#almost 3k words

[enchantingjacarandas]

The Fall

Pairing: Lee Know | Minho / Yang Jeongin | I.N.

Tags: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, literal hurt, Domestic Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together

Other Sites to Read on: Ao3 or Wattpad

Words: 2,801

Minho slowly stirred awake. He glanced around the room attempting to find the source, causing the disturbance of his slumber. Their apartment was small. The only separate room was a bathroom. Unless it was coming from outside, there weren't many options that it could be. While debating on whether or not to get up from his comfortable spot on the bed. A small noise came from the person next to him on the bed.

Minho listened closer trying to defficer if his lover was having a bad dream or something that would be cause for worry. He heard it clear as day this time it was a tiny moan coming from Jeongin. Minho let out a grumpy noise in response. He rolled his eyes while also rolling to face away from Jeongin on the bed. 

He lightly kicked Jeongin trying to get him away so he could enjoy his sleep more. When there was no immediate movement from the other he decided to use his foot to scoot Jeongin’s legs further away from him. After putting distance between the two of them. Minho got taken off to dreamland once again. Unconsciously Jeongin was able to take the hint and he turned to face the opposite side, just like Minho had done.

Jeongin was jolted awake when his legs started falling off the bed after he had turned over. He let out a tiny scream as the rest of his body soon followed his legs. Before his whole body had hit the floor his face made contact with the corner of the night stand. A small thud was then heard by the apartment.

“Ow” Jeongin quietly said while touching his face. He pulled his hand back and saw that it had blood on it. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again to make sure that this wasn’t a dream, and that he was really in fact bleeding. Even in the middle of the night with only a dim light coming from the outside street lamp he could see it, blood.

He stood up and checked the bed to see if Minho was sleeping or not. Wishing for Minho to be awake. Jeongin lightly called out his name. “Minho?” Seeing no response Jeongin decided to cut his losses, as he stared at his boyfriend’s back one last time before leaving the room.

As Jeongin flipped on the light switch to the bathroom he regretted doing it so casually. The brightness made his eyes immediately close and his face scrunch up like he had eaten something sour. He stood there for a bit trying to wake up and adjust to the light. Taking a deep breath he opened his eyes again. He wasn’t entirely used to the brightness yet but he knew he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Peering in the mirror, the cut wasn’t hard to miss. It was fairly big just missing his eye by an inch or so. Sofly he poked around the cut to access the situation. Sharp inhales were made when he got too close to the cut, but it also made his cheek go up, causing more pain overall. Tiny moans from the pain escaped his lips.

He thought about how he was lucky he hadn’t lost an eye over something so stupid. His mind wandered to how he had fallen out of the bed in the first place. Sure, he was accident prone, but he’d never fallen off the bed before.

He looked up and grabbed the first aid kit from the top shelf. He stubbled a bit due to his tiredness and made quite a bit of noise. Jeongin was just glad that another accident hadn’t occurred. He set the kit down on the counter opening it up. After surveying the first aid kit, he scanned his injury once again to try to figure out what he would need from it. 

It started bleeding so Jeongin quickly got a wad of toilet paper and pressed it against his face to stop the blood. He moaned out in pain. In the rush to stop the blood he had slammed his hand right on the cut. 

Minho, hearing all the moaning, assumed Jeongin had woken up with his morning wood and was now attempting to relieve himself in the bathroom. After hearing the last one he assumed it was over or he was close. Either way it had woken Minho up too much to go back to sleep. He urgently wanted to see how embarrassed Jeongin would be when he was caught in the act. 

With his mischievous plan Minho quietly made his way to the bathroom. As he opened the door both men froze at the sight in front of them. Minho’s eyes focused on the cut, then to Jeongin’s hands that were holding bloody toilet paper. He melted at the sight and swiftly went to his significant other. Gently Minho lifted Jeongin’s chin and tilted his head around getting a hold of the situation in front of him.

“Hyung,” Jeongin whined. It was moments like this when you could truly tell who the older one was in the relationship. Not because of the name, but because Minho was consistently able to handle crises well. Jeongin was always thankful to have someone to lean on when he was faced with a problem. Minho was always happy to help solve any issues Jeongin would come across.

Minho surveyed the room seeing the first aid kit out and yet, Jeongin’s hand was filled with toilet paper he let out a small laugh. “Why did you get the first aid out if you weren’t going to use it?”

Jeongin pouted. “I was but then blood started pouring out and I had to stop it.” 

“Alright calm down, take a deep breath.” The situation hadn’t particularly made Jeongin anxious, but he didn’t want to receive a scolding from Minho. So, he took a breath and stared into Minho’s eyes waiting for his next move. Minho let out a sigh, “Why don’t you go sit on the bed, and I’ll bring the first aid kit and patch you up there”.

Jeongin fumbled with his hands as he sat on the edge of their bed. Minho stared back into the mirror in front of him. How do you explain to your boyfriend that he fell off the bed because you pushed him off? Thinking about it more, Minho decided to just wait until Jeongin was fully patched up before explaining what happened. He took one last deep breath before joining Jeongin on the bed. 

Minho and Jeongin were not the pda type of couple, they mostly gave physical affection behind closed doors, in private. They liked that those moments were just for them, and that they didn’t have to worry about the judgment of others. Jeongin was always more cuddly in the morning after just waking up. Minho always wondered if it was because of dreams he had or his way of trying to catch up on more sleep before being fully awake. However, once Jeongin was fully awake the rush of the morning would start. Minho knows all this from them living together for so long so he makes sure to give Jeongin reassurance.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Minho scanned him over one more time for any other possible injuries. “Does it hurt?”

Jeongin spoke. “No, it doesn’t hurt unless I try to smile too big or if I touch it.” Although he wanted to give Minho a huge smile for caring and taking care of him.

“In that case it might hurt while I’m patching it up.” Minho offered his hand out on Jeongin’s leg. “You can squeeze my hand as much as it hurts.”

Jeongin gave a lopsided smile as he took the older’s hand. Minho got out the cotton swabs and began to lightly clean the blood around the cut.

Soon Minho had to do the inevitable and clean directly on the cut. He braced himself for the other’s reaction. He still attempted to make it as painless as possible, going lightly at first, with the iodine, Minho knew it was going to sting.

Jeongin sharply inhaled, clutching Minho’s hand. Jeongin reassured the other, “It’s okay, I’d rather just rip the band aid off if you know what I mean.”

Should Minho listen and just try to get it done fast instead of trying to make it less painful? Was it actually making it more painful? Minho decided to speed up the pace a little while still being cautious and not going too deep.

Jeongin still held his hand tight, but it lessened as time went on. Only a few times throughout would Jeongin tighten his grip. When that happened Minho eased up a bit.

Minho folded up some of the gauze patting they had in the kit and used steri strips to make sure it was secured on Jeongin’s face.

Not moving his face Jeongin looked down and spoke. “I’m really sorry I woke you up.” Jeongin began overthinking. “I know it’s probably annoying to have a clutz like me around so much.”

“No no.” Minho was quick to refute Jeongin’s statement. “It’s not annoying at all. I love being able to patch you up, don’t worry about waking me up for stuff like this. If I had found it annoying, you know me, I wouldn’t even be here right now.” 

