#writing stupid shit people find funny

[erigold13261]

”and I don't think Kento is spending any quality time with Mahito other than the quality time of his fist in Mahito's face” I chuckled IRL when I first read that. Also hell yeah he would want that to happen.

Everyone loves bonding time with Mahito! (everyone bonding over beating the shit out of Mahito)

I'm glad that made you chuckle! I had fun writing that sentence lol!

[fingertipsmp3]

My eczema is actually driving me out of my mind I swear to fucking god

[rowarn]

bizarre thought.....shadow entity!ghost..... @sgtgarricks is responsible for this!!!

i already want to write another part to this LMAOOOOOOO

part : two

when you first moved into your new house, you knew it was old and had been vacant for a looooong time. it had a bizarre history of people living there and moving out months, even weeks later. most people declined offering a reason for their quick move but others would just vaguely supply that the 'energy was dark in that house', you weren't bothered.

it was a nice, big, house and for damn cheap too. you weren't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

your first nights in the house, you understood what they meant. there was something off about the house for sure. at random times, you would feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, as if alerting you to danger. when you would turn around, there was nothing there. but it would leave you with sweaty palms and a racing heart.

it wasn't until a week into your new life that the first weird thing happened. it was like something from a stereotypical horror movie. you heard a strange sound and got out of bed to investigate. when you got to your kitchen, all the cabinets and drawers were open and your kitchen chairs were placed on top of your table -- which had also been moved across the kitchen.

you tried to take some deep breaths to calm yourself as you returned everything back to normal. you went over and over in your head for some kind of explanation for the event before finally landing on the fact that this house was fucking haunted.

strange events kept happening after that. lights would turn on, your kitchen cabinets would be open, sinks and showers would turn on, doors would slam from across the house. you were losing sleep over it. every single night you'd be woken up by some strange event and you were beginning to understand why the past tenants had moved out so fast.

this was a rotten way to live.

the final straw for you was the night the activity really seemed to ramp up. whatever spirit was haunting you wanted you out now. multiple doors slammed, jolting you from your sleep -- your heart racing from how hard you had been startled from your dreams. you got to your feet and turned on your lamp only to find it wasn't working.

next, you tried the overhead light. same thing.

fuck. it had caused the power to bust.

now you were really scared.

you grabbed your phone, using the flashlight to navigate your way out of the bedroom. the floorboards creaked beneath you, considerably louder without the hum of electricity.

you were halfway down the hall when you heard it. quiet at first, but definitely there. footsteps. mimicking your own, as if echoing after you took your own steps, making sure you knew it was there.

you spun around, shining the light upon nothing. you let out a heavy breath, noticing the way the flashlight shook from how hard you were trembling.

"a-alright, ghost," you called into the empty house, too scared to feel stupid that you were talking to nothing, "i-i'll admit i'm pretty scared right now. i-i know you probably want me out of your house. this is your house, i get it. bu-but i already sunk all my damn savings into moving in here s-so i can't leave!" you swallow, a loud gulping sound that would be funny if you weren't about to piss yourself, "s-so if we could just live together for a little while longer. i-i promise i'll get out the second i have the money!"

there was nothing but tense silence. you felt like an idiot the more seconds that passed. were you trying to make a deal with a fucking ghost? a spirit of someone who probably died in this house? what kind of shit had your life become?

you peered into the inky blackness of the hallway, blinking as you try to futilely see. it takes you a moment to realize you're not just staring into the darkness of your hallway. it's something else.

pure darkness. a dark entity taking form in the blackness of the night. you want to step back, primal fear coursing through you like you never felt before. whatever fear you were feeling was primordial in nature -- as if this entity was something you were born to fear.

the darkness began to swallow up the hallway, eating away at the light your flashlight had created. the air felt heavy and oppressive, making it difficult to take in oxygen.

you swear you could feel hands on you, grabbing you and pulling at you. the longer you stared into the darkness, the more you thought you could see things. eyes. hundreds of eyes. but when you blinked, the images vanished.

then, all at once, the entity was gone and your light was shining down the hallway again unimpeded. after another second, the sound of the electricity slamming back on filled the house and you collapsed to your knees.

whatever that was, it was dangerous. you knew that now.

but it didn't hurt you. perhaps it agreed to your terms and would leave you be now?

oh how wrong you were. sure, it wasn't nearly as scary as that night but now you saw it.

around every turn.

you could see the shadow take shape from the corner of your eye but when you looked, it would be gone. you would be brushing your teeth and when you looked in the mirror, it stood behind you, making your heart leap out of your chest. when you would turn, it wasn't there.

you were no longer woken up in the night, at least. but you weren't sure if you preferred the regular haunting stuff to seeing the ghost or not. you were on the fence about which was worse.

after another scare from the ghost, you jumped so hard that you almost fell over, "alright you -- ghost! will you quit scaring me like that!?" you found yourself shrieking.

to your abject horror, you heard laughter in return.

the shadow shit was fucking laughing at you. like it was enjoying this.

it wasn't evil laughter either. it sounded like pure enjoyment.

you suppose it wasn't out of the realm of possibility for a ghost to make sounds but it didn't make it any less horrifying.

you started talking to it more after that. once you heard its voice - sort of- it became easier. the fear also dissipated in time. sure it would jump scare you from time to time to get a laugh but other than that, it became like living with a really annoying roommate.

"will you get out of my mirror!" you snapped, mouth full of toothpaste with you facemask on. its disappearance was marked with its mirthful laughter.

you also noticed as the days and weeks passed, it stopped looking like a shapeless shadow and more like a person -- a big one at least. well over 7 feet tall. if you looked for long enough, you could almost make out what you think is a skull where the face would be on a human.

one night, you're laying in bed, comfortable. there's rain pelting outside on your window and distant thunder, too nice of weather to sleep away. so you just choose to relax and listen to it.

"ghost?" you find yourself calling into the darkness, "are you there?"

its silent but you feel the air grow heavy and you know that it's arrived. it seems to have...consciousness, you realized. it reacts to you and listens to you. there's one thing that's been plaguing you that you want to ask, though you're not sure if it will answer -- if it can answer.

"you're not really a ghost are you?" you ask.

you're greeted by silence for several, long seconds before you hear it. it's deep and masculine, a whisper of an echo following its voice when it speaks as if multiple things were speaking but only one voice was amplified, "no."

it's the answer you were expecting but that didn't mean you liked it. you swallow harshly around the lump of anxiety in your throat.

"are you going to hurt me?" you ask it, dreading the answer to this one. just because it's been toying with you doesn't mean it's not still dangerous.

"no," it responds again. you can hear footsteps, the entity walking closer and closer to your bed.

you let out a relieved breath at that. though, you're not sure if you should actually believe the dark entity that lives in your house. but at this point, you've really got no choice except to take it's word for it.

"what's your name?" you find yourself asking it.

"ghost," it responds quickly.

you laugh at that, "no, you're real name."

"ghost," it insist, "you gave me a name."

a lightbulb goes off over your head.

"is that why you're being so nice to me?" you ask, not sure if 'nice' is the appropriate word to use.

"i wanted a name," it answers, "you gave me one."

"a name in exchange for living in this house," you muse, deciding to roll over in bed, "alright then. goodnight, ghost."

"rest well," it responds before vanishing, freeing the room from that oppressive feeling.

you close your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep, briefly wondering where ghost even came from and what exactly it was.

this is unedited i wrote it in a fury of inspiration i hope u enjoyed it regardless of how WEIRD this was LMFAOOOOOOOOOO

[heartsforjh]

CONGRATS ON 100 KIRBS <333 TO MANY MORE!

For your celly, can I request Luke and physical touch: “I thought you hated it when people touched you?” with reader on the receiving end (as in she's the one who isn't a fan of being touched)??

Thank you and good luck with your celly!!

THANK YOU! 🫶 now, 26 times. 26 times i fully listened to justin timberlake on repeat to produce this for you meg. also, while writing the part where reader couldn’t stay awake i actually fell asleep… 😭 anyways, i hope you enjoy. 🙏

main masterlist | 100 follower celly masterlist

You had met Luke at Umich not too long ago. Despite being quiet and unassuming around most people, he was rowdy and playful with your friend group, always bringing an easy energy to the room. He was funny, considerate, and far more polite than the average guy you’d met at your new university.

Today your friend group decided on hanging out in one of the larger dorms, so that there’s more room for everyone to actually fit. Luke, as usual, is roughhousing with his friends, their laughter echoing through the room. In the middle of their chaos, Luke accidentally bumps into you, nearly knocking you off balance.

“Oh, shit, my bad! I’m sorry Y/n,” he blurts, steadying you with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Lukey always finding excuses to touch his girlfriend.” Dylan teases, his grin wide and knowing.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Luke shoots back instantly, looking a little flustered, his tone shifts into something firmer. “Don’t be weird like that. It’s not funny to make her uncomfortable.”

Turning back to you, his expression softens into a sheepish smile. “I really am sorry, Y/n. I’ll be more careful.”

You nod, offering a polite smile. “It’s okay.” You can tell he feels bad, but before you can say anything else, his friends pulled him back into their conversation. You stay quiet, still too shy to fully insert yourself, being new to this circle of people.

Later that day, the group bundles up for the cold weather and heads to the UMich football game. As everyone files into the bleachers, Luke maneuvers himself to stand next to you. It was hard not to notice, and you could easily hear Dylan snickering.

Luke rolls his eyes but doesn’t budge, determined to put himself out there. After a moment, he glances at you, his face softening when he notices your rosy cheeks from the cold.

“So, uh… is this your first football game? I mean, UMich game?” He stumbles, trying to get his question out without looking stupid, “You’ve probably been to other football games before, but… yeah, first here?”

You can’t help but smile at how nervous he seems. “Yeah. This is my first.”

His face lights up at your response. “Cool! You’ll like it! These games are a lot of fun.”

You tuck your hands deeper into your jacket pockets, shivering slightly. “I hope so. It’s freezing out here.”

Luke chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, Michigan weather can be brutal. You’ll get used to it, though! I grew up here… well, partly in Canada too. Oh, but I was born in New Hampshire. Not that it matters…” He trails off, fully aware that he’s rambling but powering through anyway. “What I’m saying is, I’m used to the cold. And don’t worry, these games are always worth it. My brothers and I go all the time. Actually, we’ve got a lake house we visit in the summer together too—maybe you could come with sometime!” He slows down, hoping he’s not coming off too strong. “You know, if you’re around.”

You listen patiently, letting him overshare whatever his heart desires, “I’ll probably go home over the summer since it’s my first year here, but I bet I could find time to visit for a bit somewhere in there.”

“Really? Yeah… yeah, that’d be cool,” he says, his smile growing. He glances down and realizes exactly how close he’d moved towards you while talking.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, quickly shuffling back.

You don’t mind the closeness, but you weren’t gonna make it more awkward by telling him so. The two of you continued chatting, the conversation flowing naturally until the game ends and everyone decides to head back to their dorms.

A few days later, the group gathers at Luke’s place for a movie. You’re curled up in a beanbag, with Luke sitting next to you on the floor, his head resting against your seat. The movie drags on, and you find yourself nodding off.

However, your eyes quickly snap open when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Hey, do you want to help me make popcorn for everyone?” Luke asks softly. You nod, grateful for something to keep you awake. He stands and offers you his large hand, which you take without hesitation.

As he leads you into the kitchen, he glances back and notices you rubbing your eyes.

He laughs quietly. “Tired?”

You nod, stifling a yawn. He realizes he’s still holding your hand and quickly lets go, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say, leaning against the counter as he grabs the popcorn supplies.

“You know, if you’re that tired, you can just crash in my room after this,” he offers casually, glancing at you.

Your eyes widen slightly. “Oh! No, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” he insists, his tone genuine. “Those beanbags suck to sleep on. Trust me, I know—my brothers used to make me sleep on them when we were kids.”

You laugh softly. “Why?”

“Well I was the youngest, and sometimes I didn’t want to sleep in my own room at night…” He trails off, suddenly regretting his honesty.

“You were scared of the dark?” you tease, smile somehow looking even more amused than before.

“Monsters, actually,” he corrects, with mock indignation.

Your laughter bubbles out, the sound light and free. It’s the most you’ve laughed since coming to UMich, and Luke was beaming with pride at the sight of it.

When the popcorn is ready the two of you head back into the living room. The group eagerly grabs at the fresh bowl as you settle back into your beanbag. Unsurprisingly, not even two minutes pass before your eyes start drooping again.

A soft laugh from Luke is the last thing you register before you feel yourself being lifted. You instinctively tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his warmth lulling you further into sleep. He carries you upstairs with ease and gently lays you on his bed, carefully tucking the covers around you.

“Just get some sleep,” he murmurs quietly, mostly to himself.

As he turns to leave, you reach out and catch his hand. Your voice is soft, barely above a whisper. “Please stay? You can lay with me.”

“Uh… are you sure? I can sleep on the beanbag. It’s not a big deal.” he says, hesitantly,

You frown, words laced with tired honesty. “I thought you hated sleeping on the bean bags?”

“I thought you hated when people touch you?” he counters softly, eyes searching yours.

“I do,” you admit. “But it’s okay when it’s you.”

His lips curve into a small, shy smile as he climbs into bed beside you. You waste no time cuddling into him, your head resting on his chest. One of his hands caresses your hair tenderly, while the other settles lightly on your lower back.

The two of you know this isn’t something “just friends” would do, but neither of you seem to mind. You were content with that in the moment. As you drift off to sleep, wrapped in his comforting presence, you decide the feelings you’re starting to acknowledge can wait until tomorrow.

tags: @beenucks @mainly-miracle @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @sweetestdesire @emsdevs @puckmedude @joesnumerouno @alex-wotton

join the taglist here! :)

[dadsbongos]

virgins can have kinks too!

