sunset. Red flecks dyed hazed gold, giving the impression of a fiery sunset.

"I warned them…and they didn't listen…..I tried to save them, but they wouldn't--the water--no…..it's my fault." a dry chuckle again, before he raised his hands and burried them in his hair. "It's my fault they're gone. I shouldn't even be here. Shouldn't."

And then he was looking up at Sora again….the flecks of red still there, and he looked slightly amused.

"….Do you even know what I am?"

@bishonenprince

[ridestomars]

can you possibly do something about a first kiss with eddie 🧌 like imagine him getting hooked on you and needy?? okay i schleep now -🍰 anon

SINCE I'VE BEEN LOVING YOU – E. MUNSON

𖥻 pairing: eddie munson x reader 𖥻 warnings: none, i think! 

💭 liv's thoughts: alrighty, i'm so excited for this!! i tried not to make it long, but i guess i couldn't help myself. this was my first time describing a kiss, so i hope it's good! thank you so much for your ask, 🍰, you made my day! also, i haven't proofread this, so sorry for any mistakes <3

first of all, oof. i just know eddie spends most of his time thinking about this, going through every scenario and wondering what would he do, or rather, what you would do to him. and he seems to think about it nonstop ever since he invited you to hang out as his place – the intentions were clear, and you immediately agreed to go. and i just know eddie spends most of his time rehearsing what he would say to sweep you off your feet, delivering only the best cheesy lines to his mirror, pretending he was talking to you. he wants everything to go perfectly, just like he imagined it would be; him wooing you and then proceeding to give you the most beautiful kiss ever, movie style. he is a romantic at heart, ok?

needless to say that things didn't go according to plan. things never do. led zeppelin's since i've been loving you was playing softly at the background, almost inaudible if you didn't pay enough attention, and you weren't. too involved with talking and trying to make each other laugh, you two were comfortably sitting in his bed, just enjoying this sweet moment and relishing in each other's company. it was something that you did quite often: you liked talking to each other, chatting about anything you felt like and discussing weird topics that you knew you couldn't speak to anyone else. talking to you just felt easy. and then, he said something that made you laugh so hard that after you calmed down, it was still possible to hear your faint giggles that were suffocated by the lingering smile on your lips. still, you looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours and he knew that he was done for; all his plans were thrown out of the window. eddie sensed that, if he didn't do something, he would die.

with his eyes staring longingly at your lips it was like he was waiting for you to say something along the lines of "i don't wanna do this" or "sorry, have to go", like many other people did before. but you wanted it. you wanted it so bad it almost hurt. so you went for it, crushing your lips to his like you wished you did countless times in the past few weeks. and eddie felt like his heart was about to jump out of his chest. his big hands found yours in the midst of all the adrenaline, touching your skin softly with his fingertips, a contrast that didn't go unnoticed by you. his hands were going up your arms, carressing just the right places. you both felt like you were on fire, and it was like heaven.

trembling breaths on your cheek, hands going up your neck, the neediness of his lips and the butterflies you felt in your stomach when you felt his tongue lick your lips. oh, it was absolutely maddening and you both couldn't get enough of it. you could stay there for hours, roaming your hands through his torso and shoulders, fingers tangling themselves in his dark hair while feeling a soft string of whines coming out of his lips into yours. and then, feeling his weight on top of you when he laid you down on his bed, and you smiled. that was when he broke apart from you, just to see the state you were in: sprawled hair on his pillow, red lips elongated into a luscious smile, chest going up and down at a delicious pace. a sight he could get used to.

"man, you'll be the death of me" was all he said before diving into you again.

eddie masterlist | main masterlist | navigation 𖤐 hey! wanna talk? leave me a message after the beep ─ currently accepting requests for concepts & moodboards for eddie munson and steve harrington.

[coralinnii]

Ace Trappola (ghost bride!Reader x survivor!Ace)

genre: angst, tragedy

note: no pronouns were used, mentions of a car crash, allusion to d*ath

this is fictional story that is not meant to imitate or reflect on real life events. Any resemblance to real life experiences are not intentional and not meant to downplay the emotions of such tragedies

summary: Ace was not a romantic man but he could be for the one. He kept denying it but he was looking forward to your wedding, even dreaming it���even when it was impossible.

Inspired by an episode of Hotel del Luna. Seriously bawled for that show.

series index

“Hey, what do you think of making Deuce your maid of honor? Dude of honor? Deuce of honor!”

“I’m not sure he would be happy about that” you laughed, while flicking the redhead’s forehead as he rested on your lap. “And don’t make it my problem that you couldn’t tell him that your brother would be best man”

“Man, what was I supposed to do? My mom already stressing over wedding plans before I could say anything! She was practically planning it the moment I first invited you over for dinner”

You smiled as you listened on as Ace made excuse after excuse, just like you always did. He loved moments like these, ever since the two of you got over the awkward phases of your relationship and soon become comfortable in romantic bliss. He loved it so much.

He loves you so much

“I can’t wait to marry you” Ace blurted out as he sighed in bliss. But you didn’t smile this time.

“Ace…” you whispered, “you know we can’t”

“Babe, come on-“

“Ace…they’re calling for you. You can’t stay”

But Ace ignored your words, turning his head so he could bury his face into the fabric that covers your waist. He ignored you, just like he’s been ignoring the voices calling to him from somewhere.

“Son, please wake up!”

“Come on, bro…get up already!”

“Ace, you can beat this! Wake up!”

Why can’t they shut up, he thought. He was happy here, with you as beautiful as he would prefer to remember you and not the last time he saw you, covered in shards of glass and blood when that driver crashed into the two of you.

“Ace… you need to wake up. Let me go-“ your pleads were cut off when you felt the grip around your waist tightened as your stubborn lover wrapped his arms tightly around you.

“Please don’t say it” Ace mumbled into your waist. You felt wetness on your clothes as Ace quietly shed tears, whispering into your skin,

“I love you”

You started to cry as well when you heard him utter his love. It was that love that made your heart so warm and full, wishing it would never fade. But that same love and your own was tethering your beloved redhead between life and death. A long red string connected the two of you, tangled and bloody on your end while stubbornly sturdy on his end, which had a hold on his soul as his unresponsive body was in a hospital while your friends and family prayed for him to wake up.

Your hands automatically reached out in order to caress him, but you stopped yourself. You needed to be strong enough for the both of you. It was too late for you but Ace was so close to a second chance at life, you couldn’t let him throw that away.

You instead reach to fidget with the string of fate on your finger that held your beloved to you. The knot around your finger loosen and tighten on its own, reflecting your conflicted heart. Your tears fell as you reached for the string, putting all your strength as you grip the ends.

You love him so much

…which is why you had to let him go.

[outerspacebisexual]

A Place in this World - Steve Harrington

Book A - Part Seven: You Are In Love

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

Summary: Steve Harrington was always there, and now you understood why.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word count: 2.64k

Warnings: swearing, wingman hellfire club, FLUFF

Masterlist

It didn’t matter how many times Corroded Coffin played on stage; your nerves were always shot.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins like electricity in time with the music of the band that was on before you as you did your final pre-show checks. Tuning your guitar, ensuring that everything would be perfect. Guitar resting flat on your legs, you ran your hands up and down the smooth black and red surface, gently plucking at the strings absentmindedly.

