#yeah I do think the clans would not be normal about this

[boo-cool-robot]

Fic: womb, cursed [Jujutsu Kaisen, Gojo/Geto]

Word Count: 3294 Rating: Mature Summary: “The great and powerful Gojo clan can't hurt me anymore. They need me too much now that I’ve fully awakened Limitless.” Satoru slugged his second cola back and glanced sidelong across the bench at Suguru. “So you're going to help take my uterus out.” Suguru gave a smile that was much too calm and remained staring straight ahead. “Am I. Why?” In which teen Gojo gets a home hysterectomy and absolutely no one is having a good time.

Ft. Trans Gojo! Hot Premature Death summer! The worst possible way of dealing with distance between you and your boybestie!

This is possibly the most unhinged fic I've ever written. This doc was titled "Gojo's evil and gay hysterectomy" if that helps get the vibe across. Enjoy?

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than flooding

Big fat combat trick to pump all your excess mana into!

Cards used as example for balancing the modes:

[sunderwight]

With moshang I think I'm equally fond of the possibilities/concepts where either Shang Qinghua is ludicrously attractive to demons in a broad sense (but doesn't realize it), or, where Shang Qinghua is just some weird little gremlin and everyone else cannot wrap their head around why THE Mobei Jun is so smug about seducing this man.

Or a combination, where no demon in their right mind would ordinarily look at Shang Qinghua and perceive a sex icon, but because such a high-ranking demon has clearly done so, they go "well there must be SOMETHING going on there" and then look closer and before they know it they're on the slippery slope to being horny about a guy who could help file their taxes or arrange to have their clan base's faulty plumbing fixed.

Basically it's all good. Demons en mass going "yeah yeah big scary dudes who punch good are a dime a fucking dozen around here, but do you know how hot someone who can skillfully use an abacus is?" vs demons going "the ice king is a respectable ruler but he has garbage taste in men, we all just smile and politely nod while he insists the weird rat guy he fixated on as a teenager is a catch" vs demons going "I really don't see the appeal -- wait he did what? he killed how many guys at once with 1 trick? he betrayed WHOMST? and lived?! and he knows how to get my door to stop making horrible squeaky noises?! okay yeah figures the king would marry him" but every option is a winner.

I'm also a big fan of both Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua being not very attractive to demons in general, but it also being really common for demons to get super weird about first crushes and fixate hard on them, so in that sense they are completely normal choices for a couple of high-level demons to marry. Like the demon populace can appreciate the emperor actually landing his hot teacher and the king successfully marrying his teenage sweetheart. It's an idealized fantasy in terms of the scenarios, even if the actual guys are just weird humans. Nearly every average demon has lifelong daydreams about successfully seducing their first crush, so regardless of who those crushes turned out to be it's still a power move for LBH and MBJ to actually succeed.

Bonus if the fact that both SQQ and SQH are peak lords from the same sect leads to a bunch of demon kids developing crushes on the other remaining, unattached peak lords, and chaos ensuing. Especially for Liu Qingge. I think it would be funny for him to gain a flock of teenage demons with crushes, whom he keeps trying to fight off, only to discover that beating them up does NOT discourage them at all (actually makes the crushes worse). Or Yue Qingyuan getting mobbed like he's a pop star any time he makes a diplomatic visit to the demon realms. Sha Hualing deciding that she's just waiting for Liu Mingyan to become a peak lord before they make things official, since That's Obviously How It's Done, or Qi Qingqi doing a head count one day and realizing she suddenly has a bunch of unfamiliar "guest" disciples who sigh at her a lot and have funny-colored eyes...

[hoseoksluna]

LADY BEETLE | knj

pairing: non-idol!namjoon x oc

genre: situationship au ; sex playhouse ; glory hole  / smut, fluff

word count: 10.4k

summary: when you came to seoul's hidden sex playhouse to forget about namjoon, you didn't think the anonymous mr. kim would actually be namjoon.  

pin: lady beetle / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: sex club setting, oc struggles with her feelings towards namjoon, glory hole but with hoseoksluna twist, engaging in sexual practices with a person you don't know, commitment issues, heated conversations, dirty talk, patience game, counting down (for my neva play girlies), oral sex (f. & m. receiving), deepthroat, face fucking, nipple play, unprotected and rough sex, teacher namjoon, spanking, praise kink, size kink, choking on fingers, rough treatment in general, aftercare, oc and namjoonie smoke together.

note: i daresay this is my best work. :D fuck my life, guys. i need this namjoon like i need air to breathe. if i see any of you wearing panties... TAKE EM OFF NOW. sldjflskdjfsl jk, jk. THE SUPRISE IS REVEALED. GLORY FAWKING HOLE. my babies, enjoy this filth. stream neva play. imagine that deep voice of his.... yeah. yeah....... faaawwkwkjsdlfjsdlfjsdfjslfjsls. ENJOYYYYY. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. MY ASK BOX IS OPEENNNNNNN.

The building looked ordinary from the outside view. Like any other building in this part of the city. Long and tall, coalescing with the evening heavens and with its freckles of stars—very much like those upon your skin. McDonald’s was just down the road, a to-go coffee stand perfumed the whole street with its coffee beans, and a bookstore stood right next to this peculiar piece of urban architecture, unaware of all the sins that lurked behind its walls. 

It may pretend to be pure, with its grand hall, its sophisticated reception and even graceful employees—dressed in the finest of fabrics that glinted beneath the opulent chandelier—but it was just that. 

An act. 

They smiled at you, but in their heart they knew what you were here for. 

In this seemingly normal, ordinary building all your sexual fantasies flare out. In the simplest of words, you come here to get fucked out of the norm that is considered vanilla. You fill out an online application, set the date, the time—and depending on your desire, you even get to see who your dream fulfiller is. 

In your case, you were going into this blind. 

And so was he, your dream fulfiller. 

While you opted to stay anonymous, the only detail you knew about the man was that he was from the cursed Kim clan. Another male that bore the last name like the one who wrecked your nerves to the point that you had to bite the bullet and try this out as nothing else was working. It was a newfound obsession of your best friend, who gifted you a voucher to this place on your birthday. And you weren’t sure if Kim Namjoon had the sixth sense and somehow knew about this, although you’d believe he was very much capable of possessing one, just to piss you off even more. 

You have been crushing on this man since the day you met him at your mom’s small ramyeon restaurant you are working in for her. Since the moment, in fact, you glimpsed at his vintage black Cartier watch with a matching singular bracelet adorning his wrist that he kept calmly on the table while he was on a work call, growling and snapping into the phone. Your mom curled her lips, swatted her eyelashes as she grew hot in the cheeks, chopping green onions for him from her cooking station while you were watching over the noodles. It was her who noticed him at first—and it was her who told you to do your best and seduce him. 

And when you lifted your eyes, saw that thick mane of his cloudy hair, the cleft of his cheek as he gritted his jaw and then that picturesque hand of his, you sensed that unfamiliar, magnetic pull towards him that made you blush. And you never looked more like her than in that moment. 

For some reason you knew better than to not listen to her and do as she says. You felt it was the right decision, the right move and so you fixed your hair, swiped your flower clip through a half of it while your face-framing wisps fell naturally in front of your pink face. Your mom tossed you her lip gloss from the pocket of her apron and you brought him the ramyon she cooked for him. 

Smiled at him. Batted your eyelashes at him like your mother taught you throughout your girlhood and it worked. 

Namjoon told you were a breath of fresh air when you sashayed towards him after such an important, yet aggravating phone call, apologized for the inconvenience, bowed slightly. Balanced, most delightfully, respect and flirting. Leaned more towards the latter when he would steal glances at you and smile at you at every opportunity that your gaze would connect to his. 

Your heart hammered once he came to you to pay for his meal. Your mother stopped whatever it was that she was doing just to beam at him and he personally gave her a huge tip in cash—right into her right hand that he held. Turned to you and asked you if you’d like to have dinner with him sometime. 

And you agreed—without knowing he would get on your nerves in the long run. 

Namjoon was not a serious man, not as he appeared to be. Although he showed you the side of Seoul you would otherwise never have the option to see and feel with your entire being by taking you to luxurious dinners, cafés, art exhibitions and work events—the things he would say and the things he would do did not reflect those settings by any chance. 

He took you from rags to riches and you paid for it by being a victim of his odd form of cute aggression. 

The man would get you tangled up in your sentences because he simply enjoyed the view of you getting flustered. He found pleasure in revving you up enough for you to curse at him and growl at him, be it by bugging you with tickles, pokes or be it by making fun of you until you yourself laughed. 

There was nothing sexual about your relationship, if you could call it that. He didn’t hold your hand, he didn’t regard you hungrily as so many men do in his place, but he did look at you with the rawest form of purity. At your freckles—ones that made him give you the adorable nickname Lady Beetle—at your butterfly tattoo on your ankle that your dress would always expose from its natural criss-crossed position. The things he would say did not contain any hints of this leading into the bed. And he never kissed you, even though there were many occasions, where he looked like he was about to do it. 

He always held back. And while it, and everything else, made you pristinely fall for him, it also angered you so much that there was nothing else you wanted to do but to grab his head and kiss him madly. 

And the other day, you did. 

Leaned in after the heft of your shared tension grew too big for you to hide it in your hands—only for him to turn his head, slightly, and let you merely kiss his cheek. 

That was the final straw. And so you stopped agreeing to his “date” invitations until you stopped replying to his messages altogether. You thought he wasn’t going to have any part of you if he wasn’t willing to properly date you. 

And in your anger, you dwelled in the hole he left behind. The hole that was asking for his fatherly attention that caused you so much extraordinary joy. Your mother must’ve sensed it with her motherly instincts that he would occupy that place in your life, which your father didn’t. Your body missed laughing with him until your tummy hurt—and you missed him. And the more you did, the more your anger blazed. 

You couldn’t get rid of it. 

You tried exercising. You tried running around the block, only to never do it again because you couldn’t catch your breath and you thought you had almost died that day. You smoked a pack after pack, and that didn’t help either. 

Neither did abusing your cunt until you couldn’t go on anymore. Your anger burned down your bedroom and once you groaned and whined, punched the pillows and kicked your legs, your eyes fell upon the voucher you had pinned on your corkboard  

Your remedy was in front of you, and in the worst of your anger—you gave it a go. 

You filled out that application in the middle of the night, one that made you even hornier. And because you didn’t want to see any other man but Namjoon while you were getting your brain fucked out of your head, you chose the only option there was for that case. 

Glory hole. 

And the idea of it made your anger falter ever so slightly. You could imagine it was him pounding you through the barrier. The wall would only help your imagination.

Friday. Seven PM. You had to come two hours early because it was a necessity for you to shower at the place after you signed the contract. You also had to quickly think of a safe word, it was the only thing you foolishly forgot to fill out that day, as lost as you were within your flight of fancy. And because the employee standing in front of you made you anxious, you wrote down the first thing you thought of. 

Beetle. 

Your heart pounded, and when you let go of the pen, the gravity of the moment hit you. You truly were about to swim in a pool of sin only because the man you desperately wanted didn’t want you back. At least not in the way you wanted him to. 

The employee led you into the room, where your own personal sin would uncoil. A grandiose, large space, plucked out of a French chateau, with dark antique furniture, an easel with a painting you were quick to skip to in order to ogle at it. Your kitten heels clicked on the old, parquet floors that creaked, scuffed against the carpet that cost more than your yearly salary. It was a room that Namjoon would like—and it was a room that took your breath away. 

And the painting paused your blood flow. 

The Unequal Marriage by Vasili Pukirev.  

A painting of you, essentially, because you can’t have the man you yearn for. 

Your heart shrinks, painful pinpricks digging deeply into the flesh. You lift a finger and trace the despondent face of the bride, acknowledge yourself with that secret, yet vivid piece of your agony eternalized within the thickness of the brushstrokes. Her silver flower crown, the gossamer fabric of her veil, and finally her delicate hand. And in your soul, you hold it. 

You peek at the elderly groom and disgust seizes you. Because of the poor girl’s fate, because of your own. It feels as though you’re about to sin with that very man and you regret ever coming here. 

An emotion that you hurriedly shake off because your best friend paid a huge amount of money for you to experience a good time. Like she did. 

Your hand slaps back to your side. Your emotions, too. You will them to hide their starlight just for this one night. Hide their love for the man they can’t have. 

You turn around and glimpse upon a table with bottles of both champagne and wine. Think you need one at this moment; think your dream fulfiller would appreciate it if you poured him one, too. But having one sip of that dark liquid, you say fuck it and finish his glass as well. 

Undress. Take a shower. Weep under the stream. 

And the same employee waits for you when you emerge out of the bathroom in your robe. With manicured hands folded over her stomach, her eyes have softened a little bit, and abruptly, you realize how glad you are that a woman is accompanying you on this strange journey. If a man stood in her place, you would’ve already walked out and wasted your best friend’s money. 

“Mr. Kim wishes for you to be naked,” she says, her voice light, but firm. Your skin prickles with goosebumps—you bought a lacy red lingerie for the occasion, to help your imagination do its job to the fullest. A certain wisp of sadness clutches you that you won’t be able to wear it. 

Or… 

“What happens if I disobey?” you ask, gripping the thick lining of your bathrobe at your chest for mental support. The seriousness of the situation inches nearer and nearer and your stomach knots. 

She inhales, straightening up, as if she was about to leave this room. “Mr. Kim is not a regular, so I don’t know anything about this temper, but I would suggest respecting his wishes.” 

And she does, making space for your thoughts to whirl, and your eyes trace the flowers on the red Persian rug underneath your slipper-shod feet. 

He’s not a regular, so that means he’s not anything like the disgusting groom in the painting. He may be an ordinary person just like you, trying your luck in an unusual setting. Perhaps young, perhaps older—but normal. Not a lecher about to feast on your purity. 

Your stomach relaxes as do your muscles and you walk over to the bed to grab your make-up bag. Set yourself into the doll version of you that enjoys a male company with your eyeliner and glitter. Finish the process with a red tendril of lipstick over your mouth—just to leave behind a pleasant trace if the man ever decides to up the fun a little bit. 

Will it be fun? Or will you regret every second? 

An unanswerable question for your doll brain. You shake it off. Sit down at the edge of the bed and wait. 

Wait for him to fuck not just your anger, but your feelings out of your body. 

The woman emerges out of the bright light of the hall as if she was a housekeeper coming in to clean the hotel room. To a naked eye, it is not far from reality. This time, her softness has deepened so much that she bears a smile on her face. One, that you’re unsure of what it means. And one that relaxes your system to its finality. 

She raises a hand towards the double doors, in the direction of the easel with the painting, and nods, her smile unwavering. 

“You may proceed, miss, through this door. You can take off your robe now and get on the bed through the back of the cubicle. Mr. Kim will join you in five minutes.” 

Your breath shivers as you exhale. You thank her and she clicks the door shut behind her. Scurrying onto your feet, you gather as much bravery as you can. Your bathrobe plops down onto the bed. You give one last look to the unhappy bride in the painting before you open the door. 

You sense her encouraging you to go on—to live a life full of emancipation that she never got to grasp with her fist. And that, you find, is your bravery. 

The dimmed room, in size, mirrors the one you just walked out of. And it stares at you head-on. 

The cubicle the employee spoke of faces you to the right. A black-painted wooden little structure  with a hole in the middle, covered in leather that is cut into long fringes. The lower half of your body will stick out of it and you reckon it depends on Mr. Kim himself what he does with your legs—whether he pins them up using the restrains on the wood or if he holds them. 

The unknown lengthens and for the first time during this night, a small ribbon of excitement begins to swathe your chest. 

Next to the cubicle, in the far corner of the room, is a dresser. You believe the drawers are filled with toys, but the top is lined with dark bottles of alcohol that you recognize. European—Jack Daniel’s, Jim Beam. Suits the play house’s style, you guess. 

And on the left, a monumental bed that takes up the rest of the room. And it’s hung up from the ceiling.

