#you compare my light to the sky

[sapphicslut777]

Never perform a death defying act

And I won't fall

I am brave, I can save the very small

I am everything

But I'm nothing at all

You compare my light to the sky

Why do you try to make me

Better than the divine?

It isn't the same

Don't give it a name

Let me remain

Let me remain

I'm everything I've ever been

I'm everything I've ever seen

I'm everything that slowly falls

I'm everything and I'm nothing at all

I will perform a death-defying miracle

For someone with the chemicals to believe

I am brave, but I've gravely understated

I can't save you from what you've taken and leave

You compare our love to the sun

What have you done?

There's a limit to the prizes we've won

It isn't the same

Don't give it a name

Let me remain

Let me remain

I am everything I have ever been

I am everything I've ever seen

I'm everything that slowly falls

I'm everything and I'm nothing at all

I'm nothing at all

I will perform a death-defying magic show

For those of you that want to go someplace else

I'm brave, but I can't save you

From the things you won't change for yourself

You compare my light to the moon

What are you doing?

What are you doing?

It isn't the same

Don't give it a name

Let me remain

Let me remain

I am everything I have ever been

I am everything I have ever seen

I am everything that slowly falls

I am everything and I am nothing at all

I am nothing at all

[doppelneer]

Headcanon/something in Au: Abyss Crew's Ship has an interior.

Idk it just makes sense to me but have some reasoning for adding this.

I also thought it would make the ship a more interesting setting + get to have fun figuring out where things go + another way of storytelling.

Bonus made shared spaces trying to figure out the interior design before I get to drawing it in detail (please note some things are place holders and more stuff was intended to be added in areas)

Goal is a cramped space that's simultaneously messy yet organized ( lived in vibes. )

[nevermeanttoknow]

hes a vast avatar to me for reasons

[albino-parakeet]

”A stand-off between two tyrants”

Inspired by this one frame from Amelia B’s “DECEPTACON” animation

Finally a recent piece, a version without letterboxing under cut

[hershelwidget]

Octonauts x Sky: CoTL AU. if you even care

(OG POST)

The main 8 are a group of Skykids who all were born during Season of Abyss. They call themselves the Octonauts, led by one named Barnacles. They’re dedicated to finding and helping any and all other Light Creatures that are in need of help, but are most often found in Isle of Dawn helping Moths through their first hours of life.

Some notes:

• All names are the same as they were in the og show.

• Tunip is the leader of a partnering group called the Vegimals. He’s the main representative of them, and the Vegimals most commonly work in the Sanctuary Islands. They have higher swimming ability than the Octonauts.

• The Gups are another partnering group called, well, the Gups. Their leader is Octopod (Polly/Jarvis). They work best in Golden Wasteland, and are very skilled at distracting/fighting Dark Creatures.

I have designs for the Gups and Lars (who’s going to have a VERY different role than you may expect), please look forward to them in another post :)

[oflgtfol]

anyway i lowkey wanna make a big masterpost and/or essay or whatever like as a handbook to night sky observing. not just in a like, here's how to identify constellations, but in the like. here's how to ground yourself here on earth and see the actual orbital configurations of our heliocentric solar system by simply observing planetary motions in the sky. and observe the fact that the earth is round by watching the motions of the seasonal constellations and draw some celestial sphere diagrams. etc

i'm like especially interested in archaeoastronomy lately because of these exercises in trying to generate an actual bodily intuition around astronomy beyond the math and programming that i learned in school, because it's like, this is the version of astronomy that existed for millennia upon millennia until technology advanced enough to make more complicated observations and conclusions. we literally only had our own eyes, bodies, and minds to puzzle it over for most of human history. and trying to recreate this in myself by teaching it to myself through brief stargazing sessions and many many sessions in stellarium in my free time is like, idk. really eye opening. it's one thing to be taught in school that yeah the earth is round and the sun is at the center of the solar system and there's other planets, and it's another thing to then do complicated math under those assumptions, and it's a different thing entirely when you actually then go outside and see with your own human eyes that those facts are true of the physical world you exist in. these aren't just abstract concepts but things that occupy the physical space that you live in

[bbyseok]

thinking about teen gojo who’s still learning how to control his powers… and just starts floating every time you kiss him.

you just started dating after he won your heart some time around your first year as jujutsu high students, and there’s not really a difference from when you were friends compared to when you’re now together but—

there are the closer cuddles during movie nights and the spotanenous hangouts now established as dates amongst other things, and of course, the kisses.

funnily enough, it was you who intiated the first kiss, even after his oh so bold and confident claims that he’d be the best boyfriend and kisser, despite never having been in a relationship before.

some might consider that your first kiss with gojo wasn’t so special, but it’s special to you.

it had been a convenience store run he had dragged you out on during the ungodly am hours. satoru rummaging for his newly bought sweets in the grocery bag, his tongue poking out of his mouth. his expression had lit up when he pulled out his candy, eyes flitting to yours and then-

you leaned in to press a quick, chaste kiss to his lips.

his snowy eyelashes fluttered in shock, staring at you like you had just strung up the stars in the current night sky overhead. the dim light from the convenience store casts a glow over your facial features, and it takes him a moment to realize that the curvature of your lips had just been on his. that you had kissed him.

and then he started floating.

you couldn't help but laugh and pull him back down and in for yet another kiss.

and it keeps happening every time you kiss him now. it doesn’t matter what he was doing before, as soon as your lips leave his, his feet leave the floor too — quite literally.

you’d think that he’s doing it on purpose, but he swears that he isn’t! it’s not his fault that his technique goes haywire whenever you bless him with a kiss!

it’s to the point where you’ve decided not question it now, and even the others don’t too.

“suguru and i are going off for our mission!” and suguru watches his best friend lean down expectantly towards you, tapping his lips with a finger, “can i have a good luck kiss, sweetheart?”

and you oblige sweetly with a hum, “have fun, you two. be safe!”

suguru’s hand is already outstretched to tug satoru down to the earth by his jacket once he starts drifting upwards. “c’mon, satoru.”

hell, he’s been half-asleep, still drowsy as you give him a kiss while leaving his dorm early in the morning before you’re caught by yaga, and gojo starts hovering off the mattress like an exorcism is taking place, the thin blanket slipping off his legs.

(“i guess you can say that you really sweep me off my fee- ow!”)

and while it’s ridiculous, you also find that it’s rather endearing.

but god forbid you start making out with him though. you’re not quite sure on what might happen whenever that comes around..

[shadowwfoxx]

Hurt

Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: Logan takes care of you when you get hurt. fluff. Logan is a softie just for you.

You and Logan were supposed to have a romantic picnic date at the park. That plan was quickly ruined once you looked outside the window and saw dark and angry clouds surface the sky. Not too long after that, the thunderstorm had started. 

Since the weather was so shitty you and Logan decided to stay in, watch a movie, and have him spend the night. You also threw in that you would make him your famous pasta dish that he absolutely loved.

Your apartment felt extremely warm and cozy compared to the storm unfolding outside. You were in your kitchen stirring the pasta to ensure it didn’t burn at the bottom. Logan insisted on helping you but you didn’t allow him, telling him to sit and relax. He was on the couch nursing a beer while watching the football game, looking over his shoulder a few times to check on you. 

The blaring sound of the timer for the pasta went off. You turn off the timer before going to turn off the stovetop. You then grab your pasta strainer and place it in the sink. You grab the two handles of the pot, pick it up, and walk over to the sink to strain the water. 

Just as you were tilting the pot, a huge flash of lighting, followed by the loudest rumble of thunder you’ve ever heard struck. Startled, you swing your head to the side to look out your living room window, the trees outside swaying harshly. Your lights then flicker a few times, your TV shutting off in the process. You hear Logan curse under his breath. 

No longer focused on what you are doing, you tilt the pot full of boiling water further down without realizing it. A huge amount of hot water escapes the pot and comes into contact with the inside of your arm. 

“Fuck!” You hiss, immediately dropping the pot in the sink, making a loud bang when it drops. The pasta spills all at the bottom of it. You groan, and hold your other hand over the burn, trying to relieve the pain spreading throughout your arm. Tears now threatening to spill.