“You always sound so tired when you have to fix something after I accidentally break it.” Jeongin lowered his head looking down. It seemed like this was something he had been worrying about for a while.

“Even though I sometimes complain, those are comments I make in passing.” Minho didn’t want his boyfriend to overthink the situation ever again and wanted to reassure him that he wasn’t a bother. “I promise to work on not doing it as much if it really bothers you-”

Jeongin was quick to react to the statement, grabbing Minho’s hands and saying. “No, I want you to be able to express yourself around me.”

Minho tried to bargain. “Still I can express myself in a different tone or with different words.” He held Jeongin’s hands tighter while speaking. “You are worth changing for. I want to be my best self for you. So, let me know if I’m being too much.”

Jeongin wanted to smile big and wide at the statement, but the tape restricted him. He yelped a bit at the pain.

Minho lightly chucked, “maybe I shouldn’t say too much more nice things right now, though”. He looked to the side. It was time for him to confess. “Besides, I should be the one apologizing this time.” Jeongin was confused and about to interrupt, but Minho stopped him first.

“While you were sleeping you started to moan a tiny bit.” Jeongin immediately got redder at the statement. Although they had been together for a while now, it was still embarrassing to Jeongin to have done that unconsciously. “I was tired and I just didn’t want to do anything at the moment so I kind of pushed you away, then I guess you fell.”

Jeongin gave a small laugh, he didn’t want to feel pain so he tried to stop himself from giving too much of a smile. “Here I was thinking that I was the only one messing things up.”

“Does that mean you’re not mad?” Minho gave Jeongin doe eyes at his statement. 

“Of course I’m not mad, if anything you made me happier. I’m glad I’m not alone.” Jeongin grabbed Minho’s hand, but Minho turned away.

“You make me sound like a menace.” Minho pouted. He had taken what Jeongin last said to mean that he made Jeongin feel alone in the relationship. Minho looked down, having a sorrowful look on his face.

“Don’t make that face. That’s not what I mean, I just sometimes think you’re too good to be true. I feel like I don’t deserve someone as perfect as you.”

“What? I mess up plenty of times?” Minho sat on the bed next to Jeongin. “Do you not remember when I broke our potted plant on the balcony, or when I made a fuss about the food taking too long at the restaurant last week?” Minho watched Jeongin.

Jeongin looked away in order to avoid Minho’s eyes. “Those things aren’t so bad though.”

Minho lightly chuckled. “Neither is spilling a drink once in a while.”

“Yeah but sometimes it messes up your clothes.” Jeongin looked into Minho's eyes as he spoke and he fell for Minho all over again. 

“That’s why we have washing machines.”

Jeongin sighed, “I love you so much.” Minho’s eyes would always cause his mind to blank and to only think of how much he loved Minho. It was Minho’s superpower, Jeongin’s kryptonite. There was no escape, but that’s what helped Jeongin through the ruff days. 

“I love you too.” Minho then leaned in closer to Jeongin’s face.

Jeongin tilted his head, relaxing his lips as he leaned in as well. Minho planned to just give him a quick peck and then move on, but Jeongin had other plans. Jeongin chased Minho’s lips moving closer to him and lightly pulled on his shirt to make sure Minho knew how much he wanted this. Jeongin relaxed the bottom of his mouth so Minho could easily lead the kiss and so the cut on his cheek wouldn’t hurt too much.

Minho gladly took the opportunity in front of him, he opened his mouth and pushed his tongue in to taste more of Jeongin. Jeongin lightly fluttered his tongue around Minho’s, slowly getting more and more of Minho. He wanted more. Minho could sense this as well. 

Before Jeongin went past the point of no return Minho broke the kiss and spoke. “I think we should try to sleep while it’s still dark out.” While Jeongin knew he was right he still wished to kiss a little longer.

Minho put away the kit and made Jeongin go to the far end of the bed that was next to the wall. 

“But you always said you worry about me kicking you.” Jeongin protested. 

“That was before we slept together so many times. I know you don’t kick in your sleep now. Plus, you are literally injured from being on this side so you are not sleeping there again.” Jeongin gave a small pout but agreed. He knew how hard it was to change Minho’s mind.

Because of where the cut was on his face Jeogin had to lay down facing the other. He didn’t mind it, and found that it was quite a nice view regardless of the cause for it. Minho got comfortable and faced him as well.

Jeongin gasped, making Minho alert. “What am I going to tell people when they ask about my cut? The truth is too hard and embarrassing to explain.”

“It’s not that bad, it was just an accident.” Seeing that Jeongin’s expression didn’t change, Minho added. “You can just tell them I did it.”

Jeongin’s eyes widened. “There’s no way, they’ll think you're abusive or something.”

“Hmmm” Minho gave in more thought before pulling a mischievous smile. “I guess you’ll just have to stay home here with me all day tomorrow.” Minho put his arms around Jeongin and held him closer. In return Jeongin laughed at the action, enjoying the skinship in his tired state. 

After the laughter in him subsided he sighed. Lightly pulling Minho’s arms off of him he layed back down on his side of the bed. He stared in Minho’s eyes of joy before starting to voice his concerns again.

“What if-”

Minho could tell that this would easily turn into an all night spiral if he let it continue so he quickly intervened. “What was your wet dream?”

“Hyung, just because I was moaning that doesn’t mean I was having a wet dream. Maybe I was in danger and needed your help in my dream.” 

“Is that true?” Minho smirked as he raised an eyebrow.

“Well it’s important to have the facts right.” Jeongin crossed his arms.

Minho thought about it more before speaking. “But you said maybe… wait do you not even remember?”

Jeongin’s cards had been revealed. “Fine I don’t, but it still doesn’t mean that what you think occurred actually happened.”

Minho chucked. “Okay, I’ll go with what you think.”

Jeongin gave Minho a quick peck. After the kiss Minho put his arm around the other instinctively trying to protect him from anything else hurting him. They fell asleep like that with Minho guarding the other. Jeongin, who gladly stayed close to his protector, laid his head on Minho’s chest. The apartment was still almost as if the universe wanted to freeze this moment.

➤ Masterlist ❀ Ao3 ❀ Wattpad

A/N: Jeongin is bias while Minho is my bias wrecker so, I absolutely adored making this story and it's still one of my favorites to this day. This is also the third place winner of the poll. I'll see you in the next post. Thank you for reading!

[ruinix]

Quinn getting a huge baby fever after he saw you hold your little cousin (or whomever baby)

Hello, lovely…baby fever… yes, baby fever. Ummm, I fear I have…gone overboard again, so it took me a bit. I had to bring out the big guns (my AO3 thots with my fictional men). He almost turned…dark 🤨🙂‍↔️

Trouble

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Masturbation, a dash of Breeding Kink, Unprotected Sex (use protection, lovelies), Brief Choking, Use of ‘hubby’ (some doesn’t like it so...🙂‍↕️), Quinn being pathetic as he gets hit with an extreme baby fever

Count: 2914 words | Masterlist | Taglist

You are trouble. So much trouble. Quinn had to lock himself in a bathroom stall as he stares at his phone, his fingers tapping the video over and over and over again. It feels like a loop. A loop of you and that little baby.

Who is that? Who? But the identity of the baby is the second thing in this mind. You’re the first thing.