You don’t have time to ogle it as time ticks, but while you run to the back of the cubicle like you were advised, you do notice that there are no paintings embellishing the walls. No person from the old age of time to witness the unfolding of your so-called dream. Sinful, sinful dream. 

Maybe that was done on purpose. Maybe you’re supposed to live this dream with the anonymous Mr. Kim in some way. 

The mattress inside the cubicle is made out of leather, but it is the strong scent of fresh wood that hits your nostrils. It is decorated with twinkle lights all around, giving it a comforting feel. One pair of restraints is installed into the walls as well, but you think it’s more for leverage than for the wishes of the dream fulfiller. Milky and silken, they stand out from the dark tones of it all, and you gaze at them for some kind of comfort as you strengthen your legs through the hole, the cold tassels drifting along your bare body sending sparks of strange delight up your stomach. You bite your lip at the sensation, scooching up to an awkward, almost sitting position so your legs don’t dangle out, but the backs of your knees press against the edge of the mat. 

You cross your ankles. 

And you wait, all over again. 

Wonder if you should touch yourself or if you should give the honors to Mr. Kim to make you ready for him, but the tassels, the sight of your hip bone tattoo that says angel… your nipples perk up on their own and maybe you’ve come to like the act of waiting for him. Or maybe you like the view of your nakedness at a peculiar place such as this. Of your angelic form bare and about to be taken back to heaven. 

Your stomach swarms with anxious morsels at that thought and you take a deep breath. At your exhale, you hear the door creak open and close with a certain tenderness that you immediately know it was used in order not to startle you. 

One point up for Mr. Kim. 

Maybe the Kim clan has good manners and thoughtfulness engraved in their DNA, but they’re men and disappointment always awaits you eventually—

His footsteps lead towards you, carrying that same tenderness. The sound of the muted thuds grow more and more distinct, no ounce of hurriedness lodged in them. A small fire begins to burn in you due to his evident patience, awakening your body, and you’re so, so surprised to detect such gentle arousal just from the energy he’s brought in. 

That, alone, causes you to curl in your coyness, but when you hear him huff out a gentle laughter, you instinctively squeeze your thighs first before you bury your face in your hands, your cheeks hot to the touch. 

Why is he laughing—

He places a large, warm palm on your knee. You flinch and his touch becomes heavier as if he was telling you not to be scared, its warmth begins to descend down your shin—and then lips. His breath wafts over your skin and he presses his lips against it as a way of greeting. 

It is the rule of this sexual practice—no speaking between the partners. And now that it’s unfolding in action, you find yourself absolutely enthralled by it.

You flutter all over, the apex of your inner thighs slick with the liquid expression of your arousal. Your heart pounds, touched by that unusual but kind gesture, and you’re curious for more. 

He rubs the place he kissed with his thumb and then… coldness. He must have withdrawn, straightened his posture, and a great oddity begins to take form in you. 

Your knees tremble, sensitive from his benevolence. 

And you wonder if he’s watching his creation, taking his time as he is for the next move. You long for it, timid, unsure of what to do with your hands. You flex them and unflex them on the leather, your lower limbs gaining momentum, and you feel your wetness trickling down onto the mat. You do well to stifle the mewls gathering in your throat and you yearn for those considerate hands of his to touch you everywhere—

He yanks you forward and, remarkably, the yelp that is flung out of you is hushed, not heard by his ears. At least you hope so—you don’t want to get in trouble, turn that kindness of his around. You’d regret that, and you’d regret that very much. 

Mr. Kim spreads your legs apart, but your femininity is concealed by those suspended tassels that tease your core, your clit, and your hip bones, the most sensitive and vulnerable parts of you. A great dose of pleasure surges through you from it and from the way those fingers of his glide upon the inner of your thigh. He reaches as far as where your shiny stain is. A low, deep breath is exuded from his chest when he feels it and he smears it along your pelvic bone and a little bit on one of your folds. 

He heightens your tremor by doing that. 

You feel bad for reacting like that, but you can’t help it—neither can you stop it. You try to keep your body still and through the opening you can see him propping his hand on your thigh, watching you do so, as if he won’t continue until he knows you’ve regained your composure. And something about that, in its own way, helps you, and it helps you tremendously. 

With his palm flat, he caresses your flesh in a circular motion to praise you for it, lifting his hand upwards and beyond your sight. Your stomach undulates and it is now that you notice the navy blue of his dress pants, the growing tent that takes shape in the middle, and owing to the calmness and the sense of safety he’s installed within you, you do the boldest thing you’ve ever done, save for leaning in to kiss Namjoon nearly two weeks ago. 

Turned on from the sight of his arousal, you grab a hold of the tassel and you begin to provoke him, deciding that you want his manhood to grow. Because of the way he treats you, you deem he deserves it. 

You move, smooth, the leather strip along your cunt, collecting your slick. You shift your hips in circles, the fabric cool and sensual in a way you never thought it would be. Your breaths come out whiny the longer you do it and when you change the direction and move up and down, you can hear his breaths, too. And maybe the blackness of the walls are messing with your mind, but you could’ve sworn, his secret noises have become whiny just the same once you pressed the tassel against your swollen clit. 

And it isn’t until you naturally feel the back of his leg with the ball of your foot that he lets you see how much your little show advanced his arousal. The print of is cock is prominent, thick in the tightness of his pants, and you want it. 

You no longer want Namjoon’s. You want his. 

The plan worked. 

And with a smile of a winner gracing your features, to celebrate you start to make yourself feel delightful. You rub your clit, still with the strip, biting your lips in order to suppress your moans, the pleasure more vivacious this time around. He’s not palming himself, he’s not doing anything at all but watching you, his hands by his sides, and perhaps to reward him—you let go of the tassel. 

You let him see your pussy. 

Shiny, swollen and needy, asking for a man you haven’t seen and won’t even see. 

How sinful, how titillating. You can’t wait to have a cigarette after this. 

His cock twitches and it beguiles you, the way your hand, without your conscious knowing, extends out and reaches for it through the hole. Your femininity, your sexuality—brazen and alive, unafraid and illimitably splendid. 

And in this situation, it is a thing of absolute sublimity, the act of him inching forward and letting you touch him, feel your own creation the way he felt his. You want his number, you want to make him come. You want him to take you out and you want to show it off on your Instagram story, hiding everyone else from seeing it except for Namjoon. A devilish laughter pricks at your throat, desperate to be heard. You sense how heavy his cock must be, how strong, how hard. It’s impossible for you to suck it as he’s not allowed to see your face, but you know the idea of it will haunt your daydreams—

He grasps a hold of your wrist, silencing your thoughts, and you hold your breath. He slides his grip down to your hand and he makes you squeeze him, his length, his balls. Your hole clenches, even your features scrunch up in need, and with your other hand you begin to help yourself, but he stops you. 

Pins your hands down on the leather. Maneuvers to firmly grapple both of your wrists on top of your tummy and uses his free hand to push you forward a little bit. Your legs dangle out, uncomfortably, and he’s so attuned to you that he notices. Leads your leg to wrap around him, the other one two, and if it weren’t for the mattress jutting out, you and him would be flush to each other. 

Body to body. 

He sucks in a breath at the first contact of his thumb and your clit. He must feel how swollen it is and he dips down to your hole, circling it there, gathering your arousal before he returns to that needy flesh, continuing his circles there. Slow, slow circles that make you writhe on the mat, the leather creaking. You lament that he can’t attach his mouth to it, regret that you chose this option because of your foolish feelings, and despite the fact you thought your plan worked and Mr. Kim alleviated your anger, the emotion bursts within you. 

Your muscles tense, your lips flatten in a tight line, your fists in his hold clench, and you’re angry. Angry, angry, angry. Hateful of your life, hateful of your body, of your heart. And in the middle of the explosion, you make a mistake. 

You growl. 

He stops his circles. 

Time beats two times before you’re yanked out of the hole, your feet landing on the parquet floors with that familiar gentleness the man bears. 

And the man… 

The man is no other but Kim Namjoon himself. The source, the epitome of your anger. 

And you feel nothing. Your shock evens out through every fraction of your nerve endings, paralyzing you. Time ceases its beats here—while you stare up at him and he stares down at you. Namjoon isn’t seized by the shock like you are, though. He begins to laugh, darkly, hushedly, humorlessly. Slides his hands into the pockets of his pants and takes a step back. 

Embeds life into time. 

“I fucking knew it was you,” he rasps, that laughter melting into nothingness until the gravity of this situation spreads across this sinful room. Heavy, heavy energy. You should feel ashamed at this very moment, you should cover yourself up, but you don’t. You don’t do anything. “I read your safe word. I thought it was a coincidence, life making fun of me. And then, I saw your butterfly tattoo, but tattoos can lie to me and it was too good to be true. But that growl… that growl of yours can’t lie to me. I know it like I know myself.”

Your growl was your response to his never-dying teasing. If he tickled you, nudged you, bugged you, the only way you would make it stop was by letting out that vexed noise of yours—and it would work. He’d laugh to himself and withdraw his hands. 

You part your mouth, but you can’t say anything. Your shock rises in you like a tidal wave that submerges in you and you drown. 

Then, a perplexing song of a mockingbird breezing through the wind outside sounds out within the room, saying things your body is unable to. 

Namjoon blinks, taken aback by your lack of retort. No words, no growls. Merely the song crooning along the spaciousness of the atmosphere. He licks his lips. 

“Why did you stop replying to my messages?” he asks, and you find it obscene that he’s inquiring about this when you’re all bare, trembling, and with your arousal dripping down your inner thighs. If anything, he should be asking you what you’re doing here, but it’s like the fact isn’t news to him. 

And what you don’t know is that he pours life into you with his bizarreness. 

Your first reaction is to scoff. Your second is to bash your fists against his chest, pushing him a step back. And Namjoon… he smirks. As if he succeeded in his plan—pulling you out of your state of shock into a blooming garden of your emotions, where you can run, where you can scream and where you can inflict violence. 

Where you can speak. 

“Why did I stop replying to your messages?” you throw it back at him, your voice rising in volume, and Namjoon straightens, delightfully watches you be full of life. “You think you can share your life with me, take me on dates, pay for me and leave it at that? Turn your head when I try to kiss you? Do you think I’m some kind of lady companion—”

“No,” he interrupts, tilting his chin up, his dominance on full display with the deepness of his voice, the width of his shoulders and his powerful stance. You drip for him, but you’re as powerful as he is. You’re equal—equally tangled up in the same sin. “You’re my Lady Beetle, aren’t you?” 

Your breath hitches, your nipples hardening, and your wetness is so, so uncomfortable, trickling down your flesh. And he provokes the pressure of your arousal in your core by that nickname, even more so when he lifts a finger and traces the freckles upon your right shoulder, the meaning behind that term of endearment, from his distance. Even more so when he sinks his fingers into the hair on the nape of your neck, uttering his following words. 

“Get back inside the cubicle.” 

But you’re not obeying. You don’t know his temper either, but you are getting yourself into trouble. And you’re not getting fucked until you know that he reciprocates your feelings. 

And you know what to do. 

“Kiss me,” you murmur, crossing the distance, inching towards his face. Namjoon tilts his head down, his lips nearly brushing against yours, and that’s all he does, nudging your anger. “Kiss me, Namjoon, or I’m walking out of this room.” 

He lets the tension simmer, unblinking, consuming your eyes from this close proximity. And when he opens his mouth, you think he’s about to kiss you, but you’re mistaken. Deadly, deadly mistaken. 

“Did you come here to forget about me?” he whispers, inching even closer until your nipples graze against the soft material of his sweater, hums in question when you don’t answer. Lifts your chin to make you look at him when your eyes stray away, your anger bubbling in you. He perceives the real you, always has, and you don’t have to say a word. Only a person intertwined with your soul could be able to do this; why won’t he act on it? 

“Did you come here to look for me?” you whisper back, pressing your torso against him until your breasts squish against his hard chest. His still hard manhood pokes you in your tummy, harder than it was when you touched him earlier, and wrap your arms around him, your hands traveling all across the width of his back until they wander down his loins, even lower to his buttocks. 

He pants, but his voice is not affected by the whirlwind of his emotions. Delicious, delicious whirlwind.

“Yes,” he says, firmly, flattening his lips and growling when you squeeze his butt. You enjoy those selfish touches so much that your grin illuminates the room, a ball of light amidst all this darkness. Your anger watches on, stunned. “What do you think? If I wanted to move on, I wouldn’t have chosen a fucking glory hole out of all the options. I’m not like you. I don’t give up. I’m patient.” 

“Patient…” You taste those words on your tongue, dwelling on them. They’re bittersweet, and you stand in the middle of your decision whether you like them or not. “What are you waiting for?” 

He sighs, lifting his hands and digging his fingertips into your ribs, holding you to him. You mirror his movements, and you let out that strained breath of yours when he bends his head and places a singular, wet kiss onto the side of your neck. 

You had asked him to kiss you, even though you didn’t specify where, but you didn’t expect your body to tingle this much and grow boneless in his unfailing hold. You cling to him with all your might—there’s nothing left for you to do. 

You’re his. Have been his since the moment you saw his watch. 

And you can’t believe you haven’t noticed that Cartier adornment when you were ogling his manhood. 

He brushes away a wispy strand of your hand before returning it back to its rightful place. “You deserve the world and I’m not there yet to give it to you. And you’re not gonna look for it elsewhere, I’m not letting that happen. I’m gonna give it to you.” 

Honesty is here at last, the explanation to his distance. You hide the fluttering joy that opens in your chest, but you do let him see the smile that begins to curve your lips. He likes you; you can live at peace now. No more anger, no more daydreams. 

“Kim Namjoon,” you breathe out, moving your hands to his sides. “Is that a promise I hear?” 

He nods, tilting his head to the side as his pupils grow large. “Yes, that’s a promise. The last relationship I was in fucked me up, but I’m gonna get right, and I want you to hold onto that promise.” 

You hum. “What does that mean for us right now?” 

He smirks, that cheek cleft enchanting you all over again. “If you want kisses, then kisses is what you’re gonna get.” 

Your smile lengthens until your cheeks hurt, heated. “I want kisses. Lots of kisses. On different places of my body, too.” 

Namjoon retreats back to your neck, peppering kisses along that column. You whimper, hands hurrying to undo the button of his pants, desperate and arbitrary. But with a disapproving noise, Namjoon stops your hasty movements. Pins your hands behind your back.

“Patience,” he whispers, gliding his lips across the kisses he left behind. Your skin prickles with goosebumps against him, your nipples so stiffened that they ache, and, most unfortunately, you moan softly in impatience. “You’re gonna learn what true patience is, little beetle.” 

Color heats your cheeks and as you grin, you bite your bottom lip. “Be my teacher, Namjoon.” 

He chokes out a groan, dizzied by the idea, one that fades into your yelp when he unexpectedly turns you around and pushes your back against his chest, your arms long and criss-crossed behind you, hands flat against his cock. 

Something tells you this lesson will be one of great difficulty for you. And of great pleasure. 

Namjoon cups your jaw, swivels your head to face him a little. “Where do you want those kisses?” 

Your quivering breath fans out across his big hand. “On my nipples.” 

At your quick answer, he makes a sound of approval and with a feathery-light touch he sails his knuckles down the right side of your chest, from your collarbone down to the beginning of your supple breast, where he stops his voyage to study your reaction. As much as you’d die for his fingers to go a little lower, you keep your tremors in tact. Even your fingers remain obedient, relaxed in their position and not tempting his temper. You close your eyes, try your bestest to hold it while you wait it out, and your slick by now creates a pool between your feet. Namjoon’s cock twitches at your goodness and he sighs a little praise into your ear, just for you to hear. It roots deeply in your gut, where it stirs the butterflies that are painted in the color of his eyes. 

His knuckles descend lower and lower, stop at the apex of your nipple, and the nearness is enough for you to stoop in your desperation. 

Something you shouldn’t have done.