4.1 k words / summary - multi-chap posts of me experimenting with smut writing

warnings - piv, unprotected sex + creampies, virgin shiggy, college au, porn with minimal plot, partially clothed sex, BRIEF suicide joke, fem reader, 18+ mndi

~~~

If Tomura could go back and change any one thing in his life, it'd probably be how you two met.

Touya is messy enough to live with, now Tomura was forced to account for all the dirt-clodded shoes and unwashed hands of strangers coming into contact with his possessions. Those first hinting throbs of a headache were beginning to tease at Tomura’s pterion, and unfortunately his only access to water was blocked off by a thick weld of moist, musty athletes. Not that they intimidated Tomura, of course, they were just… an optional pain that he’d rather avoid. All their clunky terminology went over his head, and in his experience the people that Touya invites to his parties are not the inclusive type. What Tomura did understand was that they were perfectly posted up against their kitchen sink so as to be as inconvenient as possible; intending to verbally batter whatever unfortunate girl tried snagging from the fridge.

To be fair to them, though, tap water was Tomura’s backup plan. His initial objective was to sneakily steal a plastic bottle before returning to his room. All those were gone, which is sooo funny to Tomura because he’s certain that he just bought a forty pack yesterday.

Yet if Tomura were to point that out, Touya would just shift blame back onto his recluse roommate for knowingly leaving out water when he was inviting people over. So he doesn’t bother finding the stupid punk.

Similarly, he doesn’t so much as attempt either bathroom sink for water. One being annoyingly split off between the kitchen and Tomura’s room, and the other in Touya’s room. Touya’s room was a self imposed no-no for Tomura during their day-to-day, so he can’t fathom a reason to enter during the degenerate’s party. Judging by occasional thumps and ever shifting shadows beneath the gap, Tomura assumes the shared bath is in no better shape.

Right as he sets to retreat, his eyes zoom across their open floor plan -- all the way into the living room, honing in on two girls. One familiar from their shared mythology class, and the other entirely foreign. Himiko Toga is curled around the shoulders of the second girl, twirling strands of mystery girl’s hair with her long fingers.

Himiko greedily consumes all things cute, she chews them up and keeps them between her teeth to amalgamate with the next adorable target her sights set on. By the end of her life, she’ll probably puke up a cat-eared ball of pink glitter tied up with bows and proudly proclaim it to be her life’s work.

Currently, he’s watching Himiko chow down on someone that he, surprisingly, also finds cute. It's distracting.

Himiko lowers her hands until both arms are wrapped around your waist, nails burrowing into the material of your shirt. Her cheek presses against your shoulder, loose strands of blonde hair tickling up your neck.

Your neck strangely captured Tomura, then. Thick with your pulse and tissue, he wants to feel it pillow under his teeth. His lips are rough and chapped and suddenly all he can think about is how they’d feel scarring up the soft flesh of your jugular.

Himiko must be thinking that too because he watches as she turns cheek and digs her nose into the juncture of your neck.

Oh.

Tomura blinks himself free of the stupor and shakes out his hands, then wiping them dry against his pants. He didn’t think Himiko could actually hold down a relationship.

“Whatcha starin’ at, boss?”

Voice so raggedy and low, almost a staticky purr at Tomura’s back, he can instantaneously pick out who it is.

“Did you know Himiko had a girlfriend?”

“Huh?” Touya steps forward, eyes narrowed out into the crowd, “Where? I can’t see shit.”

“I told you to just get contacts, moron,” Tomura grumbles, then pointing as inconspicuous as he can (not very at all) towards their mutual friend still slithered around the unknown girl.

“Kid, that’s not her girlfriend.”

Tomura looks up at Touya, glaring through tangled, powder blue bangs, “You’re joking, right? I’m not stupid.”

“Seriously, it’s not,” Touya snickers, “Why? You interested?” when Tomura can only silently seethe up at the man, Touya grins: a sight more disturbing than reassuring, his teeth are too big and prominent, the bags under his eyes crinkle up weirdly, and it reeks of selfish glee. Touya jams out his index and middle fingers, waggling the index first, “Which one? Blondie?” then his middle, “Or new girl?”

“I don’t want to talk about this with you,” Tomura knocks down the man’s hand with a disgruntled scoff, “You’re mental.”

“We’ve been friends awhile now, no?” Touya stubbornly returns to pointing, “I’ve never seen you get worked up over a girl, it’s funny. So, which one?”

“It’s funny?”

“I’ll set you up.”

Admitting to the fact he’s got a beating heart and libido is so embarrassing, which leads to Tomura halfheartedly muttering, “If I had a thing for Himiko, I wouldn’t have told you first.”

“You’re cute,” Touya quips, reaching up to pinch Tomura’s cheek between black-painted nails -- pointedly ignoring the annoyed huff and swat resulting. He steps around Tomura to venture through the jungle of his guests, “I’m on it.”

Touya is one of the best, and worst, people that Tomura has ever met. Touya is bothersome and rude and sometimes downright narcissistic, but also headstrong. Touya decided the day his dad bought him this house that he wanted to room with the dork from his freshman year geography lecture. Touya decided that Tomura and him were best friends when Tomura helped him pass their aforementioned geography class. Touya decided last year that the pair should bleach their hair together for a laugh. Touya decided just now to be Tomura’s wingman.

His singlemindedness pairs almost lethally well with his sense of loyalty. It almost made Touya seem… admirable.

Tomura internally gags over the thought, quickly refocusing on real life where Touya is leading Himiko (who is leading her mystery friend via deathgrip on your hand) back towards the kitchen.

Himiko giggles upon seeing Tomura, “You thought we were dating?”

Nevermind. Touya is just as insufferable as he was three years ago badgering Tomura for his lecture notes.

“Be nice. You’re so touchy, I’m sure everyone thought we’re together,” mystery girl squeezes Himiko’s hand, then smiling over at Tomura, “But I’m totally single.”

Oh.

Touya’s the most direct, masterminded person Tomura’s ever met.

All that masterminding goes to utter waste if Tomura can’t wake up and relearn social cues, though. Touya jabs an elbow into Tomura’s gaunt side, ribs aching from the blow.

“Okay,” Tomura nods dumbly, swallowing the unease trapped in his throat and once again drying his hands against his sweatpants.

“If you couldn’t tell,” Touya yanks Himiko into his side and out of your hold, “So is he.”

Himiko whines and reaches out as Touya drags her off, the pair slinking somewhere deep into the crowd of thrashing, bumbling bodies.

“You don’t look much like the party type,” you hum, maybe a little unhelpfully. Tried and true method of flirting, however, is being just a tad mean. A less fluffy version of the tragic come here often? line is sure to crack this man’s icy exterior.

“My roommate,” Tomura flings a thumb over in the direction Himiko was hauled off, “He’s the delinquent, I just share the space,” suddenly the insides of his sweatpants are too hot, and so is the flimsy white shirt on his chest, “I just wanted water.”

Sweltering air beats from the center of his chest down to his ankles, even tickling up his neck. The longer you stare at him, the hotter his body feels. Scorching up his face too, burning away layers of dried, ungroomed skin to reveal every muscle twinge. Tomura wants to both comb his hair back and hide behind the strands (most of all, though, he wishes he’d bothered brushing it whatsoever before making his venture). Being so trapped between either option makes his brain short circuit until he’s, rather bashfully, tucking hair behind his ear like some blushing ingenue.

Thankfully you don’t appear troubled by the sight, instead grinning wider and even laughing at his admission (Tomura likes your smile: lips giving prominence to flattering teeth, balls of your cheeks plumping, and lashes fluttering. Definitely more lovely than Touya’s). You fold your arms, “Poor thing. You probably don’t wanna be stuck out here, huh?”

Insecurity visibly crawls along the downward twitch of your lips, your brows furrowing. Tomura stares at you, committing each divot and angle of your body to memory. By the time he’s finished, he realizes you’re waiting for him to respond.

“Yeah…” he mutters lamely, scratching at the crackled film of skin over his chelidon, then smoothing a thumb into the depression as his heart hammers up his throat -- pressing a disarray of words against his palate. They linger by his uvula, gagging him into stunned silence, until he can finally choke out an uneven, “Do you wanna go back to my room?”

As soon as the question was in the air, buzzing unattended between your faces, Tomura wanted to claw out his eyeballs. Maybe rip out his tongue, too. Such gore would surely erase any memories of his implying he thought he had a chance with you. That was far preferable to the disgust about to cross your face.

Except, that disgust never comes.

Alternatively, you nod, “Sounds fun!”

Tomura kept his area tidy enough. A stack of bowls, two cups, three empty Dr. Pepper cans, and a single Maruchan ramen cup on his desk. A lump of clothes he’s procrastinated washing carefully lines the edge of his bed. But that was all, really.

He wanted his room to be livable, and if he felt so childish as to be proud of it then he liked the sight of his uncluttered carpet. How easily he could make the trek from bed to computer to door (and, of course, the desultory detours to his bookcase or closet) without tripping on trash or abundantly strewn clothes. If he felt further inclined to childishness, Tomura even congratulated himself on maintaining a room cleaner than Touya’s.

Even despite the stacked bowls and cups on his desk and emptied soda bottles cluttering his desk legs.

None of that is sufficient anymore. He’s inspecting your face like it’ll burst open with an alien race for any sign of judgment. Cautiously, Tomura kicks a tangle of loose shirts under his bed while you’re distracted ogling his decorated shelves.

“You like Omori?” your question startles him from kicking a pair of boxers under his bed.

“Huh?”

You’re pointing at a lineup of four acrylic stands -- not the complete set, Tomura only burdened his wallet with purchasing the main party over including Basil and Mari -- on the top shelf of his bookcase, “Omori, right? I didn’t think you’d like that type of game.”

“Do I not look like I would?” he doesn’t know why that inference hurts his feelings. Shamefully, he cards his fingers through his knotted hair, slotting more locks behind his ear, “I played it a long time ago. Now I’m too busy for anything else story-driven, so I’m mostly on League. Or Overwatch if I feel like killing myself.”

“You don’t look like you like suffering, I guess is what I meant,” you draw your bottom lip up between your teeth (he hopes it doesn’t sting, he wants to kiss it better if it does), “But knowing you play Overwatch…”

“I try to avoid it,” Tomura prays his self-grooming is subtle, or at least lowkey enough for you to not notice as you continue browsing his various knick knacks and figures, “You game?”

“Eh, RPGs usually. I don’t like working with others when I play, it makes me nervous to screw up.”

“That’s cute,” he doesn’t mean to say it aloud, honestly. Two measly words small enough to slip through his pursed lips. Two words big enough to ruin his night.

“Think so?” but you’re… smiling again.

“I guess,” Tomura’s eyes shift quickly over to his pillows. Are they soft enough? Should he flip them over? What the hell is fluffing, and does it actually do anything?

“Are you usually this shy? Or am I special?”

Not often does Tomura feel truly helpless, but your incessant teasing pairs lethally with your fluttering lashes and painted lips. He wishes he were more accustomed to conversing with strangers, especially pretty strangers that were interested in him. Part of him wants to believe that if you’re attracted to him now, you’ll be stubborn enough to stick out whatever cluelessness he bumbles out -- but he doesn’t. He simply cannot bring himself to buy that.

“You’re making me nervous, like I’m about to puke.”

“Flattering,” you join Tomura on his bed, soft knee nudging his, “I hope you don’t. It’d kinda ruin the mood.”

He’s terribly unable to keep the casanova impersonation up, though, “What mood?”

You throw your head back and laugh. Hearty and full and so mortifying for him, worse are your next words, “You know why people go into private rooms at parties, right?”

“Uhh…”

“You do. I do, too. That’s why I came back here, you know? If you only wanna talk, that’s fine -- you’re fun to just talk to! But I came back here ‘cuz I want to have sex with you, if you want to, too.”

Tomura can feel that dreaded heartbeat climbing up his chest and into his gullet again.

“You’re forward…”

You shrug, “I know what I want.”

Tomura claws at his sweatpants, chest aching and fingers numb from how your eyes are zeroed on him. He nods slowly, racketing another giggle from your chest -- you lean closer, your hand brushes his.

“Yeah?” you coax a hand around Tomura’s far shoulder, swiveling him to face you.

A rattle and hum from his ceiling fan gurgles the sound of his reply, you hate it.

From the shape of his lips, you can make out his agreement. With no specific intent and only a general sense of lust to guide him, Tomura leans into your touch. Snatching his hands, you shuffle his palms under your shirt, sifting the flesh up your warm belly until they’re cupping your tits. He squeezes blindly, teetering closer along his mattress. Finally, you strip off your top -- then greedily going for Tomura’s as well. He contently allows it, even lifting his arms to grant the removal.

“You’re so pretty,” Tomura noses at your neck, hot puffs of air warming your skin, “Can’t believe you’re actually here.”

His hands are soft from a lax life, if slightly clammy with nerves, and they feel nice squeezing around your hips. Tomura dips his pelvis downward, keeping your thighs scooped snug around him -- bonus for the momentary relief of pressure against his aching groin. His fingers bow beneath the waistband of your skirt until your own are tethering his in place.

“Can I leave the skirt on?” your thighs tighten around Tomura’s slim waist, you tilt your head so your soft lips press against his cheek, “Its kinda hot. To me.”

Tomura rolls his shoulders, whole body shuddering at the request. He nods with clenched eyes, digging his nails into your skin -- he likes your idea more than he can put into words (granted, his tongue may as well be superglued to his teeth right now).

“I can do that,” he manages to scrape out, drawing his fingers down the bunched material of your skirt and up your thighs, “Can I take these off?”

“Please,” you cant your hips up for Tomura to yank off your panties, he bundles them in one hand and stows the other where the material once laid. You swear you hear him whimper at the contact.

His fingers dance up your slit, gentle massaging that intensifies upon introduction of his thumb on your clit. Tomura drops your underwear off the side of his bed and uses the freed palm to work off his sweatpants, but just before he can snap the drawstring -- he stops completely.

“Wait,” he pants, “Hang on. Don’t move.”

Tomura runs out like he’s caught fire, slamming his bedroom door shut behind him and leaving you splayed on his mattress.

He returns with a fist curled around something, and determination written in the lines of his face. Replacing himself between your thighs, Tomura hides the contents in his hand under the pillow beneath you. Before you can shoot any questions, he’s lifting your skirt and lowering his chest to the bed.

As if he can sense the curiosity burning away your mood, Tomura hurriedly buries his face in your cunt.