“What happened?” Logan asks, his voice rough and demanding. He is quick to be by your side, his hand warm on the small of your back. 

“I-I burned myself with the pasta water.” You whine, squeezing your eyes shut. Tears start to roll down your face. You were never someone to have such a good tolerance for pain. Logan rubs up and down your back soothingly.

“Let me have a look baby,” He says softly but firm, guiding you to face him. You slowly move your hand that was covering your burn, wincing at the pain. 

Logan holds your arm out, inspecting your wound. “You got yourself good huh bub.” All you do is sniffle.

He guides your arm to the sink, turning on the cold water and letting it pour on your burn. You hiss at the relief and pain it was providing you. 

“I know, I know.” He whispers. He kisses the top of your head while still holding your arm underneath the water. His other arm rubs up and down yours.

“Keep it under the water okay? I’m gonna get some bandages.” The warmth of his body disappears from behind you. You hear him rummage through the bathroom cabinet, groaning when random pill bottles fall on the floor. After a few minutes, you hear his footsteps behind you. He reaches from behind you to turn off the water. 

“Let me fix you up bub.” He grabs your hand, leading you to the couch. He sets his stuff down on the coffee table before taking a seat on the couch. Logan puts a hand on your hip to guide you to sit across his lap. He cleans your burn and wraps it in a bandage. You don’t even notice how you’re still silently crying. 

“Why the tears princess? Hm?” Logan squeezes your thigh. You haven’t made eye contact with him yet, still upset. “Hey look at me.” His hands going under your chin. You finally meet his gaze.

“Cause everything is ruined.” Your bottom lip trembles. “Our picnic date, dinner, and now my stupid arm.” You let out a shaky breath, trying not to cry more. 

“Hey hey, nothing’s ruined. C’mere.” He turns you to straddle his lap. He wraps his muscular arms around your body for a hug, putting one hand on your head cradling it. “We still have that movie to watch. How ‘bout that?” His voice was low and raspy. You nod, looking at him.

He wipes your tears before giving you a peck on the lips. He gives your butt a light tap signalling you to stand up. You stand up as Logan moves to lie down on his side. You lie in front of him, his arm wrapping around you immediately to pull you close to his body. Maybe it wasn’t all ruined after all.

[gambling-bartender]

Husk had sat back against the wall by the service entrance with a new cigarette lit as he waited for the spider demon to return. He had hoped that the whole affair hadn't made her suspicious of his identity, he was enjoying the anonymity a little too much and knew that once she realized who he was it would likely sever what rapport they had built, especially since he was pretty sure she was an owned soul of Valentino's.

He loved the power that came with being an overlord but the experience could be rather isolating. This was the first time in years that he got to be just a sinner and nothing more to someone.

He took a long drag of his cigarette as the door to the service entrance opened and out came his friend? companion? acquaintance? He wasn't sure exactly what they were yet but the sight of her came at just the right moment that the sudden shock of how beautiful she was combined with the smoke made him cough.

"Luce dei miei occhi, siete come le stelle nel cielo," Husk breathed, stunned by just how much a well fitting dress changed how she looked. She was beautiful before but now... she was breathtaking.

"I-" he caught off, realizing that he had in fact spoken his thoughts, and in a language she could understand no less, "forgive me, I was simply stunned that you could be... ancora più bella."

The lilt of his native language–even with a clear English accent–gives Angel pause. Magenta eyes wide as he blushes–he’s suddenly thankful for the mask across his face. He’d understood him…?

The fox leads him to a quieter corner of the room, towards a door flanked by two security staff. Almost immediately Angel is ready to tell him not to worry about it–that maybe this is a bad idea–but it all happens so fast that he’s reaching for his new friend before he’s gone.

One moment the guards are asking if they could help, and the next–

A simple explanation from the man on his arm and Angel is swept away through that door as if he were somebody IMPORTANT. Led on a short path through back hallways and into a dressing room of sorts.

“Go ahead and choose something, I’ll be out here when you're done.” And suddenly for the first time all evening Angel is alone. Truly and blissfully ALONE.

No eyes watching.

No hands grabbing.

No Valentino to keep him in line.

And it’s all he can do to collapse. Tearing off that bawdy dress and sinking to the carpet with a shuddering sigh of relief. For a long few moments he just sits there, letting himself normalize for the first time all evening–just BEing for a few minutes to get his bearings.

Then he sets out on choosing something else to wear. Making his way over to a series of wardrobes and drawers–taking off his mask and setting it aside as four arms fiddle through option after option. Finally settling on just a simple a-line gown of black velvet. Single sleeved with an almost too low back and a slit clean up to his hip. A much better fit for the thin of his frame and the black matched the gold of his mask well enough.

The gown was long enough that if he’d been any shorter it would have dragged the floor, but with his height it just barely skimmed. A fact that Angel was not upset about–made for easier movement.

One more twirl–and a glance cast at the dress Val had picked–he put on his mask and made his way to the door. To let the security guard know that he was ready to go back to his new friend.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 day 31

tags : pwp (without plot), porn with feelings (kind of), cum play, creampie, cum eating, really really MESSY sex (like seriously. im WARNING you), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight marking, possessiveness (the needy kind), handjob, slight oral (f), praise, dirty talk, use of pet name "angel". this is generally soft but its uhhh… QUITE filthy whoopsie…, lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 1.8k

an : HAPPY HALLOWEEN! 🥰 i know i haven't been keeping to the masterlist entirely, but i did 100% want to be sure to finish this one req before xavier's birth month ends (and then save the others for my november backlog) 🤍 since the first two fics i wrote for him this month focused on his past selves, i figured it would be apt to end the month with this hehe 🥰🥰 enjooyy~

taglist : under the cut !! (SIGN UP HERE)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

A night under the stars does nothing but solidify his love for you.

It was like stardust.

Speckles of light gathered around his figure, illuminated in such a glow that wouldn't dare allow you to look away. If a few moments ago he'd brought you out for a walk under the stars, that view of the sky was nothing compared to the view in front of you now.

His hair clung to his forehead, beads of sweat visible on his skin. The pace he took was nearly relentless—exertion was clear on his features, yet he was beautiful, nonetheless. You felt your breath catch in your throat when he leaned down. Within seconds, your body was littered with kisses, and marks, and everything possible to convey that you were his.

Like a little bunny marking his territory, you thought to yourself with a smile.

And you didn't mind, truly.

You didn't mind that he'd barely kept his hands off of you the moment you'd gotten back to his apartment, practically dragging you with him across the living room, stumbling throught he bedroom door. His hands were all over you—clothes discarded quickly in a trail, and he was desperate. For your touch, your kisses, your—anything. Everything.

It hadn't taken long for you to be pinned against the bed, his hips rolling sinfully against yours—

And he was beautiful.

You didn't mind at all.

"One more, angel… Can you take another one?"

His breath was ragged. There was a low tone to his voice when he spoke, and it brought a zing of pleasure up your body.

So polite.

Despite the way his tip plunged into your walls with wet, sloppy noises… Despite the way you could feel that sting of sensitivity, and despite the sticky mess that had leaked out of you from previous rounds.

If you looked down, you could see a milky white ring coating the length of his cock. The wet sheen was clearly visible as he disappeared again, and again, and again, and again, right into your cunt—it made you dizzy. The sheets of his bed had been absolutely ruined.

He'd filled you up so much, and he hadn't wanted to stop since he'd started—

Yet he was so polite.

And how could you dare to complain when he felt so good?

Lips parting with shallow breaths, you reached out to cradle his face.

Soft, gentle touches.

Soft, gentle… just like the way he looked at you.

You watched his hazy eyes lock with yours, and it was shocking. Even through all that lust, all that want, all that desire—his gaze held so much love for you, never absent in the way he looked at you, never failing to convey… you.

You, you, you.

"Mine."

A whisper croaked into a moan.

"Mine… mine…"

Every thrust drove your hips deeper into his mattress, punctuated by a quiet whisper of the same words.

A chant, almost.