Quinn can’t stop watching. Can’t stop hearing your little coos for the baby you got in your arms. Can’t stop seeing the way you brush your cheek against the top of the baby’s head. Can’t stop the squeeze in his chest as you smile at the camera, the light shining behind you so perfectly that you appear to have a halo. Can’t stop feeling your happiness in this ten-second-long video. It makes him happy. Too happy that he had to cover up the little one’s face because he’s…his pants tighten up. Fuck.

Before he could type his reply, you send over a text that had him, leaning back against the door which creaked from his weight. His legs and hands shake. His soul shudders. It feels as though he’s not there. This must be a fucking dream.

Your text says, “When we have a baby, will they look as cute as this little duuuuuude?”

‘When. We. Have. A. Baby.’

When. Not if. When. Like you are stating the inevitable future. Like you are looking forward to it. Like you want him to give you children—or child, fuck, he’ll give you any number of children.

It’s just a simple thought, but it feels like a magnitude ten earthquake causing destruction. You destroyed him in the best possible way. Rattled him so much that he can barely function. He got practice for fuck’s sake. He can’t even tease your extended ‘dude’. He can’t. He can’t think straight.

All Quinn’s thoughts are questions.

‘You want a baby with me? When do you want to have a baby? Do you want to start making one now? Next week? Next month? Next season? Next year?’

‘Are you sure you want a baby?’

‘How many babies do you want? One? Five?’

‘Do you want them a year a part? Two? Three?’

Shaking his head to clear it, his tongue feels dry, his heart beating and ramming against his chest. He could barely ask who’s the little dude, barely understand that dude is your friend’s baby, could barely read every paragraph you sent after about little dude. Of course, he still reads it, despite not being able to process them, because he needs to hear you—at least—as he tumbles down the rabbit hole.

More like plummets.

His mind is clogged with images of you. Your tummy barely showing to fully rounded and full of his baby. You eating for two. You being all clingy or irritable with him—he’ll hug or console you either way. You wearing maternity clothes. Most especially, you holding his baby.

Quinn’s done for. He fucking is.

When you send your “I love you”, Quinn’s hand is already wrapped around his cock, your name escaping his lips in a plea, a revelation descending and dawning upon him.

He needs to have a child with you.

That’s why—for weeks, six weeks to be exact—Quinn cannot stop imagining and wishing the babies he sees in the streets, in social media, in the arena during games to be yours and his.

He has…baby fever. He realized that a week in. It’s weird. Quinn doesn’t think about kids or babies. His plan was to be with you. Just you and him without a doubt. Then after some time, he’ll propose. Then you will marry. Then you two will talk about kids, because even if having kids was not yet his focus, he wants a family with you.

You’re his endgame. He’s sure of it, so he’s moving forward with you. Until you sent the video of little dude—Jeremy, if Quinn remembers correctly—with you. Until he literally can’t stop picturing you and babies. Until it’s the only thing in his fucking mind other than hockey and you. Babies. Cute little babies.

He’s so fucked, because it’s not just the wholesome need for little babies. No. It feels primal.

He gets fucking hard, totally bricked up, wanting nothing but to fuck you until you’re bred. So hard that he had to jerk off multiple times during the day. Bathroom stalls. A janitor closet. Even when he’s home, he has to jerk off, given that you’re not there. He tries not to, but his cock would ache as his thoughts worsen, so he fucking fails. Every. Time.

His fogged-up brain will continuously echo: “Kids, now. Kids with you. Now. Now.”

Quinn thinks he’s losing his mind. He doesn’t know what to do, because the thoughts of little ones—with your eyes, your hair, your smile, your sweetness, your quirks, your gentleness, your everything—makes him yearn for it to be true. His heart aches for every day that goes without them. He needs a family with you. He needs little ones to spoil alongside you.

So for weeks, Quinn wants to breech the subject with you. He wishes to present his new foolproof life plan—that will also be your plan, if you accept. His new plan consist of: lots of fucking to make a baby, him providing for you and your children and possibly grandchildren, him being present for every step of the way, him being a good father. But simply, babies. The plan is to have babies, but the words always stop at his throat.

Because…even if he wants babies, that doesn’t equate to what you want right now. Right? He can’t just do what he wants, can he? Like breed you and—

“Little dude,” you say in a singsong voice, “would look so cute with this, right?”

Quinn looks up and sees you hold up a shark onesie. He can only stare, stare, and stare, because this has to be illegal. This, as in you holding up that onesie just a meter away from him. As in you looking proud of every baby clothing you bought. As in you being excited about buying things not for his baby. He hates it. The sudden disdain—to an innocent kid just because he’s not his—is making him all too riled up now. Why are you spoiling someone else’s baby? Fuck.

“Sure,” Quinn chokes out which he tries to mask with a cough.

He nods helplessly when you grin, a sparkle in your eyes, then you dash across the room to get your wrapping papers, tapes, and somehow, more paper bags. Just how many did you buy for that baby? It’s a fucking haul that makes Quinn irritable and also downright pathetic.

He should just say it. He wants a kid with you. He wants to be a father to your children. Easy words to say, but he still can’t say it. He’s such an idiot.

“I want to help,” he offers as you settle on the floor, scooting your legs under the coffee table, looking so cozy.

“Thank you, Quinn, but I got a wrapping system over here,” you giggle. Your arms are comically filled with stuff before you laid them out on the table. “You always crumple the wrapper, silly.”

Quinn does. He can wrap presents, but it’s a battle. Him against the paper. Usually, he wins but the gifts…they’re wrapped so messily. So different with your gift wrapping. While he’s nonchalant about it, you’re particular. He sees your focus for every fold. He has seen you get upset when you fold one piece wrong or if the ribbon is wonky. He loves that about you.

Still, you give him socks and onesies. Still, you let him messily wrap them. You even smile, looking so proud of him like he’s the best, looking utterly kind and patient. You place what he wrapped on your growing pile.

You’ll be a good mother. Quinn knows that. He’ll do his best to be a good father. He can do that. He can—

He jumps when you suddenly hop over his lap.

“Where’d you go?” You ask, pressing a kiss against his jaw. Quinn can only cling to your hips, savor your touch on his nape, the feel of your fingers running through his hair. “Come back, hubby.”

Hubby? Are you insane? Do you know what that does to him? Who is he kidding? You fucking do. You always do. You’ll be the death of him.

“My Love,” he groans, a bit too whiny in his opinion, but he can’t help it. The effect you have on him.

“You like that?” you chuckle, breathing in his sharp exhales. “Hubby.”

Quinn can only growl in response. You’ve short-circuited him and you laugh at him. Cruel. His cruel Love. He hugs you tighter, grounding himself. This is real. You called him Hubby. Not Huggy. Hubby. Your hubby.

He buries his head into your neck, greedily taking in your scent. God. You smell so good, so addicting like a custom-made drug, just for him.

His cock throbs, wishing to be seated in your pussy, wishing to spill his cum in your womb until it takes.

“Do you want a baby?” He forces out, his voice coming out raspy and broken and desperate. He’s probably blushing, because he’s burning up. Even his fucking eyes sting. He’s going to cry and it’s fucking pathetic.

“Hmm,” you hum, hands rubbing over his chest, soothing him.

One hand runs up his jaw, coaxing him to meet your eyes. Your beautiful eyes track every detail on his face, taking everything like it’s your first time when you’ve already done it hundreds of times.