One gasp is stuttered short by another, Tomura flicks his tongue inside you with a groan. Pulling back only to spit on your clit, the liquid bubbling down your slit until it catches on his prodding fingertips -- your thighs jolt around his shoulders at the act. Middle finger worming into you with ease, Tomura’s burdened by the vestige of Touya’s hand on his shoulder and husks into his ear.

Yeah, condoms are in the top drawer. You need advice?

He’d been uneasy initially, nodding uncertainly, but Tomura’s grateful now.

Just as he’d been instructed, Tomura curls his middle finger and screws the pad up until- your knee knocks into his skull and he keens at the rough treatment.

“S-sorry,” you stammer out, chest arching up.

Bypassing your apology, Tomura flattens his tongue on your clit and slithers a second finger inside you. Surely by tomorrow, his arm will be sore with the work he’s pushing through, but he’s equally sure it’s worth it as you clamp around him and seize.

Strumming your gspot in time with your clit, Tomura loses himself in the thought of how your snatch would feel around his cock -- grinding against the marshmallow mattress below to relieve the pressure. Your only relief is how he greedily sucks your clit; he lets you grab his hair with both hands and roughly tug him to and fro. He lets you fuck his face, eats it up in earnest.

Prying your thighs back from his ears, Tomura shoves his sweatpants down and reaches under your head. Pulling back a foil square that crinkles with each nervous shake of his hand. Tomura’s plain black boxers soon crash to the floor as well.

“Hey,” your voice pipes up meekly, a little slurred after your orgasm. Drowsy eyes half-lidded and even sweeter on him, “Can you, uh…”

Tomura’s burning hot, flushed and vaguely sticky; bangs slickened against his face with sweat and cum. His breathlessness axiomatic of how little composure he could maintain, “What?”

“Don’t…” a shyness that now seems bizarre overtakes you, your fingers curl into his palm and unfurl the condom from his grasp, “You shouldn’t… I wanna feel you.”

He blinks down at you vapidly. So stupidly blank he's immediately ashamed of himself for blanching at your plea.

“You want it too, right?” you reach up and paw at Tomura's shoulders, “You wanna fuck me raw?”

“Uh-huh,” again dumb.

Tomura spares that response no reconsideration, instead preoccupied by holding your thighs open to nudge his cock into you. His tip bobs at your clit in the first few jerks, but his thinly construed patience is rewarded on the third attempt. You tug on his hair as Tomura humps into your sex.

He whines upon feeling that first squeeze and suck of entering your cunt, his pelvis itching up against your clit with every thrust. Blunt nails carve into the fat of your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer -- Tomura’s cock carves deep into your gut, hot and heavy. Chapped lips sear up the length of your neck, his chest squashing against yours, he teeths at the lump of your pulse and lathes the thumping point with his tongue. Budding his knees right beneath your ass, Tomura burdens the tops of his thighs against yours. Then wrapping your waist with both arms, continuing to suck your soft skin between his teeth.

Tomura gasps as the warmth of your hands finds his back, rolling lower and lower until you’re actively pushing him closer. He likes this -- loves it, even. He’s horrified to know he could’ve been having sex his entire college career and simply didn’t.

He’s further horrified that perhaps he’ll never have sex again when you leave (but mostly, he’s finding that he just doesn’t want you to leave).

“Be my girlfriend,” delirious, he’s babbling into your ear, whining and shuttering and smothering your body with his, “Be my girlfriend…! Wanna fuck you every day-- need you every day. So fucking warm and soft, all perfect for my cock,” Tomura pulls up from your neck to kiss the thin stretch of skin over your collarbones and treading to your breasts, “Like you’re made for taking it.”

What you want is to have the mental cognition to respond to him kindly, but what you have is a mushy brain and a flourishing climax scorching through your body. Grey matter melting into the bowl of your skull as Tomura kisses and pants into your tits.

“Tomu’-!” is all you can manage to squeal, nails digging jagged red lines down the man’s back.

“You cumming?” he reaches between your bodies to incise the pads of his fingers across your sodden clit.

A final push into your sensitive body, the attention spiking your head back into his pillow. Faintly, through the rush of dopamine pumping through your extremities to where your hanging mouth is expelling wanton wails of Tomu’! and yes, God! and cumming!, you can hear Tomura. You can hear him chuckling low and deep with ecstasy, “So pretty when you cum. Squeezing me so tight, too. You like me that much?”

He whines unexpectedly, wrenching both hands to your hips and branding the imprint of his calloused palms there.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” he grits his teeth, scratchy throat puking up pulpy, disjointed moans of your name and fuck, fuck fucks, “I’m gonna cum,” he latches onto your tit, muffling his pathetic mewls as your legs lock him in your cunt (trembly and weak as they may be), “Cumming, cumming- ! Fuck!”

Stilling above you, Tomura chokes out soft breaths and murmurs of appreciation as he cums. Sincerely thanking you as his spend paints your insides. Collapsing on you once his balls are empty. Tomura barely has the wherewithal to roll onto his side in order to avoid overheating you under him.

A rattle and hum from his ceiling fan regains your attention, but this time it doesn’t seem too bad. You can’t find yourself to be very annoyed, even when the music pumping from outside vibrates Tomura’s bedroom door. Above those sounds, the one you appreciate most is the soft pelting of Tomura’s breath against your neck; damp with a mixture of sweat and his saliva, and sore from his incessant teething.

“Did you mean it?” you’re probably being mean, asking such a layered question so immediately after his release.

“About?” his voice is raggedy, sharp to a bladepoint -- if you couldn’t see the dazed, awestruck film over his lidded eyes, you’d mistake him as trying to be rude.

“Me being your girlfriend. Did you actually mean that? Or did your dick have the braincell?”

“Oh,” Tomura pushes onto his elbows, arms shaking, his hair drops over his face and this time you’re the one to brush it behind his ear. Despite cumming in you minutes ago, he blushes at the gesture and looks at your bruising neck rather than your eyes, “I guess. I don’t have a car, so I can’t drive you around for dates.”

“I can take the bus, you know,” you laugh at how Tomura’s face suddenly sours at your words.

“As if I’d let my girlfriend take the bus by herself. Do you know how many freaks go on that thing?”

“‘Cuz you’d know.”

“Yeah, I’m one of them,” the giddiness rising in his chest over your giggling at his jab quickly overtakes his face, cheeks burning with a proud smile. Tomura hides his face in your neck, “I guess it’s up to you.”

“It's up to me if you were serious or not?”

Quietly, he hums, then rasps out something you could construe as a joke if you didn’t care so much about how he felt, “I only open to begging in the sheets. Being desperate to date the first girl I fuck is so pathetic.”

Which is so insane to you because you met this man only a few hours ago.

A broiling affection that builds between the slats of your ribs, bricking off your lungs and heart just to cook them up hot and gooey and primed for the man on your chest. At least Tomura’s burgeoning crush could be reasoned away with the fact he’s a recent ex-virgin (not like you, with visitors running rarer than Tanzanite).

Still fluttery and alight with the wash of your orgasm, you give your heart the braincell and nod sluggishly, “Yeah. I want you to be serious.”

Decidedly, you spare no mind how you two barely know each other.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒

summary: having your period is already stressful enough and being in a magical all-boys school doesn't make it any better; luckily, your boyfriend is here to help

pairings: leona :: jade :: jamil x gn!reader

warnings: period comfort; mentions of periods and different symptoms (but gn pronouns), mentions of reader having hair in jade's part

twisted wonderland masterlist || similar writing: bloody hell [obey me]

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑

It was decidedly too early for this.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you walked through the hallways, head down to keep from making eye contact with the beastmen staring at you as you passed them. After tossing and turning all night, kept from finding sleep by painful cramps, being ogled at by students at an all boys school that could smell the blood on you was the last thing you needed.

And it wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to avoid this. When you had realised the predicament you would inevitably find yourself in, you had downright begged Crowley to let you stay at Ramshackle. After all, a certain Ignihyde dorm leader also never attended class in person. But, really, you should have known better. As if the headmage would let his number one therapist stay home for a few days each month or as he put it, he 'couldn’t rob a precious student like yourself of the opportunity to learn'.

At least Sam was an actual help and had magically procured just the stuff you needed.

So, with heavy eyes and burning cheeks you speed walked towards your first class of the day, dodging students at the last second on more than one occasion until you eventually ran straight into a sturdy chest. Looking up briefly to apologise, you blinked at the familiar emerald eyes sizing you up.

“Leona! What are you doing here?” Most people’s first reaction to seeing their boyfriend would probably not be bewilderment, but running into your boyfriend inside the school during class hours was as likely as Ace making it through a week without being collared by his housewarden.

“That’s funny, ‘cause I was about to ask you the same thing,” the lion drawled, ears flicking to help convey the incredulousness painted on his face. “So, what do you think you’re doing?”

As imposing as he was with his athletic build and the unimpressed expression, causing the students around you to serve around the two of you, you weren’t affected at all, used to his grumpy exterior.

“Uhm, going to class?” You deadpanned, putting your hand on your hip to mirror his stance. “Unlike someone else I know.”

“Yeah, you’re not doing that,” Leona stated matter of factly.

“Excuse you?” When he tried pulling you along by your arm, away from the direction of your classroom, you dug your heels into the ground. “I hate to sound like a broken record but what are you doing, Leona?”

“Making you get some rest, obviously.” You couldn’t see it from where you stood but you could practically hear the way he rolled his eyes. 

“Listen I can’t just skip class, I talked to the headmage–”

“Crowley can solve his own problems for a day,” his voice rumbled low in his throat, almost sounding like a growl, “you know, like an actual adult. And don’t try to play dumb with me herbivore, it’s not a good look on you. I know you sleep like shit when you get your period and I also know that the people around you don’t take your health into account when they get up to some stupid idea.”

“Yeah but-”

You saw the annoyed flick of his tail before he turned around and braced his hands on your shoulders without ever applying any pressure. By now the last bell had rang and the corridor was deserted, leaving you to be the only people standing in the early morning light.

“Don’t give me this self-sacrificial nonsense,” Leona said, words harsh but you knew him well enough to read the protective feeling behind them. “We both know you need to rest. What good would it really do you to go to class in this state?”

As if to agree with him, a nasty cramp pulled at your lower stomach and the ill suppressed grimace on your face must have been all too apparent to your boyfriend. Giving your arm another light tug, Leona coaxed you towards the Hall of Mirrors again with a tempting ‘C’mon’ and this time you let him pull you along willingly, even handing him your backpack when he reached out for it.

Sometimes, it was hard to forget the kind of culture Leona grew up in, one where women held a high position of power in general, so really you shouldn’t be surprised by how… normal he was about all of this. Part of that was probably also because it was a very gentlemanly excuse to skip class in favour of a nap, if you were honest.

“If you’re that worried about missing class, Jack can give you his notes.” His offhand comment made you snort. Of course, he would offer someone else’s service to you before anything else.

“Or my third-year boyfriend could tutor me,” you teased, a playful lilt swinging in your voice.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” the lion shrugged. “Weren’t you just on my case about my attendance record?”

“Because the first-year curriculum is just too hard for someone who can turn an entire stadium into dust,” you jabbed.

“You’re yapping a lot for someone who’s this tired,” Leona grumbled, a large palm pushing your head down, careful not to hurt you. With a giggle you decided to drop the topic. 

Crossing the Hall of Mirrors and stepping through the Savanclaw portal, you were greeted by the  warm breeze of dry air typical for the dorm’s daytime. After the trek through the savanna past the spring in the common room and across the wooden bridges, you reached Leona’s room and you could already feel the tension seep from your body as you stepped into its comfortable familiarity. 

When you unbuttoned your uniform’s blazer, you caught a glimpse of your stomach through your shirt, slightly extended further than usual due to the bloating. And rationally you knew it was a normal bodily reaction to your period but paired with the new bumps on your face and general exhaustion, logic wasn’t quite enough to calm your mind.

The clothes being plopped down on your head, however, certainly did rip you from your thoughts. Lifting the ends of the black material covering your eyes you threw your boyfriend a questioning glare.

“I can tell you’re thinking something stupid,” Leona offered as an explanation. “Just get changed and come to bed.”

Huffing under your breath, you stepped into his ensuite bathroom to do as he said, pulling on your boyfriend’s shirt and sweatpants. While you didn’t feel like agreeing with him quite yet, you had to admit, royal loungewear was a league of its own in comfort. And probably in price.

When you emerged, Leona had just tossed his phone on the nightstand before devoting all his attention to you. The ears on his head flicked as his gaze wandered from your head to toe and back up, a grin tugging at his lips and an appreciative glint in his green eyes. 

Then, the second you came within reach, he’d already wrapped you in his strong arms and pulled you into bed with him, not without a surprised squeal from you. You could feel his deep chuckle as much as you heard it with your head resting on his chest and resigned yourself to merely sighing fondly. 

With two firm hands stroking up and down the length of your back purposefully, their warmth spreading through your body, and his chest rising rhythmically underneath you, you finally allowed yourself to relax as you traced random patterns onto his biceps and pectorals and followed the movement with heavy-lidded eyes.

“You weren’t seriously looking down on yourself earlier, were you?” Leona mumbled, a serious care in his words he didn’t offer many people. 

“Well, you can’t really help it when your body goes through this many changes, can you?” you drowsily replied, your eyes already falling closed with no conscious work of your own. “Besides, periods are not the time you feel generally great about yourself.”

“No matter how you might see yourself, I don’t want you to doubt for even a second that I like you the way you are.” At his heartfelt confession, you peeked one eye open to study his expression.

“You can be quite the romantic if you want to huh?” You meekly chuckled, not able to help yourself.