Normally, you were jumping up and down on the spot as the minutes ticked by. This time, you were praying that everything went fine.

Because Steve was going to be there.

You knew that he had seen you once before, but you had been unaware that he was there, but now, he had offered to come see you play with your knowledge.

“You ready?” Gareth said as he sided up to you, spinning his drumsticks in his hands.

You heaved in a breath. “As I’ll ever be.”

He sent you a warm smile. “You’re always great, you know?” There was an underlying reassurance in his words. Harrington will be blown away. It helped to settle your nerves.

Your friends hadn’t been all that happy when you told them about yours and Steve’s slowly mending friendship. Especially Eddie. It had been a massive point of tension between you two for weeks. He had even gone as far as to ignore you for a week like a child, and you’d said as much.

“Are you just not going to talk to me now?” you said as you stood in front of his bedroom window, looking in.

He hadn’t opened the door when you had knocked, despite knowing that he was home because his van was parked out front. When you rounded to his window, there he was, sitting on his bed with a book, reading and very much ignoring you.

“Real mature, Eddie,” you scoffed. “We’re supposed to practice this afternoon. Are you just not coming?” Your guitar case was still in your hand.

Eddie didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge that he’d even heard you. He just flipped the page.

You banged on the glass with your fist. “You should be happy for me. I’m choosing to be the bigger person.”

At that, he turned his head slowly towards you, a blank look on his face as he raised an eyebrow. He stood up and you moved forward thinking that he was going to open the window to let you in, but instead he just closed the curtains.

“Nice one, asshole,” you spat, and spun on your heel, beginning the long walk to Jeff’s house.

Eddie had missed practice that day for the first time in a long time. You had taken out your frustration on your guitar, shredding like crazy until you thought your fingers would bleed.

It was once practice was over that you debated the walk home. You knew Eddie wouldn’t have come get you, and frankly you were too proud to admit that you needed anything from him at that moment. So, you did the next best thing.

You had been standing at the end of Jeff’s driveway when Steve’s red BMW pulled up alongside you and you flung yourself into his car. That day had been when Steve had offered to come to your show, and you had agreed, heart fluttering at the thought of him in the crowd of The Hideout.

Now, standing at the edge of the stage as the band before you finished their set, you were debating if that had been a good idea.

What if you got tangled in the cords and fell face-first? What if you suddenly forgot all the chords? What if—

A hand clapped onto your shoulder. You turned to see Eddie. “Let’s do this,” he said, squeezing your shoulder. You had been friends with Eddie long enough that you knew this was the beginning of an apology. He always did it this way. He wasn’t the kind of person to straight up say sorry. He liked to ease himself into it.

So, you placed your hand on top of his and squeezed it back, making him grin.

And then you guys were centre stage, lights blinding as Gareth counted you in and you began playing. Your fingers glided over the frets like they didn’t know any different.

But your eyes were scanning the crowd, searching for the signature brown hair and matching eyes. At first you couldn’t see him, and your heart dropped, immediately thinking the worst, but then you spotted him towards the back of the room, leaning against the wall with a smile wider than you had ever seen from him.

When your eyes met his, you returned the grin, happiness replacing the nerves and thrumming through your whole body. He gave you a thumbs up. The gesture was so small, and yet it gave you the final push to fully commit back to the stage. You tuned out the crowd and focused back on your bandmates.

And you played better than you ever had.

+

Gigs always left the five of you sweaty messes, floating on the post-show high of everything going perfectly.

As you exited from the stage, you spotted Steve standing there. “Steve,” you called, causing him to look up as you flung yourself at him. Your guitar hung awkwardly in between the two of you as you wrapped your arms around him. He seemed stuck for a second before returning your hug just as you pulled away. “What did you think?” you shouted over the music of the next band blaring.

“You were great!” he yelled back. “I recognised the song you played in the middle—”

“—The Trooper! Yeah, it’s from the Iron Maiden album you have!” Your hands were still clutching his shoulders, and you couldn’t stop smiling even if you wanted to.

Steve looked over at your other bandmates and they gave him silent nods, even as they smiled and jumped around themselves. It didn’t matter how many people you played in front of, the post-show high was still as electric every time.

“What are you doing now?” Steve asked.

You gestured to the others. “Normally we drink until the sun comes up at Jeff’s place. His house is closest.”

Steve nodded and looked like he wanted to say something but decided against it as you spun around and you pulled your guitar off, removing the straps before placing it in the case.

“Hey, Y/N,” Eddie called from your right. You looked up to see him walking closer to you. “Me and guys were thinking about having an early night.” His eyes briefly flicked behind you to where Steve was standing.

“Oh,” you said, dejected. “That—that’s OK.”

Eddie leaned closer so he wasn’t shouting so loud. “You should do something though.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “But you guys—”

Eddie shoved you. “There is someone else here.” He gave you a look that said fucking dumbass, and your eyes widened as you clocked on to what he was saying. So, you grabbed your guitar case and made your way back over to Steve.

“Do you want to hang out?” you asked, clutching your case handle so hard you thought it would crack. This could go one of two ways, and as apprehensive as you had been in the past, you found yourself hoping that he would say yes. “Tonight, I mean. Like now?”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, did you want to go to the diner down the street?”

You nodded and followed him out, with one last look at your friends who all had weirdly encouraging smiles.

Steve held the door open for you as you entered the small diner. It was busier than you expected, full of both people you did and didn’t know. In the corner, you saw some girls from high school all crammed into a booth. You didn’t remember them being mean to you specifically, but you had caught them talking about your choice of style on multiple occasions. You felt sort of self-conscious. You were aware of your heavy, black makeup and sweaty clothes.

And you were here with Steve.

The thoughts were flooding into your brain faster than you could stop them.

What if Steve didn’t want them to see you with him. He was still Steve Harrington after all.

Steve nudged you with his shoulder. “Are you OK?”

You felt yourself nod, almost detached from yourself. You couldn’t stop looking around at all the people.

Steve’s eyes followed yours and you heard him sigh. Your eyes closed. This was it. He was ashamed to be seen with you. It didn’t matter that he had come to your show. He had a reputation to keep up with.

“You know, Penny Wolstead once vomited in my pool at one of my parties,” Steve said, and your eyes flew open.

“What?”

“Yeah,” he continued. “She decided it was a good idea to get in after drinking all night. She vomited everywhere. I had to get someone out to drain it and clean it. I couldn’t bring myself to swim in it for, like, months.”

You couldn’t help the laugher that bubbled up before spilling out. Steve was laughing, too, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him as he grabbed your hand.

“Let’s get our food to go,” he offered, “and we can just go back to my place and eat.” He seemed unsure as soon as the words had left his mouth. “Or—or we could eat at the park, or something—”

“Your place is fine, Steve,” you said with a smile.

+

The food was lukewarm by the time you got back to his place.

The Harrington House was bigger than you remembered. As he unlocked the front door, you asked, “Where are your parents?”

Steve flicked the lights on and kicked off his shoes. “They’re away again. Some business thing in New York. They’ll be gone for another two weeks.”

“How long have they been gone already?”

He placed the food on the kitchen counter and hummed and he grabbed two plates from the cupboard. “Ten days, I think? I don’t really keep count anymore.”