Namjoon slaps that pointy flesh, coaxing such a filthy moan out of you that it reverberates through the room. The harshness, intertwined with the swift stimulation of your nipples spreads a buzzing sensation down your body, settling in your aching clit, and the loud noise you let out echoes in small whimpers, wordless pleas for more. He becomes harder in your hands, as if he could translate them, and the temptation croons at you again, telling you to squeeze him. This time, you can’t really hold back. This time, you want him to do it again.

On the other breast. 

You squeeze him, the weight of his cock an inexplicable experience that drives you to a point of carnal madness. You slide your palms along that thick length and the way he’s quiet, unspeaking, unbreathing, puzzles you and alarms you simultaneously. 

You look behind you. Catch his features screwed up in such pleasure that you whimper again, announcing that you’ve seen him in his weakest. And Namjoon is brought back into his teacher mode. He allowed himself that fraction of time for his own pleasure, perhaps for yours, too, and you’ve never discovered something so imposing. 

Your sexuality and his, interwoven, a thing of glory more magnificent than this playhouse itself. 

“Little beetle, you’re just so naughty, aren’t you?” he rasps into your ear, pressing you against him with both of his arms wrapped around your chest, nuzzling his face into your neck. He kneads your breasts hard before he slaps them, both at the same time, and you make such a mess. “So impatient, so desperate to touch and be touched. What am I gonna do with you? Can you even learn, hm?” 

Knead. Slap. Namjoon tweaks your nipples, circles them with his fingers, filling your body with such pleasure that your knees nearly give out on you. And he holds you to him by your neck, a firm grip that conveys to you that from now on, he won’t be very nice. 

And you don’t really mind. 

“Get back inside the cubicle so I can deal with you accordingly,” he mutters his order, tracing the shell of your ear with his puffy lips before he latches onto your earlobe, sucking it into his mouth briefly, making you cry out. “Do you know what happens to girls who can’t be helped?” 

Your voice is strained, impossible to use. “No.” 

“They get spanked and fucked so hard that they forget who they are,” he reveals, sailing his hands back down your body, flicking your nipples on the way, before his palms anchor at the V-shape of your private parts. He plays with your folds, stimulating your clit in that way without touching it. You grind your hips into his movements, seeking more, but he slaps your pussy for it, halting you. “That’s the only way they get salvaged.” 

And then he lets go of you. And the look he gives you is so lecherous, so dirty that your legs are jelly as you scurry to the end of the glory hole cubicle, thinking that this entire moment is speckled with glory that will haunt you for the rest of your days. 

You get back into position, your legs dangling out, and Namjoon repeats his voyage. Sails, sails down your tummy before anchoring at the mound of your cunt, but this time he doesn’t gratify you with any delight. He continues down your wet thighs and, abruptly, he turns you over, pushing you forward so your bum shows fully, your tippy toes touching the floor.

The tassels are warm and saturated with the dew of your arousal, tickling the small of your back. 

“Now listen to me,” he says, his fingers wandering all around your flesh, but not where you want him the most. “I’m not Namjoon at this moment. I’m not your teacher. In your mind, you’re gonna go back to who you thought I was before I showed myself to you. Mr. Kim. And you’re gonna address me as so, do you understand?” 

Your brows furrow and you curve your body to the side in question, not understanding this sudden change of the play. You may have wanted this fictional Mr. Kim more than you wanted Namjoon but that was before you found out that he felt the same way as you. 

“Why?” 

He massages the round, graceful cheeks of your bum, propelling you to rest your torso flat on the mat, comfortably. “Because you deserve it. Because your Namjoon isn’t where he’s supposed to be yet. So I’m not fucking you as Namjoon, I’m fucking you as Mr. Kim. This is the only time you’re getting fucked before I get right, so I suggest you enjoy every second.”

You gasp at his words, but your hole reacts first before you do, opening and closing all for his eyes to see—and they do. And he likes the view so much that he takes his thumb and perseverates the brief motion, your center coating his digit in sopping wetness. Your hips follow him and this time, he lets you. He gives you a moment to comprehend your future full of pure possibilities and kisses and you detect in your soul no disapproval. Because you’re rewarded with his heart in the end, it’s worth it. 

His heart is one of gold, one that won’t perish. 

You’ve seen it in the way he treated your mother, in the way he would stop his teasing when you had enough. In the respect he has towards you because he isn’t ready for a relationship. In the promise he gave you, even though that gold is scratched. 

You love him, and because of that you shall play his game. 

“Yes, Mr. Kim.” 

He kisses the fleshiest part of your bum, wetly, humming into your skin—another reward. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, nibbling the place he gave love to. “Try staying one.” 

You mewl, grinding into his face, desirous for a release. “Yes, sir.” 

He draws back and chuckles. “Look at you, so good all of a sudden when you’re all spread for me. You’re still getting spanked, little girl.” 

You whine, pretending that you don’t like what awaits you, when in reality you can’t wait. “Can I get another kisses after?” 

His laughter roars through the room. “Where do you want them?” 

“On my pussy, Mr. Kim.” 

He growls, swearing, his hands nowhere to be found on your body. “You’ll get lots of kisses on your pussy if you take these spanks well. Can you count them down for me?” 

You nod, but you quickly realize that he can’t see you. Your dusky world pirouettes and you’ve tumbled into a state of haziness, needing his firm hand, his dependable stability. “Yeah, I can.” 

Namjoon coos, his palm back on your bum, fondling it. “Good. Do you remember your safe word? You’re still getting those kisses if you use it, darling.” 

You dissolve into the leather, your body limp, but you do remember the magic word of utmost adoration. “Beetle.” 

A kiss on your flesh. “That’s it. Perfect. Does someone you know call you by that nickname?” he asks and you giggle, the comfort and the safety of the moment almost lulling you to sleep. “From ten, little beetle.” 

And he rouses you from your sleepiness by landing a sharp spank on the cheek that he made so tender. The pain is so acute, so good that you almost forget to utter out the number, swimming in the sensation as you are, but Mr. Kim isn’t upset by it. No, he helps you. 

“What number was that?” 

“Ten.” 

“Ten, that’s right. You’re doing so good.” 

Mr. Kim’s kindness enters you all over again, liquifies between your legs, and you moan out. The following sting of his palm is greater than the previous one and your chest arches off the leather, but you like it. Even though he doesn’t alleviate the spank, lets only the air make it better, you still like it—so much that you don’t make a mistake and count it down. 

“Nine.” 

And he repeats it after you, spanking you again and again until the skin of your left cheek is inflamed, burning red, and the perception of the pricks is too much for you to handle. But taking after him, you don’t give up. Grit your jaw, flex your fists, scream out the numbers until you reach one and that side of your bum feels numb. 

And Mr. Kim praises you for it so lasciviously that you can only whine in response, your little noises muffled by the leather. 

“Good girl. You took your punishment so well. Your ass is so prettily red, oh my God. You’re gonna get those kisses now. So, so many of them until you come all over my tongue. Spread your legs even more for me.”

You do as he says, mind blank, and you hear the thud of his knees hitting the floor. That alone makes you drool, the sound of his submission, let alone his satisfied groan when he attaches his mouth to your pussy lips.

And you can’t voice out the surplus of your emotions, the unrestrained joy that you feel because you’re being eaten out by a man that you love, but because of their boisterous nature, they come out nonetheless. Out of your tear ducts, out of the corner of your mouth in the form of drool and little muted noises that are impossible for anyone to hear but you. And you fail him. You can’t imagine a fictional person sucking on your clit like that, that feels as though your soul is being yanked out of you like you were so many times upon this night. No, only Namjoon can do this to you—and so, privately, you bask in it. In Namjoon’s tongue swirling circles on your clit; in Namjoon’s lips sucking them so hard that you lose track of time, surroundings and your own being. In Namjoon’s hands shaking your bum in his face; in his fingers rubbing rapid side-to-side motions on your wet clit from the front when he fucks you with his tongue from the back. 

You’re transported to a place that is neither heaven nor paradise. A place he, himself, must have brought into existence by the energy of his utter devotion for you. And you make it real when you come—sprinkle him with the fountain of your essence that contains the molecules of the universe he created for you. And you float, you float, you float. And he seizes the gravity by praising you for squirting for him, for coming so well and making the best of your so-deserved kisses. 

And then his pants flop to the floor, his sweater—until the only things he’s wearing are his watch, his bracelet and his affection for you. You turn your body halfway so you can see him, the wholeness of his manliness that is aching for you, dripping for you like you’re dripping for him, and his cock is so hard that it points up to his abdomen. You’ve never seen anything like this before and you grow so savagely hungry for it that you begin to suck on your index finger.

Purposefully loudly, smacking your mouth. 

Namjoon chuckles, darkly, and the warmth of that expression of his pulsates in you. “Oh, you’ll be sucking on this cock, too, don’t you worry, my beetle. I just need to feel your pussy around me.” 

Oh, the slip-up. He feels this on the same wavelength as you—no Mr. Kim, no anonymity. Only Namjoon and you. If you were unsure of his feelings before, you can’t be unsure now. The universe he created palpitates around you and you’re so drunk on all of this new knowledge that when he buries himself inside your heat, you can’t let him in. Your walls are compressing so tightly with your still-yet growing arousal that you clamp down on him, but at the sound of his torturous moans, you suck him in. 

And he doesn’t go easy on you. 

With his hard, hard, and long shaft he begins to fuck you, violently. He rams into you without any mercy, lifting your leg onto the mat and entering you more deeply, curling his hips to kiss and kiss your cervix again and again. His strokes are reverberated throughout your whole body—your nipples rub against the leather, your head rocks against it in a way that turns you feral, you gag on your finger, your clit is teased with those relentless pounds. You’re helpless, but also boundless, being fucked like that, and you realize, with your dumb, blank and empty brain, that you’re extensively getting your best friend’s money’s worth. 

And Namjoon elevates your experience. 

He reaches through the hole and roughly captures your hair in his fist, popping your finger out of your mouth. Decides it’s not enough, decides you’ve had enough of the hole time and he pulls you out, all while still being inside of you. Straightens you against him, grasps your jaw while his other hand slips down to your clit. 

And the side-to-side motions are brutal. Mean. So dominant in the way he keeps the contact light, barely stimulating you, but stimulating you, regardless. 

“You think you can gag on your little finger and that it does nothing to me?” he scolds, pinching your clit, and your growl is scratchy, raspy, so fucked out. He’s reprimanding you, but his words don’t reflect his actions. Namjoon kisses you everywhere he can reach. Ear, cheek, jaw, neck. So frantically, so impatiently. “Have you learned nothing?” 

You pant, your orgasm so awfully close from being bound but unbound at the same time, fucked slowly and torturously as Namjoon begins to move, grinding against you. But he has to stop—because if he doesn’t, you’re gonna come all over his cock, right in the center of this room. He’s teasing your build-up, just like you imagined he would, letting it rise and letting it fall in short intervals. 

But he has pity on you, stemming from his affection. A cold, cold pity that you need for the heat rippling through you. 

“Get on the bed. On your knees.” 

He pulls himself out of you and urges you forward—towards the hanging bed. And you don’t care to ponder if it will move under your weight. All you can think about is his dick as you crawl onto that bed that does not wobble at all, but remains perfectly offset. You sit back on your folded legs and wait for him—watch him take those leisurely, effortless steps like he did at the start of this evening. Only this time, you get to see it with your eyes. His tall height, his swaying shoulders, flat abdomen and that hard cock, glistening with your slick. Carmine, aching. 

You lick your lips. Prop yourself on your knuckles in front of you, back arched. Realize he kissed you everywhere, but on your mouth. And so you pout—and you make puppy eyes at him. 

He smooths down a flyaway on your sweaty hairline, endeared. “What’s wrong?” 

“You haven’t kissed me on the lips.” 

Namjoon smiles down at you, dejectedly. Curls your hair behind your ear, grabs you by the back of your neck, calls to attention all the butterflies in your tummy. “I’m sorry.” 

And he captures your mouth. As Namjoon, as a golden-hearted man that longs to give you the world, and you can vividly feel it. Mr. Kim doesn’t exist anymore and Namjoon seals that fact in when he prods his tongue inside, toying with yours before retreating back, moaning into the kiss. 

A kiss that was more than a kiss. 

And you have to kiss him again when he takes a moment to breathe. You have to devour him, clasp your hand around his wet cock as you do so—and Namjoon has to push your head down, fucking your mouth until your tears freely escape from all directions. He grips your hair tight, holds you to him from the side, plunging in and out of your throat however he pleases, your gagging noises encouraging him to possess every inch of you. Your mascara zigzags down your face in clumps—and once Namjoon’s pity flickers in him all over again, he lifts you and kisses you so nastily that you fade into nothingness. 

Then, you’re on your back and he pounds that nothingness. Uses your thighs as leverage as you’re just laying there, a hole and nothing else. Perhaps the cubicle changed your life to such an extent that you’ve become it. You shall never forget it—even now it is scattered all across your vision as you’re fucked into oblivion, the skin-slapping sounds and your pussy squelching around him accompanying your memory of the dark wood, the fairy lights, the restraints you never used.

The sex was too personal, too intimate for you to do so. Even before you discovered that Mr. Kim was Namjoon. Your body recognized his, your mind too blind, too preoccupied with your anger that is now healed. 

As if Namjoon could read your thoughts, he pumps into you with a hard thrust, eternalizing it. 

“Focus on me,” he growls and you squeak, hiccuping into every movement. It feels as though he’s blocking your throat with how deeply he’s ravaging you and you can only nod. 

You can only moan his name. 

“Namjoon. Yes, yes, yes—oh, Namjoon.” 

He laughs, that articulation of his joy abating in your mouth as he bends to kiss you, fully buried in you. And then he pulls out, presses his heavy cock on your cunt, lifts your head by grabbing your hair, consuming your mouth as if you were everything he ever lacked in his life. 

“Grind your pussy on it, it’s yours, my little beetle.” 

You whine, pucker your mouth against his, spinning your hips in circles, his cock so wet and so sticky from your happy juices. 

“Joonie, Joonie bug.” 

He closes his eyes, moaning all in your face, the principle of you softening and connecting his persona to yours absolutely ruining him. He tightens his grip on your hair, sinks himself inside you with his other hand and then sticks those soaked fingers inside your mouth. All four of them, gagging you. 

“Little beetle and big Joonie bug, hm. How do we taste?” His tone is so low that it penetrates your skin, paralyzing your senses until only one remains. Until all you know is the bitter-sweetness of his precum and the tanginess of your slick. And he doesn’t draw his fingers back, he continues to control your gags until he paints your face in another set of pretty black tears. “Tell me. How do we taste?” 

You growl around him, the sound he knows, and he pounds you for it, a thrust that hurts but feels good at the same time. You suck on his fingers, a trail of your drool trickling down from your connection, and Namjoon grunts. Slides his fingers out of your mouth and places them right on your clit. 

Rapid, rapid rubs. And equally rapid strokes. 

“Come,” he orders, and it’s like he flicked his fingers and made your body come. You didn’t have to do a thing. “Good. Finally. It feels so good, doesn’t it? Coming around my cock after all this time. Joonie bug is right there with you. Just a little bit more.” 

He’s given life to your orgasm by his words. A storm erupts, clearing out everything negative that was ever seeped throughout your soul. Your body quakes, submitted to him through and through, at his disposal to make himself come—until your orgasm is so milky that you can’t see. Your vision is dotted with white, with tiny glazing stars that must be hung up in the sky just like this bed. And Namjoon brings you to him, lips to lips, needing you as he fucks you through your mutual release, and those stars splotch him with their dust. 

You squirt all over him, for the second time around. And you don’t stop, the twitching of his cock, the warmth of his cum as he keeps stuffing you full of it, the unfaltering hardness of his thick shaft roll in your tiny orgasms, those little fountains of boundless pleasure that drench him, give him the likeness of those stars. He’s turned on your squirting ability and there’s no way back. No, no way back. 