Then you softly kiss his cheeks, the mole on the right, his forehead, the edges of his eyebrows, his eyelids, his lips. A simple soft peck. One by one until he’s just putty underneath you. His heart pounds but not from fear, for his undeniable love for you. Just like that you settle him.

“Been thinking about that, handsome?” you ask.

“Yes,” he nearly stutters.

“Do you want to have a baby?” you ask, pressing another kiss on the tip of his nose.

Quinn shudders, eyebrows meeting, breaths picking up. “Yes,” he confesses like he’s about to confess guilty and be sentenced to death.

A grumbled ‘fuck’ escapes his lips when you scoot closer, sitting your clothed pussy right over his aching cock. You roll your hips once and Quinn almost comes. Shit. What are you doing to him?

You’re saying something, whispering the words on his lips, but Quinn couldn’t focus.

You’re so close. Oh, so close. Your breaths mix together, making him all so dizzy. He wants to kiss you again, but when he tries to close the smallest distance between you two, you move back. Why are you…

Then he realizes what you said.

“I’ve been wanting your baby for so long, Q. So long.”

You want his baby.

It feels like the last tether around his control snaps.

No longer is he chasing your lips and letting you pull away. No longer is he shaking like a goddamned leaf, choking on unsaid words, yearning and begging to the void. No longer because you’ve said it. You want his child.

He captures your lips, hand slipping through hair, firmly tugging. The way you moan against his lips makes his blood rush his cock. Your hands grasping at his shirt. Your hips grinding against his. Your desperation is a distinct reflection of his.

“Quinn,” you gasp, panting for air. Your pupils are blown. Cheeks flushed.

Quinn groans your name, lifting you to rest you on the couch, him still kneeling on the floor, your hips glued together. He grasps your collar, ruthlessly tugging down. Buttons pop out, fabric tearing. It’s his shirt anyway. He can just give you more.

He doesn’t let you complain, easily capturing your lips, as he continues his rush to remove every bit of your clothing. You try to help, but he won’t let it. He can’t or else he’ll lose it.

He needs this. You need this. Those thoughts keep bouncing in his head as he deepens the kiss. His hand finds your pussy, already dripping. Slipping a finger, your pussy sucks it in, quivering, clenching, leaking. God, you’re so wet. He doesn’t even need to prep you, because you’re already so turned on for him. Only for him. He hooks his finger against your special spot, making you scream.

You’re so ready, aren’t you? Ready to be fucked. Ready to be bred.

“It’s such a dangerous day, Quinny,” you whimper, nails digging into his arms.

You’ve already sent him over the edge but hearing you—those new set of words—makes him spiral deeper into his haze.

He somehow gets rid of his shirt but only pushes his pants and boxers down, before he sinks every inch of his hard and leaking cock into your needy pussy. So easily. So smoothly. So eager and greedy.

“Fuck,” he growls, nipping your lips, blunt fingers digging into your thighs to keep them wide open for him. “You feel so good.”

So good. So perfect around his cock. He watches his cock slide out then back in, shivering at the feel of you, shuddering at your exhales, at how pleasure contorts your beautiful face.

“Quinn,” you say his name like it’s a prayer. “Breed me.”

He nearly comes from that. You’re such a minx. He leans back, fucking harder into you, bottoming out and hitting the spot that has you singing your screams, that has your eyes rolling up as your pussy convulses with tiny orgasms. Christ. He might not last long.

He just wants to fill you up, plug you with his cock so nothing spills. He needs to do that. If he doesn’t, you can’t get pregnant. You can’t have the child you want. The child he needs to take care of, to spoil, to love.

He wraps a hand around your neck. Of all the necklaces he bought for you, it’s his favorite and nothing else, but the sight of the little heart pendant resting on your collar bone, just beneath his wrist, has him snapping his hips harder, rolling to heighten his and your pleasure. Fuck, so good.

“Harder, hubby,” you taunt as tears run down your cheeks. “Please, just a bit upward.”

He follows your plea, hitting the spot you wanted him to reach, getting the immediate reward of you arching your back, pussy clamping down around him as you come. Your cum dribble out with your arousal. The squelching noises and skin slapping are so alluring. Quinn needs more.

Quinn rides your orgasm, prolonging it until you are whimpering and gasping, “I’m coming. Quinn.”

He tightens his hand around your neck, feeling your pulse quicken, pussy tightening. You can only hold his arm, hips raising to meet every thrust that makes your tits bounce. Your eyes roll as you come once again as he controls your air. What a sight.

He finally lets go of your neck, running his hand down your chest, teasing your taut nipples, making you whine, your tummy, until he reaches below your navel. He pushes down, then you scream and come around him again.

Look at you surrendering to him.

“That’s three,” he groans out, slowing down his pace. He rises, resting on knee on the edge of the couch, so he can fuck into you deeper. He hooks your quivering leg over his forearm, watching you bite your lips. “Got more for me, my Love?”

“Please,” you breathe. “Fill me with your cum, Q. Please. I need it.”

That’s his fuel. Your words. Your breaths. Your moans, mewls, whimpers, whispers of calling him your hubby. You, whining for more, more, and more, as he ruts and rolls his hips into your sopping wet pussy. The slight drool on the corner of your lips which he couldn’t fight the urge to lick. Your taste, your feel, your touch, all so divine.

He can’t get enough of you.

Soon, he’ll have little you’s whom he’ll love, whom he’ll play his games for, whom he’ll work hard for, whom he’ll be proud of. He’s already doing these things for you, but that promise will ignite—has ignited—another flame in him.

He’ll have pieces of you and him in his arms.

He can’t wait.

He can’t.

He needs to make it happen.

He must.

He captures your lips, your tongue meeting his instantly. Fuck. He can feel your desperation. You need it too.

Quinn slows, drawing every thrust deeper, losing himself in you until he comes so hard that his sight blurs, so hard that he almost crushes you to the couch, so hard that he whimpers your name because you also come. Every spurt of his cum, a silent prayer, a plea for it to take.

But even if it doesn’t, Quinn has the whole day to plug you up with his cock, to fuck you again with your hips raise to lessen the cum that spill which is fucking inevitable. So, he’s there to give you more.

He has to make sure that you’re full of him. Full of his seed on this dangerous day. So dangerous. A perfect time to breed you, isn’t it?

God, he can’t wait until he’s fucking you with your belly is round with his baby.

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[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim x Reader: Cycling through the love languages

G/N. Self-indulgent af. Goo has a realisation about you.

Goo knows for a fact you like him.

Who wouldn't? Who doesn't?

Maybe Gun and Charles Choi actually, and he knows he pisses Kouji and Crystal off something bad. The majority of the crews too. And that sour faced woman from the cafe this morning. There was also the guy who yelled obscenities and flipped him off for driving erratically.

Ah whatever. He casts aside his growing list of enemies with a wave of the wrist and an adjustment of his glasses.

Point is, you like him. You. The only one that matters.

Why you can't admit it to yourself or to him, he can't understand.

...Nevermind the fact that it's only recently that he has admitted to himself that he likes you. After one too many knowing looks from Kouji, and then another too many drinks the other night when Gun remained stone faced and Crystal couldn't stop rolling her eyes as Goo started gushing. Tongue loosening and desires spoken and spilling over into reality.