“Go to sleep, herbivore, you’re talking crazy.” Even as he put one of his hands on the back of your head to keep you cradled against him, you didn’t miss how his ears flicked or the fondness with which he looked down on you.

“Alright, alright. I appreciate it though, really.” With a big yawn you shifted to get comfortable, your cramps far from your mind as you sunk into your boyfriend’s natural warmth. “Love you.”

By the time you’d wake up, Ruggie would have dropped off lunch along with some other essential items. But for now, Leona was content to watch as your breath evened out and your chest rose and fell in the rhythm of his own, careful not to disturb you when he draped a soft blanket over you. With the rising sun peeking through the arches of his room, he truthfully answered you in a whisper. 

“Love you, too.”

𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇

Once Jade had taken an interest in you, he would seemingly appear out of thin air in your general vicinity a lot more often than it was usual to run into a fellow student. On your way to the school store, in line at the cafeteria or when you were carrying supplies for Professor Crewel, the moray would coincidentally round a corner to lend a hand.

So it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that, as his courting became more serious and you had become aware of what was going on, even reciprocating the sentiment, you found the sophomore waiting for you before your classes started. Your time table was well-memorised so he could greet you with a serene smile each day and walk you to your first class of the morning.

Now, as a moray eel with naturally sharp senses, it was somewhat inevitable he’d pick up on the scent of blood once your period rolled around. In contrast to beastmen who were mostly mammals in their anatomy, however, the Octatrio did not grow up on land and periods weren’t exactly a thing for merfolk. Moreover, seeing as they had only been on land for roughly two years and were attending an all-boys school, it was not a phenomenon they were likely to run into.

So, having his dear pearl approach one morning, the smell of iron heavy in the air, paired with their already soured mood and his lack of knowledge on the societal stigma around the topic, misunderstandings were bound to happen.

“I really don’t think it wise to attend class in your state,” the moray had stated after greeting you, an eyebrow raised at your stubbornness to continue with your day even at what, in his mind, must have been a grave injury. 

“I’m fine, Jade, I just want to get this day over with,” you had groaned, trying to push past the tall student and drop the topic, embarrassed enough that a sizable chunk of the student body would be aware of your predicament in the first place.

But who would he be to let a person he actually cared about go on their way with a bleeding wound? 

“Prefect, I must insist you seek medical aid immediately.” You remembered the uncharacteristically genuine furrow of his brows as he had blocked your path. “Please, go to the school nurse or at least let me tend to your needs. I’m certain I could be of help if you share your problem with me.”

“If you want to hear me say it so desperately,” you had huffed, “I’m on my period. Happy now?”

“Your period?” Jade had echoed with wide eyes, unknowingly speeding up the burning of your shortened fuse with his lack of knowledge. “Yes, I’m aware we are to attend class but I fail to see–”

“Very funny,” you had deadpanned, pushing past him with a cold shoulder and leaving the moray to his own confusion. “Now if you excuse me, I have better things to do than stand here and humour your feigned ignorance today.”

Yes it wasn’t your proudest moment, you’d admit that. And when Jade approached you later that day with a genuine apology, explaining how he had researched the topic and was deeply ashamed of his uninformed remarks, you felt like the worst person on the planet and apologised more than he had. So in the end, you came to an apology truce, where you noted he shouldn’t have prodded further when you didn’t want to talk about it and you shouldn’t have exploded on him like you did.

Since the incident, however, Jade had been a dream to have around. Not to fall short again, he had done a fair amount of research, both on the biological aspect of what was happening to your body but also on the lived experience and its numerous complications. Then, doing what he did best, he observed your reactions, moods and symptoms to better cater to you specifically.

Every month he put both his cooking and alchemy skills to good use, whipping up whatever meal you desired and brewing a painkilling potion with just the right dosage for your current situation. Being Jade Leech, he could also assert his presence in any given situation with as little as a simple glare if you did not want to be bothered.

Your favourite part of the comfortable rhythm you two had fallen in, however, were the evenings where Grim was otherwise engaged and you had Ramshackle to yourselves. On those nights, soft music and fond laughter would mix with hushed whispers spilling from under your bathroom door.

A few months prior, Azul and Jade had sat down for a ‘pleasant chat’ with the Headmaster concerning the state of Ramshackle dorm and soon thereafter, funding had been provided to remodel vital parts of the dorm. No more caved-in roofs or stairs giving away under people’s shoes. Together with the money from the VDC, the old house had finally started feeling like an actual home; one you felt welcome and comfortable in.

It also meant you finally trusted your new bathtub enough to sit in it and actually also relax without any anxieties of whatever you could possibly contract from the exposure. 

With his natural fondness of water, it hadn’t taken long for Jade to propose the idea of shared baths and you hadn’t regretted your decision to agree since. It wasn’t like he gave you any reason to either; it was the opposite, really. It didn’t take the moray long at all to figure out the perfect temperature or what fragrance you preferred, if any. 

He also never made you feel inadequate or like you had to be ashamed of yourself, even when your body went through change throughout your cycle. Your skin tingled from his featherlight touches where his fingers traced your curves, never hiding the fact that he appreciated what he saw but always pairing it with a reverence that made you feel loved and desired, rather than ogled at. So when you sank into the water after him, cosying into his space to lean back against his chest, it was like sinking into a warm, secure embrace.

The water helped soothe your aches and washed away the tension which had built over the day and the easily flowing conversation with Jade let you focus on anything other than the thoughts in your mind, listening to his rich voice rather than the doubts trying to crawl to the surface.

When his hands massaged the shampoo into your hair, you always teetered on the edge of falling asleep right then and there. The atmosphere paired with his skilled fingers applying just the right amount of pressure as his nails gently scraped over your scalp banished any headaches you could have had and had you practically melting against him, a sight that tugged on his heartstrings more than it should have. But to see you put so much trust in him, someone who wasn’t exactly known for his benevolence, it stirred something fond in his heart and it made him want to work harder so you would keep showing him this blissful expression.

After scrubbing your bodies down, paying special attention to any sore spots, he helped you out of the tub, never failing to comment on how wrinkly your hands had gotten in comparison to his, which didn’t seem to be affected by the water exposure at all. Wrapping you up in a fluffy black towel he claimed was from Octavinelle -though you were fairly certain you’d only ever seen pale lilac ones there- he padded you dry and helped you into your clothes, mindful of the routines and products you had shown him previously. 

Needless to say, you felt like a new person each time without fail as you lay snuggled up with your boyfriend in bed later on, listening to his breathing and the steady beating of his heart. 

“Thank you so much for always doing this much for me, Jade,” you said, earnest gratitude and unspoken adoration lining your voice. “I’m really lucky to be with you, huh?”

“On the contrary, I am the one luck seems to favour seeing how you chose to be with me,” he chuckled and you didn’t miss how his strong arms pulled you closer against him even if it wasn’t physically possible. He’d be damned if he didn’t try. “And you needn’t feel conflicted about receiving my affection. Just know I enjoy doing these things for you and with you, pearl.” 

“I stand by my earlier statement,” you smiled, making him laugh along with you. Looking into his heterochromic eyes, you traced the contours of his face with the same delicacy he showed you earlier. “Is it selfish to say that I feel happy about having this side of you all to myself?”

“Not at all. It is reserved for you only, dearest.” His gaze was heavy on yours as he loosely curled his fingers around your wrist and pressed a searing kiss against your palm. “After all, I do not intend to share this side of you with anyone else either.”

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋 𝐕𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐑

There have certainly been times where Jamil lamented having to basically babysit his dorm leader. Well, pretty much all the time. But being unable to stay by your side while you were hurting was generally one of the most annoying parts of his duties to him, especially with the daily workload of being a student on top of it all. 

Jamil being Jamil, however, he soon worked out a schedule consistent enough to let him visit you somewhat frequently. 

You were lying on one of Ramshackle’s rickety couches, nursing your lower stomach with a -at this point already lukewarm- water bottle, when a familiar knocking pattern brought a smile to your face.

“Come in! It’s open,” you shouted across the hall, adding your sarcastic comment under your breath in order not to worry your boyfriend more than he already was. “Not like the lock’s ever doing its job in this place.”

“Hm? Did you say something?” Jamil made his way straight over to where you were sitting, his footsteps quieting down as he reached the carpeted floor.

“No,” you shook your head, smiling up at him as he leant over the back of the couch. Ignoring his raised eyebrow, you reached up, so you could cradle his cheek as you sat up to meet him for a sweet kiss. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Seemingly appeased, your boyfriend mirrored your fond expression, tracing your face with his grey gaze while his hands moved to your shoulders, deft fingers working out any tension you might be having. “How are you feeling?”

“A lot better now that you’re here,” you laughed, though it wasn’t merely a sappy joke, as indicated by Jamil’s scoff behind you. “I mean it though. I’ve been feeling a lot better since I’ve been receiving your royal treatment.”

“It’s nothing that fancy,” Jamil assured, his eyes softening at the way you melted into his touch. “I’m just trying to take care of you.”

“I know you don’t think much of it but I really appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to look after me when I’m not even facing anything out of the ordinary,” you sighed, rehashing points you had raised in vain before.

“Oh hush,” your boyfriend playfully shushed you the way he had also done many times already when the topic came up. “Compared to what I usually deal with, this is like taking a vacation, especially since I get to spend time with you. Now speaking of my normal chores, I brought some leftover food.”

“Have I told you that I love you?” You swooned, causing both of you to laugh as Jamil headed over to your kitchen, one he was already familiar with. Not only because he often came over for some much needed peace and quiet but because Kalim was literally the reason you had it in the first place. A relationship-warming-gift of sorts for a relationship that wasn’t even his.

Besides, ever since courting and dating you, Jamil’s measuring skills when it came to meal prep seemed to have worsened because -coincidentally- he’d ended up with too much food and subsequent leftovers so often, you wondered why you even stocked your own fridge anymore.

What you had also noticed though was that, whenever you were on your period -something he seemed to track himself-, the food he brought over was a lot less spicy than usual and rather light. Something someone prone to a sensitive stomach, nausea, reduced appetite or a disturbed metabolism could still comfortably eat. 

The phenomenon of suddenly appearing sticky notes had also made itself known, labelling new containers in your fridge, medication on the counter or your coffee machine with reminders like ‘Remember caffeine makes your cramps worse’ written on it in neat handwriting. 

One or the other bar of dark chocolate and some of your favourite snacks had mysteriously found their way into your bags or onto a bowl in your kitchen as well though, making you smile at Jamil’s thoughtfulness when you caught a peek of them. 

During the day, whenever his schedule allowed it, he’d also drop by to check in on you between classes or during lunch, something Kalim wholeheartedly supported. Normally, Jamil refused all of Kalim’s offers to take a break from his duty but when you were feeling under the weather, he took the white-haired student up on it when no imminent disaster was on the horizon waiting to happen.

When your plate was empty and made its trip to the sink, Jamil refilled your hot water bottle but unlike you earlier, he waved his magic pen over it, which you had realised significantly expanded the time in which the water actually stayed hot.

“Thank you,” you said for possibly the millionth time as you took the bottle from him, then gave him a mischievous grin. “You know what would make me feel soo much better though?”

At the tilt of his head, you scooted over to make space between you and the back of the couch. Getting the hint, Jamil settled in behind you and you got comfy again with your back to his chest. This too had become somewhat of a ritual of yours, one that wasn’t limited to while you were suffering from cramps. 

After all the chore-y part of the late afternoon was taken care of, you liked to spend the evening snuggled up on your couch with the TV playing some show you liked to watch together, read: a show which you started and dragged Jamil into. Well, every now and then your boyfriend also made sure you didn’t fall behind on your studies, though he was more lenient when you were on your period.

“This is nice,” you mumbled, your eyelids heavy now that you had eaten and were surrounded by warmth and your loving boyfriend, whose hands stroked along your sides in a soothing, continuous motion, his chest vibrating underneath you with his affirming hum. 

“I could stay like that forever,” he agreed.

“Well I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” The smile in his voice was auditory even if you couldn’t see his gorgeous face. You could, however, feel his soft lips on the crown of your head and his breath fanning over it and you reached to intertwine one of your hands with his before a yawn you couldn’t suppress any longer filled the air. “You should get some rest, I’m sure you’re tired.”

“But I wanna stay with you longer,” you protested, sleep clouding your tone. 

“Don’t worry, I will be here when you wake up,” Jamil promised. And with that you drifted off, the warmth from around you settling cosily around your heart. A heart that wasn’t really yours alone anymore.

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twisted wonderland: @savanaclaw1996 @honehbee42

[livwritesstuff]

inspired by a nate bargatze sketch

Eddie’s least favorite thing people say when they find out he’s gay and married to a man is when they ask who the “man” of their house is, because…it’s fucking stupid and wouldn’t be funny even if it didn’t rely on patriarchal bullshit that Eddie didn’t buy into even before he and Steve had three daughters.