The idea of Steve alone in this big house made you frown. Steve was such a social, loving person. You didn’t know much about who he hung out with outside of work other than Robin, Dustin, and the others. You were grateful for your own friends in that moment.

“Do you want to eat in the living room?” he asked. “I have one of the new releases from work that we could watch?”

You smirked, following him. “Did you rent it out?”

He paused. “No comment.”

“That could get you fired if a manager found out,” you tsked as you sat on the couch, one spot of space between the two of you.

“Well, luckily, I have this fantastic manager who told me I could do whatever I want.”

“Hey! I said that within reason,” you scoffed.

Steve got up and put the video in, surprising you when the title credits came up with Back to the Future.

You looked at him incredulously. “You haven’t seen this yet? It came out ages ago.”

He huffed as he plopped down onto the couch again. “Technically, I have, but I was a bit…unwell, when I did, so I can’t remember half of it.”

The movie played in the background, but you couldn’t pull your thoughts from Steve. You had been thinking about him a lot recently, more than you ever thought that you would.

When you first decided to try and move forward, you thought it would be for nothing. You thought that everything would come crashing down around you when he changed his mind and remembered that you were just a metalhead freak.

But he hadn’t. He had been patient and kind to you—kinder than he had ever been, even when you had been friends before.

Your looked at him out of the corner of your eye. His eyes were on the screen, small crease between his brows as he paid attention to what was happening on the TV. His hair was longer than it had ever been, and a section had fallen down onto his forehead. You wanted to push it back.

As if sensing your eyes on him, he turned, eyes locking with yours.

Both of you were silent, and again, this silence that stretched between the two of you was calming.

His brown eyes searched your face, and you still didn’t move, not as you watched his eyes grow softer, happier, the longer he looked at you, a matching gentle smile adorning his face.

On a whim, you reached out and placed your hand on his. “Thank you for tonight,” you whispered, hesitant to break to stillness. “Thank you for…everything, you know?”

“Of course,” he replied, the same softness to his voice.

He moved his hand from beneath yours to hold it instead, brushing his thumb across your knuckles. The lull of quiet fell over you two again, and this time, you could feel something shift.

It was almost audible, the subtle change in the air, and as it clicked into place, you lost your breath.

Because Steve’s gaze was full of wonder and admiration.

And it was directed at you.

The space between you suddenly felt so much smaller. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles again, and you look down at them. Even his touch was gentle.

When your eyes return to his face, he seemed closer than ever.

His other hand hesitantly reached out and rested against your face. You leaned into the touch without thinking, basking in the feel of it against your heated cheek.

His eyes dipped to your lips, and you knew that this was it. This was your last chance to stop this before it had begun.

But as he leaned in, you didn’t move back like that voice in the back of your mind was screaming to. You allowed him to move ever closer, and then his lips were on yours.

It was gentle, barely more than a brush of his lips against yours.

He pulled away, and you just stared at him, your heart thundering in your chest so hard you were surprised he couldn’t hear it.

When you didn’t say anything, he started to backtrack. You could see the walls coming up behind his eyes, desperate to pretend that it hadn’t mattered.

But you grabbed his hand before he could lean back, pulling him forward and clutching either side of his face as you kissed him.

He was frozen for a second, but then he was moving. His hands found your sides, gripping them as he pulled you even closer.

You moved in sync, your chest pressed flush against his.

When he pulled away, he was breathing hard, and his hand moved from your back up to your cheek, brushing his thumb against your cheekbone.

Your own hand moved to push the strand of his hair back into place, before trailing it down to rest on the top of his chest where you could feel his own heart beating.

As he stared at you, his eyes began to line with tears, and you immediately pulled your eyebrows together. “What’s wrong?”

He just shook his head slightly. “I just never thought…” he trailed off breathlessly, and you wiped away a tear that escaped his eye. “I never thought I would get you back. Not as a friend, and not like this.”

You kissed him again. “You got me back, Steve Harrington,” you breathed. His eyes gleamed in the dim light. “Don’t lose me again.”

a/n: YAY all done with Book A. i hope you guys liked this little series! and i hope you're happy with the ending. thank you for your support!

Book B is up now! <3 aeia

[quandaryqueen]

I read your other soul mate posts and absolutely loved them. So I'd like to ask for one of my own. Feel free to ignore this if you don't want to do it. BTAS Jon and Ed with a red thread of fate that can be interacted. Like you could pull on it and the other would feel it, but the Reader is really clumsy and more often than not winds up giving it a yank that would send the boys flying. But some times it ends up saving them too.

Tangled

BTAS Edward Nygma X Reader

BTAS Jonathan Crane X Reader

Soulmate au! Gosh I have the mental image of the reader, due to their clumsy nature, getting tangled up in the strings and ngl it's a cute little image but anyways--! I just love red strings of fate and I am ELATED at the fact that someone has requested it! Thank you 💝

💚 Edward Nygma

First of all, he is mentally cursing at his soulmate to mind their steps! Honestly, one of these days you'd pull him alongside you and it would result in catastrophe!

So when he held a little get-together with Gotham citezens in an event venue as hostage, somewhere in the crowd was someone getting their ankle through their strings so violently, they managed to cause others to lose their balance... Including Edward. But Edward has had a good look at the catalyst of the trouble, and he knew.

Not long after that little trip up of yours, you have somehow got yourself caught in your string and stumbling, resulting for your soulmate to be yanked forward, almost bumping against a nearby civilian. See? Catastrophe? Not to mention, humiliating!

He wouldn't admit it, but you have saved him sometimes. Save for example, the time where he wasn't minding his environment and he would have almost been snagged by a vehicle by the crossroad if you didn't trip in your own strings again.

"Watch it!" He exclaims, not bothering to pick himself up when he barely clung to a podium to catch his fall. He didn't need to follow the glowing red string tied around his finger, he fucking knew it was you. He locks eyes with you at the back of the other hostages, on your stomach with sheepish eyes greeting his narrowed ones. Fantastic, so this is how he meets his soulmate.

🧡 Jonathan Crane

As much as possible, he tries to level himself down whenever your little trip ups occur. He simply can't let your little hiccups make a fool of himself in front of others, but if he did, he tries to remain stone-faced. Let no one say that the Scarecrow is ever caught off-guard. In rare occasions though, you do catch him off-guard, even pulling a yelp out of him.

Gosh he can't blame you though, as sometimes the strings do get in the way in ways that he finds inconvenient. Like, imagine tripping on the red string and getting caught by the Bat. You're clumsy, but you couldn't be him.

So... Meeting you. That's a fun little story.

Nonchalantly meandering about the mall, when he stumbled upon the Halloween section, in which he entertains himself by perusing along with isles of plactic pumpkins and autumn themed candles. As he tries to reach to smell one of the candles, he stops to steady himself when he fells a pull. It would be an expensive mistake if he were to stumble forward.

Weirdly enough, he hears someone squealing from the other side of the shelf. What an odd coincidence. Then when he looked down, he sees the string tied on his pinky finger glow red. Oh.

Anticipation pits at the bottom of his stomach as he walks by the next isle, tracing the trajectory of the string with his gaze, only to see the end of it connect to an individual's ankle, as they try to set themself free, muttering under their breath. How did you even get yourself caught?

"Ahem." With Jonathan clearing his throat, you looked up to see him.