And he nuzzled against your palm, puffs of breath spreading into your hand as he kissed your skin—almost urging you to allow him to take your fingers past his lips.

His.

You watched him do it.

With bated breath, your eyes latched onto the way his tongue ran over your digits, slowly but surely taking them into his mouth. He closed his eyes when he sucked, fucking you to the very same rhythm that his tongue enjoyed the taste of your skin.

His.

"More…" It was your turn to speak, this time.

Wonder laced with your voice as he smiled, pulling away from your fingers.

It was easy, how he directed your gaze downwards, trailing a hand over your skin and pressing over your stomach.

A groan fell from your lips, and he sighed.

"More? When you're so full of me..."

He pulled out so you could see him pulsing, the redness of his tip causing you to clench around physically nothing. It made your heart jump—but that wasn't just it. Your eyes trailed back up to meet his, and the mischief in them had you swallowing thickly.

Watch, came a silent command, giving your thigh a little squeeze.

And you felt it.

Your eyes widened as you watched him cum all over your entrance, the warm liquid pooling over your mound. He fell forward with a moan, pumping his hand, hips bucking forward to brush himself against your sex but never quite doing more than that—

It didn't stay that way for long.

He pushed it right back in with a lewd squelch, barely giving you space to react, and it was enough to pull another orgasm out of you, body arching off the bed with ecstasy.

He didn't stop.

He hadn't stopped, not since all of this had even began.

He'd gather as much of his cum as he could just to stuff it back in; "Mine," he whispered, another quiet chant with every shallow thrust that he could muster, words barely heard over the wet sounds that continued to resound in your head.

He nestled himself back deeply into your sensitive walls before he kissed you.

Lazy thrusts continued to his cum inside you, and he was so—so lost in the pleasure, so much that you could feel it. And the mere thought that he could do that—drown in how much you made him feel—it sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

He was being so dirty.

And yet, despite that, the way that he kissed you felt so tender.

Chants of "mine" turned to "i love you".

I love you because you're mine; you're mine because I love you.

You are mine to love.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, feeling him deep, his hips still moving languidly against you. "I love you more," you half-joked, a soft laugh falling from your lips.

He shook his head. "I love you most."

He would leave no room for argument.

His lips ghosted yours, teasing a kiss, before he rest his head beside you, panting against your cheek. "M'lucky to have you. Don't want anything else… Just want you… Just want to stay with you, just… just want us…"

"Mhm, and you have me."

Your hands reached up to run through the soft strands of his hair.

"I have you?"

"You have me," you nodded. And you smiled. "I'm lucky to have you, Xavie. I wouldn't trade this moment for anything else in the world, and who cares anymore about the stars in the sky when I have you, just as you have me…"

Softly, he laughed, nuzzling against you—

"The stars must be jealous knowing you're by my side."

You felt him twitch at your words, and you could have laughed—would have—if he hadn't pulled out of you then.

Anything you had to say for yourself quickly melted into a whine as he started dragging his cock up your body, curling himself into you as he rubbed it against your stomach. You could feel the stickiness of his cum follow through, and with slow, careful breaths, you moved a hand downwards to cage around his length, keeping him between your palm and your stomach, forming a sort of opening for him to rut into.

It didn't take long for his movements to become desperate.

His whole body shuddered on top of you, arms struggling to hold his weight so as not to crush you. His breath stuttered; barely-coherent babbling fell quietly from his lips, eyes rolling back into his head—

He looked so beautiful.

He groaned into the space above your head, fisting the sheets to stay steady, bips moving quicker and quicker and—

Part of you wondered how on earth he could take it—so insatiable. So much desire for you that he couldn't help himself in your presence; he'd let you jerk him off like this and have you bask in the low grunts and whimpers he would let out at the stimulation…

It wasn't long before he was releasing.

You tilted your head to avoid it hitting your face, but truly, you didn't mind—not even as the thick ropes of his cum coated your body, spilling over your breasts, your neck, your chin…

He had so much.

And everytime, you would think to yourself that this was really how far he wanted you.

"Xavier…" you whisper.

And when he collapsed down against you, he slid back down to kiss you sloppily.

Your eyes closed.

Despite the sticky feeling so blatntly obvious between your bodies, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back.

"Mmh… love you so much, angel…" he groaned into your mouth, kisses open, and messy, and raw.

I love you, too.

You said it in the way your hands tangled into his hair, even as he slid further down, tongue tracing nearly every inch of your body. "S'dirty, Xav…" your eyes rolled back as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples, sickling at it before pulling at it with his teeth.

"Mmh. Cleaning."

He tilted his head to meet yours, darkened eyes holding a serious expression—

Your body jolted.

His fingers joined the exploration of your skin, tracing your curves and scooping up his cum only to reach back down and stuff it right into you.

"M-mmph—?!"

Shh— Despite your shock, the look in his eyes spoke volumes. He would have said; It's okay, angel, just let me take care of you.

And slowly, slowly, he traced his tongue down over your stomach, before he sighed.

His head rest against your thigh.

His expression looked light; blissful. He breathed against you, eyes drawn right towards your cunt, watching the cream that oozed out of you with some sense of admiration... He wasn't doing anything, not really—and perhaps to anyone else, he'd simply seem tired.

But you knew that wasn't the case.

You were proven right when, every so often, he would break the spell by shoving his fingers right back into you as if determined to keep you full of him. Each thrust of his fingers was more surprisingly timed than the last, and he was successfully in pulling a gasp from you each time he did so.

"X-Xavierrr…" you whined this time.

"…My pretty angel."

The only reply you'd get was another sigh of seeming satisfaction.

This time, he raised his eyes to look at you, trailing up over your body to your face, and the lovedrunk little smille he have you made you melt.

"Beautiful. The most magnificent, most ethereal star in the sky… Here, with me, mine."

…The stars must be jealous knowing you're by my side.

He said it with his eyes. Your own words, right back to you.

But his gaze carried within it a certain mischief—he nuzzled your thigh, and before you could think, he leaned over to place a quick kiss right at your clit. The sudden stimulation where you were so sensitive had you jumping, and his tongue had the audacity to dart out and lap lazily around your folds.

"Hnnh—w-wait! Wait, Xavier, too much, too much—!"

His eyes sparkled.

Oh, he wasn't done with you yet.

"One more round?"

an : stays you know where the title is from right 😉

taglist! @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @ononpetitecroissant @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @rafayelsgf @spotted-salamander @love-and-deepstrays @oharasmommymilkers00 @rafslvr @keioxo @theanbitchless

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[ghostaholics]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn medic!Reader (same reader from here, but this is a stand-alone) ➸ SUMMARY: You kiss Simon's very minor injuries. And then some. (Or, alternatively: He's not actually wounded. He just wants to see you.) ➸ WARNING(S): some graphic descriptions of old injuries ➸ A/N: Need to preface that this isn't smut despite how the title and summary sound. Anyways, Jo knows I listened to Hozier's Other Voices 2020 version of "Work Song" for a week straight while writing this. ➸ WC: 2k

❝ ����𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃, ❞ he admits, low-timbered. It feels intimate, especially coming from him. Simon's sitting on the cot; it sags under his weight. He curls his hands over the edge of it as he leans forward. No casualties post-mission means he's got free rein to pick wherever he wants in the medical tent.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"That I should probably do my best to avoid injuries so I don’t keep pestering you. Can always just tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“You’re gonna break my heart if you stop coming around.

“Mm,” he says in agreement. “Can’t have that can we?”

You nod your head earnestly. “I like your company.”

“Tryin’ to say that you’ll miss me?”

“I would.” More than he knows.

It’s routine now. He gives you just enough room, adjusting his position. You step into the space made between Simon’s splayed knees, his massive legs nearly bracketing yours with how close they are. He’s bigger than you. Well, considerably more mammoth-like in his proportions compared to an overwhelming majority of the soldiers that you’ve encountered, to be quite honest.