The realisation wasn't so much a shock to the system, as a comforting hug. Like yes, finally. 

His weird little daydreams, his growing apathy towards fighting and work, or really anything that excludes you. The way you said you liked his suit the other month and he walked with a spring in his step all morning and afternoon and evening and night, and has worn that suit damn nearly every day since.

It all makes sense.

So yes. Fine. He likes you. A lot. 

Sometimes the thought of seeing you makes him feel giddy with excitement. Other times the thought of replacing his first love, good old dependable cash, with you makes him feel sick and he breaks out into a cold sweat.

Here’s the thing though: Goo likes calculated risk. He likes the thrill of the chase.

He-

Likes-

You.

And if you want him to be the one that chases and pursues you then ok. He will. Challenge accepted.

.

.

Let's do this the easy way. Flirting.

It might have been more successful if he wasn't so flirty and playful anyway. Curse him and his charismatic ways.

(Or so he tells himself.)

You don't find him too different from usual, all things considered. Maybe more of a nuisance, buzzing around you like an errant fly.  His smile is greasier, words honey sweet. He leers at you. Waggles his eyebrows like you're in on a joke together.

Dear heavens, you think he also winks at you too. When you frown at that, he just clicks his tongue in annoyance and says there's something in his eye.

You think that's a lie. In fact, you know it is. His eye is completely fine but he is moody and pouty for hours after.

.

.

No, the wink didn't work. The flirting can't really be counted as a success. Nevertheless, his flirting doesn't stop at syrupy words, Goo is touchier too.

He's a touchy person by nature, especially in the right situation and with the right person. Whatever is needed to twist a situation to his advantage. A chin rested on your shoulder, casual arm thrown around your waist. A playful shove, footsie under the table that is more rough and malicious, aiming to hurt, than cute and teasing.

But he's close, closer than ever. Banter muttered into your ear, breath prickling your skin.

Every moment is just a new opportunity to touch you. Your hand, your shoulder, hip, lower back.

You never minded before, you gotten used to his touches surprisingly quickly except now-

The caresses and contact poorly hide a yearning. There's a different intent. It's purposeful and calculated. This doesn't escape your notice.

Goo also doesn't miss the heat that rises to your cheeks. The pretty pink flush when he pulls you near. The hitch of your breath.

Ah. There it is.

Success at last.

.

.

Sadly for him, success doesn't last long. You get used to his wily ways quick enough, you always do.

And it doesn't have the profound effect on you that Goo initially anticipated. He thought that might lead to a confession of sorts from yourself, and even you both skipping into the sunset together.

Neither happens. You stay as cutely tight lipped as ever.

Well if he can't worm his way into your heart with his A game and progress whatever this is you both have going on-

(Which is frankly a little insulting to think about. Goo would like you to know that some people have taken one look, one!, at his hot self and thrown themselves to his feet.)

-Then he can just buy your love.

In Goo's world, in this world, there is nothing that money can't solve. Luckily, Goo has lots of it.

He starts small.

Your reaction when he gave you a bouquet of flowers was rather sweet. He takes note of the way your face softens, how your eyes crinkle when you smile, the shape of your lips as you’re surprised with his gesture.

 If Goo was the sappy sort, he would say that it felt like his heart skipped a beat.

Turns out that he is the sappy sort, and he talked Crystal's ear off about it until she kicked him out of her office and slammed the door in his face.

Next, the jewellery you seemed taken aback by. A few pieces you looked at in distaste despite the size of the gemstones, had the audacity to say they're garish and inconvenient. 

“It’s too much,” you tell him. “Take them back. Return them. Please.”

You left all but one: a simple ring with a plain design.

The affront that Goo felt only lasted for a night at your rejection, dissipating the moment he saw the ring on your finger the next day, shining brightly in the sun. Enough to rival the smile that crept over his face.

.

.

Turns out that the car dealership was a step too far though, a step too ill thought out. The gifts gradually got bigger and grander until one weekend afternoon, you were looking around at brand new vehicles with Goo.

"This is by appointment only," he doesn't hesitate to brag. "It's exclusive. They managed to fit me 'cos I'm kinda a big deal."

You hum in response, your usual go to reply when Goo is feeling particularly full of himself and you’re half listening.

"What do you think of this one, sweetheart?" he asks, steering you towards the most expensive vehicle in the showroom, with more horsepower or torque or whatever it is enthusiasts talk about.

A sleek and shiny sports car that you know for a fact costs more than you will ever make in a year. All chrome and aerodynamic lines, that screams I have money and the biggest dick around here (or tiniest, depending on who you ask and whether you think they're trying to overcompensate).

You take one look at Goo, eyes dropping to his crotch and feel your body flushing. You quickly try to shake those obscene thoughts from your head.

"Um," you clear your throat, which has mysteriously dried up at the last second, "It's nice I guess? Bit much though." You poke your head through the window, admiring the top of the range features and the smell of fresh leather. Goo is nothing if not in your face, and this car certainly fits his vibe.

"Nothing is too much for you!" his voice floats over your shoulder, and you whip your head to stare at him.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"What do you mean?"

"It's on me, cupcake! For you." He throws his arm around your shoulder, a touch of sincerity under his usual viper grin.

Huh. Not only is this excessive-

"My apartment doesn't have any parking," You state, and Goo starts calculating if he likes you enough to buy you a new apartment also and unfortunately the drop in his bank balance still doesn't outweigh his feelings for you. Whether you will accept is the question but he can work on that.

All thoughts are derailed though with your next words-

"I can't drive. I don't have my licence. And the thought of navigating Seoul traffic," you grimace at the idea, "Nightmare. Not for me. No thanks."

Oh. For fuck's sake. There goes the idea to buy your love with gifts. Most people would say thank you with a smile and go to at least sell the car but of course you would rebuff him. He’s been letting you take advantage of his bank balance, his hard earned money, and of course you’re too good to him to do that.

‘So this entire day was a complete waste of time,’ Goo thinks sourly hours later, meandering the streets side by side with you, spending the rest of your afternoon together. Until-

"Oh my god I love these!" You exclaim, taking a bite out of the hotteok. Fresh off the grill from the street vendor, paid for by your companion. Out of everything he has given, or tried to give you - you're the happiest with the cheap street food. "You're the best!" you tell him between mouthfuls.

Goo doesn't stop his chest from puffing out at that comment. Those words elevating today from being deemed a waste to... fun.

And actually, a little sweet.

.

.

If he can't win you over completely with gifts, then he will show you how irreplaceable he is.

Over the next week, Goo is at your beck and call. His clinginess taken to whole new levels. He's at your home more often than not, by your side almost every moment of the day.

"Don't you have work?" You ask when he's glued to your side one morning.

"You're more important, sweetheart," he says, words off the cuff and surface level.

It's only hours later, when he has reluctantly peeled himself away to finish a task with Gun, he realises that it's not entirely inaccurate.

Free time is spent driving you from A-to-B. Heavens forbid you are forced to use public transport (Goo shudders at this thought) and since you hate Seoul traffic, he might as well keep you company.

He's on his most gentlemanly best behaviour. 

Holding doors open, draping his jacket over you if so much as a gentle breeze is around. Hand-made meals, lunches and extravagant dinners. Even chores.