"Sorry, can I help you?" You nervously smiled up at him. God it was so embarrassing that you haven't even made the attempt to get off the floor yet.

He gestures at the strings and he watches realisation unfold from your features. Well, this should be fun.

[shittylongcatposts]

@juminweek2019 Philautia // Self-Love

“Now listen to me Jumin, you cannot fall in love until you don’t love yourself.”

He didn’t understand these words his father told him when he was still young. His small gray eyes blinking up to the man who just got dumped by another gold digger. A man so smart and realistic, yet so fooled and blinded by love. 

Years later when he first met Rika, then he understood. because she told him too. But how was he supposed to love himself? Nobody ever taught him, nobody showed him what to do. Sure he was content with his life, he achieved all he could wish for. He graduated from high school, went to a renowned university, he became the heir of C&R and had enough money to get by. However, sometimes he felt like he lost his soul along the way - except when he met with Jihyun or Rika. For some reason they knew him better than Jumin knows himself. 

He swayed the glass of red wine around, his eyes locked on the liquid. Then he sighed, both of them were long gone. Lost in his thoughts Jumin didn’t hear his phone ringing at first. 

He picked it up eventually, even though the young man wasn’t in the mood to talk. But it was Mc and he grew quite fond of her, even though he was not ready to admit it.

“Hello?”

“Jumin, hi, I was wondering if I could come over? Oh, ehm, it’s me, Mc. I need someone I can talk to.”

The young heir sighed. He was tired, exhausted and just wanted to rest. But 

“pretty please???” she begged through the phone.

“Well I was just about to go to bed, but it does sound rather urgent, are you okay?” 

“I’ll tell you when I get there. See you.” and with that she hung up. 

A few minutes later she stood in front of him, he helped her out of her jacket before she kneeled down to greet Elizabeth the 3rd, crawling his cat right at he favorite spot. Jumin smiled while watching them, enjoying the view

Soon after they sat down on his couch, he watched her fiddling with the cuffs of her oversized sweater. He could tell she was nervous.

“So to what do I owe you your visit?” he arched a brow taking a sip from his tea. 

“Well, I, uh, actually I need to tell you something.” she murmured. He nodded, waiting for her to continue. 

“Jumin, I think I love you.” He coughed turning to face her again, looking at her blushed face, he would never forget this sight, she looked so soft and warm. 

But as much as he had yearned to hear those three words from her, he was skeptical. How was he supposed to love her when he didn’t even love himself?

“I’m sorry Mc, I don’t know what to say.” He rubbed his temples and rested his elbows on his legs.

“Did I say something wrong? Does that mean you don’t like me?” 

She watched his dark locks shake from left to right. 

“No, not at all. I really like you Mc. I just don’t understand what you see in me.”

The young woman crawled over to him, her small hand cupping his cheek. He placed his hand on top of hers. 

“You see, my father once told me that I can only fall in love if I love myself. But you know what? I hate it. I hate myself, that cold, heartless monster I became over the years. Emotionless, and tangled up in my thoughts which strings pull closer with each step I take every once and a while. Mc, I just, I don’t want you to fall in love with me. I’m scared to put such a heavy burden on your shoulders.”

“Bullshit.” She cursed and stroked his cheek with her thumb. 

“You’re far more than that. You’re not perfect but truth be told nobody is - look at me. Jumin, you’re one of the most caring people I’ve ever met. You're smart, kind, funny, and pretty cute sometimes, especially when you behave like an old, grumpy man. I don’t mind if you’re a little gloomy on some days or that you become the Joker on another day. Because that’s who you are. The way I see it, your father was a complete idiot to tell you something like this. Love grows under any condition.” A soft smile appeared on the heirs face and he blinked slowly. Without any haste he moved his other hand up and put it on her neck, softly inching her face towards his. 

“Thank you Mc, that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. And I can only say these words right back at you. I love you, too” He gazed into her blue eyes. Then to her lips, and back to her eyes, searching for her approval to finally close the painful distance. She nodded softly. And just before his lips touched hers, she whispered: “Wait. I behave like an old grumpy man?”

[lonely-lost-soul]

1,000 Follower Special

Members of the DreamSMP simping for you:

Dream, GeorgeNotFound, Sapnap, Technoblade, Phil, Wilbur, and Fundy

~No minor members obviously~

Dream: 

When the both of you started dating he knew he couldn’t let anyone know about you.

The only two people who he trusted to know about you were George and Sapnap, solely because they knew who you were before the both of you dated.

Dream met you during Wilbur’s revolt against the SMP, you were a member of one of the villages he frequented.

Dream would constantly trade with your grandparents for ender pearls. They happened to sell the cheapest ones.

One day instead of them you were standing in their place.

The both of you clicked instantly, you laughed at his jokes, and were filled with a certain spark and fire, that had him hooked.

It was safe to say he was addicted.

He adored you, when the time came for him to cut off all the things he loved he couldn’t leave you behind.

Therefore you were the only person he’d allowed himself to have when he had to get rid of all personal attachments. 

To him you were a goddess who could do no wrong, he’d kill for you.

If anyone hurt you all their lives would be gone in an instant. 

He still remembered the first kiss the both of you shared, he had just gotten back from a rough battle. 

Dream was practically bleeding out on your floor, you were screaming at him calling him an idiot. 

You were fretting over him like a mother hen, he just felt so warm and cared for, he took off his mask to give you a crooked smile before falling into your arms. 

He couldn’t help but think you looked gorgeous in your grey sweatpants, hair all messy, eyes glassy from sleep.

Another string of curses fell from your mouth as he leaned forward and captured his lips with yours. 

He felt fireworks pop against his lips and you for sure tasted the blood staining in his teeth. 

He then promptly passed out in your arms.

Dream woke up wrapped in your arms and on a cushy bed. 

He knew you tended to his injuries he also knew when you woke up you’d beat his ass.

At the moment, he felt nurtured and tended to, Dream buried his face in your chest and smiled to himself. 

You were his good girl.

GeorgeNotFound:

Waking up in the woods to a girl standing over him was certainly not how he envisioned the next stage of his life going. 

She glared down at him and he hesitantly adjusted the glasses on his face, he greeted her meekly and she huffed. 

She introduced herself to him and called him a pretty boy in such a condescending manner that it made his stomach wrap up in knots. 

Oh no she was mean and hot. 

You apparently lived very far from the SMP and had no idea how he got to where he was, maybe he slept walk or something. 

You knelt beside him and grabbed his cheeks between your fingers eyeing him like you were trying to see into his soul.

He passed whatever test you had because you helped him to his feet and offered up your home to him. 

Having no other options he agreed to go with you.

As months went by he realized you weren’t all that bad. You could cook, and let him sleep all he wanted. 

(Mostly to try and get his energy back, but still)

He learned you knew a lot about nature and loved animals probably more than anyone else he knew. 

You really were soft under that tough exterior and George loved that it was him who could make you like that.

As much as he enjoyed himself he couldn’t help but miss Sapnap and Dream.

Were they even looking for him? Dream had to care at least...right?

He felt guilty for being happy here, for being happy with you.

It took another month for George to recognize his feelings for you and as soon as he did Sapnap and Dream found him. 

They both seemed to like you after he clarified that, no you didn’t kidnap him. You were a kind soul who opened your home up to him.

Dream and Sapnap looked at one other with a smirk and George’s face turned red. 