Simon acts as though he’s acutely aware of his size. You suspect that he purposefully makes himself smaller in your presence. Like now, how his shoulders are rounded forward, the column of his spine not as straight-arrow in that standard, militaristic posture most servicemen have adopted. As if he doesn’t want to appear too intimidating. Not that Simon could, to you. Hours doing his stitches and idle chitchat on your part have taught you that he’s much less ruthless than people seem to paint him as. But you appreciate the thought anyway.

You conduct the assessment – a typical evaluation normal for combat casualty care, more in-depth than the one you’d done when he initially stopped by and you did a quick once-over for any obvious injuries. Though given the complete vacancy in the medical tent, you find it hard to believe that you’ll come across anything on him since the mission went that smoothly.

The first thing you notice this time: he doesn't smell like spilled blood. It's different. Not that sweet, rusted iron of wet tackiness – the one that reminds you of a generous stack of two pence coins held between a pair of hands cupped together. He comes in that way a lot. Reeks, because war means that he's no stranger to charging through a shower of copper and lead-forged bullets out on the field. Everything else is still there, though. Maybe a dying campfire – crackling logs and blackened earth. Soft dirt excavated from a foxhole for cover while under enemy fire. All gunpowder and Marlboro Lights and diesel-fuel smoke. Fresh rain and a blue-violet sky after a storm. Victory without consequence.

You'd breathe it in if you could, pull the collar of his jacket up to your face. At this proximity, it’d be easy.

He drops the act when he’s in front of you. Lieutenant. Ghost. Battle-hardened, gruff. A natural-born leader. The kind of person to rip this world apart brick by brick – scraped up palms clutching onto broken pieces – to make sure that the plan is executed accordingly, no matter the cost. It’s hard for him to shed that layer. A drop in the bucket of information that you’ve gathered about this man.

You’ve seen him at his best. But you know him at his worst.

The laundry list of injuries over the years: blows to his torso and his back and his limbs that were brighter than technicolor – purples and reds and sickly yellow-green shades – deep, blotchy medals of violence decorating his skin like some kind of fucked-up kaleidoscope that was nothing to be proud of; when some bastard drove a knife right into his upper thigh, that dirty blade wedged through tissue and muscle which was sure as hell going to induce the nastiest infection without serious TLC and a tetanus shot; rib fractures 7-9 because he aborted an exploding heli, seconds to spare before landing on his side wrong from a height that was equivalent to three stories tall; old GSWs dotting his body the same way you’d shove push pins into a paper-flimsy map to mark the places you’ve been to.

And then there’s no contest for the top contender. 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 #𝟏: when he was rushed in on a stretcher, barely clinging to life. Lower abdomen shredded by exploding shrapnel. He was outside of the window of opportunity. Too far beyond that golden hour, so his chances of surviving plummeted to a single-digit percent.

He’s more than just a patchwork of scars. There’s a complex person underneath the surface. A miracle in the flesh to have toughed it out through all of that. Resilient. Perpetual. His callsign makes sense. Ghosts really do live forever.

Several seconds pass before you speak again. It’s a silly comment, teasing – poking fun at him. You don’t have any reservations when it comes to picking on Simon; he’s good about taking these things in stride. Funny, actually. He’s got a dry sense of humor. “I think… you like the idea of someone taking care of you.”

His response isn’t immediate. It’s delayed, said with intention. He doesn’t ever waste words. “Not just anybody.”

You nearly reel back at that. Warmth floods your face. You aren’t quite sure what to say, didn’t expect it. So you let the comment hang in the air between the two of you, busying your hands with slipping off his tac vest, triple-checking for hidden wounds, doing anything to keep yourself occupied while you stand this close to him in the wake of that remark. You’re engrossed in your work, in search of a distraction.

(He’s a distraction, isn’t he?)

And then your eyes stop in their scan. Right there: a small nick on the exposed sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve – open to the direct path of some wayward debris that happened to graze him. So tiny. You’ve seen paper cuts more harrowing than this – wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, especially if it’s being dwarfed by other critical wounds that hold decisive sway over somebody’s fate when it comes to your average life-or-death scenario.

Of course, you take your job very seriously.

You feign a sharp inhale. “Ah,” you say solemnly, guiding his arm up to your face for a closer look. “Found your problem.”

“I’ve got a problem,” he echoes, voice laced with amusement.

“See, you came to the right place. Anybody else would’ve missed it.”

“The verdict, then?”

“So terrible. Earth-shattering, in fact—”

Simon starts pulling away. “Alright, that’s enough of you takin’ the piss outta me,” he gripes.

You chase his arm to recapture it into your grasp. “Wait!” you say, huffing out a laugh. Your mouth sprouts into a wide grin that makes him roll his eyes.

“You gonna treat me or what?”

Your humor bubbles away as you come back to your senses. Those once-loud peals of laughter start to die down when you take his question into consideration. Because there’s really nothing for you to do; he doesn’t need you.

The realization is slow-moving. It washes over you, rolls like waves as you finally begin to sober up.

Simon wants to be here, and he’s looking for any excuse to stay. He just can’t find the courage to own up to it.

“I dunno. Might be unconventional,” you throw out casually, playing along. “Risky, maybe – never been done before.”

But he’s undeterred. “Sure. Whatever you gotta do.”

You pause for a beat, fingers still wrapped around his forearm because you haven’t managed to let go yet. His skin is warm under your palm. You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to do it – emboldened by his encouragement, given complete carte blanche; he’s leaving this to your discretion. So you press your lips to that area where the cut is, right over his pulse point. If you had lingered for longer, you probably would’ve been able to feel it thudding, that solid rhythm and easy strength reminding you he’s alive.

You expected him to withdraw his arm in bewilderment. He should’ve kicked up a fuss about you violating his boundaries, should’ve told you that you overstepped. Something, right?

But he doesn’t do any of that. Simon’s studying you. Dark pupils. So chasm-deep that the ground beneath your feet might slip away. Ocean trenches, midnight-black like the charcoal smudged around his eyes. When they land on you, his gaze goes molasses-soft. He’s fond; there’s little room for doubt. The way he looks at you says everything. None of that usual coldness he harbors during an op. Instead, relaxed and more human than you’re used to seeing – all of his attention focused solely on you.

“Where else, Simon?” you whisper.

He’s thinking – carefully weighing his options – the same expression that he gets when a crossroads lies ahead of him and he knows his make-it-or-break-it decision will invariably affect the outcome of a mission.

After several moments, his hand comes up. Simon’s fingers curl underneath the hem of his mask; he’s been wearing the fabric balaclava more often since you’ve fixed the stitching on it. Then he lifts – not the entire way. Just to reveal the bottom half of his face. There he is. Sandpaper-rough stubble. The sharp cut of his jaw. A mouth that you’re convinced wears a scowl 24/7 behind his mask but is now slightly twitched up.

Even though you’ve seen it before, the sight of him never fails to steal your breath away. Feels like meeting him for the first time again. With how rarely he does this, it might as well be – that slow, heart-melting sensation is steadily filling the cavern of your chest.

And you lean in. Your lips brush against his; it’s a chaste thing – the kiss – if it can be called that. Gentle. Like how you’d stitch up his wounds with a light touch and kind intent. He’s built of sterner stuff, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s capable of breaking just as easily as everyone else. You always handle Simon with care: unequivocal compassion and empathy when there’s so little of those left on this side of war – privileges that he’s never taken for granted.

“Better?” you ask quietly, tipping your head in question.

Simon hums his approval – this pleased, low sound in his throat. His hand slides across your lower back. He tugs you towards him. “Wouldn’t mind some more attention,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over yours. And then he kisses you like it might heal him from the outside in.

[aurumalatus]

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 1.6k

genre/warnings. pixelprincess!au (princess!reader x knight!kinich), graphic depictions of violence/terrorism

summary.

when the abyssal army attacks the kingdom, you and kinich end up trapped in the chaos. battered and broken and pushed to his limits, kinich gives everything he has to protect you.

author's note. a more serious drabble between the two, a huge contrast to the first one LOL. this one touches a bit on kinich's lore on this universe (i.e. having dragon powers), and a lot of semi-romantic commitment to each other <3 i hope you enjoy, reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 ���𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Your ears are ringing.