Namjoon is exhausted as he pulls out—and you already feel so empty, so lonely. His cum streams out of you, staining the bed, and it saddens you so much that you reach into your heat to collect it, plunging your fingers into your mouth, eating him. And you moan, at his male taste, for the last time. 

“Fuck, don’t do that. I can’t go again.” He wipes down his face, a gleaming man that has your entire identity woven into his veins that run all across his arms, and you love him. You love him so drastically that you can’t get on your feet on your own, can’t make a decision of your own, can’t live without him. 

He fucked you so well that he attached you to himself. 

A wave of strange emotions engulf you. 

“Namjoon,” you whimper, tears burning each corner of your eyes, and you don’t know what to do, you don’t know what is happening. He lifts his head, round eyes blinking, and he’s so quick to cradle you into his arms, letting you cling to him, letting you wrap your legs around his torso like a baby. And that’s precisely how you feel—like a baby. 

“Talk to me,” he encourages, caressing your back in circles, and you moor your face in his neck, inhaling his individual bodily scent. So masculine, so heady, so intoxicating. You sob, running your fingers through his misty, blond-streaked hair, needing to be even closer to him than is physically possible. 

Namjoon shushes you, kissing your shoulder, giving you the strength to speak, giving you the identification of what you’re feeling. 

“This was so intense,” you croak out and Namjoon hums, halting his touch to focus on you wholly. “Emotionally. I feel much closer to you. Too close.” 

And he’s not running out of things to give you. He gives you kisses on your neck that bear no sexual context—romantic, reassuring kisses that ease up your muscles, that part the raging thunder of your emotions. And he gives you such comfort that you feel as though you’re floating upon an open body of water, as free as a human being can be. 

“What we did was intense but it was right. What you’re feeling is normal. I’m feeling it, too. We’ve been hiding our feelings for so long and we let them out just now, so it’s overwhelming. It’s okay. You’re good. Such a good girl, my good little lady beetle, tiniest girl beetle in the whole universe. I will protect you from the other bugs. Let’s get this make-up off, hm?” 

You nod, sob and laugh softly at that solace. Namjoon carries you into the shower. Lets the cold water streak down on you while you shield yourself from it, nearly slipping off his grasp. Namjoon chuckles, hoisting you higher, taking a step back to wash you completely clean. You scream and his chuckle deepens, getting you away from the iciness by pressing you against the tiles. 

He truly won’t stop teasing you. 

The water turns warm by the time he fetches the make-up remover. Pouring some on a large cotton pad, he cleanses the remnant of your sex tears, the physical memory of how good he fucked you and how he bound your soul to his. He’s careful around your eyes, focusing so intently that his lip is caged between his teeth. Once he’s finished, he kisses you—with Mr. Kim’s gentleness. 

Washes you clean, especially thoroughly between your legs. Embraces you in the shower and lets you feel—creates a safe space for your feelings. 

And then he’s dressing you in the clothes you came here in. A dark green dress that ends at your ankles. He makes sure to kiss your butterfly tattoo as he smooths down the skirt and you think you’re ready to marry him. 

You want to meet his mother. Not now, not after what you’ve done together. But someday soon. And you want your mother to meet his. 

“I need a cigarette,” you comment as he’s scrunching your hair with a towel. He himself has changed into a pair of clean black dress pants and a plain white shirt, almost oversized. An outfit that made your mouth water. “Like right now. And at least two.” 

He huffs out a laugh. “You can smoke on the balcony. I’ll have one with you. Do you want a drink?” 

Your eyes light up. Your whole body, too. 

Placing a bathrobe around your shoulder, he gently slaps your butt and guides you forward to the balcony. He grabs that bottle of red wine you had opened and joins you.

Two chairs, one small round table in the middle. The view of the entire Seoul city and a fucking statue in the corner of the balcony. 

A beautiful girl, half dressed. The fabric of her forever garment falls off her chest and you’ve never seen a more spectacular sculpture in your life. You enkindle your cigarette and touch her cool face, feel yourself immersed in her seductive beauty. One day you shall be just like her—once Namjoon comes to collect you. Not a doll, but a girl. 

“Take a picture of me,” you say, getting into position, only to realize that Namjoon has been snapping pictures of you while you were acknowledging yourself with the statue. With a cigarette hanging limply in the corner of his mouth. 

You can’t love him any deeper. 

You pose with her. Mirror her body language, even shake off your bathrobe and let your straps fall off your body like her. Private pictures just for him and for you—a reminder for what awaits you. 

A future full of pure possibilities. And sex, lots of and lots of sex. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild , @jjk7k , @parkinglot-nights , @bethvar , @Sexytholland , @yoongibaybee , @crystaleah ,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan , @euphoricmyth , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk .

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[thevoidstaredback]

The plan was set and the game had begun.

There was a meeting on the Watchtower exactly three days after the Bat Clan had decided to mess with the Justice League, so that's when they planned to set everything in motion.

Robin couldn't be at the meeting because it fell during school hours, so Nightwing had come to the meeting with Batman. He'd already had the day off, so it wasn't too much of a hasel. Red Hood and Red Robin had both wanted to come, but they also had civilian duties to take care of.

When the meeting was over, the 'main leaguers', as many others had dubbed them, stayed behind as they always did. Normally, it was just so they all could catch up, sometimes to arrange another meeting, or even to discuss more sensitive topics.

This time, when everyone but Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Arrow, Green Lantern, The Flash, Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, Cyborg, and Nightwing had left the room, Nightwing threw his arm across Batman's shoulders and said "You all should come to the Cave!"

All conversation stopped as everyone turned to look at the black and blue clad vigilante. For a long moment, no one spoke or moved. Then, Batman nodded.

"Perfect!" Nightwing's smile got even bigger.

"Um," Superman, the sweet midwesterner, flicked his eyes over to Batman's face before looking at Nightwing. "Are you sure? Bat's has never let any of us into Gotham, let alone the Bat Cave."

Nightwing winked at the hero, his domino mask not hiding it, "Yeah, well, me and the others managed to wear him down. Besides, we've all wanted to give you guys a tour! We've been to all your secret hideouts, so we figured it's about time you saw ours!"

"I'm sorry," Green Lantern raised his hand slightly, "'Others'?"

Nightwing blinked, his smile dropping. Batman straightened up. "Did you-" Nightwing cut himself off, "You do know how many of us there are in Gotham, right?"

The heroes all looked at one another. Sure, they'd heard that there was two, maybe three, working with Batman, but nothing had ever been confirmed aside from Robin working with Batman and Nightwing working in Bludhaven.

Batman fought very hard to keep a smirk off his face. Nightwing didn't even try to hide his amusement.

Wonder Woman was the one to ask, "There are rumors, but I can't say any of us know exactly how many heroes work within Gotham City limits."

Nightwing and Batman shared a glance. This added so much more to their game. They had to tell the others! This was already so much fun, but it was about to get so much better!

"Then, I guess you all have no choice but to come to the Cave with us so you can meet everyone!" Nightwing exclaimed.

The eight heroes shared looks with one another before looking back at Batman and Nightwing. Their choice was obvious to the two Bats before the group had even decided.

"Alright," Aquaman said, "When would you like us to stop by?"

Right on script. Batman said, "Meet here tomorrow at fifteen-hundred New Jersey time. We'll be here to bring you down to the Cave." Then, he left, Nightwing trailing behind him.

"Cool," Flash nodded, "Cool, cool. Totally not nerve wracking at all."

Cyborg stood from his seat. "Don't be nervous, Flash. We're actually being allowed in Gotham. Batman doesn't let anyone in Gotham."

"No," Green Arrow said, "He doesn't let anyone operate in Gotham. I've been many times."

"As Green Arrow or as a civilian?"

He fell silent and the others all laughed. He joined them.

"Regardless," Martian Manhunter said, "I think it's good he's allowing us to see his main base of operations."

"Yeah," agreed Superman, "I wonder what it'll be like."

Wonder Woman was the next to stand from her seat. "It will be quite the tour, I'm sure."

Part 2 Part 4

[bonesandchalamet]

predictable - c.fisher

masterlist

requested: y- “Can you do a conrad fisher x reader where the readers family has a house next to theirs so they grew up going to cousins for the summers (cons age), and they are in love w each other but don’t want to admit it and everyone notices it around them/teases them. maybe a flash ward to their wedding in a couple of years and everyone’s speeches are like “yeah i won the bet they would be married by now” or smth like that?“

pairings: conrad fisher x fem!reader

warnings: fluff + jokes

a/n: I hope I did this justice anon! xx there are NO spoilers of book 2 or season 2!

you can hear his voice. it’s muffled, he sounds like he’s in your kitchen, a blessing of having the bedroom right above it, but you can hear him talking to your mother.

you don’t have time to think, you just fling your legs over your mattress and rush down the stairs at an appropriate pace. you’d just woke up, maybe not your best state to be in, but you couldn’t wait to see conrad fisher. the boy next door.

he’d gone to Princeton, smart cookie if you say so yourself, and you hadn’t seen him since last summer. in fact, you only saw him maybe once or twice outside of the neighborhood and that was getting ice cream and groceries. other than that, you live by the fence that separates your yards waiting to hear the laughter and conversations from the Conklin and fisher kids.

“just tomatoes? are you sure? I can go pick out some basil—“

“no, no laurel will kill you if you do any more yard work! I can get it.” you hear conrad protest. the fisher family was used to your parents generosity, the beautiful vegetable garden grew right on the fisher/y/l/n house line, the family was more than welcome to eat and take whatever they wanted, but it didn’t stop them from being kind enough to ask. Susannah raised those boys right.

“are you sure?”

“what’s going on?” you ask, it’s like the words floated out of you when you saw him. his brown hair a little longer than normal, his t-shirt a bit smaller on him, and he’s wearing small navy blue swim trunks. a sight to make any girl swoon for a fisher.

“oh, y/n, do you think you can help conrad get some more tomatoes from the vines? it seems to be the fisher-Conklin clan has run out.” your mother hands you Susannah’s woven basket that conrad was once holding. your mother looks at you with pleading eyes but she knows you’ll do anything that has conrad fisher involved.

“happy to.” you take the basket in your hand and gesture for conrad to follow. he thanks your mother once again and follows along out the back door. you can hear not only just your heartbeat, but the blood rushing to your ears.

being alone with Conrad was sometimes awkward. at least to you it always felt that way, because you never knew how to be around him as yourself. you were so deeply in love with him that just being in his presence was enough to make you fumble over your words.

“here I can get the tomatoes.” conrad pushes past you, his shoulder brushing against your body, you could smell his cologne, the salty ocean in his hair, and the mixture of the laundry detergent Susannah uses. it was an intoxicating smell, one to make your world spin.

“you sure? they are kind of all over the place.” you chuckle setting the basket down into the grass. you start picking the beautiful blush red ones and gently place them in the basket along side the ones conrad was picking. every so often your hands would brush or you’d about pick the same tomato. you both would blush and apologize instantly for the connection.

“would you guys just kiss already! you’re making me nauseous.” Jeremiah calls over the fence line from the pool, he’s watched about every embarrassing second of you and his brothers interactions.

“come on, con!” Steven hollers, it’s loud enough for the neighbors on the other side of their house to snicker at the boys energy for far too early in the morning.

“I don’t know what their problem is.” Conrad says and it’s only for you two to hear. he’s picked up the basket from the grass now, you’re stuck with holding a few more tomatoes that he claims would be more than enough for everyone.

“no seriously, just keep those ones.”

“we have enough inside, just take them—“

“fine,” he huffs out an annoyed sigh and watches you dump them into the basket, “can I at least make you breakfast with them?”

“sounds like a plan to me.”

that day, he made you more than breakfast. he made you feel the most indescribable feeling of love and excitement. he left you walking home as beat red as those tomatoes you picked. you could thank Steven and Jeremiah for their pressure and tease, because conrad fisher did in fact kiss you that morning.

—

FUTURE

“I’m so happy for these guys because today I became twenty dollars richer,” Jeremiah pauses, the laughter of friends and family make you both blush, “so thank you Steven for believing they would never get married. here’s to the bride and the groom!” Jeremiah holds his champagne glass up, others in the room follow.

“you really bet we would get married?” Conrad turns to his brother who passes the microphone to belly before sitting down beside him.

Jeremiah’s hands clap his brothers shoulder, “we also made a bet that you’d kiss her that summer. belly also made a bet that you’d have tomatoes on the menu, looks like you guys are the most predictable couple ever.”

[bones4thecats]

Can I get the rise boys having a vulnerable moment with human S/o, and they tell the boys that they’re beautiful to them? After having to live in the sewers and have limited contact with people for their looks, I think they all need to hear it :)

┗ Wholehearted; Rise! Brothers × S/O ┛

Characters: Raphael, Leonardo, Donatello, and Michelangelo (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) A/N: This is kind of short and straight to the point. I couldn't think of multiple different scenarios, so I went with one being where you can just insert their name again. Anyways, hope you enjoy this, Anon! ⇘ Summary: When you notice your boyfriend started to distant himself, you visit him in the lair. But, instead of finding your boyfriend in his normal mood, you find him crying in his room. Now, only comforting him is on your mind.

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┕━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┙

❤️💙💜🧡 Ever since the day you met {Turtle}, you knew how he acted when under pressure. Whether it was pressure to be the perfect brother or the perfect member of the team no matter what, it all got to him so quickly and deeply.

❤️💙💜🧡 But, when his role as a boyfriend came into the mix, his insecurities nearly tripled. It only made it worse that his S/O was a human. They were gone for a majority of the day, leaving him feeling lonely. He began to despise his appearance, leading him to begin pulling away from his S/O.

❤️💙💜🧡 They noticed and felt odd. Their {Turtle} was never like this. He only pulled away when he felt like his emotions would take over - essentially he did it to protect his S/O. And they knew that wasn't the case.

❤️💙💜🧡 After about a week of waiting, they went to the lair, looking for their turtle boyfriend. Obviously, they found Splinter watching some TV in the living room, the other three of his sons most likely ding their own things somewhere. He smiled and waved, asking if they were looking for their 'Lover-Boy'.

"Yeah, is he here?"

"Yep. {Turtle} is in his room."

"Thanks, Splinter."

"Not a problem, child."

❤️💙💜🧡 When they reached {Turtle}'s door, they pressed their ear against it, hearing a sound. A conversation that long passed then rung in their mind, a conversation with {Turtle}.

"If you ever feel down, I will be right there for you. Okay?" "Yeah." They sniffed, feeling their boyfriend's large hands wipe their tears off their cheeks. "I love you." {Turtle}'s eyes widened as his cheeks heated up from being flustered. "I love you too, Y/N." He said.

❤️💙💜🧡 That was the day they first said 'I love you'. Those words hung in their head and they mustered up the courage to open the door. Inside, on his bed, was the mutant turtle. His face was in his hands as he cried.

❤️💙💜🧡 He looked up abruptly and away when he noticed his S/O standing there. {Turtle} tried to stop his tears, but his S/O got to him faster than he believed he could. They held his face in their hands and asked what was bothering him so much.

"It's nothing."

"Malarkey. What's going on?"

"It's just... why do you stay with me? It's not like I can go out and spend time with you at any time of the day or night. I'm a... freak..."

"First off." His tears were being wiped, "you're far from a monster. We've fought worse, from the Foot Clan's reanimated leader to aliens that looked like slime-spiders." They then sat down on his lap, wrapping their arms around him. "Monster is something that is far from what you are. You're unique, and I adore that about you, {Turtle} Hamato."

❤️💙💜🧡 He looked into you eyes and a smile began to form on his face as kisses were placed all over him.

"Okay! Okay! I get it!" He laughed.

"There's the beautiful smile I wanted to see."

"You think I'm beautiful?" He asked.

"You're the most beautiful creature I have ever had the blessing of laying my eyes upon." They replied, eyes staring into his own as he smiled and looked back.

❤️💙💜🧡 The next thing he knew, their lips were on one another's. Their first kiss! While he wanted it to happen in a more 'natural' setting, {Turtle} couldn't lie when he thought...