"Do you live here now?" You ask, padding out to your kitchen. Half asleep, hair in disarray to Goo humming and washing your dishes.

He smiles, sly and snake-like, "Are you asking?"

With a yawn, you burst his bubble, "Nope."

Goddamnit. Not even trying to be the best househusband seems to be working. What will it take for you to confess that you like him? He's getting sick of this song and dance.

He scrubs with a huff at a particular stubborn stain on a pan. Stupid pan and stupid chores and stupid househusbandry.

Ugh. What pisses him off most of all is: he thinks he can get used to this. 

Being around you all the time, taking care of you. Not even you in your ratty old sleepwear, with threadbare knees and oversized t-shirt dims how he feels about you.

.

.

Goo isn't an idiot, despite what Gun might say.

He possesses frightening intelligence even if sometimes his common sense is nowhere to be seen.

You like him, he knows this. He likes you, he also knows this. 

Then why on earth can't he bring himself to tell you? Is it that expressing it is a vulnerability he's not used to having on display? That despite everything, speaking it into existence means that he's offering you himself and there is always a chance of rejection?

If Goo was more mentally balanced and less self absorbed, maybe he would dwell on these doubts and feelings. Be introspective for the first time ever. 

He is not.

Instead he feels overwhelming indignation that it has come to this, that nothing has had the desired effect, and most importantly it's all your fault.

He puts all his energy into storming his way over to your home, wanting everything and everyone around him to be also darkened by his mood.  Makes sure his displeasure is felt through the way he stomps, how he slams his car door, how he blasts through traffic lights. Buzzing himself into your apartment building with vehemence, pounding on your front door until he hears your exasperation from somewhere inside.

"Hold on Goo! What the hell!"

The door is yanked open. For a brief moment Goo sees your annoyed expression, before he too is yanked inside.

"What is your problem?" Each word is punctuated with a jab in his chest.

Goo refrains from devolving into a tantrum. Realises that he already seems unhinged enough and doesn't want this conversation to get any worse. 

Taking a deep breath, he grabs hold of that jabby finger (noting with amusement that other people's fingers he has broken for much less), adorned with a familiar ring, pulls your hand into his and strokes over your knuckles once, twice, three times.

He is absolutely not buying time. But really, why has it come to this: sincerity and honesty. How unseemly. This is so not him that even the idea of it sends shivers down his spine.

Whatever. With one last breath he forces out any trepidation and regains his usual composure. The one that is all confidence and captivating and can talk circles around anyone anyday.

"Y/N,” he purrs, "I like you and you like me."

You open your mouth to say something but he presses on. "It's obvious. I'm not stupid.”  Goo points to his glasses, “I have eyes. I can see how you are around me, cupcake. And it's painfully obvious that I like you too." He allows himself an irritable sigh at this.

"Honestly I'm the one that gets courted. I'm a catch. People chase after me," he mutters to himself. "And yet look at me now."  Huffing at himself for his behaviour, he turns back to you. "Why don’t we see how this-" signalling between you and him, "-goes, hmm? 

"Wait," you take a step back from his presumptiveness.

Which isn't wrong, per se. In fact, he is completely spot on. Goo is an objectively attractive guy, you would be blind not to realise it (or have questionable taste). Sure his personality offsets his looks, because good god it can be grating as hell, but even with all his flaws he has wormed himself into your heart and into your life too.

You flitter somewhere between friends and more. Friends, with this odd, prickly, scheming creature is a miracle in itself. You’re not sure why this red flag shines green with you but he does. You don't know how you balance each other but you do. You don't know how it works but it does. 

Moving this to something more though, it scares you. Especially if he's as blasé and unserious about this as he is with most things in his life that don't revolve around money.

"Goo..." You try to phrase this delicately. "Your relationships or encounters or whatever you want to call them don't end well." He gasps at your words. "I don't want to start up some casual whatever with you for you to then change your mind. It could really mess things up between us."

"Casual?" He scoffs, dismissing your concerns with a wave of his hand,  "I've been 100% from the start. You should know I'm all in, sweetheart."

Your breath hitches. This wasn't what you meant. This wasn't what you were asking but he answers your doubts anyway.

"I'm all in on this," he repeats, crossing his heart mockingly though there is no disguising the earnestness in his words; how his actions over the last weeks and months have shown you that he's serious.

Still. You want to double-check.

"...Are you sure?"

"Y/N. Sweetheart." he places your own hand over his heart, "I've never been more sure of anything."

His glasses catch the light. Flashing mischievously and wickedly like it always does yet you can't see any ill intent. There's no hesitancy in his conviction.

"We fit, don't we?" Goo smiles, sensing your apprehension wavering and crumbling.

You can't deny that you do.

"Yes," is your simple reply. You peer at him from below your lashes and find him looking at you with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

Still pressed against his heart, Goo moves your hand up to his lips. A playful grin that is full of promises spreads across his face. His eyes don’t leave yours as he seals it all, marks it official, with a kiss.

[itz-pandora]

Hahaha doodle I made for a stupid non canon fic I made for myself

Bonus of not shaded and lineart just for readability and idk. Novelty for the lineart

[silvermoon424]

Eternal Erina

Left by @chommission, right by @linyu3u

An anon innocently asked me to talk about my OC Erina's final form, Eternal Erina. Unfortunately, it's impossible to actually explain her deal without also explaining the story of my story/paracosm. Which is, uh, LONG AND COMPLICATED.

For anyone who doesn't want to read the massive incoming infodump, the main plot of my story/paracosm revolves around Erina and her journey from a frightened, troubled child into the savior of her people (mages, aka magical girls and magical boys). That involves becoming a goddess, a concept, and a universal force. So like Ultimate Madoka, basically. If the design didn’t tip you off, my story is HEAVILY inspired by PMMM, lol. 

The details are hidden under this Read More. If you end up reading it, I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts!!

Order and Chaos

So basically, magic and life (especially sapient life) is governed by the Rule of Cycles, a mostly benevolent being/law of nature. It is opposed by Chaos, who governs black/chaos magic but cannot create true life, only shadows of itself or People of the Cycle that have been corrupted. Chaos hates RoC because it's envious of RoC's creativity and ability to create life, not to mention that Chaos used to be a part of RoC at the beginning of the universe and wants to once again be one with everything. 

Mages have existed for billions of years, all across the universe. Where there is sapient life, there is magic. Mages are born when they resonate with the Rule of Cycles and are granted a wish/miracle. But if they fall into despair or fail to replenish their magic they will become Wraiths, beings of Chaos (again, like magical girls and Witches from PMMM).

Also, if you couldn't tell by the names, the Rule of Cycles and Chaos are basically Order vs Chaos personified. This is inspired by the Stars arc of Sailor Moon and the ultimate villain Chaos.

Also, RoC and Chaos can't fight directly without damaging the fabric of the universe and/or causing mass destruction, so they manipulate beings and create proxies to fight a proxy war. Erina, my main OC, is the RoC's chosen champion and can tap into it directly. Chaos doesn't have a champion (yet) and mostly just sends out powerful extensions of itself, although it does also have corrupted People of the Cycle at its beck and call.

Also, in my paracosm, the RoC was created by an even greater being that created the multiverse who's since basically fucked off and doesn't intervene at all. Soon after the creation of the universe, billions of years ago, Chaos split off from the RoC and they've opposed each other ever since.