The thing is though…there definitely is a man of their house, and it’s Steve.

And if Steve isn’t home, it’s their oldest daughter, Moe.

Eddie knows this is true because there’s someone coming to their house to work on…something. All Eddie caught when Steve brought it up was, “We’ve been in this house for almost twenty years. I’d rather deal with it now than wait until it’s causing problems.”

So it’s either the roof, the water heater, or the furnace.

(He thinks).

Every once in a while Eddie gets frustrated enough about this to want to get more involved – he helped Wayne out with this shit all the time when he was a teenager, and he worked as a mechanic well into his twenties (up until he got his first book deal and was able to quit and write full-time). It’s not that Eddie can’t understand all that stuff – no, it’s Steve insisting that he take on all that kind of stuff in their life together so that Eddie didn’t have to that did it, and now it’s been so long since he exercised that part of his brain that it’s basically gone dormant.

The nail in the coffin is when Steve says, “If he shows up before I get back – do not engage. Get Moe. She knows what this is all about.”

She totally does, is the thing, so Eddie just replies, “Got it,” and prays that Steve gets home from the hardware store before the contractor arrives (is he a contractor? Eddie doesn’t think he even knows what a contractor is).

Naturally, not even five minutes after Steve pulls out of the driveway, a dark blue van pulls in.

“Ah, shit,” Eddie mumbles, and then he calls upstairs, “Moe. The guy Pop was talking about is here.”

Moe calls something incomprehensible back (hopefully it’s I’ll be down in a second) because by the looks of it this guy is already halfway to the front door.

Unfortunately for Eddie, Moe is not down in a second and he ends up in a conversation about water heaters with…not a contractor, he’s pretty sure. A plumber, maybe? Doesn’t matter – just a guy who’s gonna fix – or maybe it’s replace? – their water heater…for some reason.

“So where’s the heater?” the not-contractor-maybe-plumber asks.

“Uhh…” Eddie hesitates, and thank Christ, Moe appears at the top of the stairs.

“Basement,” she says, “Anode rod was replaced three years ago but the rest of it’s been there since we moved here in ‘04.”

The guy launches into a whole water heater spiel, and Eddie realizes halfway through he’s not trying to engage with Moe at all. He’s directing it all at Eddie as if Eddie is hearing anything more than Charlie Brown-esque phone call mumbling. He concludes with a question about…something related to tanks maybe? Or maybe it was tankless. Eddie has no idea. Moe answers it because she knows what the hell this guy is talking about, but still this asshole is looking at Eddie for confirmation.

“Dude, I dunno why you're looking at me,” Eddie tells him, and then he points at Moe, “My daughter works on airplanes. I write books. I'm telling you – you're better off listening to her.”

[mymoshangthoughts]

okay, okay, okay, bear with me

mobei jun already knows about shang qinghua as airplane

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[misctf]

Already in Costume

Happy start to October! Hoping to write a few stories to celebrate Halloween and spooky season. Enjoy!

“Bro, you’re seriously not going out tonight? It’s Halloween bro!”

Michael found it funny how offended his roommate sounds. Was it really so hard to believe that others might not want to dress up in stupid, slutty costumes and drink all night? He adjusts his glasses and looks over at his roommate.

“I much prefer to stay indoors.” He replies, “Besides, this lab report isn’t going to write itself.”

Joey looked perplexed, “Yeah, but...”

“And isn’t a bit too cold out for that.” He gestures at Joey’s getup, “I mean, what are you even supposed to be?” His nasally voice carries a condescending tone.

Joey looks down at himself. He’s topless, ensuring his muscles are on full display. Suspenders wrap around his broad shoulders, connecting to a pair of shorts that show off his bulge and bubble butt well. A pair of fake, thick rimmed glasses sit comfortably on his face.

“Dude, the alcohol will keep me warm.” He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, exposing his hairy pit, “And I’m a sexy nerd, dude! I mean, it’s obvious, right?”

Michael’s braying laughter fills the room. A sexy nerd? Really? For all intents and purposes, Michael knew what a nerd is. He prided himself on being one. Dressed in a pastel button down and high-waited khakis, thick-rimmed glasses, and hair neatly combed, Michael truly dressed and acted the part. Joey- not so much.

“A sexy nerd?” Michael laughs, “Oh Joey, that’s ridiculous.”

“But dude, this was your idea.”

Michael raises an eyebrow, “What?”

“Yeah, bro.” Joey smirks, “You’re the one who thought we’d look good like this.”

Michael chuckles, “You must be mistaken.” But he feels uneasy. Like something isn’t totally right, “I need to...” When he turns back to his computer, he doesn’t find his lab report. No, the college football game is on, “What?”

“What’s wrong, Mikey?” Joey is now uncomfortably close to Michael, standing over him with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“No-nothing.” His voice cracks and he tries to stand up, but Joey pushes him back into his chair, “What’re you...?”

“Don’t you remember how excited you were for this?” Joey asks, watching as Michael’s pants start to shorten, until settling about his knees, “People won’t stop staring, dude.” Michael watches as his shirt vanishes, exposing his slender figure.

“No... this isn’t...” Joey starts rubbing his thin chest, causing him to moan.

“Fuck, all those gym sessions really paid off, huh?” Joey whispers, feeling as his hand fills with Michael’s meaty pec muscles, “Fuck, and look at those.” Michael groans as his abs pop into existence, each perfectly sculpted.

“Joey... what’re you... oh god...” He moans as he feels his soft dick start to harden.

“Damn dude, fuck...” Joey whispers as he runs his hands along Michael’s growing arms. Perfectly toned biceps and triceps emerge form Michael’s once skinny arms, his shoulders rounding out with beautiful muscle, “God, you’re so fucking sexy.” Joey grinds up against Michael’s hardened cock, both of them moaning.

“Please... Joey... keep going...” Michael mumbles, lost in the moment. He can feel his ass fill out in his new shorts and watches as a pair of suspenders wraps around his broad shoulders, “Fuck...”

As the two continue to grind against one another, Michael’s glasses are knocked off. He gasps when he realizes he can see perfectly without them, but he’s distracted as Joey’s lips collide with his own. As the two kiss passionately, Michael’s thoughts are bombarded by new knowledge. Slow at first, but suddenly aggressive. Pushing out his nerdy interests.

“Wait, bro... no...” He breaks away from the kiss, his new dumb, yet sexy voice filling the air, “I’m not...”

But Joey’s lips collide with Michael’s again and the former nerd can barely think straight. He feels a calm wash over him as his stuck-up nature is replaced by that of a relaxed bro. He leans more into the kiss and more forcefully grinds up against Joey’s juicy ass. His interest in the hard sciences transitions to exercise science, while his passion for videogames becomes only focused on first-person shooters with his bros.

“What was that Mikey?” Joey breaks the kiss again and grins.

“I...I... fuck dude, keep going, please.” Mikey says, consumed in a horny lust.

“Fuck yeah, bro.” Joey grins, “But dude, we’re late to the party.”

Mikey whines, “Fuckin’ tease.” He curses.

“Don’t worry, dude.” Joey stands up, giving Mikey a nice view of his plump ass, “Patience is a virtue.”

Mikey smirked, and the two bros left for their night out. The cool air nice against their firm muscles, their egos satisfied by the lustful grins they got. But Mikey couldn’t care less. Instead, as he sipped on his beer, his only focus was on Joey’s firm ass. And the fun they were gonna have after their stupid night out.

[azrakaban]

Thief - Mattheo Riddle

A/N: Why did I do this? Far too late too be writing there will be no spell check <3

Summary: Mattheo keeps using pick up lines on you. Will they work? That's a different question...

The house isn't mentioned too much, but reader is implied a Gryffindor <3

n/n: nickname

Warnings: Mattheo (he's a warning okay), swearing, mentions of drugs and cigarettes

...

"Are you homework? Because I wanna slam you down on the table and do you." Mattheo smirked, and you nearly choked.

For the past two weeks, Mattheo had been popping out of nowhere to use stupid pick up lines on you. It's become quite alarming, with him dropping smoke bombs on you to appear out of 'nowhere', flying up to your dorm window on his broom, sending a howler... Mattheo Riddle is nothing if not persistent. And it was all started by a conversation you'd been having with Pansy Parkinson a week ago.

...

"-I just don't think they're that bad. Cheesy maybe, but I'd say yes to a good pick up line actually." You said to Pansy, walking to potions together.

"What constitutes a good pick up line though?" She questioned you, giving you a side smile.

"If it makes me laugh, it's good. The perfect combination of cheesy and funny. Most people overdo them. The craft of a perfect pick up line is an art." You replied, fiddling with the straps on your bag.

Mattheo Riddle then brushed past you, dramatically falling to the floor.

"Ouch! I just skinned my knee! Falling for you." He said, smirking.

You stood there, frozen and confused. "What?" You said finally.

"You said you'd say yes to a good pick up line, princess. How was that?" Mattheo said, standing and looking at you with a small smirk playing at his lips.

You laughed. "Come up with an original one and then we'll talk."

"Oh come on! That was original!" He protested, before being smacked over the head by Enzo.

"Liar, I told you that one." Enzo said, rolling his eyes at you with a 'can you believe him?' expression on his face.

You shook your head, smiling before heading to potions with Pansy.

You smiled, shaking your head as you walked with Pansy to Potions.

...

That was how you'd got to the point you were at now, still waiting for Mattheo to come up with a pick up line that didn't make you want to jump off of the astronomy tower.

That was the deal. If Mattheo could make you laugh with a pick up line, you would go on a date with him. If you didn't laugh, he wouldn't be allowed to smoke a cigarette for the rest of the day. So far, it's been 3 weeks of no cigarettes for Mattheo.

...

"Are you homework? Because I wanna slam you down on the table and do you." You nearly choked, resisting the urge to smash a book over Mattheo's stupid pretty head.

You looked to him with a sigh, being met with a shit eating grin.

"That's my favourite so far personally." He said conversationally, opening his Transfiguration textbook.

"That may just be one of the worst." You replied, shaking your head with a smile.

"Yes, and?" He raised an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes, turning back to your essay. A few other students cast weird looks your way, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin sat together. You paid them no notice, crossing out a few things on your essay.

Mattheo leaned across, trying to look at yours, and you pulled it away.

"Ah ah ah. I know your thieving tendencies, stealing pick up lines from books and people, you're not stealing my Transfiguration notes." You said, glaring playfully.

He rolled his eyes with a small smile playing at his lips.

"Fine. But just so you know, the name for people who can turn into animals is 'Animagi', not 'AniwhatthefuckjustcameoutofRiddle'smouth'.

You glared at him, crossing it out and scribbling over it to make it unreadable.

"When McGonagall asks, I'm blaming you." You said, looking up a definition in your text book.

"Sure. You'll probably find what to say to her under 'I was the recipient of a legendary pick up line.'" He said, gesturing towards your textbook.

You smacked his hand away, and he gasped, recoiling.

"Offended, princess. Offended." He said, putting on an expression of mock offense.

A Ravenclaw boy from your charms class came over, and instantly, Mattheo's guard was up again. He glared at the boy, and the boy, thinking better of it, decided not to disturb you two. You giggled.

"You switch up faster than Snape runs from shampoo." You commented, highlighting a part of your book on merpeople. Mattheo glanced over.

"You know what the little mermaid and me have in common?" He said abruptly.

"Bad grammar?" You guessed. He sighed dramatically.

"We both wanna be part of your world." He wiggled his eyebrows, and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying.

"Mattheo, what crime did I commit to end up in this purgatory?" You said, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"The only crime is your criminal beauty." He said with a smirk. You groaned. "Sorry yn, I'm not good at holding conversations. Can I hold your hand instead?"

"I'm going to cry. Or die." You whispered to yourself.

He laughed. "You'll come around eventually yn. You know, my favourite number is 14, because you're the 1 4 me."

You nearly screamed. "Leave. I'm begging you. Come back later."

"Alrighty, fine. Do you believe in love at first sight or should I come back later?"

You threw a book at his head, which he caught somehow.

"Damn girl, good thing I've got my library card because I'm checking you out."

You glared at him, and, finally picking up on his cue, Mattheo left.

...

It had been a few days since the library incident. Three days of peace. Thank god life isn't Duolingo, because you were about to lose that streak.

A note was slipped onto your desk during history of magic. You looked up, read it, and steadfastly ignored it.

'God damn girl r u a bank loan cuz u got my interest ;)'

Another appeared when you started doodling. 'r u an artist cuz u were so good at drawing me in (⁠✷⁠‿⁠✷⁠)'

that one you actually replied to, flipping over the paper. 'damn boy are you the terms and conditions? Because I don't give a fuck what you say ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡' .

When Mattheo received that note back he sighed dramatically, clutching his heart as if you'd mortally wounded him.

A minute later, the note was back on your desk. 'My favourite insect? The butterflies u give me ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯'

You groaned, quickly scribbling a response. 'Can you stop for just a few minutes pls I'm trying to pay attention to the history of magic.'

'I may not go down in history but I'll definitely go down on u ;)'

'Azkaban. Now.'

'xx.'

...

The next day, in the Great Hall, you were saying with your friends when Mattheo came over and joined you at the Gryffindor table. You raised an eyebrow.

"Last time I checked, Riddle, your tie was green." You said, smiling slightly.

"It is. I just wanted to see you in the morning. I mean, kiss me if I'm wrong, but the rain is so heavy right now." He said nonchalantly.

You turned to look out of the window.

It was a clear day, with sun shining through a cloudless sky.

You sighed, turning back to him as he gave you a 'what can I say?' look. You shook your head, smiling.

He turned back to your table, looking at the food. "Do you like raisins? How do you feel about a date?" He said, smirking.

You rolled your eyes. "Go back to your own table Riddle."

"Are you my appendix? Because I feel like I should take you out." He replied, smiling slightly.

"Wait what? Is your appendix okay?" You said worriedly.

"Yeah no it's fine, don't worry. Just a pick up line yn, calm down, it won't bite. Just me making jokes about bad health, like 'are you asthma? Because you take my breath away.'" He replied, shaking his head with a small smile playing at his lips.

"Okay..." You said, still slightly concerned.

Mattheo smirked. "Are you my father? Because I wish you were around more." You looked at him, even more concerned than before. "I'm starting to wonder if you need therapy." You said, a small smile playing at your lips.

"I don't need therapy, I just need you to come to dinner with me, because I can't spell menu without me n u." He said, smiling. You very nearly laughed, which didn't go unnoticed.