The two of them left the house to let the both of you say goodbye to one another. 

George wrapped you in a hug and pressed a soft kiss against your lips, much to his surprise you kissed him back. 

It was hesitant and he could feel the nerves radiating off you. 

He pulled away and rested his head on your forehead, he loved the flush on your face. 

“Don’t be a stranger, pretty boy.”

“I won’t my savior.” 

Sapnap:

At first, his flirting was just good fun, after all, he flirted with everyone. 

What he wasn’t expecting was for you to flirt back just as hard and confident as he did.

It was Karl who pointed out that he’d get a faraway look in his eyes whenever he talked about you. 

Sapnap didn’t get his point and Karl glared at his denseness. 

“You like her Sappy Nappy.”

“What no I- Oh shit.” 

That’s how Sapnap knew he was fucked, cause now all he could ever do was think about his crush on you. 

Sapnap at first tried to avoid you and Karl had to knock some sense into him, saying that, that was not the way he would win you over. 

Ironically, you pinned him to a tree and confronted the fire demon about his behavior.

Out of pure panic, he pressed his lips to yours, when you kissed back he was so flustered his hair caught on fire. 

You had to help him put it out with water because he couldn’t calm down enough to stop the flames from shooting out of his head. 

He was so flustered when you said you’d never let him live this down, but got over it the moment he felt your lips on his cheek (His hair almost went up in flames again).

From that moment on the both of you started dating.

You never minded his constant flirting with other people, he was glad too that was like some weird form of a love language to him. 

When Dream betrayed George and him you were there to comfort him. 

You assured him that you’d never leave his side no matter what happened. 

You would kiss him all over his face and whisper sweet nothings to him whenever he looked too lost in thought. 

He loved it. He loved being spoiled rotten.

When Karl and he moved to the Konoko Kingdom you were right by his side, you helped build your shared home from the ground up. 

You were his little Firecracker. 

Technoblade:

You were Phil’s little helper.

For as long as Technoblade knew his old friend you were by his side, you were quiet and tended mostly to the angel’s flock of crows. 

At first, The Blade thought nothing of you just the girl who always followed Phil around. 

Until he saw you stab through the chest of one of the Butcher’s army soldiers like they were butter. 

The blood that splattered your face and the unbothered look shook him to his very core. 

Oh no, you were hot. 

Technoblade was shaken out of his stupor by you handing him one of the weapons he had lost in the fight. 

You softly asked if he was alright to which he responded with a soft nod, his face was red and you raised an eyebrow.

He noticed a cut across your shoulder blade and reached out to touch the wound. 

You flinched at the touch and cradled the wounded shoulder with your hand, with a soft grumble he offered to patch up your shoulder. 

In the bathroom of his house he stitched up your shoulder, you let out of whines of pain.

The voices liked that way more than they should’ve and it made his face turn beat red. 

You looked up with him through your long lashes and he melted, the voices assuring him that he was ‘down bad.’

Phil came home and caught the both of you staring into one another’s eyes and he gave Technoblade a knowing smirk.

 The glare he sent his old friend was piercing. 

As days rolled into months his feelings for you never faded, especially since the both of you had grown closer. 

Eventually, Phil had forced Technoblade to at least ask you on a date, you dropped the birdseed at your feet and flushed up to the tips of your ears. 

You agreed eagerly and Technoblade was relieved. 

He had kissed you that night under the stars, it was a spur of the moment thing, the moonlight illuminated your best features. 

The voices couldn’t help themselves and he just listened impulsively 

Technoblade was relieved when you kissed him back, he’d protect you from all the horrors of government. 

You were his Princess. 

Philza: 

He’s lived for decades, seen those he loved grow old and pass away. 

That’s why he liked Technoblade, he lived as long as he had, had the same experiences as the angel of death. 

Phil swore he’d never love again, then he met you.

You lived next to him when he was living in New L’manburg and thought you were very pretty as well as very friendly. 

He didn’t know much about you only that:

You were fond of Ghostbur and he seemed to be fond of you.

It made Phil happy that someone else was looking after his dead son when he couldn’t.

Ghostbur had officially introduced the two of you a few weeks before Technoblade’s execution. 

After that moment, you both were practically inseparable.

You bonded over your love for building and all things shiny, he broke his own rule. 

He fell in love with you. 

When he caught wind of what the butcher army was planning on doing to Technoblade he frantically sent a crow to his companion. 

He was promptly placed under house arrest. 

You snuck in through his window once everyone departed for Technoblade’s retirement home and helped Phil disable his ankle bracelet. 

Phil pleaded for you to join him when he went to check up on Technoblade and you agreed wholeheartedly. 

The both of you flew towards Techno’s but it was already too late, they had him. 

You and Phil didn’t intervene. 

After the execution, he introduced you to Technoblade and he seemed satisfied with you sticking around.

Anyone who helped Phil out was a friend of his

You both acted like an old married couple.

Technoblade was dumbstruck to find out the both of you hadn’t had a first kiss yet let alone started dating. 

Phil hit him upside the head for that comment but it urged the old man forward to make his move on you. 

He set up a lovely dinner date, a homecooked meal by the fire was just what the both of you needed. 

You kissed him at the end of the night. 

It was soft and sweet just like you were, his hands tangled in your hair as he pressed close to you. 

You were his angel

Wilbur:

After Sally, he was sure he’d never love again.

That mantra lasted years, but after he won freedom for L’manburg, he had met you. 

You were a crew member of Captain Puffy’s ship and he always did love watching the boats come and go from the ocean. 

You had arrived in L’manburg alongside Puffy and he fell for you hard and fast.

He was a blushing, stuttering mess as you smirked over at him. 

You were strong and tough and he wanted nothing more than for you to pin him against a wall. 

After talking with Puffy you decided to stay in L’manburg and get a feel for the country, Wilbur was ecstatic. 

He showed you around all proud of what he created, you interlocked your hands with his and he felt faint. 

The two of you were an item not soon after.

Fundy approved, happy his father was finally moving on plus he loved your take no shit attitude. 

They both loved when you sang the best. 

You always had a wide assortment of sea shanties to share, and a plethora of stories to tell. 

You had taught a few of them to Wilbur so he could play them on his guitar, another great bonding moment he remembered fondly. 

When you sang it was the only time he ever considered you soft. 

Before Wilbur announced the results of the election you had done the very thing he hoped you would do when he first met you.

Grab him by the hair, pin him against a wall and give him a heated kiss that made his knees weak.

“Go get them, Wilby.” 

“Yes ma’am.”

Losing was not something either of you foresaw. You ran away with him and Tommy to join Pogtopia. 

You were by his side in his slow descent into his eventual madness and stayed by his side up until his inevitable death. 

As he slowly died in you and Phil’s arms you sung to him one final time.

He told you he loved you on his last breath.

You were his muse.

Fundy:

Being left at the altar was one of the most horrifying experiences Fundy had ever had the displeasure of going through.

You’d been there when Dream left with George, you had threatened to stab out the man’s eyes. 

You stayed beside him the entire night, you refused to take no for an answer. 

Fundy had never been more vulnerable than he was with you that night.

He was embarrassed at first but you shushed him and assured him it was alright.

Fundy flushed and felt guilty for doing so, he shouldn’t feel that way around you. 