It had been sunset moments ago, you think. Your father had been delivering a speech to the people in the Capital square to celebrate your latest victory over the Abyssal army. Something had flashed in the distance, and suddenly, Kinich was saying something you couldn’t hear, running and leaping at you and tackling you to the ground, and—

What’s going on?

There’s a puff of breath hot against your neck. Your eyes open, and you flinch hard when Kinich is staring directly at you, multicolored irises boring into your own. He’s so close that your noses are brushing, that you’re sharing air.

What’s going on?

He groans, pushing the ruins of the building off his back—off of you. Your eyes sting from the smoke pooling in the sky. The distinct scent of ash and burning flesh permeates the air, and you nearly vomit from the stench.

“Kinich?” you breathe out.

What’s going on?

He hisses in a breath, hoisting the greatsword from his back—it flashes gold in the dying light. Taking a cursory glance around, he pushes himself to his knees.

“Listen. You’re going to stand up,” he commands, somehow calm, “and we’re going to run. Wait for my count.”

What’s going on?

You give him a once-over. He’s already injured, covered in fresh bruises and wounds. Your fingers twitch toward the growing patch of crimson over his stomach. “You’re bleeding—”

“Princess,” Kinich interrupts. There’s not a whisper of mirth in his tone, not like usual—this is the Captain of the Guard that you hear of so rarely. “Did you hear me? You’re going to stand up—”

Another blast rocks the ground, and you wince as dirt and gravel spray across your face. Kinich takes the brunt of it, shielding you with his body, and he coughs when a particularly large piece of debris slices across his back. The smoke grows thicker, you realize; you can see it coalescing above his head, snuffing out the sun.

What’s going on?

Your breathing comes in quick, but it doesn’t come out—in fact, you realize you can’t breathe at all. Your heartbeat quickens, pounding against your chest. You’re panicking.

Kinich glances over his shoulder at the carnage, then quietly curses; it’s probably much worse than you can see. You wonder if the citizens have already safely evacuated. You wonder about the king and queen—you hadn’t seen where they’d gone when Kinich first tackled you down.

What’s going on?

“My parents…where are they?” you choke out in a gasp. He attempts to pull you up, but you resist in your panic. “Kinich, wait—we have to find them. My parents, we have to—”

“Listen to me!”

A roar bursts from Kinich’s chest—it’s nothing compared to the cacophony that pierces the air, but it’s unfamiliar coming from someone like him. It shocks you into wide-eyed silence, and he takes you by the shoulders, touch contrastingly gentle. His gaze is hard, bypassing all your confusion and piercing right into your soul.

“You are my only priority right now.” Something explodes in the distance—he winces at the sound, tucking one hand under your neck and pulling you closer to his chest, protected. His voice echoes again, right at your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I can fight, and I can kill, and I can die, but you are going to make it out of here alive. That is what matters to me. I will do anything to keep you safe. So please stand up.”

No matter how much Kinich annoys you on a daily basis, deep down you know you need someone like him—someone who doesn’t care much to sugarcoat things for you, someone who rarely bothers with formalities, someone who overlooks your title in favor of you. His words are the gravity bringing you back to earth, and you only nod in reply.

He nods back, relieved. “Good. Don’t be afraid. I’m with you.”

Carefully, he loops your arms around his shoulders, and on his count, you heave yourself upwards. It hurts—you scream as it happens, every single one of your muscles and bones aching in protest. Kinich’s jaw sets tightly, teeth grinding together so hard you can practically hear it.

“I know it hurts, Princess,” he murmurs. Your combined weight is too much; he stabs his sword into the ground, using it as a cane to pull you forward. “Stay with me here.”

Every step is laborious. Battle still rages on around you, and it’s difficult to navigate the ruins in your state. The smoke grows thicker—Kinich tears a piece off his tattered cape, commanding you to hold it over your mouth and nose. For himself, he pulls down his headband, letting it mask the bottom half of his face. His hair is longer than you remember, bangs falling messily over his forehead. It’s a useless detail, but it’s all you can focus on in the havoc.

“You still with me?”

Kinich’s hand falls over yours, squeezing it once—a comfort. You squeeze back, trying to hold back the tears pricking at your eyes.

“I’m still here.”

Your voice cracks.

The sound of Abyssal beasts echoes, and your heartbeat quickens—you’ll be defenseless if they catch you. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem with Kinich by your side, but he’s more injured than he lets on. He grunts in pain with each step, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead from the exertion.

The more you move, the less everything makes sense. You can’t tell up from down or left from right. All you can hear is screams and moans of pain and the roars of monsters. One of them sounds from your immediate right—Kinich curses, and you sense something coming closer.

“We’ll have to fight,” he says hurriedly, scrambling to find somewhere to put you down.

Kinich always carries a dagger at his thigh, ever prepared in case he loses his sword, and he unsheathes it as he sets you on the ground. He presses the handle of it into your hand—your ribbon is still tied around the grip, a token of good luck, proof of your wish for his safety. 

“If I fall, or the Abyss corrupts me, use this. Don’t forget what I taught you.”

“Kinich—”

“Promise me.”

His eyes say it all—he’s desperate, curling your fingers under his own so that you properly hold the blade, willing his remaining strength into you. Your grip tightens on the dagger, and you nod weakly. Kinich’s body sags in relief.

“May the Abyss take my soul if I ever abandon you,” he whispers, quoting his oath. It almost makes you nostalgic. You remember the ceremony well—he’d exuded a quiet strength even back then. “May my skin tear from bone if you ever suffer.”

It feels like a goodbye.

For the first time in the mess, you take a good look at his face, at the state of him. His left eye is swelling shut quickly. You thumb over the purpling skin, a single tear sliding down your cheek at the sheer damage. He’s already lost so much blood, a crimson flower blooming across his stomach. His armor is dirty and dinged with scratches, even burned away in certain places. You’re not sure how he’s still even moving.

You’ve always held a deep faith in Kinich’s abilities. He’s been the calm in the storms of your life until now, every assassination attempt, every obstacle, every misstep. You know it’s due to your own hesitation that he’d gotten this hurt, and it scares you—after all, he’s still mortal just like you. In his current state, he stands no chance against the army of Abyss monsters around you.

Your hand drags down to his cheek. “Kinich, leave me.”

He pulls away from your touch, gaze flashing with anger. “No.”

Your jaw tightens. “Kinich, that’s an order.”

He rises to his feet, unsteady, his greatsword lifted weakly at his side. The monsters are coming, drawing out of the darkness. “And I refuse it.”

His steps are unnaturally heavy as he staggers forward, cutting down one of the beasts. He fights with grace, even now, not a single movement wasted in his battle. You wish you’d asked him to teach you more—you can’t even move, but your mind screams at you to help him.

One of the monsters catches him in the back, and he roars out in pain before turning and stabbing it through the neck. He’s still fighting, but the fire within him is burning out quickly, and you can sense it. A patch of pixel-like scales flashes over his neck, a power bubbling just beneath the surface, but he can’t seem to draw it out fully—he’s too weak, too tired.

You push yourself up on your arms, trying to crawl toward him. Your throat is raw from the smoke and ash, but still you find the strength to scream.

“I am the princess of Natlan! You are bound by your duty to carry out my orders—”

He turns to you, pulling his headband off his face, and you gasp in a breath—his skin is painted in hues of green and gold, lines of tattoos criss-crossing his arms and legs, cutting across his features. He’s glowing so brightly that it burns the smoke away, until all you can see is your knight standing before you, defiant. His eyes meet yours, and despite the power that pours out of him, his expression is pleading.

“Fire me then, Princess. Exile me. Have me executed for disobeying you. Do whatever you want to me when this is all over, but for now, they’ll have to cut me down before they take another step toward you.”

Three more Abyssal monsters approach, claws flashing, and you scream as Kinich turns back to face them. They lunge before he can react, millimeters from cutting into his skin, and then—

A pulse vibrates under your feet just as a white-hot light explodes in front of you, burning into your eyes. You can’t tell who’s yelling—maybe it’s you, or maybe it’s Kinich, but it makes your eardrums ring and sting. You reach out desperately but find nothing.