Mattheo stood up, nodding a goodbye before heading back to the slytherin table, where his friends were not so subtly calling him over.

"She nearly laughed. Shit." Mattheo whispered to his friends. They laughed. "Not funny. I really like her, I wasn't expecting her to nearly laugh. I'm close." He said, mainly speaking to himself.

Theo clapped him on the back. "You're down bad mate." He said, shaking his head. Mattheo sighed, turning to look at you quickly. "Yeah. J am." He admitted.

...

A few minutes later, you stood, heading out into the entrance hall, and were immediately ambushed by Cormac McLaggen. Yippee.

"Your lips look lonely, do they wanna meet mine?" He said, smirking.

"Are you bad WiFi? Because I'm feeling no connection here." You replied, not looking at him and trying to brush past him.

He stopped you, gripping your shoulder and not so gently shoving you back. You adjusted your bag and faced him, looking confused.

"A little too fast to brush me off there l/n." He said, still with that obnoxious smirk. To be fair, all smirks are obnoxious. Well... not all smirks. An image flashed into your mind of a certain slytherin with curly brown hair and chocolate eyes.

You zoned back into the moron stood infront of you, who was now attempting to lecture you on how you should have replied to his pick up line. You zoned out again, until you registered what he was saying.

"-Make it up to me." He finished, and you raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry what?" You said, looking confused.

"You heard me. You'll need to make it up to me, because you just embarrassed me." He said, puffing up his chest with his own importance.

"I don't need to do anything for you, McLaggen. I rejected you, your ego can take it." You said patiently, waiting for it to sink in for him. You attempted to walk away.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the Slytherins leaving the hall. A hand grilled your wrist, painful and harshly. McLaggen glared at you.

"I don't get why Riddle is telling everyone to leave you alone, 'Princess'. You're not even that special, probably just whoring yourself out to the first guy who comes to yo-"

That was all you heard before someone's fist connected with Cormac's jaw, sending him flying to the ground.

You watched in slight horror as Mattheo pummelled McLaggen into the flagstones. Only slight horror though. McLaggen was insufferable.

You watched, frozen, as Mattheo's friends held McLaggen down for him, rather than pulling Mattheo off of him.

Eventually, the teachers arrived and pulled he boys off of McLaggen, whom was now sporting a black eye, cracked teeth, a dented nose and a split lip.

"Nobody calls her that. And only I call her Princess." Mattheo spat.

You were dragged with them to McGonagall's office and told to wait outside.

...

A half hour later, Draco, Theo and Blaise emerged from the office, not looking at all bothered by what just went down. You gave them a sheepish look, and Blaise shrugged.

"We got detention, no big deal." You felt bad, given it was partially your fault.

"I'm sorry you guys got detention." You said sympathetically. They shook their heads.

"It's not your fault, l/n, it's not like you asked us to do anything." Theo said, rolling his eyes, but not maliciously.

"Is Mattheo okay?" You asked carefully, trying to seem nonchalant.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Enzo said, appearing from McGonagall's office with a smirk. Draco elbowed him, and Enzo sighed. "He's fine, but he's got two months of detention, so no more evening study dates/hangouts for you two." He continued, and you blushed.

"They're not dates." You said, shaking your head. Blaise smirked. "You might wanna tell him that. He comes back from the library looking like Cupid was feeling particularly violent."

You rolled your eyes, smiling. "I'm sure you're being dramatic." The boys violently shook their heads.

"Far from. There are Polaroids. Seriously, y/n, I know we're supposed to be his wingmen and make him seem cool and chill, but the reality is that Mattheo is absolutely disgustingly in love with you." Theo stated plainly.

"And it's a pain for all of us when he won't shut up about you (no offence), so do us a favour and go out with him?" Enzo continued, looking at you pleadingly. "Before he realised you didn't want to be talking to McLaggen, he looked like a kicked puppy."

You pictured the image mentally. Damn his stupid pretty brown stupid eyes.

"I can't go out with him until he makes me laugh with a pick up line I haven't heard before." You said, sighing. "If I just go out with him without laughing, he wins! I can't lose to him, I've been so strong all of these weeks." You said, gritting your teeth.

"Are you saying it's been hard for you to turn him down?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. No. Shut up." You said, hiding your face in your hands and sinking down onto a chair by the door.

"It's okay to like Mattheo, y/n. Sure, he's a massive pain in the ass and he's rude to a lot of people besides you, but you read Twisted Love, you're probably into that." Theodore said, shrugging.

You gave him a look of disbelief. "You know Twisted Love?" Theo blushed faintly.

"I have sisters."

"Anyway guys, I appreciate whatever it is you're doing for Mattheo, but my decision is clear. When he makes me laugh, I'll go out with him." You said, smiling.

"Fine. We'll help him out, because we're rooting for you two." Enzo said, checking his watch. "Don't I know it." You muttered. Enzo smiled. Mattheo emerged from McGonagall's office, looking only slightly like his mood had been dampened. You gave him a small smile.

"You okay Riddle?" His eyes moved to you, and a hint of surprise flickered in them.

"Y/n? Did McGonagall ask you to wait?" He said, confused.

"Actually, y/n is here of her own free will." Enzo cut in, smirking. You blushed, looking down and Mattheo smiled faintly.

"Oh yeah? Going soft on me Princess?" He said, crouching down to force you to look at him.

You looked up and he straightened, still watching you intently.

"In your dreams Riddle." He smiled.

"Actually, you are in my dreams, y/n. You're a recurring dream for me, do you want to make us a reality?" He said, giving you a look.

(I'm sorry I have to insert this, it's this look. This one.)



You smiled. "You know the rules, Mattheo. I laugh, I'll go on a date with you." You said.

He sighed dramatically. "I'm in pain, y/n. Pain. But that is true. And I will be holding you to it." He says, smiling.

"I'd expect nothing less from you Riddle." You fiddled with the sleeves of your sweater.

"Good. Do you mind if I talk to you? Alone?" Mattheo asked, his tone changing to one of slight concern.

You frowned slightly, but nodded. He led you away from his friends, who quickly disappeared off to the Slytherin common room.

Mattheo took a deep breath and turned to you. "Y/n, I know I'm irritating you. I know I'm distracting you, I saw the mark you got on your last transfiguration exam. And I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I was distracting you when you tried to revise, and I keep pestering you everywhere, and if you want me just to leave you alone I completely get it." He said, looking slightly mad at himself.

You opened your mouth to talk but he cut you off.

"And I don't want you to feel like you owe me anything, you don't owe me a date, you didn't have to wait for me outside McGonagall's office just because I fought McLaggen for you. You don't have to do anything for me, okay?" He continued, looking away from you.

"I know I don't have to do anything for you Mattheo. I want to." You replied, speaking quietly and hesitantly.

He frowned, raising an eyebrow. "You want to?"

You nodded. "I like your company. I don't mind having you around, it's fun. You're not as bad as I first thought. Actually, you're nothing like what I first thought." You said, trailing off as you saw his smile.

"And what did you originally think I was like?" He smirked.

"Arrogant. Sarcastic. Bit of an asshole." Mattheo shrugged, agreeing with you.  "Honestly? I thought that the whole pick up lines thing was a joke for ages." You admitted.

The smile dropped from his face. "A joke? What do you mean?" He said, frowning and trying to meet your eyes.

"You know. Like you were doing it for a dare." He shook his head. "Y/n, I'd never do that. I genuinely do care about you a lot. Merlin, I care about you so stupidly much that I punched a guy. I know that's bad, and I swear I'm not usually violent but he was harassing you. And all I could think was 'no. no no no no no.'" He sighed.

You smiled, taking a step closer. "You're sweet, Mattheo. Kinda cute actually." He raised an eyebrow.

"You think I'm cute?" You blushed.

"no. you must have hallucinated it." You said, shaking your head.

"I mean, I'm flattered y/n. I hope you know CPR, because you're taking my breath away." He said, smirking as you stepped closer to him. You giggled slightly, before realising.

Mattheo's eyes widened. "You laughed. You laughed at my pick up line. The one I came up with literally a second ago." You smiled.

"Maybe I did. What does that mean Riddle?" You said, stepping closer.

"It means you should go on a date with me. But you don't have to if you don't want to, okay?" He said, smiling down at you.

"I want to." You said. Mattheo exhaled slowly, stepping closer. His hands came to rest on your hips, not moving. He gave you time to push him away, but you didn't, so his hands stilled.

"You want to?" He repeated, making sure.

You nodded. "Mhm. It's why I've gone along with this for so long." You giggled, as his forehead uncreased and he relaxed slightly, before quickly lifting you up and spinning you around.

You laughed as he put you back down, noticing the lack of space between you. Your eyes flickered to his lips, which didn't go unnoticed.

Mattheo's eyes landed on your lips, and then returned to your eyes. There was so little distance between you two.

You nodded slightly, registering his silent request. "Mattheo..." You whispered. That was it for him. His lips crashed into yours, one hand cupping your face and the other resting on your hip.

You kissed him back, letting him gently back you into a wall, hand moving to the back of your head to keep you comfortable.

Eventually, you both pulled back for air, slightly breathless. You smiled, and he brushed some hair out of your eyes.

"Be mine?" He said in a low voice, practically begging you.

"I'm already yours." You whispered back to him, letting him kiss you again.

This kiss lasted less time than the first, but was still beautiful.

"But we're still going on that date right?" You asked, smiling.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, princess." He replied, smiling as he rested his forehead against yours.

A flash went off, and you turned to see Theodore and Colin Creevey. Theodore took the photo from Colin, smirking. "Mattheo, you're a fucking simp."

"Damn right." Mattheo replied, smiling slightly at you.

...

A/N: My first actual Mattheo fic! Doesn't make sense, seeing as he's my favourite slytherin boy. Anyway, I feel like I'm horrible at writing kiss scenes, so lemme know if it was too cringy or smth like that! Thnx for reading<333

[specialgradefckr]

The Strongest Feminist

tw: explicit content. satoru/reader. toxic frat boy cultures, misogyny, shitty behavior in general, non-consensual filming, stalking. satoru is a hilarious mixture of oblivious, in denial, insecure, and stupid fuckboy lmao.

Part Two of Fuckboy Gojo

fuckboy satoru gojo who doesn't know what to do.

sure, you talk to him all the time. you're "friends" - acquaintances, more like - but you don't really know each other.

not like how he knows you. knows what you look like naked, how cute your little pussy is (and that you wax. the asshole in the chat gloated about how he convinced you to do that before fucking you. said it was weird for a girl to have hair down there), how awful your taste in men is.

and also how cute you are when you laugh, how you have a surprising sense of humor and a passion for your major, for reading and writing and your face scrunches up when you concentrate just like it did when you cum -

okay. okay, okay, if he keeps thinking about that he's gonna go crazy. the point is, he knows you. he knows you real well.

but he's not sure you know him.

maybe you're too polite to ask. it's common knowledge the crowd he runs with, that he's a frat boy and all around man whore.

you never seemed to look at him different afterwards. even though you dated (fucked) one, yourself, and that guy treated you like shit and oh god do you think he's like that? you don't think satoru would treat you like that, right?

that's not the reason you haven't asked him out yet, or flirted with him. you don't think he's like that asshole, right???

you don't know anything about the group chat or their score cards (virgins worth ten points. god, it was gross, actually, wasn't it?) or the stuff satoru used to do with dumb girls who thought he actually liked them-

but he wouldn't do that to you! no way! you're sweet and friendly and you look at him with this sparkle in your eyes and everything! you don't deserve to be treated like that!

satoru gojo who finds himself hoping you haven't heard anything about him. who slips in mentions in conversation that there's lots of rumors out there about him - lots of jealous people of both genders. he gets a lot of attention, you see.

you don't tell him what you've heard, but you seem to take his words at face value. smiling, reassuring him, telling him he's been nothing but kind to you -

(he still jerks off to that video of you. every night now. sometimes twice a day.)

-and that's good, but it's not enough.

something must be stopping you from seeing him as an option. even though he's complained to you once or twice about being single.

he knows you're single. asked around - people will tell him anything and everything. it's gross, actually. he hates gossip. people have always talked about him, and now, it's getting in the way of his relationship with you.

he's getting more and more disgusted by the shit they say, they used to do, in that chat. in that friend group.

he doesn't want to stay, but what if they upload anything else about you? what about what they've done already?

satoru gojo who becomes a women's studies major - that's how disgusted he is. how removed he is from his previous attitudes.

he's not like how he was before. he's not like them. he cares, now. about women, about you.

it's like penance, in a way. his good deeds, making up for all the times he wronged those other girls. he reads about feminist literature, about emotional labor and mental loads and even sexual stereotypes.

man. women have it tough. it makes him feel bad, sends a churning in his gut, that you have to deal with stuff like this - being paid less, taken less seriously, always having to do more work in the relationship than their male counterparts.

if he were with you he'd never let it be like that. satoru would treat you like a queen, a goddess. someone to be worshipped and revered and adored.

because you are adorable. and sweet, and funny, and charming and beautiful and every other word for something good.

best thing that's ever happened to him, really.

he gets your number, at least - he's taking some classes from your major, too. it's hard to help being interested in it when he hears you talk about it, the interest and enthusiasm lighting up your face when he asks you the right questions.

god, he could hear you talk forever. you're so cute when you're being all smart and nerdy and stuff.

maybe it makes sense that he can't stop jerking off to the video of you.

well, he remembers from his classes that it's not supposed to be a woman's fault when men find her attractive. but! maybe it's not his fault either!

it's just like a... pre-game. you're going to start dating eventually, and you'd be flattered for him to jerk off to you afterwards. he's just fudging the dates a little.

see? he was paying attention!

he always pays attention when it has to do with you. it's a wonder you haven't noticed yet. he sends you good morning texts, talks to you about classwork, your hobbies and stuff.