The Philosophy of the Cycle and Unnecessary Suffering

However, even though the Rule of Cycles and Chaos are opposed, they are inextricably bound together. Just like as the darkness needs the light to create shadows, the light also needs the darkness to shine more brightly. 

In other words, without evil, we couldn’t truly comprehend good. Without sorrow in the world, there would be no compassion. If we never lost anything, we would never truly appreciate what we have. And so on. The Philosophy of the Cycle- the path that mages spend years walking- is making peace with the fact that sorrow/evil/suffering will not only always exist, but is in fact vital to the very foundation of the universe. 

With all that said, even though suffering and sorrow are inevitable, we must try to diminish it in any way we can. Making peace with the foundations of the universe does not mean totally accepting it the way it is and sitting by passively while bad things happen. Because not all suffering-or even most suffering, one could argue- is inevitable. A lot of suffering is due to unjust systems, systems that need to be torn down and replaced with something better. 

You know, unjust systems like the current mage system.

In my story, being a mage isn’t an immediate death sentence like in PMMM; many mages go on to live full adult lives. However, the death/corruption rate is still around 1/3 to 1/2 of all mages. So even if you don’t succumb to Chaos yourself, you are essentially guaranteed to know and love someone who will or already has.  

I haven’t sat down and figured out how the mage-Wraith system came about; all I know is that it wasn’t always there and is the result of  tampering. It’s been in place so long that there are only a scant few records talking about the before times, but there is evidence it didn’t always exist.

Also, Wraiths aren’t the only Chaos Beings around; mages also fight Demons. Unlike Wraiths, they are mere extensions and creations of Chaos and did not used to be sapient. There are enough Demons around to support the mage population’s need for purification, once again proving that Wraiths are unnecessary and cruel.  

 Some cycles need to be broken. Enter Daenerys.

The Oracle

Daenerys aka Dany (yes, named after that Daenerys!) comes from a noble family of oracles who once reigned as the monarchs of a country of mages before it was destroyed. Dany is the most talented far-seer ever born and, after seeing a vision of Erina as a goddess whose ascension broke the cycle that turns mages into monsters, has dedicated her life to ensuring that future becomes reality. Even the wish that turned her into a magical girl was in service of her goals: she wished to be the fount from which a true hero would be born.

(idk where else to put this, but another major plotline of my story is a government conspiracy. Countless children with psychic powers and/or the potential to become mages were kidnapped and raised in a top-secret research facility. Dany was one of the first victims of this program due to precognition being a very rare ability. Dany (not a mage yet) was deep in despair when she had her vision about Erina. It gave her a reason to live and keep going, which is why she’s so dedicated to Erina and her mission)

Twisting and weaving the threads of fate, Dany carefully manipulates things to ensure the future she saw. She does whatever she can to add onto Erina’s karma (which, like in PMMM, determines how powerful a mage is). Dany also became a mage years before Erina, so a lot of this happened when Erina was still completely ignorant of what fate had in store for her.

Erina’s Entrance

I truly cannot give as much background as I want on Erina herself because this is so fucking long already lol, but I’ll give the main points of her background:

Her mother died about a year after giving birth to her, and she was then raised by her grandmother until she was 5. After her grandmother suddenly died, she was put into the foster care system.

The main story starts when Erina is 12. I’m literally not even gonna try explaining all that goes on lol, but the important thing is that she comes under the care of a young man named Eric who becomes her adoptive father.

Again, due to reasons I won’t get into now, Erina was nearly driven to suicide due to despair (she has C-PTSD and was at a point where she thought the future was bleak). The love and care Eric showed her gave her hope and made her want to keep going, and she is left with the strong desire to inspire hope in others the way he did in her.

Flash forward a bit and Erina becomes a magical girl, using her wish to save Eric’s life in a dangerous situation. She immediately and wholeheartedly embraces her role as a magical girl, seeing it as a way to help others and inspire hope like she so dearly wants to.

Erina finds herself in a found family with fellow mages Luna, Rhae, Iris, and Flora (the other main OCs of my story). She also formally meets Dany and becomes close with her. She also becomes friends with lots of other people (including many mages) and has a lot of fun experiences.

Doppelgangers: The Other “Me”

It’s soon revealed that Erina’s magic has created a purifying barrier around the city she and her friends live in; instead of becoming Wraiths, mages who exhaust their magic will instead summon Doppelgangers (YES I LOVE MAGIA RECORD AND IT’S OBVIOUS). I’ll try to explain the Doppelgangers and their relationship to the overall lore:

Doppelgangers are actually symbiotic organisms from another dimension that attach onto the souls of sapient beings because they themselves lack souls as well as self-awareness and consciousnesses (although they do have intelligence).

Doppelgangers are normally benign, but they respond to their hosts' emotions and can turn into Wraiths if overcome with despair. Again, this did not always used to be the case. It’s implied that Erina’s magic is shielding the city from the effects of Chaos, and therefore Doppelgangers cannot be corrupted.

All People of the Cycle (intelligent life) have Doppelgangers, but only mages have the power to manifest them in our dimension.

Doppelgangers are also manifestations of the host's soul. As such, the host might be self-conscious of their Doppelgangers or outright reject it if they don't like what they see. In turn, the Doppelganger might keep trying to force its user to confront their own demons or flaws in an attempt to help them (basically, sometimes a Doppelganger can be a really intense therapy session lol). 

A Doppelganger is a reflection of its user, and accepting one's Doppel is an act of self-love and self-acceptance. Doppelgangers themselves LOVE their hosts and are unquestioningly loyal to them. However, more than the host’s words, the Doppelganger obeys their heart.

If the host rejects their Doppelganger, the Doppelganger will still come out in the automatic purification field. The mage just won't be able to control it. Outside of the city, they'll turn into a Wraith unless they come to terms with the Doppel and are able to summon it. 

Dany hopes to expand the purification barrier across the entire universe. She plans on doing this by having Erina resonate with the Rule of Cycles once again and be granted a second wish.

The vast majority of mages are only given one miracle. However, mages who have accumulated exceptional amounts of karma and are judged to be worthy are capable of being granted a second wish. This is why Dany has been working so hard to build up Erina’s karma. To help her with this goal, Dany creates a group called the Weavers of Fate.

Oh... It’s a Cult

Yep, the Weavers of Fate are pretty much a mage-based cult based on their belief in Dany’s visions and Erina’s future as a goddess. But can you blame them for latching onto hope when their fate is so dicey? Dozens (and later thousands) of mages work to assist Dany in her goals.

The Weavers of Fate embrace and revere Erina as their messiah, sometimes making her uncomfortable because she just wants to live a normal life with her loved ones. But as the story goes on, Erina becomes more and more convinced that she needs to embrace the role if it means saving her fellow mages.

Side note: at a certain point in the timeline, the existence of mages becomes public knowledge. There’s a lot of sociopolitical drama that I won’t get into here.

Dany’s Changing Priorities

A few years into the timeline (after a LOT of things happen that aren’t relevant to this writeup), Erina shockingly and unexpectedly dies in a climatic battle against Chaos. Dany is utterly devastated and, in her grief, resonates with the Rule of Cycles and makes a second wish (by this point, Dany has wracked up TONS of karma herself). She wishes for a chance to redo things, and is given the ability to go back in time. She can only go back in time at the static rate of a few months, but this gives her enough time to plan ahead for the climatic battle.