"I wouldn't have my life any other way."

[evilminji]

You know what would be HILARIOUS?

For everyone NOT involved in the situation?

If the Uzumaki, mad lads that they were, seal master's who routinely moon the Shinigami for funsies that they are, got SUUUUUPER drunk? And were like?

"F-! *hic!* FUCK your fancy ass Summons contract Himiko! I got one TOO, you know. A..An' it's TOTALLY better then yours! It's got BLACKJACK! And hookers!" *falls on their face unconscious*

Needless to say? Not their proudest moment. Actually, their kinda deeply embarrassed. But like FUCK ARE THE BACKING DOWN! Their mouths wrote a check their ass can't currently cash... so the only REASONABLE solution? Apologize and tell the truth? Psh! NO.

Break Reality Until It's TRUE.

THEN they weren't technically lying!

They're a GENIUS~☆! :D

And yes, yes this IS normal behavior for them. It's both cultural AND genetic. There was a REASON people were terrified of those insane mother fuckers.

Because? They just? MADE UP a A Summons Contract. With Who? Dunno! We're gonna find out! But it looks right Seals wise! *signs name before anyone with sense can stop them, does the signs, draws blood aaaand?*

POOF!

Nani THE FUCK!? Says local dead Japanese 16th century fisherman who was flying by to visit the Lair of his buddy the 14th century monk. Behold! A FUCKING ZONE GHOST! He is unsummoned before he can react.

The Uzumaki have A Ghost Contract™.

.........th....they may have fucked up.

YOU THINK?

Roars basicly the ENTIRE Elders council. Who FUCKING FELT THAT. Because EVERYONE Felt that. They're SENSOR. That was a HOLE in REALITY that somehow GLOWED like a BEACON of both absolute Nothingness and Death! You TRAUMATIZED THE KIDS, YOU ASSHOLE!

Still....they ARE ninja. And Curious mother fuckers to the last.

So basically EVERYONE and their dog signs it. They somehow get WEIRDER. Bigger Chakra reserves. Obsessive tendencies. Meh, you win some, you lose some.

But? Then they fuckin DIE. (And their WHOLE ASS VILLAGE SHOWS UP IN THE ZONE. OH GOD, WHAT-!?)

And some grave robbing fuck tries to use the Contract. SUPRISE MOTHERFUCKER!

Ghost Uzumaki!

Your literal worst nightmare!

They DO NOT try using it again. It gets sealed DEEP. Until the Hokage gets wind of it. And, of course, Danzo. The Hokage sends Hound. And Team Kakashi on a completely unrelated but nearby "help a farmer" mission. Danzo sends assassins. Because he's fucking awful.

Kakashi gets the scroll.

Yep. Creepy rambling and shit handwriting, def Uzumaki. Time to go.

He gets attacked on the way back to camp. GDI Root. Well, its you or me. Sucks for you, I guess. They fight. They get a lucky shot. He bleeds on the scroll, doesn't notice. But SURELY... SURELY it isn't CROWDED enough with names that the Uzumaki just added a "and anyone who bleeds on THIS part at the bottom _______ plus does the handsigns" towards the end.... RIGHT??

RIGHT?! Look him in the EYES Uzumaki Clan, RIGHT??!

They would prefer not to answer that. The Vibez here are getting REALLY aggressive, you know? >.> It made sense at THE TIME...

So... he goes to summon his Dogs.

And he SURE DOES GET UM.... plus One(1!!!).

Who the FUCK is this glowing green dog? A puppy? Kakashi seeing the dimwitted looking little thing about to get STABBED tries to rescue it. It takes one look look at him (worried for it), the other dogs (growling at his enemies, fighting) and... turns around, shifting as it does, to HUNDREDS of times it's previous size.

Like an Akimichi transformation.

A sudden, hulking, green WOLF with red glowing eyes and killing intent that would Rival a demon's. The howl is unearthly. It joins the fray like a meat thresher.

Then pops back to a floating, tongue lolling, dimwitted pup the second everything is done.

G...God boy?

Far be it for KAKASHI to fear a dog, no MATTER how dangerous. So he carries it back to camp. Where it seems to instant fall in LOVE with Naruto. They become the BEST of friends.

There's frolicking.

Looking down at the pocket with the scroll he reclaimed? Yeah. Yeah that tracks. According to Pakkun, the pup has a "weird, echo-y" accent and is incredibly scatter brained. Training to be a gaurd dog? WAS Training. IS currently... what.

Okay. IS currently the gaurd dog/pet of an Emperor. Because THATS not alarming. Did the Royal family all... wait... he examines the pup again. Transparent. Was it KILLING intent he felt... or a Deathy pressure? Didn't the Uzumaki have Forbidden soul and death seals? It would stand to REASON...

Oh god damn it.

Pakkun. Pakkun please tell me that pup is ALIVE.

(He can not.) (Hilariously? Dispite being TERRIFIED of Ghosts? Naruto is TOTALLY COOL with Zone Ghosts? Don't be MEAN, Sensei! They're just PEOPLE! It's not THEIR fault They're dead! Now GHOSTS? Spooky and EVIL! Totally different.)

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @legitimatesatanspawn @mayfay

[rekino2114]

Can I ask for an ask of reader kissing makes scars and burns after the zenin massacre

Kissing maki zenin's scars

Spoilers for the jjk manga

You sat on your bed thinking about what just happened. Your girlfriend knocked on your door covered in blood and told you she just massacred her entire clan and that her sister died, you were obviously shocked by it but still hugged her and let her in.

She took the opportunity to use your shower to clean the blood off of herself while you waited you thought about how terrible maki must feel after mai's death, you wanted to console her, to tell her that you were there for her and that you would never judge her for what she did, the zenins were all assholes anyways.

Your thoughts were interrupted by maki coming out of the shower only wearing a towel, you blushed a lot but couldn't stop staring, you had to admit your girlfriend was really attractive especially after she got those burns in shibuya.

"What are you staring at?"

"S-Sorry, it's just that you look good with the burns"

"You think so? Naoya said they made me look ugly"

"You mean that sexist jerk? Why are you listening to him?"

"I wasn't, but still, thanks,"

"No problem I love you maki never forget that"

She smiled slightly and blushed, she really needed to heat that.

"......do you mind....if we cuddle?"

"Yeah sure I'll go change you wait"

"A-actually, are you comfortable with me kissing your scars? We don't have to if you don't want to but you really look like you need some kisses for comfort"

Maki blushed and sighed, normally she would probably deny such a request but after the events of the day you were the last thing she had left, the last person she could love and be loved and comforted by, she knew she needed comfort so she agreed.

She asked you to close your eyes, took the towel off and laid down on your bed. When you opened your eyes you were met with your girlfriend's bare back littered with burns and scars that you immediately put your arms around and started to press your lips to,making sure that maki could feel your love with each kiss.

"Thank you this...actually feels really nice"

"It's the least I can do, please just know that you can always come to me for anything, I love you"

In this very rare moment of vulnerability, maki felt like everything that happened had been washed away from her, your sweet words and kisses were enough to make her feel at least slightly better, and yet she felt like crying at the same time, the idea of you being ripped away from her like mai filled her head and she knew she just couldn't possibly handle that. Even if she stopped herself from crying, her next words still came out sounding so sad.

"......please don't ever leave me......I-I love you too much to lose you"

"Don't worry I promise you I'll never abandon you, I will always be with you, through everything, I love you too"

Maki felt her lips curve upwards ever so slightly at your reassurance. She knew you loved her just as much as she loved you. Right there, she made another promise to mai's spirit:she would always protect and love you no matter what, you were the most important person in her life, she wasn't going to lose you no matter what.

[shanastoryteller]

happy winter time! naruto, dealer's choice. thank you!

a continuation of 1

Sakura is terrified that she’s going to mess this up.

Naruto’s never been mean to her, and has complimented her hair several times, but they’re not really friends. Back when she was friends with Ino, she’d see her at the Yamanaka compound sometimes and they’d play together, but she doubts Naruto remembers that.

Sakura doesn’t think she and Sasuke have ever had an actual conversation. He used to be the center of all their competitive crushes, to his hilarious dismay, but then he got betrothed to Naruto and no one was willing to piss off the hokage’s daughter by flirting with her fiance.

Well, besides Ino, but everyone knows she does it just because Sasuke hates it and Naruto feels duty bound to defend him.

Also because Shikamaru ended up taking Sasuke’s place as Cutest (and Available) Boy and Ino would rather stab herself in the eye than bat her eyelashes at Shikamaru, even if that means there’s a social game she can’t win.

Sakura's on a team with son of the Uchiha clan head and the hokage’s daughter, Rookie of the Year and Top Kunoichi, and their sensei isn’t even some normal jounin, but the Inuzuka clan head.

Tsume-sensei seems dismayed when they pass, although Sakura thinks she should have expected this. Naruto and Sasuke have been working as a team for even longer than they’ve been engaged.

Maybe she’s just surprised that they folded Sakura in with them instead of leaving her behind. Honestly, she’s pretty surprised by that too.

“Does this mean we get a dog?” Naruto asks brightly as Sasuke picks twigs out of her hair. “Mom says I only get one pet and doesn’t believe me that the frog doesn’t count.”

“No,” Tsume-sensei snaps, then, “Maybe, I don’t know. I hadn’t actually expected that I’d have to train you, fuck.”

Sakura can’t see this going well.

~

Naruto walks home with Sasuke, because her mother is working late to avoid her father and her father is working late to avoid the fact that her mother is working late to avoid him.

She wishes they’d just get a divorce. Maybe they will now that she’s legally an adult. Maybe she’ll move out and take herself out of the equation.

She won’t. But she thinks about it a lot.

“Maybe it’s good that it’s Tsume,” she says. “Sakura’s biggest weakness is her conditioning and you know that Tsume will train us into the dirt.”

Sasuke hums. “Maybe we should introduce her to Gai.”

She stares. “Do you hate Sakura?”

“She’s fine,” he says dismissively. “It’s too bad we didn’t get Hinata, but both my father and hers would have thrown a fit and gone to complain to yours. He’s the best at taijutsu, if she joins Team Nine’s morning workouts then she’ll be up to par in no time.”

“If it doesn’t kill her,” Naruto says dryly. “Why don’t we see what Tsume cooks up first, yeah? The first chunin exam is months away. She has time.”

“How do you know Tsume will sign us up for that one?” he asks, although by the glint in his eye he already knows.

Naruto answers anyway. “Tsume is going to take the first opportunity to get rid of us that she can, which would be the chunin exams. She’ll be praying for us to either pass or die.”

He laughs, a breathy sound that wouldn’t qualify coming from anyone else.

They arrive at the Uchiha compound and she stares at it wistfully. After helping uncover the almost betrayal, every Uchiha is nice to her now. The compound is so warm and bright and everyone is happy to see her and there’s always somewhere she can go.

“You can join me,” Sasuke says. “Mom always makes extra.”

Just in case she shows up.

“They’ll be expecting me to be home after the test,” she says, trying not to sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Sasuke nods, a pinched look on his face that she pretends not to notice.

When they get married, she hopes they live in the compound.

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ anon request: Could I request Kaeya, Neuvillette, Ayato, and Wriothesley with a dragon s/o?

Also, how are you?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Yeah!! I kinda sillies in Kaeya's part but I hope it's not a problem- Either way, I'm good! Snd you~? ^^

Hope you like what I wrote hehe

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

✧ Kaeya noticed dragon-like looking person when he was walking back home from Angel's Share, so naturally, he thoughts it's alcohol doing...

✧ but who is he to decline his fate? He came up and complimented your features anyway, sure tomorrow he'll see you as normal citizen

✧ from your end, you noticed the man was obviously under influence of alcohol but he wasn't harmful... so you let the conversation go the way you wanted~

✧ and when on next day he discovers it wasn't him tripping... well.. he's glad to have such an interesting friend! Because unless you push him away, he's not gonna back away from this friendship!

"My my~ It's rare to see someone so pretty! That tail must be really heavy, huh? Want me to hold it for you?"

✧ but if you two are lovers and he sees your real form by mistake... he'll be freezed for a second... hehe get it? Because in his ult he- ehem.. sorry..

✧ but when he sees you panicking, he immidietly chuckles and assures you while caressing your cheek with his hand gently and maybe flirt while he's at it as well~

"Why would I ever think you're a monster when you're as stunning as always, my darling? Maybe even more~ This "scary look" definitely makes you look even more lovable~"

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@bleachtheidiot @toyaswif3y - come get your cavalry capitan~

✧ Ayato, being head of Kamisato Clan, is always trying to be as respectful as possible, be it if you come from different region or aren't human... as long as you're friendly and give him respect back, he'd be happy to chat

✧ but dragons in Inazuma are still rarely seen... so when he noticed you on his walk, he tried approaching you with a soft look

✧ he honestly just wishes to get to know you and maybe realize the difference between human and dragons behavior... and who knows? Maybe he'll get to know even more if he plays his cards right?

"Good evening. I'm sorry it I started you, I just noticed your... rare beauty and wondered if you'd be interested in a little chat?"

✧ tho if you're already partners and you happened to hide your real form well... he'll be even more interested...

✧ how did you manage to hide it from him for so long? He's curious to me know this and many more about you

✧ but if he sees you're stressing yourself over the fact he found out, he'll be quick to calm you down, assuring you he still loves you the same

"Please calm down... I don't see why you hid it in the first place... Did you really thought I wouldn't love you just because you have tail? If anything, I say you only expanded my interest in you~"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot - come get your boba lover!

✧ and so is Neuvillette~ he just has a bit of a better disguise while you're... walking proudly in your form... and that's alright!

✧ if you can be easily found on streets, he'll be happy to see another dragon friend and will probably even approach you himself

✧ Charlotte definitely saw you two interacting at some point, especially since Neuvillette is a big person, but of course she asked first before publishing anything and it's up to you if you were in the news or not!

✧ but if you prefer hiding in quieter places, there's still a chance he found you and yob two chatted either way

✧ he'd probably come off as calm but in reality, he's pretty excited to finally meet another dragon with such a pleasent personality

"I find it quite surprising we haven't met untill today... I'd like to get to know you more if you don't mind."

✧ and if it happens you both are already dating when you spoil your secret identity~ believe me, he won't mind one single bit!

✧ he literally can't understand why you even tried hiding it from him when he already told you he's the same

✧ but don't worry, he's not mad, if anything he's gentle and tries his best to be reassuring

"Why were you afraid? Haven't I already revelead I'm the same? My love for you can't be broken, no matter who you turn out to be."

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@bleachtheidiot @toyaswif3y - come get your otter judge~

✧ Wriothesley is already friends with Neuvillette and has pretty sharp eye and ear, there's no way he didn't know his friend is a dragon

✧ so when he got our of Fortress of Meropide to get some work done and saw a dragon, of course he was surprised since seeing one is rare, but he also didn't care to make a scene

✧ he probably ignored you letting you live your life since there was no reason for him to interrupt anything, unless... you're wandering around terrains, the he may

"Excuse me, you may want to keep away from these terrains. You may be taken as a prisoner running away by mistake."

✧ and if you already were his partner, I feel like he'd hear some stories from his dragon friend already... so he'd joke that you act like some dragons in the stories, turning out to be... half joke...

✧ but when you finally reveal the truth to him, he doesn't mind at all! The only thing that changed is the way he may tease you from time to time but that's it

"Walking around in your true form for once? Glad you're comfy. But watch out for your tail or it'll knock down something."

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@bleachtheidiot @toyaswif3y - come get your teddybear duke~

[shkudss]

Weakened by Eywa Pt. 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Masterlist

Summary: Ao’nung finally realizes that his actions have consequences

Warnings: curse words, bullying, mental breakdown, English isn’t my first language

Author’s note: it my first Avatar writing, so I hope you like it! This idea was spontaneous and I’m not really good at writing, but I hope you’ll enjoy it! I’m still learning how to use Tumblr properly since I don’t really use it 🥲

Yawntutsyip - darling, little loved one

Yaymak - foolish, ignorant

You thought that all these days when you flew to the water clans were the hardest in you life. Little did you know that life with Metkayina would be harder. You expected to finally live a normal life, doing your chores without being sacred to be shot by sky people. Now you’re safe, but things didn’t get better.