maybe you'd even call him a friend. but friend isn't what he wants to be.

not that it's a bad thing! he's not complaining about the friendzone or anything!

but no one in their entire life has ever asked to be just his friend. even suguru bowed out of it later. plus, he's seen your pussy (not that you knew about that).

anyways, he has to find some way to get... closer. to get you to want to date him.

to be honest it's weird that you haven't even flirted with him or anything. but satoru can't blame you. maybe you're shy!

or maybe, he thinks, recalling the group chat... maybe you've just been burned already.

a part of him (which has has dubbed his "inner feminist") rankles in unbridled fury at the thought. you don't deserve that. you didn't deserve any of that.

and he didn't deserve to suffer for it, either. he would never! not to you, anyways.

but he's got to find something. some way to ingratiate himself to you. to get closer. he can't just come out and say it - that would be weird!

and... and what if you say no?

of course you want him. everyone wants him. even when his own parents stopped wanting him around, they still wanted him to do shit for them. get the degree, help run the business, all sorts of shit.

he's rich, handsome, and he has so much to offer. it's not a question of if you want him. he's sure you do - but maybe... maybe you'd reject him because you're afraid of being hurt again.

that makes sense. that's why he's afraid. he's afraid, you're afraid - but the love is there! he knows it! you could be so happy together!

there must be some way to prove that he's not like that guy, he's different. the women's studies thing, they're nice, but they don't make him fuckable. they don't make you see him.

not that he was doing it just to get your attention! he was doing it because he's a feminist, now!

that's why he stays in the group chat. if that guy uploads another video of you, if he has another video (he swore he didn't, but bitches like him will say anything under pressure), satoru has to know about it.

so he can tell you. yeah. to warn you.

yeah... he'll warn you.

there's a new video in the group chat.

it's obviously you in the thumbnail. a candid recording. he only sees you in the first few seconds before he pauses it, heart racing out of his chest.

fuck. fuck, no. can he - can he really do this?

this is awful. vile. sure, he watched the first video they sent about you but he didn't know you then.

didn't know how nice your smile was. didn't know you'd show it to him if only he looked your way. didn't realize how good it would feel just to be near you.

now, he wants to protect you. get close to you. treat you right, give you the things that asshole was too much of a loser to give you.

he - he's different from those guys. he IS. he cares about you.

the video is already uploaded. he can't stop now. it's there, in the group chat, where anyone can see it.

he can't back out now. he has to go through with this.

satoru gojo presses play.

the video... it's not sexy.

it's candid, sure. it's obvious you can't tell you're being filmed. but then he catches the surroundings.

this is inside your house. the video is being taken inside your house.

he sees you pick up a scarf - a gift he'd slipped you, covertly, just a few days ago.

and then.

the camera moves.

it shifts in a way that makes it obvious it's being held. there's a soft breathing sound in the background.

the video goes on for a few minutes until it cuts to black.

of course, your little ex boyfriend (ex situationship? piece of fucking shit lying little bitch) denies having taken it.

oh, he runs his mouth. says he's been trying to get you off his back for weeks, why would he follow you around? you're the one who was texting and calling and pining for him like a lost puppy.

(his fists hurt from clenching so hard.)

piece of shit. how the fuck would he know that you were pining for him if he really wasn't paying attention? satoru has to do all this fucking shit to win your trust just because somebody broke your heart!

he says he wouldn't date you if he was paid, much less stalk your loser ass.

(like he'd be that lucky. maybe that's why the loser didn't date you, because he knew he could never keep a girl like you by his side.)

it's not convincing. it's not convincing at all. satoru presses him, reminds him that no one would believe that bullshit after what he's done -

and then the fucking loser reminds him - who knows?

nobody. nobody outside the group chat does. no one's going to report them. they can't, not without being implicated.

you never even knew you were being filmed the first time (your first time), and how could you have?

your first time. you didn't even get off. he ditched you, didn't pick up your calls, answer your texts.

(blood pools underneath his fingernails.)

satoru had let that happen to you. jerked off to it. and now there's a video of you in your own home. a stalker.

he... he has to tell you, doesn't he?

this is too much. too violating. too dangerous. he has to confess.

he can't let this go on any more.

but something jumps in his chest. there's no way to tell you about these videos without showing you, without you asking how he has it.

you'll want to know who sent it. you'll want to read the chat history. it's a group chat, he can't doctor it or adjust it.

he can't make up some other excuse for how he knows about this, because you need to know the real reason this was sent, to find the real culprit.

showing you the video without having any kind of explanation would just terrify you. it would be cruel.

but if you find out about this, about what he's done -

what will you do? will you ever look at him the same?

will you ever look at him again at all?

his mind races. plans. excuses. diversions. the group chat, the people in it. in your room. filming you.

you. you you you you you, you who are both everything and nothing to him. an acquaintance at best. he hasn't even asked you out yet.

you, who live rent-free in his head and make his whole heart ache.

you, writhing on that stupid fucking loser's cock, so close and he wouldn't even put in the effort to put you over the edge -

satoru knows what he has to do.

but what is he really willing to risk?

[luvjunie]

Hey sweetie, I’ve been a real big fan. Can you write some HCS or a fic about the both Miles being twins?

a/n: ABSOLUTELY 10000% YES. i had way too much fun with this oml. and omg thank you you’re so sweet! 😭 btw, let’s just pretend that in this au they don’t have the same name since they’re ‘twins’ lmao

— headcanons. miles and miles as twins

Twins? Yes. Polar opposites? Definitely.

They both have a completely different sense of style, but one thing they have in common is that they both love Jordan’s. However I feel like miles!42 is a full blown sneakerhead. Has the better collection and often finds miles!1610 wearing his shoes, because somehow 42 always manages to win the snkrs raffles.

“Are those my brand new fuckin’ 4s?” “Uh… no?” “Take my shit off before I tweak out.”

42 keeps his side of the room squeaky clean, gets upset if there’s even a sock that does not belong to him on his side

Absolutely hates the song Sunflower. Cannot stand it, makes him wanna rip his hair out. The minute it came out 1610 played it into the dirt and 42 swears he can still hear it in his dreams till this day

1610 is the more affectionate one (outwardly) while 42 likes to pretend he’s completely devoid of that as if he doesn’t love his brother with everything in him.

“You got exactly three seconds to get off me.” “Just hug me back, damn!”

They’re the kind of brothers to open soundcloud, turn on a random trap beat and see who can go the longest freestyling. They do that thing where guys bring their fist to their mouths and squeal and shove each other out of excitement when they get a good flow going back and forth

42 is definitely the athletic type, plays football and soccer. 1610 is more in tune with his artistic side. Will play sports for fun but doesn’t care for them like that

42 is introverted as hell, doesn’t really like talking to people. 1610 is more of a social butterfly

They’ve never once liked the same girl. Ever. Their taste is drastically different

“Bro, you like a white girl?” “…Yes? What does her race have to do with anything?” “See me personally—“. “Literally nobody fucking asked.”

Used to help each other break out of their cribs when they were babies. Either that or Jeff and Rio would wake up to find that 42 had climbed into 1610’s crib after they’d been put down and slept with him instead. it was impossible to keep them apart from each other, so eventually they just broke down the second crib and let them use the one.

You can tell who is who in their baby pictures. You guessed it, 42 was the oddly solemn one who always wanted to play by himself. They worried about him for a bit. They also had to tickle him as an attempt to get him to smile in pictures, and just their luck, he’s never been ticklish

When they were eight years old, 1610 accidentally broke the wolverine action figure 42 never went anywhere without, and 42 cried about it for three days straight

They definitely ask for each other’s opinions on their outfits

“Do you think this shirt goes with these pants?” “The entire outfit is black… how would it not go together?”

They both obviously love their mother but 42 is the biggest mama’s boy. Always in the kitchen helping her cook, will watch her telenovelas with her and actually keep up with the plot. He’ll willingly follow her to the grocery store or accompany her on her ridiculously long Ross/Tjmaxx sprees because he likes hanging out with her

They terrorize the fuck outta their dad and have been doing so since they entered this world because they think it’s funny. Stupid shit like dying his boxers pink, or looking up a cracked tv screen video on youtube just to watch him nearly have a heart attack thinking they broke it. They used to twin-swap when they were younger to get out of certain things, but it’s 100% impossible to pull off now. They’re way too different, physically and mentally

Uncle Aaron took 42 to get his ears pierced when he was thirteen, something 1610 would never do. Rio basically had an aneurysm when he came home with them in and Jeff was not pleased but Aaron took the blame for it, said it was his idea. 42 made up some bullshit lie about how if he takes them out before they heal completely they’ll get infected. Still has them in till this day

42 is exactly fourteen minutes older and refuses to let 1610 hear the end of it, but 1610 is taller by an inch and weighs a little more.

“I don’t know why you’re talking shit like I’m not older than you. Pipe down lil’ bro.” “Sorry, is someone talking to me right now? Cause I sure as hell can’t see ‘em.” “Nigga it’s ONE INCH”

They’re definitely scrapping over that, and both get smacked upside their heads by Mama Rio for fighting with each other

42 needs the tv and the fan on, SIMULTANEOUSLY when he sleeps or he’ll be up the entire night. 1610 can’t stand it

1610 will try and turn the fan off after his brother’s been asleep for probably two hours, thinking he’s in the clear until he hears—

“Do you value your life? Turn my damn fan back on.”

Deep down 42 is a big ass softie and loves spending time with 1610, he has no idea what he’d do without him. He’s just not the best at expressing it. 1610 teases him about it simply because he enjoys aggravating his other half

“You still got plans with Ganke tonight?” “Nah, his mom’s dragging him to some baby shower.” “Oh, cool, cool… So what movie are we watching?” “Huh?” “Huh—Headass. What movie are we watching tonight?” “Sorry, I’m not understanding. Are you—asking to spend time… with me?” “Damn, I need to say it in Spanish? Matter fact, you probably won’t understand that either. No sabo ass.”

[kitasuno]

( ᐢ..ᐢ )⋆.ೃ࿔*･ thank u guys for all the love on my writing recently <3 there is nothing i love more than reading ur comments and reblogs !! tysm !!!!!!

anonymous asks are now open too. i swear i had them on but i just figured out my inbox today!

i thought i would share some brain rot i still have from my last suna fic, to be loved is to be known:

in the fic, suna was so surprised when you mentioned that atsumu gave you the courage to confess to kita because… atsumu was his #1 wingman!!!!

he’s definitely not stupid, and also very aware of reading people (or maybe just reading you) but all his common sense flies out the window when u mention liking kita

but when u bring up atsumu… the little suna brain-cells in his head REVIVE. fucking EXPLODE and his cogs start to turn.. and he’s like… wait a minute….

i mentioned that suna smells like blackberries and i was specifically thinking about the blackberry and bay cologne from jo malone! here are the notes from the official website:

Childhood memories of blackberry picking...A burst of deep, tart blackberry juice, blending with the freshness of just-gathered bay and brambly woods. Vibrant and verdant

(it smells so good btw. trust. trust me. suna smells delicious. i swear)

suna doesn’t mind little spooning

mobile gaming degenerate. twitter degenerate. likes wearing slides out and oversized zip up hoodies, he finds regular hoodies kind of annoying

suna reminds me of the song, fukakoryoku by vaundy

still uses wired apple headphones 4 the aesthetic

yes the family mart that suna and you frequent is in the middle ground to ur houses… yes he likes famichiki… no he doesn’t like the sausages but you’re obsessed with them so he says he loves them

idk if u guys know but family mart on twitter has these giveaways where if you retweet their post you have the chance to win a coupon or a free snack/food. and they choose like 10,000 people for winners! so when family mart drops a chance to win free sausages… suna makes.. 100 twitter accounts… to join the giveaway…. (yes this means 100 emails) (yes he is crazy) (yes he is free)

and yes ur on his private twitter. and suna private tweets about YOU on his PRIV bcuz he’s a LITTLE SHIT. so when u check ur phone after he confesses to U and u had lied and said u liked kita he does the whole Going Dark thing on twitter. tweets shit like this and thinks it’s so funny:

thank u guys again for indulging in my writing<3

[dumbgoondog]

Sukuna NSFW Alphabet

MDNI +18 NSFW

Cw/Tw - cannibalism, blood, pregnancy

(A)ftercare - Your brains are mush, you’re covered in bruises, tears stain your face, wrists sore, bleeding in places from nails and biting, voice hoarse and dry. Then here he is, the disgraced one, the fallen, the king of curses, the man who fucked you like he hated you! Here he is gently scooping you up, massaging you, purring, his stomach mouth affectionately licking at any wounds. Carrying you to the bath, holding you to himself in the water, washing you gently, your body and hair. Using RCT output to ease any pain and aches. Praising you and treasuring you. PLEASE remember that your dom needs aftercare too. He needs to know you love him, that he wasn’t too rough, that he isn’t a monster to you. Please let him be gentle with you and you acknowledge it.

(B)ody Part - your hands. Not because it’s sexual but because if he goes blind he’ll know the gentle touch of your hands, he’ll know how you feel. How your hands don’t shy away from him, how you don’t hesitate to hold his hands. But also yes, he loves your hands grabbing at him, holding his face, stroking him, pinned beneath one of his hands.

(C)um - inside. Bella that your mouth or your hole(s). There’s a LOT so it will spill out and get every where. He likes watching it overflow

(D)irty Secret - this man has no dirty secrets. He tells it to you like it is and how he wants it… there is one thing tho. He wants to eat you. Like a religious act of worship and devotion to himself. You thought I was gonna say you yeah? Nah, that bitch has an ego. He will heal you after tho so no worries!

(E)xperience - None. Ryomen No Bitches Sukuna. I do not think he took any concubines, or consorts or anything of the sort. Pleasures of the mortal flesh… you think anyone could find pleasure in his visage without being batshit or forced? (Yorozu.) he would never force anyone too and would rather not be aware that they’re doing it for power but think he’s repulsive. that is until you.