Everything goes dark.

[theherohaven]

— FALLING IN LOVE WITH NARUTO CHARACTERS

FEATURING gaara, kakashi, neji

genre: light angst, but happy endings!

— gaara

falling in love with gaara is:

reaching out to him, but never far enough. watching him from a distance, but being too scared to close the gap. it’s the waning, sapping sun that disappears behind the sandstorm, and it’s the smooth marble skin of his hands and the bitter stars that make his hair less red.

it’s his surgeon eyes and the barren air and how his voice is always so soft. it’s his healing heart and his calm smile and how you’ll never truly be able to understand him. falling in love with gaara leaves your heart bursting on the sand.

but when you watch the setting sky you’ll find solace in his hands (he’ll muster up the bravery to interlock it with yours—because with you, gaara has finally found a home!)

— kakashi

falling in love with hatake kakashi is:

being teased, relentlessly. constant confusion, dancing around the truth, pushing boundaries and then disappearing. it's blushing furiously and scrambling for a retort; his lazy blinks, his smutty novels, the squareness of his jaw through his mask.

it's being devoured in a single glance, being left breathless and confused. his paradoxically lazy arrogance which makes your heart race. its the wide expanse of his shoulders, the dexterity of his hands.

sometimes you'll hate him, you'll want to punch that stupid sharingan right out of his face. but then you find a bunch of your favourite flowers left on your windowsill, with a note bearing handwriting that is all too familiar.

— neji

falling in love with hyuga neji is:

lingering feelings of inadequacy compared to him, sparks of competitiveness, however futile. it's his elegance, his grace, and your consequential awe. falling in love with neji is like walking through a grove of cherry blossom trees.

those wide, endlessly searching, lilac eyes, that solemn mouth, that beautiful voice of his: he is stern, classically handsome.

although his contemplative temperament gets you disheartened sometimes, he is truly a gentleman. before you even have time to feel sorry for yourself, he is kissing your hand, touching your cheek, forever looking out for your well-being.

like my work? consider supporting me on kofi :) <3

[awearywritersworld]

gratitude

gojo satoru x reader summary: gojo wakes up early one morning, suddenly aware that he can't live without you. w/c: .5k tags/warnings: fluff. gn!reader. a/n: happy jjk day!!! masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

gojo satoru is something of a stranger to gratitude, but can anyone really blame him? he was born with unmatched strength, unaccustomed to the blood, sweat, and tears many people shed to gain even a fraction of the power he possesses.

he's the son of one of the wealthiest clans in japan, so he's never gone to bed hungry, nor has he ever had to wear a pair of shoes that were past their prime. he's also blessed with good looks, always flaunting the kind of smile that makes people turn their heads.

now, that's not to say he's never felt thankful in his life. quite the contrary. he was thankful when nanami returned to jujutsu tech and when yuuji came back to life even after sukuna ripped out his heart. hell, he was thankful for the kid at the bakery who served him a particularly exquisite lemon loaf last week.

but he's never felt true gratitude. you know, the kind you experience when you're given something you can't possibly live without. the kind that moves you, shakes you to the core.

that is, until he's laying in bed beside you, already awake as the sun begins to kiss the morning sky. his eyes trail over your face in the pale blue light of dawn, taking great pains to commit every little detail to memory.

it's then that he feels it, gratitude that seeps into his bones and fills him with relief, hope, and elation all at once. gratitude that changes him as a person, because how could he exist without you? without the soft curve of your nose, without the fullness of your lips, without those cute little snores that let him know you're still sleeping peacefully?

you're laying on your stomach, your back exposed and the sheet bunched around your waist. he traces each divot of your spine with a careful and loving touch, acutely aware that there isn't a thing in the world that could possibly compare to the feeling of your skin against his own.

"'toru? what're you doing awake?" you ask groggily, pulling him from his thoughts.

"hmph.. can't sleep 'cause you're such a blanket hog."

"yeah? are you sure you're not just staring at me again, all googly eyed and creepy?" you pop one eye open to discern the look on his face.

"i've got no idea what you're talking about," he asserts, pulling you against his chest in an attempt to obscure his guilty grin.

you've already seen it though. "i think you're delusional or something, you should get some more sleep."

you feel his chest shift, a breath of a laugh passing his nose. "yeah, you're probably right."

you hum, satisfied with his answer, then tangle your legs with his and close your eyes. "i love you."

gojo has taken a lot of things for granted in his life, he's smart enough to know that, but those three words? from your lips? he'll be grateful for them until the end of time.

"i love you, too."

taglist: @torusmochi @moonmalice

[andypantsx3]

𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 : 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: 1.7k of unedited alien prince shouto thoughts based on this post from the other day! sfw, gender neutral reader. several elements of this universe were borrowed from my fave sci-fi novel; see end notes for deets!

he's beautiful—the todoroki prince. tall and strong in his high-collared uniform, strapped with lean muscle and handsomely humanoid. he's the first thing that snares your gaze as your party is guided into the hall of the sun—the reception dome that overlooks the rise of the star yuuei in the morning sky, used by the ruling family to receive visiting dignitaries.

it is morning, in endeavorian planetary time, and the sun has begun to rise. its light is weaker than you remember from back home—almost watery, pooling like quicksilver in the panes of the dome's ceiling.

up at the front of the hall, it catches in the strands of the white half of the prince's hair. from what izuku has told you, it's the half that indicates he's part of the himura bloodline. the himura dynasty has ruled the yuuei system from its capital planet of endeavor iv for tens of thousands of earth-years. it's the second longest line of unbroken rulers in mapped galactic history, an impressive feat.

the other half of the prince's hair is a fiery red, like that of the man who stands next to him—todoroki enji, the general of intergalactic renown, who donated half of prince shouto's genome as well as his clan name. each time a himuran royal from the main line marries, izuku had explained, talking at lightspeed in the podship, they take a branch name, typically sourced from the primary gene-donator. it helps keep inheritance lines clear.

prince shouto looks like he's inherited empress rei and todoroki enji's genes in exactly half—his coloring split down the middle, though his features are perfectly, almost hauntingly symmetrical. he wears a pin of flint at his collar that symbolizes his gender—one of yuuei's thirteen official designations. from what you understand from izuku, it most closely aligns with earth designation "man".

it's embarrassing how much you notice about the prince as you file into the hall, stationing yourself right at the gap between izuku and tenya's shoulders, so you can still see todoroki shouto.

"you don't think they'll reject the treaty and kill us all, do you?" denki mumurs nervously as he presses in behind you.

"no, i don't think so," izuku's gentle voice drifts back to you. he's a three-star ethnologist, studying for a command ethnology post. subsequently he's the most informed of any of the cadets that have been sent along with the treatise party. you and denki are just mechanics, sent along in case anything goes wrong.

"the alliance would be too much trouble for the yuuei," izuku explains. "they have good relations with the surrounding galaxies and tight control over a lot of resources. but the alliance is really large now, compared to the last time they approached the yuuei. they'll likely want to accept at least a loose federation with the allies."

up on the platform at the front of the hall, prince shouto blinks long and slow, like an earth cat. you realize with a start it's the first time you've seen him blink at all, and the subtle reminder that he is not just an extraordinarily handsome human man but the prince of an alien species makes your skin prickle.

"don't you think it's weird they are all this pretty?" denki asks. "it's weird, right?"