Since your arrival, these boys were bullying all your siblings, including you. You have no idea why it is important for Ao’nung to see totally similar to him Na’vis. You all are same avatars with slight differences that were unavoidable due to the environment you’re supposed to live in. Oh, yeah… supposed to live.

“What are you even doing here?”

“You’re so useless to our tribe”

“Go back to your monkey house”

All these words almost engraved in you mind without leaving space for other thoughts and hope. It’s been two weeks since you arrived and you still haven’t ridden an Ilu successfully, you can’t hold your breath as Metkayinas do. This makes you feel horrible and believe all these mean words.

“C’mon, Y/N, you can do it!”

Neteyam is trying to teach you how to deal with ilu and his voice is so calming, he really believes in you as an older brother. You wish you could just believe him, but insecurity lays too deep and securely in your mind.

“I don’t know… I can’t…”

Your voice was really soft and quiet as you’re the calmest child in your family. You don’t like loud sounds and fast actions. That’s just the way you are. Neytiri says that Sylwanin was just like you.

Despite being slower and more sensitive that other Sullys they loved and protected you with all their heart. Jake knew that Kiri and Tuk are different, they can deal with their problems a lot easier, while you cannot. When something bad to your family or yourself happens, you worry a lot and you won’t tell anyone about your worries unless they make you to. That was the hardest part of you character.

“Hey, are you okay? Do you need to take a break? We can continue tomorrow, don’t worry yawntutsyip.”

Neteyam was worried about your mental state, you were too quiet these days and it never meant anything good. Trying to make you speak about your feelings was completely impossible. You always think that your family has too much to worry about to burden them with your own issues. You want to be like Kiri and Tuk. That’s hilarious, Tuk is way younger than you but she’s able to deal with her emotions way easier than you.

“I’m good. Can we just take a break for like half an hour? I think my brain melts.”

You awkwardly smiled at the end trying to lighten the mood. Neteyam smiled back, feeling relief as you seemed to be just tired. He didn’t want you to hide anything from him and your family.

“Okay, yawntutsyip. I’ll go find Lo’ak and make sure his ass hadn’t get in trouble again. Kiri is on that side of the beach by the way. You can join her, she’s probably flirting with plants again. Let’s meet here in an hour.”

You laughed at his little joke about Kiri. But that’s a fact. Since you arrived here all she’s been doing is examining all local flora and fauna. You missed your time together in the forest, maybe now you’ll have a chance to talk and just be together.

“Okay!”

“Tell me if something goes wrong.”

You knew this look. The big brother look. Sometimes you think how hard it would be for you to live without your family, the way you’re connected to them something really fascinating. And one of your love signs is time. Spending time with your family and each member is the way you show love, the way you feel protected and loved.

You see Kiri laying down in water and looking for something. She didn’t see anyone around, attracted by… water? You didn’t try to understand what’s going on in her mind.

“Hey, pandora geek.”

You stood in front of Kiri and the shadow from your body covered her. Only after that she raised her head and squinted at you.

“I thought you’re with Neteyam. What’s wrong?” She sat on the sand, water was covering her legs a little. You did the same thing, hugging your knees and placing your head on them.

“We took a break, my brain doesn’t work properly. I still can’t ride ilu.”

Hopeless sigh made your sister chuckle, but then she saw your eyes. They were full of sadness, you were not happy. Kiri felt guilt, as your sister she had to be with you, she forgot that Sullys stick together.

“What bothers you?��� You were not sure if it’ll be okay to tell her everything. But you family always encourage you to speak what lays in your heart, so you decided to do it.

“There’s a lot… I miss home, I miss flying with you, Neteyam and Lo’ak around Hallelujah mountains.” You were vulnerable now and this is one of those rare moments when you opened your feelings easily. Kiri was the only one you did it with. You could feel tears coming to your eyes, you needed this. “I just miss our way of life. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to get used to it. Especially, when you always hear…”

“Hey monkeys! Still can’t ride ilu? How can you be so yaymak? You’re both freaks!” you could recognize this voice in millions. “One sister has demon blood, another is too dumb to do things that even infants can do!”

Ao’nung and his friends were coming towards you. Kiri’s body immediately tensed, you could feel it.

“What do you want? Is there nothing to do?”

Ao’nung and his friends came closer and you both stood up. Kiri was looking at him angrily, ready to fight. You were supposed to have such a good conversation, opening each other your soul, but this bully spoiled everything.

“My goal for now is to get rid of such fake Na’vis like you two and your stupid little brother.”

You were furious, how dare he talk like this about your family. Yes, he did say mean things to you, but he still picked his words. Now it’s too much. Nobody can talk about your family this way.

“Shut up and don’t get close to me and my siblings!” You tried to get into protective sister mode. Kiri was shocked by the way you raised your voice. She’s never heard such tone from you before.

“Look at this! Little girl knows how to talk?” Ao’nung was teasing you and laughing with Roxto and the rest of his friends. “Maybe you’ll learn how to swim properly soon by the time my future brother or sister will turn 10. Hopefully.”

You clenched your fists, trying to hold all your emotions. Anger, offense, sadness. It felt like a hurricane of extremely high spectrum of emotions, which was hard for you to bear.

“Don’t you dare…”

You didn’t control yourself that you were coming closer and pushing him. The reason why you felt this way was in him.

He did this to you.

You didn’t care that he was taller than you and all you faced was his shoulders. You didn’t care that he barely moved as you tried to hurt him as much as he hurt you. All he did was laughing. It seemed like Ao’nung didn’t understand anything you said, like he didn’t see you breaking into pieces right in front of you.

“Calm down, you little skxawng!” It was a joke for him. For you it was your last piece of composure.

“You’re dumb! So dumb that you can’t even understand how much pain you give me! Every day I wish I don’t meet you so you won’t shower me with all your shit! Every night I cry myself to sleep because all your mean words you’ve said hurt me! And you don’t understand me, how can you be so mean?”

You were screaming at him and trying to hit, mental breakdown took over your senses. You could physically feel how your heart hurts and legs weaken. All sounds were heard as if from under the water, you didn’t see what’s going on around you. Someone’s holding your shoulders and pushing you to their chest to not let you fall on your knees.

“Don’t touch her!”

Furious voice sounded from afar. Neteyam. Your brother who always protects you, surrounds you with love you need. That’s why he calls you yawntutsyip. Little loved one.

You could feel your brother as he came closer to you. His steps were as heavy as his mood. When he saw you breaking down in front of this asshole and because of this asshole, he almost lost his temper. The way chief’s son was holding and looking at you, finally realizing that his actions have consequences. He had to drive you crazy to understand it.

“Back off! Now!”

He pushed Ao’nung as he got closer to him, taking off his hands off you. You didn’t realize it was him, who held you all this time. Was it long? Actually, everything happened in less than 2 minutes, but for you it was like an infinity.

“What happened?”

Lo’ak was here, he saw you crying in Kiri’s hands and Neteyam fighting with Ao’nung and his friends. He didn’t need to check on all details to punch Roxto and other guys.

“It’s fine, we’re here. Don’t worry.” Kiri was sitting with you and slowly swaying, while tapping your head to calm you down.

“I’m sorry, I…” that’s all you could say.

Neither you nor Kiri noticed how the fight stopped until Neteyam came closer and examined you. His eyebrow was cut so as his lower lip, but he didn’t care. Now he could feel only your pain.

“Yawntutsyip… my sister.”

“I’m sorry, Neteyam. I didn’t…” You were gasping for breath from crying, not being able to collect your thoughts.

“Shhh, that’s fine, you’re fine. We’re here, nobody will hurt you again.” Kiri gave you to Neteyam, he was calming you down repeating the same moves as Kiri did. You were crying, letting all pain, that was suppressed inside of your soul, to flow through you.

Your siblings knew that you need to feel it to let it go. That is the only way for relief.

“Let’s go home, yawntutsyip?” Neteyam’s voice was calming as always, he hated seeing you crying.

You just nodded in agreement, hiding your face in brother’s neck and holding him as if someone can take you from him in any moment.

Yes, most Na’vis are brave, ready to fight and protect their beloved ones. But you just can’t do it. You are the one who needs to be protected. Eywa created you that way and you can do nothing about it.

“Don’t ever come to our sisters, you little bitch! Are you so insecure that you’re afraid to battle with me and choose those who are weaker than you?” Lo’ak didn’t miss to say the last goodbye before following after all of you. He didn’t wait for the answer, he didn’t need it.

Ao’nung was standing up there and looking as your figures disappear. No words are in his mind, except for one.

“Fuck”

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I hope you liked it! I’m not sure if I’ll write the second part🫣 I have an idea but idk if it’s worth it, we’ll see!

[nilsavatar]

DAY 23 - BITING part 2

Parings: Neteyam x Fem!human

PART 1, PART 3, PART 4

Genre/Warnings: fluff, ANGST, introspective, delicate themes (hibrid pregnacy). All characters are AGED-UP. This the sequel of the @layla2-49 request used to fullfil the promp day 23 of lunakinktober 2023

Summary: Following the unexpected pairing that occurred at the Tree of Souls, after connecting as only two Na'vi normally could, Celeste and Neteyam entertain a clandestine relationship. Several times they have discussed coming out, but the girl is too prey to her insecurities as a human to do so. It is Eywa who will decide for both of them with a disconcerting revelation: they have conceived a hybrid child.

Word Count: 4k

Masterlist - Request a fic

Celeste had been... different ever since Neteyam had brought her back to the human compound after collecting panopyra samples in the forest. Brighter, in a way. She visited Hometree more willingly and more often, interacting with the village women who now welcomed her with smiles and involved her in their activities whenever possible; she had discovered a particular talent for dyeing accessories the Omatikaya used to adorn their bodies with.

A soft half-smile spread across Spider’s lips as he watched her playing with a group of children on a nearby platform. They were about Tuk’s age, more or less, but already as tall as the girl, who wasn’t exactly towering herself compared to her twin brother. A genetic joke between heterozygotes. He would have lingered longer on seeing his sister finally out of the lab, out of her shell—he would have even laughed at the odd hairstyle the kids were braiding into her hair—but his gaze was drawn elsewhere. Specifically, to the Sully brothers, who were descending with long strides down the path carved into the massive tree trunk that served as a home for the entire clan, each carrying a yerik carcass over their shoulders. Another successful hunt, he thought with a twinge of envy.

How much he would have loved to prove his worth by helping sustain the People, but Spider was just a human. Not to mention Nash and Mary would have killed him if he even tried. And Celeste, especially Celeste!

Following the instructions of an elder hunter, the two young men carried their prey to a tent, where it would be skinned and butchered. When they reemerged, the brothers were playfully shoving each other and exchanging teasing remarks. Neteyam was already cleaning his arrows checking them for any damage. Amidst an “I did a cleaner kill” and a “My shot was more precise”, Spider joined the conversation with his typical warm greeting. “Back already?” “Missed us?” “Nah, I could’ve done without that skxawng face of yours.” The jab was meant as a joke, but Spider couldn’t quite hide the unease—and the faint irritation—from his tone. At least when it came to Lo’ak, they knew each other far too well. That irrational sense of protective older-brother energy was definitely misplaced.

“You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?” “Depends on what we’re talking about.” “Teyam’s been acting strange lately.” That phrase was music to his ears, the confirmation that it wasn’t all in his head. But he decided to let his friend elaborate before sharing his concerns. He wanted evidence, not just vague conjectures. “Like what?” “I don’t know, bro. He doesn’t scold me like he usually does. He’s less uptight, whether we’re hunting or training. He smiles more, but he seems distracted a lot of the time. It’s like…” “He’s in love,” Spider finished for him. “Yeah. But you know how private he is. No one can get him to say who the girl is.” “Any idea who it might be?” “Nothing solid. Mom thinks it could be Nirat. Like her mother, she’s an excellent singer, but I don’t think that’s the kind of thing that would sway him enough to choose her as a mate.” “Mm, I agree. He’s not the type to be won over so easily. Singing is a beautiful talent, but just because it’s been decided that the next generation of leaders will be a brother-sister duo doesn’t mean Teyam’s standards for finding a strong mate to support the clan would change.” “Yeah, it can’t be Nirat, even though she’d kill for it to be her.”

Spider’s eyes drifted back to the person in question, who wasn’t even trying to hide how intently he was watching the human girl. The expression on his face was that of someone who had just put all the pieces together. “You know who it is?” “Let’s just say I have an idea. But I need confirmation.” As if some higher power had decided to fulfill his words, the decisive proof appeared before their incredulous eyes.

Nirat, dressed to the nines, with a flower tucked into her loose hair—a clear sign of her availability for courtship—made her way through the hunters to reach the future olo’eyktan. The beads adorning her ankles and wrists jingled with every step as she swayed her hips and fluttered her thick black lashes. At another time, Spider would have enjoyed the show, complete with boisterous chuckles and suggestive elbow nudges to Lo’ak, not holding back his commentary on the assertiveness of certain Na’vi women. Instead, his attention instinctively shifted back to his sister, whose expression spoke volumes.

Her lips were pressed into a deep pout, her wide, furious eyes fixed in a murderous glare at the eldest Sully. Her chest rose and fell in quick, frantic breaths, the intensity of which fogged up her mask. And then, the moment of drama. Mumbling some excuse, she got up despite the children’s protests. With a stormy expression, she left the clearing and returned to her refuge of experiments and disinfectants. But even with her head bowed, she couldn’t hide from her brother the fact that she was about to burst into tears—or from Neteyam.

The warrior brushed off the would-be suitor and moved to run after her, but Spider stopped him just in time, a hand on his torso to hold him in place. “Let her cool off. Talking to her now won’t do any good.” Neteyam opened his mouth to argue, to defend himself, but he knew his friend was right. In her current state, the girl would only push him away and retreat further into herself, buried in her stupid sense of inferiority and not belonging—even though the Great Mother herself had shown her otherwise. Gritting his teeth, his ears pinned back against his head, he looked for a moment past the human in the direction where Spider’s sister had disappeared. Then, with a sigh that deepened his already gloomy expression, he met his glare again and nodded. But before he could turn on his heel and retreat into his own bubble of frustration, Spider stopped him again. “What are your intentions with my sister?” It was pointless to evade the question, and in any case, Neteyam wasn’t the type.

Once she returned to the cold walls of the compound, Celeste did what she did best: locked herself in the lab, where the only sources of light were the plexiglass tanks and the computer monitors. One, to be precise, was on at that moment: hers. She sat there as though hiding from something, or rather someone. Someone who knew exactly where to find her. Her nerves were on edge, her suspicious eyes darting at every faint sound her feeble human ears could pick up.

Her irritated gaze flitted from the tablet in her hand to the tall figure that had just stepped across the threshold, the faint screech of the sliding door announcing his presence. Before her, in the dim room, the panopyra tank cast pale violet lights onto the young scientist’s face. Inside, the curious zooplantae drifted gracefully and hypnotically. Its presence seemingly consuming all of Celeste Socorro’s time and energy.

The supporting roots had intertwined to form a stem now, firmly anchored to the tank’s lid. From its core, several ends branched out to hold up the wide, inverted dome. Small, symmetrical dots outlined its surface, converging at the center, from which luminous tentacles extended. They now reacted to the insistent probing of mechanical fingers. At the ends of these, ultra-thin needles penetrated various points of the lively tentacles, immediately recording the data collected in the computerized system that Celeste held in her hands. Her goal? Entirely ignoring him.