Your hand reached up to pet his ears and he began to purr loudly in your arms. 

Eventually, Fundy realized he had feelings for you.

Much like Sapnap, he went to immediate Panic Mode.

He didn’t want for this to end up like Dream again, not that you were anything like him, but at the same time, he didn’t want to ruin your friendship. 

However, much to his surprise it was you who confessed to him. 

Fundy said he felt the same before you even finished your confession. 

His tail was wagging rapidly and he had to physically hold it down to stop it from wagging 

Which was something you laughed at but he felt embarrassed about, you had to assure him that you thought it was the cutest thing in the entire world.

He whined at that but you kissed all over his cheeks so he had to immediately forgive you. 

Fundy introduced you to Wilbur who grilled you about your love for Fundy, he wanted to kill his dad. 

You assured him that you loved Fundy, and would never want to hurt him. 

Wilbur seemed satisfied with your response and wished both of you well. 

After Wilbur left, Fundy kissed your lips softly, his tail once again wagging rapidly.

As he pulled away you leaned back in and kissed him back, your hand gently stroked his ears and he purred again. 

He knew for sure he was going to marry you, and it wouldn’t end up like Dream and his wedding.

However, that was still a long way away.

For now, he just had to settle for you being his dream girl.

~~~

Hey guys! Thank you so much for 1,000 followers??? I am honored and shocked thank you all so much! Thank you to everyone who send me supportive messages and my amazing anon’s who member fail to cheer me up. Many more stories and projects are in the works but I wanted to do something special and different for the big 1,000. Thanks again and I hope you enjoy 😊

[wri0thesley]

Could I get some Gojo face sitting please 👉🏻👈🏻🥺 Maybe with a chubby reader?

fool for love - gojo x reader (2.25k)

gojo asks you to try something, and you can never say no to him. 

(warnings: nsfw, afab reader, fem pronouns (pet names). explicitly chubby reader, mentions of worries about weight/body. cunnilingus/facesitting)

Sometimes you think it’s a good job that you and Satoru Gojo are a couple; you’re absolutely certain that nobody but you would put up with him. You’re totally convinced that you’re the only fool in the world who sees his arrogant smirk and the thrust of his chin and the cocky set of his shoulders, listens to him go on and on about himself and about his work and about his strength, and wants to kiss him instead of kill him.

You do kiss him, coincidentally. A lot. Partly because when he’s kissing you, he’s not running his mouth – partly because the taste of his lips on yours and the feel of his hands on your waist, pulling you in, is addictive. You can’t get enough of him – and luckily, it seems that he can’t get enough of you either.

So when Gojo had thrown out this suggestion, casually, as if he was asking you what you two were going to order for dinner that night (you’ve never seen Gojo make anything more complicated than a ramen cup), it had not taken you long to agree.

Faced with it, though – Gojo situated on the bed, arm stretched over his head, grin on his face – you begin to wonder if maybe it’s such a good idea.

“Don’t back out on me now,” he says, the cocky grin not leaving his face. “I’ve been dying to taste you for hours.”

You shift uncomfortably on the other side of the bed, suddenly horribly aware of the curves of your body. No matter how Gojo’s words send a thrill through you – you know from experience he’s good with his tongue – you can’t deny that you’re a little afraid.

It’s easy to forget the difference between the two of you when he’s got you pressed underneath him on the mattress, cock plunging in and out, mouth hungrily kissing every patch of skin he can get at. When Gojo looks at you with his hair falling in his face and his eyes like starlit galaxies, you feel beautiful – but you’re not sure if you’ll feel quite the same way straddling his face.

He sees the way you bite your lip, the anxiety beginning to show in your gaze – and Gojo softens. You see him like this rarely (he’s proud more than he’s caring), but he’s shown this side of him to you every so often, when something has made you draw in on yourself. One of his hands wraps around your bare shoulders, pulling you to face him.

“Hey, doll,” he says, pressing his nose against yours affectionately. “What’s got you pouting, huh?”

“I . . .” You swallow. You feel so embarrassed admitting it! Gojo has never said anything about your body beyond how much he loves having your hips to hold onto, how he loves your thighs wrapped around his waist, how soft and warm you are tangled up beside him in bed – but your insecurities always seem to flash back up at the most inopportune of moments. “I’m just . . .” You blink, biting your lip. Your voice comes out in a soft breath. “I’m worried I’ll be too heavy.”

Gojo’s eyebrows draw in. You must have seen him without anything shading his eyes a hundred times now, when the two of you are in the bedroom, but you are still knocked back by just how pretty he is – the constellations in his irises, the fan of his white eyelashes against perfect skin. The expression makes his mouth jut out, so kissable that it takes your breath away.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” he says, as if the very idea is laughable. “I could lift you over my head right now--”

He reaches for you as if he’s going to do it, arms locking about your waist – the tension breaks as he effortlessly pulls you back, your body landing on top his. He doesn’t so much as let out a ‘whumph’ of air at the sensation of your body hitting his.

“I’m the strongest, remember?” There’s more than a note of swagger in his voice; he is so very proud of that accomplishment. You suppose he has every right to be.

“I guess,” you breathe, and he makes a soft harrumphing sound before his fingers twist into your hair, pulling you close to him to kiss you.

“You guess?” He sounds mock offended against your lips. “I guess that means I’ll have to show you exactly what I mean, huh?”

A nip at your lower lip; his hands roaming your bare back, stroking the curve of your ass and hips. Everywhere Gojo’s long fingers touch leaves a trail of fire behind, like he’s branding you with the pressure of his fingertips. You imagine them leaving glowing trails behind the colour of his eyes – but the coil of heat that they’re helping stoke, low in your belly, is more red than anything else.

“How’re you gonna do that?” You breathe against the softness of his mouth. He tastes like sugar; he always does. You can’t get enough of him, dizzy and breathless. You would gorge yourself on him if you could.

“Take a seat on your throne, princess,” he grins, letting his head hit the pillows hard. His pale hair spreads out all around him like a halo as he moves a hand from your hip to tap his mouth with his fingers. “And find out.”

You guess it would shut him up. Gojo’s mouth can’t keep moving if he’s got you occupying it. And you also can’t deny that the thought of it – riding his face – is more than half of the reason your inner thighs are slick with your arousal. Still . . . what if you really are too heavy for him?

Gojo murmurs your name softly – you meet his eyes again, and you see softness and tenderness reflected in them, despite the fact that his mouth is still shaped into a cocky smirk. You know if you say no, he probably won’t push you. But . . . you don’t want to say no. You push yourself up from his chest.

He’s still wearing his underwear, and you wonder if he can sense how damp you are where you briefly straddle him – because you can certainly feel how stiff he is, the outline of his cock pressing against silken boxer shorts (yeah, of course he’s a silk underwear kind of man – you’ve seen them countless times, but just how Gojo that particular detail of him is never fails to make you smile).

“Okay,” you breathe. “I hope you’re comfy.”

Gojo’s face splits into a grin as you move yourself, your knees suddenly either side of his face, his cheeks pressing against the softness of your thighs.

“Babe,” he starts to say, “I’m absolutely the com—mmppf--”

His gloating is cut off by you sitting on his face. The whisper of his breath across your heated folds as he’d spoken had been too tempting, your sex feeling like it was pulsing in time with your heartbeat – and so, you’d given in. Using your hands as leverage on the headboard of the bed, you’d sunk fully onto your knees and muffled Gojo’s words.

Oh, God.