(F)avorite Position - riding, facing him, on his throne. He likes watching you, and his stomach mouth likes licking you. This giant grabs you with all four arms and is using you like a fleshlight.

(G)oofy - He’s goofy. I see to many people make him so deadpan and stoic and “ooo I’m such a cool and sadistic top”. Bro bffr, this bitch incarnated and came out kicking his feet giggling goin “Women and children!!! Maggots for the slaughter!!!” And ripped. Off. His. Shirt. He was dancing dodging Fushiguro in their first fight. He took a bow when fighting Maharaga. He’s so silly. He praises and encourages his opponents in battle even! If something dumb happens or there’s a funny noise he’s gonna laugh. He wants you to laugh at him if he does something stupid too!

(H)air - thick messy pink hair, happy trail, and a trail down his balls too. Washed, semi groomed, smells pretty okay tbh. Light metallic undertone tho. It’s the blood of his foes.

(I)ntimacy - he fucks you like a wild beast. Growling, snarling, no words, biting, grunting. The moment you use a safe word? The moment somethings wrong? He’s stopping to make sure he hasn’t gone too far.

He’s also secretly a romantic. He knows flower language very well, and gets you flowers often(regardless of gender.) flower language and symbolism was big in the heian era, so was poetry. Sometimes he writes you poems never show anyone tho. They’re just for you.

(J)ack off - sometimes. Great stress reliever, passes time, helps when he’s bored, thinks it’s funny when he does it on his throne and there are his servants just having to stand on standby. What a power move.

(K)ink - blood, obviously. Biting and marking, duh. But hear me out on this. Primal. I’m talking hunt chase, both of you acting feral, like prey and predator. ABO that shit I guess. Submit to baser instincts, no talking just raw noises. Yeah I’m so right y’all don’t even know it(now you do tho)

(L)ocation - the throne is to obvious, the bed is a classic…and honestly I think it’s the bed. I got no reasons, just is how it is.

(M)otivation - working out, sparring, or after eating a big meal. Something about those activities puts him in the mood.

(N)o - He will not involve Uraume, he found them when they were a young kid and has helped raise them. Even if not related he was a late teen/young adult and he raised them from bein little

(O)ral - No, he HATES putting you in his mouth cause you taste baaaaddd. Fuck he loves eating, sucking, licking, he’s a hungry man. A big hungry man. Any position, anytime, let him use his stomach mouth. He knows it’s big and his teeth are sharp but god he loves having you ride his tongue and kiss you, watch you squirm.

(P)ace - he’s rough, hard, and a medium pace. Fast isn’t always good, especially when he likes being precise with every thrust. Feeling you squeeze and his tip bullying into you.

(Q)uicky - sometimes, it only if he’s getting to eat or suck you off. Quickys don’t work when you’re as big as him, you need prepping! He wishes though. He’s kinda a perv cuz he wants you smell like him and full of his cum often.

(R)isk - he’s up to try new things! There are some things he doesn’t understand and might make fun of tho. Like feet. He feels like a guy who mocks feet lovers. He doesn’t want to try it, he doesn’t care he “might” like it, he thinks it’s stupid.(his loss tbh)

(S)tamina - Much to the horror of everyone, like Kenjaku, he hasn’t tapped out ever. Despite his sweating and panting he isn’t done. Tbh he might have more stamina than Kenjaku. I need Sukuna bitching Kenjaku…

(T)oys - he fucking loves watching you use toys on yourself, not much on himself tho. He’s a freak fr fr cuz he got you plugs so after he’s cum in you he’ll plug you up. You better believe they’re custom too, it’s his blood as a jewel on the end. He’s so smug about it.

(U)nfair - as much as he loved teasing or you being a brat, he’s pretty patient but once he’s ready to go it all stops. He does like teasing you in public and some light humiliation in front of friends!

(V)olume - Growls. Grunts. Groans. Feral noises. He’s not loud loud, but he ain’t quiet. For any passing by it sounds like an animal is fighting someone in there.

(W)ild Card - he doesn’t have a pregnancy kink. Let me make that very clear. However. If he can get you pregnant expect his hands on you constantly. He’s super protective and clingy, always needs to be touching your belly. It will get annoying, cause he won’t let you piss alone. He’s also stealing titty milk. He says it’s to help you and the baby but you know he’s just a little freak. Back to the baby tho. He genuinely might start hiding the bad that he does because for once he’s like “I’m not destroying or cursing, I’m creating life, something precious.” He does have some outbursts tho and might go on rampages cuz he’s so stressed, scared, and full of emotions. He NEVER takes it out on you tho.

(X)-ray - it’s that ancient Japanese thong. He refused anything else. It’s comfortable, breathable, and one of the one things that doesn’t squeeze the life out of his dicks.

(Y)es - Worship roleplay, sacrifice roleplay, he likes it! Him being THE Ryomen Sukuna, and getting to play into that is fun! He’d be up for a “captured the king of curses and having your way with him” roleplay too.

(Z)zz - Cuddle up after a bath, eat a bit, and then he’s snoring. Or is he practicing his bear impression? Either way get comfy, if you’re not sleeping, you sure as hell aren’t leaving.

[menlove]

one thing that adds to credibility of Paul being closeted imo, is that often he is thought of as having this internalised homophobia, if not homophobia itself, because he always mentions how un-gay he is whenever some gay subject comes up in interviews

but like, there are so many things that disprove him being homophobic, it's not even funny. going to Paris alone with gay men? Paul did that two times (three if we count John lol) and that Peter Brown story is incrediblyy suspect. what homophobic man, scared of gay, sits on the bed of his male employee and his male fling that casually late at night in his hotel room and chats them up?

most likely reason, combined with his incredibly suspect lyrics, is that he is so defensive about his sexuality because he has something to hide

THATS WHAT IIIIIM SAYING!!!! like he is so comfortable w gay people and gay culture which on its own isn't suspect but it Is when people insist he's homophobic as a Reason He's Repressed Not Closeted. and once again I must remind everyone that john nearly beat a man to death for calling him gay and was still undeniably queer.

it's just like. imagine for a moment. with me. everyone hold my hand. not claiming this is true but walk w me along this path to get to current paul that isn't "he's just repressed and stupid and doesn't even know he's bi" but is instead MY speculative timeline (somehow this turned into a mini fic or something god help me but I'M SO SERIOUS IM SO SERIOUS THIS WOULD MAKE THE MOST SENSE TO ME WALK WITH ME HOLD MY HAND)

you are born in the 1940s. you are raised by a strict man who was physically abusive & in a culture that hates gay people. you grow up watching people get killed for being queer and being bullied over your feminine features that people think make you queer. you hit puberty and Shit Gets Harder because you start finding other men hot. elvis, for one! when you're 15 you start seeing a boy around that you think is hot and it turns out he's in a band and you fall in love with his looks and his voice and then him. and he's just as insane about you. you start doing increasingly sexual things together. eventually, you're having a full blown sexual affair. while writing love songs together and growing up together. and then he gets his girlfriend pregnant. and marries her. and you lose him, a little bit. he goes off and has an affair with your gay manager & when he gets home he ruins your birthday party by nearly beating a man to death for bringing it up. you wonder what he'd do if anyone found out about the two of you too.

and then the insane happens and you end up The Most Famous Band In The World. the ENTIRE world is watching your every move. the entire world loves you. they wouldn't love you if they knew. you get a girlfriend and it's convenient because she's always gone and you're always alone. but you still have him. and other girls. through everything, you have each other. even when he says something stupid and the world wants all of your heads on a platter and he starts to fall into a depression, you still have each other. even if now you Know how bad it could be if they ever found out. and then your manager, your father figure, an openly gay man, dies. and it's not a suicide, but a lot of people think it is, and sometimes you wonder, and fuck it's terrifying, isn't it? the reality of your life, the reality of loving Him, the reality of being queer. what if that winds up being You? you start to lose Him a little bit more as you throw yourself into your work and push everyone way too hard. you propose to your girlfriend. and then you do lose Him. to a woman. which was sort of unthinkable because he was already married and never cared about her, just you. never cared about any women, just you. but he cares about Her. and you fucking lose your mind. lose yourself in drugs. blow up your engagement. propose to another girl and many more "jokingly". your one girlfriend says you had to try again or you would have gone "raving queer" and killed yourself. the whole time you're losing Him more and more. suddenly he's looking at Her like he used to look at you. you're no longer his world and what the fuck do you have? a bunch of girls you don't care about and a drug problem? and then you meet a woman who, according to you, is more woman than anyone else. she's a mother already, a family ready made when you've always wanted one. she's smart and she's funny and she's quick and you let yourself cling to her because you don't have Him and he has Her so you've got to have someone, don't you? and she winds up pregnant and that's great, that's wonderful, you're no longer in danger of dying alone and queer and sad. you've lost Him by now completely, even though you have about a month where things feel a little less awful again and you perform together one last time. you marry her and you ASK people, flat out, if they expected you to be a 26 year old unmarried queer. you fight the night before you're married for some unknown reason, so badly she almost leaves you. and then He marries Her, and everything is fine. and then it all falls apart completely. you at least had Him as your friend, your writing partner, the other half of you legally. and then he asks for a divorce. and the world ends. you don't have the band, you don't have Him, you don't have anything. you stay in bed all day, drinking, miserable. like a breakup, not just of the band.

eventually, your wife pulls you out of it. you survive. you start writing again. you write to him. you put two beetles fucking on the cover of your second album and he thinks a song you wrote about your wife's ex is about him (and maybe it is, a little) and he shoots right back. and you keep that up for a decade. writing to each other. seeing each other only in the news and in snatched moments together where nothing is the same as it was. you plead with him through your music: why do you hurt me so bad? call me, pretty baby. I'm waking up screaming over you. I can't tell you how I feel. you try and make things like they were, even a little, showing up to his house with your guitar like you're 15 again, but he sends you away. in all that time, he's basically gone to conversion therapy. he's with someone who makes disparaging remarks about his sexuality. for you, you've let yourself embrace being a bit campy, but you still can't bring yourself to be open about any of it. not with anyone but your wife.

and then you start talking again. you make up. things seem hopeful. it seems like he might still love you and he writes you a song about starting over with you. and then he's murdered. and it's senseless. it's so so senseless. and it's unfair. you lock yourself away for days listening to that song he wrote you. the media tears you apart for grieving wrong. they wish you died instead. they think you're cold. you never loved him, not like he loved you. you write a song, with tear marks on the page, telling him how much you DID love him. all the things you'd say to him if he were there with you. you write more songs about that, all centered around that theme. some of them you say are about him. others you don't. once, you say if anyone catches on you can just deny it. but he wrote you love songs too, apparently, for you, and you eventually record them with your old band

and the thing is, You are one of his widows. his name follows yours every time it leaves someone's mouth. he's all anyone ever talks about with you. he's all you want to talk about too. his legacy is your legacy. he's no longer here to tell people about his sexuality, he's no longer here to consent to everything that you were being told. he's not here. and how can you even begin to mention Your Own sexuality without bringing him up? you owe him more than outing him in death. you owe Her more than that too, because you were already cruel to her and so was the world. she's grieving just like you, you can't do that. your wife dies, and now you're her legacy too and you being queer would seem like a betrayal to her. your best friend dies, and now he's your legacy too. you aren't just you- you're Him, you're 1/2 of the living members of the most famous band to ever exist, you're Her, you're your dead wife

so when someone asks you about him. when someone asks you about being gay or calls him the love of your life. What Exactly Are You Supposed To Say?

I wouldn't say shit either

[unactive-shroom]

Hai! Can I request dating his for toge and yuji separately?

Title: Yuji and Toge Hcs

Author's note: Ty for requesting anon!! hope u enjoy <3

☆ Toge Inumaki

⇒ Fully believe that Toge knows sign language, but no one else knows it well enough to converse fully with him

⇒ So naturally, you learned it just for him

⇒ Thats when he knew you were the one

⇒ He’s genuinely so funny too

⇒ since only the two of you know it, its very common for you two to gossip in the common room in sign, or for toge to sign something stupid at you when gojo’s trying to teach class

⇒ Speaking of, I read somewhere that people who use sign give people names (usually based off of their initals or something, rather than spelling every letter individually) - you and toge would have the most stupidest names for the people around you

⇒ For example, Megumi would be something like ‘Grumpy’, Maki would be ‘scary’ and Panda would just be… well, ‘Panda’.

⇒ He’s very protective of you too

⇒ Not overwhelmingly though, he knows well enough that you can handle yourself. But if it ever comes to it, he’s always happy to use his cursed technique on someone whos overstepping your boundaries.

⇒ He gets easily frustrated though, he wishes he could speak to you as easily as everyone else

⇒ BUT hes so grateful that you learned sign for him. And that you’re always finding alternatives to communicate, such as texting or writing notes.

☆ Itadori Yuji

⇒ Yuji is litterally the sweetest person ever omg

⇒ Genuinely worships you that man is WHIPPED ⇒ took down his Jennifer Lawerence poster and replaced it with a wall of photos of you

⇒ Gets teased by Nobara constantly for being such a lover boy around you

⇒ Yaps about you 24/7

⇒ It got to the point where Megumi and Nobara had to litterally scold him because he would not shut up about you omg

⇒ When Todo found out about you he congratulated and shook Yuji’s hand but Yuji litterally hated every second of the interaction

⇒ Todo actually apologised to you for beating the shit out of Yuji and declared that you, Yuji, Todo and that idol he’s obssessed with need to go on a double date

⇒ … no one was bursting that bubble tbh you just left him and his delusions alone <3

⇒ 100% wants to marry you and thinks about it often

⇒ Even sukuna is annoyed atp

⇒ You’re the only thing that makes him hesitate before going into missions

⇒ he doesn’t want to leave you alone in this world </3