The Na'vi couldn’t bring himself to break the silence immediately. He stood still, observing the scene for several long moments, trying to figure out how to approach her without making things worse. The way she moved—mechanical, precise, almost frantic—told him more than any words could. She was shaken. Hurt. She turned her back to him when Neteyam didn’t take the silent cue to leave. “I’m busy.” She was still mad. Fair enough. The warrior armed himself with his best smile, hoping to ease the tension. “I thought you might be hungry,” he said, setting the tray he had been carrying onto the table. “You’ve been in here for hours.”

Celeste felt a warm blush flood her cheeks. She bit the inside of her cheek until that familiar metallic taste of blood spread on her tongue. She wanted to set down the data pad, hug him, thank him for the thoughtful gesture, and tell him how sweet he was, but she was too angry to give in. If anything, seeing him only irritated her more. She could still picture Nirat wrapping herself around him like a jellyfish. Like the panopyra she was studying. So she asked, caustically, if he was stalking her, turning just in time to catch the hurt and disappointed look on his face.

“Yawne,” he said, all his regret poured into that single affectionate word, and guilt hit her like a punch to the gut. She knew Neteyam—his sense of loyalty, his serious and honorable nature. He wasn’t a playboy, nor someone who toyed with women for amusement. It wasn’t fitting for a leader, and more importantly, it wasn’t in his character. But she let her insecurities take over. Deep down, Celeste knew no one would approve of their relationship. It didn’t matter that the current olo’eyktan was human: Jake had an avatar; physically, he had more in common with a Na’vi than humans. And he was Toruk Makto. She had nothing to offer the clan… or Neteyam. She couldn’t become a member of the Omatikaya, and despite the tsahìk question being resolved by Kiri, young Socorro couldn’t promise him anything, least of all a family. What had been happening for months at the Tree of Souls—those strange tubular growths the roots formed at the base of her neck when they made love—meant nothing.

“Share your thoughts with me, Cel. Please.” She pressed her lips together, her shoulders rigid. “You should court Nirat,” she said curtly, trying to keep her composure. It felt like a stab to the heart. “… What?” “She’ll make an excellent mate. She’s beautiful, well-liked, and has a lovely voice that lifts spirits.” Well-liked? He wanted to ask sarcastically—Nirat was a snake. “We should tell the truth about us,” he answered instead, with that infuriatingly calm tone he knew drove her mad, though it masked a deep inner turmoil: the fear of what she might say next, words that could break his heart. “Everyone will know, and Nirat will get over it. I’m taken.” His response made the girl falter, her breathing slowed almost imperceptibly, but the fire in her eyes didn’t entirely die. “You just don’t get it, do you? I’m human, Teyam. I’ll always be out of place. Always… less. No matter what I do, I’ll never be like you. Never enough to truly belong in this world.” Neteyam took a step forward, slowly, cautiously. “You don’t need to be like us, Cel. You need to be yourself—that’s what makes you special. That’s what makes me see you, even when I look at everything else.”

Her eyes widened, startled by those loving words, which seemed to slip out before the young Na’vi could stop them. For a moment, she was speechless, her heart pounding in her chest, and he stepped closer, now only a breath away. He looked her directly in the eyes, unwavering. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding foolish,” he murmured. “I see you, Celeste. I have for a long time. When I whisper what I feel to you at the Tree of Souls, those aren’t just words said in the heat of the moment. I felt your spirit bond with mine. You’re a part of me. And when you hurt, I hurt too.”

She met his gaze, her expression pained. “But at what cost? You’re destined to lead your people. How can you do that with someone like me by your side? Even if the clan has learned to tolerate me, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m human.” The prince shook his head, his tone softening with a faint smile. “I’m not Eywa, tìyawn. I don’t know all her plans. But I know one thing. She wouldn’t have united us if our love was wrong.” Celeste swallowed, the words caught in her throat. She felt vulnerable, exposed, as though Neteyam had just torn down all the walls she had built around herself. “I… I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “You don’t have to say anything,” he replied with a small smile. “Just don’t run away from me anymore. Please.”

A heavy silence fell between them, broken only by the faint hum of the machinery. Celeste lowered her gaze, biting her lip. Then, with hesitation that spoke of years of insecurity, she gave a small nod. “We’ll explain to them that Eywa chose you for me. We are mated before the Great Mother.” “Sure, we’ll tell them how that plant intoxicated us, and while we were… you know… the roots of the Tree of Voices somehow created a temporary kuru so we could connect. Nothing weird about that!” “Yawne,” he whispered, kneeling to press his forehead against hers, a gesture that felt more comforting than anything else. “Don’t underestimate our families. They’ll understand. Deep down, they probably always suspected this would happen—it was only a matter of time.” The scientist let out a tired smile, though doubt still flickered in her eyes. “I wish I could believe it’s that simple.” “You know you’re sexy when you’re jealous?” “Stop it, moron.” She blushed, shy but unable to suppress the warm laugh that finally broke the tension that had built up over weeks of secret moments and arguments. With that open confrontation, they accepted the challenges and joys their union would bring. Neteyam gently cupped her face, his fingers strong yet tender, brushing over her human skin with the reverence reserved for something sacred. They seemed suspended in perfect calm, and just as they were about to seal everything with a kiss, a strange sound escaped her lips. An unexpected spasm interrupted the moment as Celeste doubled over, one hand to her mouth, the other clutching her stomach. She rushed to the sink as violent retching overtook her. The young Na’vi steadied her firmly, his face etched with concern. “It must’ve been something I ate. It’s nothing,” she said between ragged breaths, trying to downplay it, but it wasn’t nothing.

In the following days, the girl continued to suffer from nausea and growing weakness. Despite her reluctance, Neteyam insisted she get visited. “I don’t want to alarm the clan or make them think there’s a problem, especially now that we’ve decided to go public,” she argued, trying to pacify him. “We need to figure out what’s happening. This has to be serious to leave you like this,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. Celeste sighed, resting a hand on her forehead. “Maybe it’s just stress. There’s no need to panic.” He shook his head, determined. “It’s not normal for you to be like this. Please, get checked out. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me—for Spider.” His golden eyes were filled with worry.

When her symptoms worsened, she had no choice.

The infirmary was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of lamps—a bubble of technological modernity nestled within Pandora's untamed beauty. Norm and Max worked with the scanning equipment while the girl lay on the exam table, her face pale and marked by exhaustion. For days, she had suffered from dizziness and an inexplicable heaviness. As the machine hummed softly, scanning her body, she sought comfort in Neteyam’s gaze. He knelt by her side, his fingers fidgeting nervously. Behind them stood Spider, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Though they tried to appear calm, their eyes betrayed a growing unease.

After what felt like an eternity, Max’s eyes widened, glued to the screen in disbelief and a hint of fear. “This… this isn’t possible,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. Celeste sat up, alarmed. “What isn’t possible?” The doctor double-checked the readings, frowning. “There’s no sign of infection or poisoning. Your vital signs are stable, but…” He hesitated, glancing at Norm. “What?” she whispered. Max took a deep breath and pointed at the screen. “There’s an unusual reading… Though maybe calling it unusual isn’t accurate.” “What do you mean?” Neteyam leaned forward, his golden eyes fixed on the monitor, staring at the dark speck on the display. With another sigh, Max activated a 3D image showing a tiny, pulsating structure, barely perceptible. “You’re pregnant.”

The room fell into an oppressive, deafening silence. The patient stared at the dark speck on the monitor, unable to form a response. Her heart pounding louder than the sound of the equipment, she finally whispered, “There must be a mistake. Neteyam and I… we’re biologically incompatible.” Norm nodded slowly. “In theory, you’re right. But I’ve checked the parameters once again. There’s no mistake. All the signs are there: elevated hormones, physiological changes, and an embryonic presence. Sweetheart, it’s happened—you’re truly pregnant.”

Despite feeling her grip on his fingers tighten, Neteyam couldn’t tear his eyes away from the medical terminal. The voices around him faded into a distant echo, as though he couldn’t fully process what he was hearing and seeing. This was news no one had ever anticipated—something no one had ever considered as it was supposed to be impossible. Behind them, Spider paced back and forth, his hands buried in his dreadlocks. “No, no, no.” He shook his head, unable to accept what they were saying. “There has to be another explanation. Maybe some genetic mutation, or…” He trailed off, his voice trembling.

A whirlwind of thoughts spun through the mind of the Omatikaya prince, visions of a hazy future, each scenario more terrifying than the last, all culminating in the absence of the woman he loved. “What are we supposed to do now?” Cel… the baby. Everything felt so… uncertain. “It all depends on what you decide to do,” Norm suggested, a clear implication hanging in the air. “Terminate the pregnancy?” “… it’s the simplest option.”

Celeste’s eyes filled with tears. As much as her rational side whispered that this was the most logical and risk-free solution, she already felt a deep connection to the being growing inside her. As though she sensed there was something larger at play than just motherhood, a bond with… “Eywa,” she murmured simply. “The effect of the panopyra, our union at the Tree of Voice, this,” she wrapped her arms protectively around her stomach. “The Great Mother united us for a reason, but this child… it’s a hybrid, yawne. We don’t know what that entails, or what will happen to your health. And no one here can help us. Your technology isn’t equipped to handle these kinds of… anomalies.” His heart pounded, his mind clashing with every possibility. How could he protect his mate and their child from a fate that seemed so dangerous? “Are you asking me to—?” “No! Eywa, no. I would never ask you to do that. But… I’m terrified, okay? You’re my person. It’s my job to protect you from harm, but how can I when I don’t understand what’s happening? I had come to terms with the fact that we wouldn’t have a family of our own. And being just us was enough for me, 'cause as long as I had you, nothing else mattered. But now… the most beautiful, incredible thing in the world has happened, and I can’t even celebrate it because it might…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word.

The tension between them grew, and at that moment, another voice broke into the room. Spider, who had been silently sitting in the corner, sprang to his feet as if struck by lightning. His face was pale and strained, his eyes swollen with horror. The news had overwhelmed him. “This… this is too much! It’s not possible!” he shouted, his voice trembling. “You… Neteyam! How the hell did this happen?! How could you let this happen?!” Her brother's words, loaded with rage and panic, hit Neteyam like a punch. His face twisted. “This is all your fault! You’re Na’vi! This child…” Celeste stood up, frightened by her brother’s outburst, and took a step forward to intervene. “Spider, calm down… it’s no one’s fault. It’s not what you think.”

But Spider couldn’t contain his anxiety. His fear drove him to act without thinking. “You don’t understand! Do you know what you’re risking? This… this baby isn’t just a symbol of an impossible union—it’s a danger to you!” he shouted, his eyes filled with terror and disillusionment. “What will carrying a Na’vi-human hybrid do to your body? How much energy will it drain from you? Have you thought about how big the fetus will get before it’s born? How will you deliver it?”

Neteyam glared back at him with equal fury, his heart pounding, his posture stiff, his face tense. But there was also a sense of helplessness constricting him because, deep down, he didn’t know how to handle the situation either. The weight of responsibility and dread was crushing him. “I didn’t choose this, Spider. But it’s happened, and we have to face it together,” he said at last, trying to keep his voice steady. Spider, crushed, looked at the future olo’eyktan with eyes filled with both anger and anguish. “I can’t accept this,” he finally said, his voice reduced to a whisper.

It was at that moment that Kiri entered the room, sensing the intensity of the argument. When she saw him so agitated, she approached him calmly. “Monkey boy,” she said, her voice soothing. “This isn’t a threat. It’s proof of how great Eywa’s power is. This child… it’s not just a mistake. It’s a sign, something that goes beyond our fears.” Spider seemed shaken but couldn’t put aside the distress gnawing at him. Neteyam, though hearing the weight of Kiri’s words, still couldn’t let go of his worry. His need to protect Celeste was all-consuming, and the idea that she might be at such great risk devastated him.

Kiri’s face was calm yet resolute. “Brother, don’t be afraid. This is the path the Great Mother has chosen for you. Her decisions are always wise, even when we cannot fully understand them.” Her voice carried the gravity of an ancient truth, and silence filled the room. Then she approached Celeste gently, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t just your life at stake. This creature is a manifestation of the union of two opposite worlds, worlds that have been at odds until now. It’s the beginning of something new, a path forward together. We’ve seen signs of this connection. Your child is a blessing.”

Neteyam looked at his sister with eyes full of questions, but at last, a small glimmer of hope began to grow within him. Perhaps, despite all his fears, this child had a purpose beyond what he could see. Spider, though still harboring doubts, lowered his gaze. The consternation remained, but Kiri’s intervention seemed to have, at least, partially soothed his anxieties.

“We’ll do this together,” Celeste said, extending one hand toward her mate and the other toward her twin, her look locking with theirs, filled with an intensity they had never seen before. “We’ll face this future, whatever it may bring.” Neteyam took a deep breath, gathering the courage he needed. He didn’t have all the answers yet, but deep down, he knew he would stand by her side. And maybe, in time, he could learn to embrace this destiny that seemed impossible to comprehend.

“You can’t do this alone,” Kiri concluded. “Maybe it’s time to speak with Mo’at.”

[sanjisluvbot]

As Above So Below

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Synopsis: You had your entire life just beginning, fresh into college, and as a treat, you were going on a trip across the world where you find out what your father truly does for work and why you were able to move into a nice new home. A normal young girl thrust into a world where she needed to relearn everything she ever knew and escape the clutches of an assassin clan who wanted her as a wife.

“ Do you mind explaining exactly what’s going on here?”

Looking up into his obsidian eyes you tried your best not to show fear. The man towered over you menacingly and to have such uncanny features made it all the more worse. He gave a once over on all the little features on your face making you want to turn around and hide in your hands. 

“ It’s exactly as it seems, I’m just getting to know you a little bit.”

“ I don’t think there is any reason for us to get to know one another,”

 

“ I do, I think we’ll see more of each other soon, everyone wants to see a familiar face when those old fucks are chattin’ it up,”  

“ Yeah… hard pass, I also don’t think we’ll see each other again,”

You rolled your eyes and tried to move past him to the door but his arm slammed in front of you. Peering up at him angrily only to be met with a devious grin you then stick your palm out, trying to shove his arm from the glass. 

“ what’s your fuckin problem weirdo?” 

“ I thought you were smarter than this but—”

“ Move asshole—”

He laughed, almost in disbelief of your anger. He hadn’t moved an inch and you’d be trying with all your might. The obnoxious laughter was driving you insane, and being unable to move this human boulder added to that.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your skin felt like it was on fire, you placed both hands on his arm and gave a final push. The laughter didn’t cease but you sighed to yourself trying to calm down. Noticing this he relaxed before speaking, 

“ As I was saying, you seemed to be smarter than this so I thought you would know that those old fucks wanted to speak without you there.” 

“ Speak about what?” 

“ About the contract your daddy made with my grandfather.” 

The look on your face made Raian want to roll on the floor and laugh to his heart's content, he could laugh till his stomach hurt. You asked him a variety of questions which he answered gleefully.

Seeing you fall apart from finding out you were part of multiple legal bindings of which you had no say brought him more joy than when he was completing jobs. 

“ do you want to know what was in the fine print of this contract or is it too much for your little heart.” 

All you wanted to do was run away at this point, run away with your mother, and never be seen again. Your idiot father got excited by signing high-risk contracts with people who spend millions of dollars like it was spare change, that’s the first thing you got from this information. The shock of it all made your legs wobbly so you walked farther onto the deck and sat on the closest beach chair. 

Raian trailed quietly behind you and then lay right next to you relaxing his arms behind his head. This black-eyed bastard was truly beginning to make you angry, he seemingly got off on telling you that your life was over. You turned your head meeting that same devilish smile, with a shallow breath you asked, “ What is in the contract.”

You stumbled almost drunkenly into the bathroom. Your head was spinning and the ship felt like it was rocking back and forth trying to soothe your mental breakdown.

Thankfully you were the only one inside and you scrambled into the first stall. You locked the door and slowly slid down remembering the conversation you had only moments before.

 

“ If your fighter loses then L/n Y/n will marry into the Kure family within the next year to Kure Raian.” 