"definitely weird," you laugh, your eyes trailing over prince shouto's blade-straight nose, his pert, perfect mouth. "possibly illegal under intergalatic law."

prince shouto stills all of a sudden, and there is the tiniest tilt of his head. two heterochromatic eyes flick over your way, and you are completely embarrassed by the way your stomach swoops in response. you just manage not to grab onto tenya's uniform to steady yourself.

one of the prince's eyebrow arches almost imperceptibly, and you wonder if he's heard you from this distance—but no, that would be insane.

denki picks up his commentary, emboldened by your playing along. you think the prince's eyes linger just a little too long on the gap between izuku and tenya's shoulders, but then you're distracted by the reception beginning.

the alliance treaty officer strides forward, flanked by a few of the other officials your crew had ferried here. she performs an elaborate bow, as do the other officials. from izuku's muttering you gather it's some sort of ritualistic greeting, and empress rei at least looks pleased with it, waving a gentle hand to gesture the party forward.

there is some shuffling as various aides set up a table and a series of holo-tablets, along with various inks, a leathery roll of endeavorian traditional parchment, and—

"is that a knife?" you ask, peering at the long obsidian blade placed on the table in front of the officials.

izuku's fluffy head of green curls inclines. "treaties are sealed twice. once in the alliance fashion and then again in the local custom, to make it binding per both systems. blood pacts have been used in yuuei for millennia."

the brush of something over your face has your gaze turning back to the prince—to find him staring straight at you, those unblinking eyes boring into you.

"izuku, weird question. can the yuuei hear across rooms?" you ask, suddenly self-conscious.

a green eye peers back at you. "only in the event of their pair bonds—the yuuei are documented hearing their matepair across approximately ten earth-kilometers. i think we're safe over here though. why?"

matepair. the world settles strangely under your skin, as the prince's eyes brush across it.

"uh, matepair?" you echo.

tenya gives both you and izuku a quelling look, but it's not enough to deter izuku from ducking down to explain in slightly quieter tones. "the yuuei look human but they pair differently. they form a parapsychic bond with only a single partner, which they maintain and uphold for life. it's not just cultural—it's like a physical compulsion. they cannot take another pair, and they cannot be separated for long periods or they grow sick."

prince shouto is still staring straight at you, and it's not quite comforting enough to know that he cannot possibly hear you.

it's only his role in the ceremony that seems to eventually break the prince's weird focus in your direction. he steps forward to perform his duty as empress rei's chosen heir. you almost flinch as the knife draws across the pale skin of his palm, and he adds several drips of silvery blood to the parchment, symbolizing yuuei's intent to uphold the treaty across future monarchs.

the flesh of his palm knits itself back together in seconds, and another little shiver goes up your spine. those mismatched eyes flash back your way as he steps back, and the various aides and officials once again converge on the documents.

there is a brief flurry of activity, various bows and oaths, some stilted endeavorian verse. the chief treaty officer looks relieved when it's all over, and the royal family steps down from the dais to greet the rest of the visiting party, as is the customary honor granted to allies to the yuuei. tenya ushers you into the queue near the back with denki, a symbol of your lower status as mechanics.

you don't mind, as the thought of reaching prince shouto has your stomach doing what feel like backflips in your gut. the longer the delay the better.

izuku had walked everyone through the appropriate greetings on the podship, a few murmured words and a hand touch at chest-level—extremely hard to mess up, even for you. but nevertheless your pulse kicks up the closer you draw to the royal family.

there's a long line of them you greet first. offshoot branch members, then general todoroki enji, whose enormous palm burns hot against yours and who looks he'd rather take your party's hands off than touch them. then rei's unchosen heirs—the princess fuyumi, prince natsuo—and a gap where prince touya would have stood, were he not offworld.

and then you're standing in front of prince shouto, your pulse pounding in your ears. he's extremely tall up close, clearing six feet easily, broad across the shoulders and handsome in a way that almost makes your teeth ache. the yuuei look deceptively human, but this near you can see the tiny details that separate them from you—the slight double-point to their ears, the silvery undertone to their skin, the prolonged space between their breaths and their blinks.

and of course their inhuman beauty. they don't quite look like regular people, and it sparks a tiny note of wariness in the primeval part of your human hindbrain.

prince shouto's mismatched eyes pin you, silver and blue, as a sudden, silvery flush creeps across his face. you hold your hand out in greeting, trying not to wonder if you've somehow managed to offend him already—but instead of pressing his palm against yours, his long fingers suddenly grasp yours, clasping tightly.

beyond him, empress rei freezes too. all at once you can feel every single himuran noble turn to look at you, hundreds of eyes pinning on you.

reflexively, words tumble out of you. "shit did i—what did i do? were you supposed to get a different hand thingy?"

you can hear the treaty officer's horrified inhale at the terms shit and hand thingy, deployed in crass galactic standard in front of a literal prince. you immediately wish you could take them back, but from the look on the prince's face, he's already heard them.

something at the corner of his mouth twitches, like he's trying not to smile.

"y/n," he says, in a deep tone. it's crisply accented and just as beautiful as the rest of him.

it takes you a second to realize prince shouto has used your name, which he could not possibly know considering the uniform you'd been issued for the yuuei visit has no unique identifiers on it. you glance down at yourself, then back up at him, befuddled.

"how did you—? where did you—?" you garble out. "did denki put you up to this? how do you know me?"

prince shouto's fingers smooth over yours, delightfully warm, calloused and sure. "i would know you in any universe," he says, voice soft. behind you, you hear princess fuyumi make a tiny sound of delight.

you blink. "universe? what—uh, what universe? how would you—?"

but shouto leans in, tugging you closer with those deceptively strong fingers. he's so very warm up close, and so beautiful it makes your brain short circuit, especially as he lowers his face to yours. a shiver rolls down your spine as his other hand takes you gently by the chin.

and then he murmurs a single word before pressing his mouth to yours—

"matepair."

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: credits where they are due!! the idea of a space general dna donator, an overarching space alliance pursuing a treaty, & the flint pin denoting gender were taken from my fave sci-fi novel winter's orbit by everina maxwell! (if you love heartfelt gay love stories in space i am actually begging you to read it).

[asraxfile]

ғᴀᴠᴏᴜʀɪᴛᴇ ᴇɴᴇᴍʏ

sypnosis the hatred that had been pouring out for years between your and Karina's mafia was a bit exhausting. But your bad relations change one day when you and Karina decide to meet and change everything, alone.

pairing mafia leader!Karina x mafia leader!fem!reader

genre smut, fluff, enemies to lovers

warnings: sexual activity(strap-on, pussy eating, dirty talk), kissing, cursing, teasing, mentions of reader smoking, Karina and reader as switches

word count: 2.8k

It was a clear day in Seoul. Various clouds covering the bright sky as Karina made her way towards your building. With her men in black suits she looked at the camera on the front door. As it scanned her pretty face, she pierced with the look in her eyes, knowing you were the one watching on the other side of the camera. 

Karina was the boss of the 2nd most powerful mafia in Korea. She wasn’t the type to get her hands dirty as long as she could keep the business going, but you were totally the opposite one. Surpassing the number of crimes committed compared to Karina’s mafia made you the number 1 in Korea. No one ever dared to step on your path, except Karina herself. 

That’s the exact reason why both of your families have been longtime enemies throughout the far distant history. Both of you followed your family’s steps but many things need to be cleared on this day. 

As she made her way out of the elevator’s long ride to your office that is positioned on the last floor, 12th floor, Karina walked through the long hallway with seriousness, kinda scaring your guards. But still they welcomed her in your office, eyeing her mysterious figure. 

Karina wore a black short sleeved dress, with half of her back exposed, with laced black thighs and of course her detailed black suit with thin white stripes. Her dark brown hair was let down, matching the professionality in her face. The stomping of her thick heels on her boots stopped as she waited for your office door to open. 

“Don’t come inside with me, I’ll be fine on my own.” Karina hissed at her guards, strict and sharp but they obeyed with her exact word. She watched your guards finally open the door as she stepped inside, being enlightened by the light out of your large window. 

You were turned with your back as you sat on the chair, a little smoke could be seen coming out from behind. "So Karina," you began as you spun your chair towards the person you were expecting. Taking the last puff of your cigarette. "we meet again, who would’ve thought, right?" you smirked at the mafia president, Karina, as she slowly walked towards your table. 

“Don’t be silly, both of us knew this day would eventually come.” Karina chuckled, holding her expensive Prada bag. You turned your gaze to your now long gone cigarette as you squeezed it into the ashtray. “That’s a really nice bag you have there.” you complimented as you got closer to the table and rested your arms on it, looking up at Karina. Curiosity splattered all over your face. 