Your mind blanks out at first, as Gojo’s tongue goes at you hungrily. For his first hungry licks at your core, he’s voracious – he seems to want to drink you up like fine wine. Gojo does not drink – you know this very well – but if he could get drunk on your slick, you think he’d already be unable to stand up. One of the hands on the headboard goes to tangle in the fluffy strands of his pale hair instead, and he looks up at you for a moment, pausing with the flat of his tongue pressed against the throbbing bud of your clit.

The sight of his eyes between your thighs almost pushes you over the edge there and then – looking down at him feels like tumbling down a rabbit hole, like you’ll never be able to pull yourself out of their lovely depths. He makes a soft noise against your folds that has you practically vibrating, your toes curling – and you realise it’s a question.

Maybe he’s asking you what’s wrong, maybe he’s asking you if you want to stop, but your mind is all hazy from the feeling of his mouth on you. So all you do is tug at his hair and gasp, your hips rolling forward against him to try and coax his tongue into flickering across your clit like you’re longing for it to do.

“Satoru,” you whimper, voice all thin and reedy like a prayer, and Gojo does not need any more encouragement than that to return to his work.

Gojo’s hands rest on your hips and even you feel small for a second, the length of his fingers and size of his palm almost overwhelming. There’s so much power in the way he holds you – so much strength behind the casual clench of his fingers into your plush. He keeps you anchored there as he uses the flat swathe of his tongue to lap at you all at once, briefly teasing your entrance before he twirls his tongue around your clit like someone licking whipped cream off of a fancy dessert--

He’s caught you watching him do exactly that out of the corner of your eye many times before, and grinned at you widely with a hungry murmur that he’ll devour you in exactly the same way if you want him too.

Does he not need to breathe?

You lose track of how long you’ve been sat on his face for. You can’t think of anything else with the warm, wet muscle of Gojo’s tongue teasing you. He thrusts it in and out of your entrance, making your entire body jerk and your walls try and cling to him, constrict around him. He flicks his tongue so fast over the bud of your clit that you can’t understand how he does it, it can’t be human to move that fast--

All through it, the tension tight in your stomach is getting hotter and tighter and needier, like a instrument's string being tuned to its breaking point.

You can barely breathe. There’s nothing but Gojo’s insistent lapping at your core, the thrust of his tongue in and out of your channel (has Gojo’s tongue always been so long? It feels just as good inside of you as his fingers always do, but different--). Your hips are rocking and grinding against his face against your will, your fingers twisting into his hair. You’ve lost your senses completely in the chase of your release, hovering tantalisingly close--

Gojo gives your clit one final, soft lap, the barest hint of his teeth against the hood and you burst into bloom for him like a flower. The string snaps and heat floods your body, Gojo’s name escaping you in a wail. Fireworks burst into being behind your eyelids.

Gojo’s tongue follows through, coaxing you through the soft, gentle aftershocks of your orgasm even as your thighs are trembling and your grip on the headboard is beginning to loosen. If it weren’t for his hands on your hips, you would probably fall forward and hit your head on the wall, passing out – but Gojo’s assessment of his strength wasn’t for naught, and your spent body is being pulled down so your heated cheeks are pressed against Gojo’s firm chest. You blink up at him in your exhausted, pleasure-drunk state--

The entire lower half of his mouth is dripping wet, glinting with your arousal and his own drool from how hungrily his tongue was going at you. But his eyes are as sharp as ever, drinking you in like you’re the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen – as if he can’t believe that you’d ever doubt yourself.

Nobody would believe you if you told them how Gojo gets, sometimes – if you told them about the smile-softened eyes and the softer words, the way he holds you like a precious treasure that might break at any moment. He leans down and strokes some hair from your eyes, almost lazy.

“I told you I was the strongest,” he says, and even though it’s a boast, his voice and manner is so soft that you barely register it. You’re smiling up at him like a fool. Maybe it’s foolish to love him as much as you do – but if it is, you don’t want to be clever. You don’t want to be anything but his, here, in his bed, sprawled out across him, lazy and sated.

You kiss the bit of his chest directly beneath your lips lazily, needing to express your affection for this arrogant, gorgeous, irrepressible (perfect) man.

He sighs at the contact, shifting – and you’re reminded of what’s currently lying beneath his own underwear, hot and needy and thick. It’s a testament to Gojo’s willpower he hasn’t mentioned it yet.

You smile at him. One more minute of relaxing on his chest – of having your hair played with, of getting to look at him . . . and then, you’ll see to that.

Gojo’s eyes are just as gorgeous when you’re knelt between his thighs as they are when he’s trapped between yours, after all.

[kavikaslana]

I just read some of your sub Shig stuff, and I didn’t know how much I would love the concept until I read yours!

I really like the thought of his crush trying to teach him some manners. Like just pinning him somewhere, not giving him ANY relief unless he says please. Maybe even calls them sir/mistress? And they’ll stop immediately if he insults them or gets too impatient. They’ll taunt him like, “All you’ve gotta do is be nice. That’s it! Then you’ll get whatever you want.” And UGH HE HATES IT but at the same time they’re making him feel incredible.

~ 🌹

I swear I'm starting to convert more of you guys. Y'all have to be looking through my screenshots at this point, thats EXACTLY my type of shit. Like don't get me wrong, whining for Shig's cute and all but its so much better to have a guy that could literally kill you in one hit on his knees. I don't have anything against him being both, but like personally I like my serial killers whiny and needy, and considering I only simp for Shig, he's the biggest victim. I'm also the only dominant one in my friend group, and they act like its a crime to be the one on top

Boutta pull out my private drafts for this, hold up

Minors DNI. Just because I let y'all follow for the sfw stuff doesn't mean you can get away with reading smut <3

If anyone's wondering what they described, I believe its this one

Sub Shigaraki x Dom Fem! reader

One of your hands was wrapped around his throat, just barely applying enough pressure to keep him from breathing properly. His pale skin seemed to glow under the dim light while it only made yours stand out that much more.

He's not even sure how it got to this point.

Your free hand moved to cup his chin, forcing him to look at you before brushing your lips against his briefly, just long enough for him to lean forward to catch yours, inexperienced lips trying to force his tongue into you mouth

You pull away, pulling him onto your lap, his legs straddling your thighs, your eyes scanning his chest down to his legs. He just looked so pretty, his cock already so hard just from a few simple touches.

"You're so goddamn pretty like this, y'know that, don't you? C'mon, just tell me what you want, I'll do it for you if you ask nicely," you start, taking a moment to give him a quick, sloppy kiss, "It's that easy Tomu."

His words were barely recognizable, only the word 'please' being loud enough for you to hear correctly, everything else sounded like a mix of whines and blabbering.

"What's wrong? You're so quiet. It's just us, no need to be so quiet with me." You cooed, moving his hair out of his face, your other hand grabbing at his shirt.

Instead, he just buried his face into your neck, murmuring something seemingly along the lines of 'just do it already, you're taking too long', his words still quiet and once again, barely recognizable.

This time though, instead of asking him to speak up again, you just assume you know what he wants, slowly unbuttoning his jeans, just watching the visible parts of his face turn red. Small whimpers escaping his lips every time your fingertips get just a little to close to his boxers, his breath hitching at the thought alone.