“ I beg your pardon–”

“ I was surprised too! Although we don’t always marry fighters we do make sure in advance that the women are suited to carry a Kure,” 

The tears slowly cascaded down your cheek and into your lap as he went on. You’ve only felt something similar once and it was your senior year of high school, you failed one class and had to show your parents your report card. This was more devastating, your life was decided without a word from your mouth and there was nothing to do about it. 

The cold floor of the bathroom tiles was your only form of comfort as you sobbed into your hands. Your feet mushed up into the wall and your knees to your chest coddling yourself as you wept for the life you could have had.

There was no saying if the fighter your father represented would win against Raian or any of the other fighters and something in you told you there would be no hope. 

You silently begged all above, begged someone— anyone would listen to your prayers and get you out of this. Wiping your tears with the back of your hand you suddenly felt a presence above you, the hairs on your neck stood up as you slowly craned your neck up.

In horror you see Raian leaning half of his body over the door smiling down at you wickedly. You let out screams of pure terror cursing his name and he laughed jumping back down as you hurriedly stood up. You unlocked the door and he was leaning over the sick and holding his stomach laughing manically. 

“ What the fuck is wrong with you!” 

He held out a finger as he got his last laugh out then wiped a ‘ tear’ from his eye before standing tall. You walked over to him peering up as you cursed him for all he's worth, jabbing your pointer finger into his chest with every word coming out of your mouth.

He said nothing and smiled at you, a younger version of you would have mistaken the look in his eye for something akin to love. You were breathing heavily when you finished your rant and wordlessly stomped your way out of the bathroom. 

You were zipping through halls trying to find the quickest way back to the ballroom and give your father a piece of your mind, you wouldn’t have known Raian was behind you had he not been chuckling every time you made a wrong turn. Groaning out loud when you made yet another wrong turn you look over to him. 

“ Can you tell me where I’m supposed to go,”

“ Say please–”

“ No–”

“ Say please Raian, I’m lost and I need my soon-to-be fiance’s help” 

“ Fuck you.”  

He cackled on as you trudged your way through this maze of a ship. After what seemed like forever the ballroom was clear in sight, and you almost ran in. Your eyes scanned the room searching for either one of your parents walking through masses of people and buff fighters. 

You spot your parents in a corner and although you aren’t in range you know your mother was giving him an earful. Zeroing in on them you try speed-walking through the crowd only to have a collision.

You almost fall back when a firm grip on your arm helps you steady. Thank your savior quickly before rushing over to your parents once more. 

Now in range, you hear, “ How could you do this to me? To your daughter? To this family?” 

“ I wasn’t thinking—”

“ Oh my– you weren’t thinking? Oh, what a surprise!”

You quickly chime in and tell your mother what Raian just said and you almost begin crying again. Your mother pulled you into his arms and the warmth almost had you collapsing, she was almost like an angel protecting you from a bad storm.

You kept your head tucked into her chest not wanting to look at the fake remorse on your father’s face, if he truly cared or even loved you he would have never signed something so heinous in this day and age. 

Your father's apologise fell on deaf ears and your mother whisked you away letting him know you’d both be getting another room for the rest of the trip. She apologized to you profusely promising she would try and do everything she could to break the contract, and if worse came to worse we would both run like a bat out of hell. 

You were once again being taken out of the ballroom, a sour trip now decaying steadily. Out of the ballroom you see Raian at the end of the hall speaking to his grandfather and a man with red hair.

He takes notice of you and greets you with another nefarious smile. The old man whacks him in the leg with a cain before smiling softly and you and your mother. 

“ Ms. L/n what a surprise, leaving the party so early?” 

“ No need for any more pleasantries, we know what the contract entails and plan to remove my daughter from being liable.” 

The old man’s smile drops and a stifling air fills the hall. The energy surrounding this man seemed electric, more than anything it was dangerous. He hummed to himself before taking a step towards your mother who moved you behind her. 

“ Ms. L/n, I understand that you and your daughter are being introduced to a whole new foreign world but the Kengan Association and its contracts aren’t ones you can breach.” He laughed. 

“ World leaders, big corporations, and all businessmen alike are fully aware of what goes on within this arena. Every contract made here is sealed in blood, no lawyer can help you.” 

“ We’ll see bout that.” 

“ That we will, good luck tomorrow.” 

With that the old man turned around walking down the next hall, the red-haired man bowed and silently followed while Raian peeked over your mother and waved to you flamboyantly.

Like an irritated child you stuck your tongue out and him and flipped him off to which he chuckled at before strutting away.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed ! Please comment if you’d like to be in the tag list !

[izzabela]

I don’t know if anyone has asked this before, but the Lin Kuei trio with a reader who works as a military special forces operator? I don’t know but I’d like to think that on tactical terms the Lin Kuei and a military soldier can work pretty well together so I would definitely want to see how this will play out

When Worlds Collide - Lin Kuei x GN!spec-ops!reader (headcanons?)

in which past meets modern warfare

a/n: bro the fact you requested this and i'm getting into COD is INSANE THE TIMING IS AWESOME

ship[s]: none

warning(s): cod x mortal kombat?? ghost reference? soap ref? gaz & price reference??

You are a spec-ops soldier, working with the most elite soldiers in the world under the guidance of the American military. With the Outworld Investigations Agency opened, they're gonna need some manpower....

Introducing you and TF141, so perhaps this is a mk x cod fic??

- all three of the brothers would be very impressed with your records and awards. you are a decorated member, and the fact you are decently younger compared to your coworkers impresses them further

- Tomas asks you questions. lots of them. where you've been, what you've seen, the kills you have (it surprises you he knows the difference in the terms), he even asks others about you

- Bi Han wants to inspect every piece of modern equipment you have. he asks incredibly well-informed questions about the weapons, he even sketches ones that pique his interest the most so he can show his clan back at home

- Kuai Liang is the lucky brother who gets to hold and try the equipment. you and your team watch over him in the gun range as he shoots down practice targets with ease (ninja precision is crazy)

- Tomas and Soap might get along the best. he'd definitely be thrown off by how vulgar the team gets, but he and Soap are very friendly with one another

- Bi Han, Ghost, and Price. those two would be having a blast together talking about manly adult leadership stuff

- Kuai Liang might get along best with Gaz. Something about these level-headed men having a normal conversation in front of neanderthals is refreshing to you, snd you really appreciate that

- teamwork wise, not including the 141, they'd work pretty good with you. you're a great all around: sniper, foot-soldier, hand-to-hand, you know the drills for the shit they go through on the daily

- specifically, you and Kuai Liang would work together with a knowing silence. something like Price and Ghost since those two knew each other for so long. something about you and Kuai covering each other's asses without saying a word means you guys are in perfect sync. i can imagine it (can't you?)

- working with Bi Han is like Price and Soap, or Ghost and Soap. You definitely would try and liven up the mood as you off enemies left and right. Bi Han might actually scold you mid battle, too, expecially talking about distractions

- Tomas is Gaz, and working with him is like nothing but butter sliding smoothly on bread. Tomas is everything in a package: smart, skilled, quick-witted, and level-headed. Tomas knows when it's the right time to do things

- i think you and Bi Han would get into the worst spats and fights when discussing how to further push into battle. i'd say it gets physical, with you ordering him to stand down as the "professionals handle this"

- Kuai Liang and you could also get into some hefty drama and fights too. i think Kuai would actually apologize too, considering that maybe you might have seen more than him

- outside of the missions, everyone gets along well (maybe). when the three lin kuei bros are out drinking with you and your team, that shit is fire. Tomas probably gets drunk first, but that's after maybe five cups of hard ass liquor

- Kuai is next drunk, then Bi Han

- back to mission stuff, when you and the Lin Kuei trio aren't fighting, you guys agree on strategy rather easily. in fact, they like how you pull your strats. Bi Han takes mental notes to implement to the clan

- yeah, that's it

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

guys i want to write a COD fic soon, but idk who to start with. after my reqs though

also, school started for me, so writing may be coming slower

see yall in the next fic!

[seravphs]

棠 —

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — TEEN DAD! GOJO x FEM READER

Gojo has something to tell you. Megumi is unfortunately still a member of the male species. Tsumiki just wants to watch the sunset. 

wc — 1.5k

cw — interlude between tried to live in a softer way and stockholm (coming soon), 棠 means "wild plums", Megumi’s a good boy but he’s still a boy (gross), part of teen dad gojoverse, in which you and Gojo raise Megumi together, I lowkey forgot Tsumiki existed when I first started writing Teen Dad! Gojo so now I have to retcon her in 

Megumi’s mouth is smeared with purple pulp. 

“You better have washed that,” you warn him as you carefully cut Tsumiki’s fruit for her. Your knives drip juice onto the ground, requiring careful attention to make sure the sugar won’t rust them. 

Some cursed weapons are durable, outlasting generation after generation of the sorcerers that wielded them. Yours are more delicate. Like flowers, they require great care.

Tsumiki takes the slice you hand her with gratitude and pops it into her mouth with a little shiver of happiness. Her fingertips are turning purple to match Megumi’s lips. You pour a little water from your bottle over them, and place another slice into her mouth yourself. 

“A little dirt is good for him,” Gojo calls from where he’s wedged halfway inside the trunk, fighting for the folding chairs he threw in haphazardly. Now they’re stuck. You told him they would be, and he hadn’t listened. 

You make an unconvinced noise in the back of your throat, pursing your lips. He can’t see you, of course. 

“Germs are gonna make his immune system stronger. Eat up, Megumi!” 

Megumi wrinkles his nose and unhappily swallows his bite. The next time Tsumiki hands him a slice of her (washed) plums, he takes it. Nothing ever works as well on him like Gojo and inadvertent reverse psychology. 

After another minute of letting Gojo struggle to prove a point, you reach over and tug on a latch. The chair Gojo is struggling with snaps shut so you can effortlessly pull it out of the trunk. Gojo smiles sheepishly. 

“What did we learn from this?”

“Wife is always right?” He says cheekily. 

“Can I help?” Tsumiki pops up underneath your elbow. 

“It’s okay,” Gojo ruffles her hair. “We got it.” 

He pushes you gently away when you try to take a chair, carrying three singlehandedly to the spot where Megumi and Tsumiki are waiting with the picnic basket. You know he wants you to gush over him, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

You purposefully turn away to start setting out the food, only for him to saunter over as soon as Tsumiki and Megumi are sitting in their newly placed chairs. 

“Did you see that?” 

“You are the strongest, Satoru.” This is easy work for him. 

“Okay, but it’s still cool, right?” 

Sometimes you want to ignore him and sometimes you want to give in. Gojo, like Megumi is predictable. He needs the carrot and the stick. 

“Yeah,” you smile. “It was cool. You know what would be cooler?” 

He’s setting out the dishes before you even have to ask. 

You’re not fooled even though Gojo’s acting completely normal. As lighthearted and nonchalant as he is, anyone who didn’t know better would think there’s nothing in the world that could phase him, but you do know better. 

He’s not the type to share his issues, especially not when he thinks he can solve them on his own, which is what you think is going on here. It’s fine. 

You don’t press. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. 

“Someone’s coming,” Megumi announces. 

Gojo raises an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?” 

He looks away, eyes shifty. 

“You know you’re not supposed to be summoning your dogs in public!” You scold him. 

Technically, he’s not supposed to know anything about his technique yet. Young sorcerers aren’t allowed to use their technique if they’re not enrolled at Jujutsu High. Of course, it’s different for clans, especially big clans. None of the elders who sit on the council are going to punish one of their own for getting ahead of the game. In fact, they’re quite willing to turn a blind eye to anything that makes their clan more powerful, even if it means starting their young off early. Too early, in your opinion. 

Gojo disagrees with this judgement, as he disagrees with everything the elders say. He’s been training Megumi in secret, slowly getting him used to the Ten Shadows. The dogs, which Megumi’s manifested since he was young, were the first to become tamed. They’re the easiest for him to control, so he looses them more often than he should. Regardless of what Gojo thinks, it’s simply not safe. You don’t want to give the Zenins any reason to take Megumi and Tsumiki. 

Megumi calls his shikigami back. They evaporate into shadow just as an old couple hobble up the dirt path. 

“Oy, granny!” Gojo calls, ignoring you as you smack his arm. “You need a hand?” 

“I’m okay,” she calls back. “Don’t worry about me! Just taking my daily walk.” 

Gojo gives you an aghast look. 

“Why are they hiking up here? One of them is going to break a leg,” he hisses. 

“Are you sure?” You ask them hesitantly. 

“My, aren’t you sweet! I’m alright, hon. The fresh air will do these old bones some good.” 

Beside her, her husband nods in agreement. He seems like the silent type to her extrovert. 

“What’re you two doing up here?” She says, picking her way over. 

Tsumiki holds up her plate. “Picnicking!” 

“How cute,” the old woman coos as she pinches her cheek. 

“And you! Why, I could just eat you up,” she tells Megumi, who looks mildly alarmed, not at her words, but at her attention. He squirms in his seat. 

“Your little brother?” The couple smiles as you stiffen. It’s not their fault. They have no idea. 

“My son,” Gojo says, his own smile turning unpleasant. 

“Oh!” She seems to sense she’s made a mistake of some sort, taking her husband’s arm once more. “I’m sorry, you seemed so young. Well, I’m sure you want to get back to your picnic without these old folk. Be careful not to stay out too late! I hear there’s a storm brewing.” 

Her husband helps her carefully over the grass back on to the dirt path. She turns back to wave, just once. 

“That wasn’t nice,” you say, watching them leave. “They didn’t know.” 

Gojo rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” 

“Look!” Tsumiki jostles Megumi, who’s still focused on his food instead of the sky. “The sun is setting!”

Gojo picked a good spot. No trees obstruct your view of a sky stretching as far as the eye can see. As someone who’s lived in the city for so long, it’s almost a miracle to witness. 

The sky is awash in floral hues. Burnt orange, ashy lavender, and muted links spread throughout the clouds. You’re smiling, awestruck at the sight, when you hear a click. You turn back just in time to see Gojo shove his phone in his pocket. 

“Did you just take a picture of me?” 

“Nope! Why don’t you sit tight while I repack everything?” 

Even when you try to help, Gojo pushes you back in your chair. His little helpers dash back and forth from the makeshift campsite to the car until everything is safely packed away. 

When you finally get up and brush your lap off, Gojo offers you his arm. 

You laugh at him. “Come on, I don’t need that.” 

He pushes his arm in your direction again, insistent. He’s being such a baby today, but you can’t help spoiling him. You take it as he escorts you to the car and opens the door for you with a flourish. 

The kids don’t want to go home, but Gojo distracts them with promises of McDonald’s on the long, winding trip down the mountain. Megumi’s at that age where he knew better than to trust the strange white haired sixteen year old who offered to take him in but still gullible enough not to understand there are no McDonald’s on mountains. 

He and Tsumiki fall asleep in the back seat as the rain patters rhythmically on the windows. All around you, the earth is lush and verdant. You’re in Eden before the fall. It’s hard to stay mad when the forest is putting on such a show for you outside. The earth is blooming, beckoning. 

Gojo rolls down the sun roof so the warmth of weak sun beams shines into the car. If you look up, the rain beads on the glass like crystals on a backdrop of dove grey storm clouds. 

It’s still raining when you get home. 

Gojo carries Megumi and Tsumiki inside, one in each arm. It’s a testament to their sleepiness that neither protest. You drop a kiss on each cherubic little cheek as you tuck them into bed, pressing the covers down around them. 

Gojo’s waiting in the kitchen when you quietly close their bedroom door. 

“I have something to tell you,” he says almost half-heartedly, looking out the window. “But you have to promise not to be mad.” 

You knew it. 

Whatever it is, you’re sure you can take it. You and Gojo have been through the worst of everything together, from a bullet in the shoulder to whiney, feverish children. There’s nothing you can’t handle to keep your little family together. 

“The Zenins want to take Megumi away,” he blurts out. 

Okay, maybe that wasn’t what you were expecting, but it’s fine. You can make it work. 

“They’re coming tomorrow.” 

You’re going to kill him.