“It indeed is,” Karina starts, putting the bag in front of her on the dark wooden table of your office. “There’s a present for you in it,” you raised a brow at her state. “But you will get it later.” she released her fingers from the bag and crossed her arms, sizing you up carefully.

“A present? from Miss. Yu Jimin? for me?” leaning back on your chair, you mocked. In response Karina rolled her eyes. “Must be my lucky day, but should I be concerned or flattered?” you asked. 

Karina’s lips slowly turned into a cheeky but a teasing smile, making you furrow your eyebrows. “It should be…pleasuring.” she exclaimed as you tried to understand what she meant by that. She slowly walked closer to you, the low click of her boots slicing through the silence like a knife.

Your eyes followed her every movement, and for a brief moment, the air between you felt heavier, thick with unspoken distant words. Karina placed her palms on the edge of your desk and leaned closer to your sitting figure, her face inches from yours. 

The room seemed to get even quieter as Karina leaned into your space, the cool scent of her perfume blending with the faint smoke of your cigarette lingering in the air. Her gaze locked onto yours, the weight of her presence bearing down on you. 

Through it all, Karina was always so unpredictable from your point of view, always so quiet but so unforgettable. That’s the reason why you were kinda terrified of her, but you loved her like that. Perhaps one of the main reasons to clear up all the bloodshed between your families is not just to make eternal peace between them, but to make you and Karina the most unforgettable and fearless duo, ever. 

Her lips curved into a faint smirk, one that you loved to see the most. “You talk so seriously, yet you tremble when I’m this close.” her words pierced through your mind like a dagger, surprising you but you refused to show it. “Am I?” you mocked, slightly turning more towards her. “Cause I thought we were playing the same game.” 

Karina’s breath hitched, slightly darkening her eyes, but keeping her teasingful grin. You straightened your back, moving forward to your enemy. “What is it, Jimin, looks like this game isn’t yours to own.” you teased, watching Karina’s chestnut brown hair fall to one side of her shoulder as she moved ever forward to you. 

She placed a hand on your shoulder as a signal for you to move backwards with your chair. You didn’t flinch, you just obeyed under her touch. Karina’s smirk deepened, her confidence unshaken with the same serious look from the start. With a swift move, she leaned in to whisper into your ear. 

“If I wanted to own you,” she said, her voice sounding like a predator trying to catch his prey, like a cat going for a mouse. She looked at you “you’d already be mine.” with the last said word, she quickly pulls you into a rough kiss, making you grunt in surprise. She groped your shoulders as she continued to kiss your soft lips, messing your face up with her lipstick, also crumpling your white shirt. 

To obtain control, you roughly pull her in your lap as she sits on the middle of your thigh with her legs spread open, her dress lifting in a sudden movement. Your arms exploring her torso as Karina puts a hand on your neck, making you choke a little. Slowly she pulls away as she softly opens her eyes to look at you. Breathless, you could just smirk. “You’re always full of surprises, dear.” you flirt as you suddenly lift Karina up. Moving away all the things from your table and slamming her body down. 

The sudden movement made Karina moan in slight pain in your ear which only aroused you more. Her legs wrapped firmly around your hips as she held your shoulders tightly, digging her black nails in your back. You attacked her neck with wild and rough kisses, sucking on her sweet spot leaving a fresh hickey. 

“Hahh…L/n…” she moaned your last name out, trying to think but she couldn’t. As you move your kisses to her collarbone, you raise your head to face her. “Why so formal, it’s not like we’re strangers.” you exclaim, slowly tracing your fingers to the zip of her dress. 

Karina gulped bluntly as she could feel the heat started to rise in her the slower you unzipped her black dress. “Who’s trembling now?” you teased, checking Karina out as you took off her boots and slid her laced thighs off her too. Karina now in a bra and panties. 

You checked her out as Karina quickly sat up and pulled you closer by your black tie, making you kiss her all over again. She unbuttoned your shirt through the kiss and after she did, you started to slide them down her body again. 

Karina enjoyed this too much, getting lost under your touch. You traced hot kisses down her chest, her stomach and finally you came to her panties. The coldness of your hands sent chills down her spine as she couldn’t wait anymore. She needed you, right this instant. 

Slowly, you looked down in between her legs and brushed your cold thumb over the fabric of her panties, right over her pussy. Loving the little sounds Karina makes. Now it was her turn to tremble under your touch. 

You slowly slid down the laced black pair of panties down her legs and did not hesitate to leave Karina waiting. Kissing her inner thighs, Karina rested one leg on the edge of the table and the other on your shoulder. You kneeled on the floor and pulled her hips closer, placing a tender kiss on her clit. Sucking and slurping Karina could feel the heat between her legs rise up even more with your each lick. 

She gripped your hair, looking down at you with a furrowed expression as she moaned in pleasure. Karina rested on her elbows, rolling her eyes. You sure knew how to get this woman to obey. 

Slowly sliding your tongue across her clit, you moved your head around a constant rhythm, making Karina’s already shaking. Then, slowly you insert 2 of your fingers deep in her cunt, making her release a loud moan. “Y-Y/n…right there…please, more-ah!” you pumped your fingers in and out of her, hitting her sweet spot as you looked at her. “C’mon dear, cum for me.” you whispered as you started licking her clitoris once again. A tear of pleasure sliding down Karina’s eye as she breathed out, finally cumming on your fingers. 

You kiss her inner thighs as you raise your head up to face her, obviously smirking. “Cat got your tongue?” you teased as you watched her catch her breath. “Whoo….that was…hahh…really good.” Karina stuttered out, getting her legs off you and sitting up. You proudly chuckle as you sit in your chair. 

“Hey, hey, what are you doing, baby?” she stood up, slowly walking to the front side of the table as you watched in confusion. “Tell me who said that…” she rummaged through her bag before looking at you again. “We were done…?” she pulled out a strap out of her bag, widening your eyes. “Ahh, so that’s my present.” Standing up you take off your black pants, throwing them aside as you walk towards Karina. “I’ll be glad to use it.” as you try to take the strap away, Karina back it away from your grip. 

“Dear, you don’t use gifts, you receive them.” she exclaimed nastily, smirking widely at you. 

The next thing you knew that Karina was fucking the shit out of you with that goddamn strap of hers. She bent you over your table and thrusted inside of you like she’d done it numerous times. “You like this?? Oh I know you like this, baby,” she teased, slapping and groping your ass tightly. You were a moaning mess, but you didn’t care, you wanted to show Karina you were hers and hers only. Suddenly, Karina slows down her pace, moving your hair to one side to kiss your neck. 

Breathless, you couldn’t think. “Such a good girl for me, not even caring that our guards might be hearing your sweet little noises from behind the door.” she whispered deeply in your ear. “I’m gonna make you realize we belong together.” getting into position again, she started thrusting slowly, passionately and once again, roughly. 

“Ahh…hahh…K-Karina…faster please!!” you begged and moaned Karina’s name, making her chuckle. Slapping your ass again she fastened her movements. Fucking you rotten like a bunny. Enjoying this view a little too much, looking down on you was always her job anyway. 

“I can feel you’re close, y/nn, c’mon, cum for Karina.” she fastened her thrusts even more as your moans got louder before you finally came on her strap. Your legs shaking as Karina pulls out, staring down at your gift and all the juices you splattered on it. 

“Fuck Y/n, that was so hot.” Karina exclaimed as you tiredly sat on the edge of the table. Softly, Karina smiles at you as she kisses the top of your head, hugging your naked body. “So this is how we fix both family conflicts?” you asked, both of you chuckling. 

“Be for real now, you are too desperate for me.” Karina teased back as you kissed her shoulder before looking at her once again. “And you’re nothing without me.” you peck her lips as both of you fall into a chuckle again. 

When both of you got dressed up, you said your goodbyes with Karina and walked her towards the exit of your building. Feeling proud that both of your mafia’s are now on good terms all because Karina was your favorite enemy of all time. She had always been the one who pushed you to your limits, testing your patience and well being. Yet, there was a strange sense of tension between the two of you that no one could quite understand but you dearly cherished with only her.