The second he feels your skin against his bare cock, he almost looses it immediately. A single loud, drawn out moan escaping his pretty lips. It's so hard for him to stay quiet once you start moving your hand, instead, he opts for biting your neck in order to muffle his sounds.

Once you speed up your movements though, its a whole different story. He detaches his mouth from your neck, throwing his head back, holding onto your shoulders for support. His legs go weak, and he'd probably fall on his back if you weren't holding him. The amount of noise coming from him is strange considering he won't talk unless he's desperate, and even then he's awfully quiet. Maybe its just the same little mix of moans and pants, but he's just so much louder.

"My little toy likes that, don't you? You're doing so good... just sit still, I'll take care of everything from here, ok?" You say, pressing kisses against his cheek, pulling away only to have his lips smashed against yours.

His hips involuntarily start bucking into your touch, desperate for anything he can get from you, his tongue trying to squirm past your lips. His arms wrap around your back, one hand tangling in your hair, pulling you closer to him. His legs start shaking just a little bit, and his already sloppy kiss getting worse.

When he finally pulls away, there's a string of saliva connecting you two. He just looks at you, his eyes glazed over and hazy. His mouth hangs open, drool spilling down his face as his cock start twitching, just before you pull your hand away.

"Hey! I-I wasn't done yet! Please mistress, just a little longer, please? I didn't do anything wrong..." He whines, his hips thrusting into thin air, the tip of his cock red and swollen.

He almost starts crying, his voice cracking every time he even tries to speak. Even then, anything he can get out ends up as a broken plea, a promise that he'll listen.

The familiar warmth of your skin against his almost makes him cry, your thumb rubbing the tip of his cock, but nothing more. A cracked whine slipping past him, his mouth moving to press desperate kisses against your neck. Anything that he can think of, he'll try.

"If you wait just a little bit, I'm sure I can give you something better, got it baby? Just be patient, you'll get what you want."

He starts biting his lip again in a pathetic attempt to stay quiet, anything that might get you to do what he wants. You gently push him off of you, laying him on his back before sitting in front of him.

You start removing your clothes, leaving your bra and your panties on. He almost jumps at you, his hands instantly moving to your back, trying to unclip your bra. Eventually, when he finally gets it off, he starts grabbing at you. One of his hands moves down to your panties, pulling at the waistband, but not removing them. His other hand starts massaging your soft mound, cherishing the weight of it in his hand.

"Can I..? Is it ok for me to, mistress?" He asks, dipping one finger under the waistband, slightly tugging them down.

You nod your head in approval, watching as he struggles with getting your panties off at first. Instead of letting him go further though, you push him back, touching yourself. He tries to grab your hand to replace it with his own, but you just slap his hand away.

"Why don't you just watch for now? You can do that for me, right Tomura? Surely my little toy can at least give me that much." You say, slipping a finger into your entrance.

He just sits there, not quite sure what to do. His eyes move back and forth between your hand, and your face. Every time he gets close, you just push him back, reminding him that he has to be patient if he wants anything else.

When he's had enough of you, he grabs you and pulls you on his lap. His fingers start trailing down your sides, one of his hands holding you in place. Your protests fall on deaf ears, his thumb already pressing against your clit.

He only stops once your hand once again, wraps around his throat. One good squeeze, and he snaps out of it, immediately pulling his hand away. Pathetic sobs emerge from him, looking down to avoid your gaze.

You start kissing his neck, caressing his cheek. "I told you to wait. You couldn't even give me that much, could you? How sad. Maybe I should go find Dabi, I'm sure he would listen better than you could."

His arms wrap around your waist as he buries his face into your shoulder. Tears start spilling down his face, his voice cracking every other word as he begs you to stay, to give him another chance, he can do better.

You pull his hands off of you, pushing him onto his back, giving him a quick peck. He wraps his legs around your hips, grabbing at whatever he can get his hands on, clinging onto you tightly.

You sit up, crawling over to his chest.

"How about this. If you be a good boy, and actually wait this time, I'll let you have your fun. If you don't, I won't let you do anything." You say, your thumb tracing his collarbone. He nods, staying as still as he can.

You crawl on top of his face, and he pulls you down, his tongue going to work almost instantly. His tongue laps up your juice, taking a quick dip inside of you. Your soft moans only encourage him, his hands moving to grab your thighs as his nose gently nudges against your clit. His thumb starts to work on your clit as his tongue delves inside of you, his grip on you thighs becoming almost bruising.

You try to get up just enough to reposition yourself, only to be pulled back down, his hand moving to your waist. The obscene sounds coming from him mix in with your quiet pants. Your soft praises encouraging him further as you hand grips his hair.

He groans against you, each sloppy lick seems to excite him more than it does for you. His fingers start rolling your clit between them, each noise you make only seems to get covered by his.

You bite your lip, muffling the groans spilling past your lips, though once you reach your limit, it doesn't help one bit. You scream, your grip tightening on his hair as you finish. He doesn't let you up just yet, his tongue licking up everything you have to offer before releasing his hold on your thigh.

You move in front of his cock, spitting on it before giving it a few quick strokes, watching his eyes widen and his mouth open.

"How about you beg? I'm sure a little slut like you would be willing to do that much. My pretty boy just wants to sink his cock into his mistress, don't you?" You tease, running a finger along the length of his cock.

He nods quickly, his eyes shutting tight as his hands grip the bedsheets. You watch his eyes fly open just from the feel of your thighs around his cock. He moves his head up enough to watch you, one of your hands grabbing his shirt as you line up his cock with your slit.

You start sinking onto his cock, biting your lip painfully hard as he starts squirming underneath you, one of his hands moving to grab your hip.

Once you're fully seated on his cock, he starts thrusting his hips up, pathetic whines falling from him. His hold on your hip tightens, trying to hint at what he wants. Soft whimpers emerge from him as drool starts slipping past his lips once more.

One of your hands tangle in his shirt as you start moving, the noise he makes immediately increasing in volume, his eyes trained on nothing but your figure on top of him. His back arches, and his hands turn white from his grip on the bedsheets.

You start increasing your pace, picking up your hips only to slam yourself back down on his cock. His hand moves to your chest, taking one of your breasts into your hand, increasing his grip there instead. Quick I love you's fall from him. You stop, moving his hair out of his face, giving him a quick kiss as he tries to deepen it with no success.

"Do you want me to keep going? If you tell me exactly what you want, I'm sure I'll let you do it." You say, running a hand through his hair.

"I wanna- fuck, I wanna cum inside you! Please! I'm so close, don't you want to be filled up too? Please mistress?" He begs, his eyes starting to water. You can feel his cock twitching in you, and his grip on you increasing.

You pick up your pace again, watching his expression quickly change. He starts panting, squirming underneath you as his fingers dip into your hips, and you're almost certain that there will be bruises there in the morning.

His moans increase in frequency, and he starts getting louder. His legs go weak as his grip loosens again, eyes shut tight as he thrusts his hips up to meet yours before spilling his seed into you.

His panting slows, and his breathing slows again. He pulls his hands off of you, letting you rest on his chest. He nuzzles his face into your neck, peppering kisses along the side of your neck.

You could've sworn you heard him mutter a quiet 'I love you', but he wouldn't admit it anyway.