Well, long story short, Dany goes through several time loops, failing each one, and gets more and more traumatized each time. Yes, she’s literally Homura but better off in a few ways. Anyway, Dany learns that Erina’s ascension to godhood is not guaranteed; with the more karma she accumulates, she is more and more likely to become a Wraith. And not just any Wraith, a Wraith that could easily destroy the entire world (and later, even the galaxy).

After years of single-mindedly pursuing her goal, Dany decides that all she wants to do now is protect Erina and her other friends. She’s done with being a pawn for cosmic forces greater than her. She feels immense guilt for putting Erina on a pedestal and putting her through all this, as she now deeply loves and cherishes Erina as a friend... or maybe something more than a friend.

Except oops, she’s already done so much at this point that she’s completely screwed over the chances of them all having a normal life. With every reset, things just get worse. But she refuses to give up, continuing to hold out hope even in the face of overwhelming odds.

How It All Ends

Dany finally reveals everything to Erina, expressing her regret and asking for Erina’s forgiveness. Erina says there’s nothing to forgive, as she wouldn’t change the life she’s lived and the experiences she’s had for anything.

The climatic final battle begins. Wraiths from all over the world descend on the city where the story takes place, overriding the purification barrier and causing mass death and havoc. Erina is forced to sit it out due to the dangers of her dying or becoming a world-destroying Wraith, like Dany has seen happen so many times. A lot of the main characters die fighting, and Erina is left devastated.

Despite all that, Erina affirms her belief in hope and her desire to give it to mages- her people. The way she sees it, mages are being punished for believing in hope and wanting a better life, and that is unacceptable. She remembers a dear friend who became a Wraith, along with all of the other people she’s known and cared about who suffered the same fate.

She knows what she has to do.

She has an emotional conversation with Eric, her adoptive father, and thanks him for setting her down this road. Despite his pain and reluctance to let her go, he gives her his blessing. Erina says goodbye to her remaining friends and loved ones, thanking them for showing her how beautiful the world is. There are a lot of awful, terrible things in the world, but the good things it has to offer are enough to make it worth fighting for. Erina knows this better than anyone.

Resonating with the Rule of Cycles once more, Erina makes her second wish: To have the power to grant the promise of “tomorrow” to mages. She ascends to godhood, and the purification barrier becomes a universal law of nature (much like Ultimate Madoka). Unlike Madoka, however, everyone remembers Erina and knows about her sacrifice.

Time restructures itself, and because the Wraiths that killed everyone no longer exist, the people who died in the final battle are resurrected. Erina’s friends and family- ESPECIALLY Dany, who is absolutely guilt-ridden- deeply mourn her loss, but vow to keep protecting the world she loved and cared so much about.

🩷 The End 🩷

I Lied, There’s More

Okay, so that’s the ending of the main paracosm. However, there’s a sequel! I have not spent nearly as much time on this as the main story so a lot is very sketchy. I’m just gonna list out my main ideas:

A little while after the ending of the main story, an alien union/federation/whatever makes first contact with Earth; they were also saved by Erina's actions and want to return the favor by helping humanity out.

Stuff Happens but I don’t know exactly what yet lol. I do know there’s a lot of space battles because that’s just cool.

Erina eventually comes back into her physical form because Dany is in danger (I imagine it's a situation similar to Rebellion; I haven't hammered out the details yet though). There are also Chaos machinations, which could be catastrophic for the universe.

She manages to save Dany and also connects with Chaos itself, making it realize it needs to chill out. Like it can still be Chaos but not so extra.

Erina with her loved ones, also getting to meet the new characters. She is sad about needing to leave them again, but knows her duty is more important.

However, the Rule of Cycles is very grateful for all of Erina’s help; after all, she ended Wraiths and managed to get Chaos to calm down just a bit. The RoC asks Erina if she wants to live out the rest of her natural lifespan in the mortal world. She says yes, because there's nothing she wants to do more than live her life with her friends and family, in the world she loves so much.

I imagine the system her wish made is still in place because, like Madokami, she's both Erina the individual and Erina the force of nature. It’s not great to have Erina the individual missing, but since it’ll only be for a few decades the universe can cope.

In the ACTUAL, FINAL ending, Erina becomes a teacher for young mages. Erina, Dany, and Iris (a main character whose relationship with Erina is also a major theme) officially become a polycule. LOVE FUCKING WINS!

If you made it this far: THANK YOU FOR READING MY STORY, both the story itself and your interest mean more to me than anything!!! 🩷🩷🩷

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

Adopted AU Ponyboy Curtis told through different sleeps of his life:

Even at five, Ponyboy knew that his house wasn’t normal. Or, at least, it wasn’t what people described normal as. He knew cause in the picture books and stories they were told, the mama was never passed out from the powders and pills and the daddy never came home reeking of alcohol and searching for a punching bag. But that was Ponyboy’s reality.

He knew tonight was gonna be bad. He knew cause he showed his green and purple covered arms to his teacher and she’d covered her mouth and gone to call home. He knew cause he’d come home to Daddy and that hardly ever happened. He knew when the yelling started. Cause it was always the same. Yelling, then silence, then hits. He sat and took it like always, silent tears streaming down his still round and childish face. When his daddy finally let up and his mama stopped yellin’, he knew it was safe to retreat, so he did. He quickly limped to his tiny bedroom and curled into himself while clutching the same ratty stuffed giraffe that had brought him comfort every single time.

He cried himself to sleep that night, clinging to that faded giraffe and wishing that something or someone would come along and protect him for once. He wished and cried and silently pleaded to whoever might listen to please save him or give him a mama and daddy who cared. Well, the universe must’ve been listening, cause that was the last night Ponyboy spent in that house.

Ponyboy was terrified when he first entered the Curtis home. The clutched his giraffe tight in the arm and clung to his social worker’s hand with the other. He remembers the social worker telling him these were nice people and they wanted to take care of him now. It had been two weeks since blue and red lights flashed through his house window and daddy had been put in handcuffs and he had been guided to a police car by a nice man who asked him about school. Two weeks and now he was being dropped off here.

He remembers walking in and seeing the gentle smile of the woman and the soft eyes of the man. He remembers a boy with unruly hair and muddy jeans. He remembers another boy with messy curls and a lopsided smile. He didn’t know why, but something in Ponyboy felt drawn to the older of the two boys. Something about him screamed safe and that wasn’t something that Pony was used to. Maybe it was the fact that he had welcoming eyes or the fact that he was sitting on the floor to be on Ponyboy’s level. He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t fight it cause this was the first time someone felt so instinctively safe.

Ponyboy didn’t leave Darry’s side that day. He was practically glued to Darry and Darry was beaming cause of it. He knew the moment the small boy with a black eye and yellowing bruised arms had flung himself into Darry that he’d do anything for him. He knew the minute they made eye contact that this was his baby brother now and he would move the earth and heavens to protect him. That’s why he was so happy to oblige when Pony stood in front of his door and asked if he could stay in there tonight.

Darry had simply flipped up the covers and patted the bed as Pony shuffled over and slid into the bed and immediately curled into Darry’s side. Darry let a small smile creepy onto his face as he carded his fingers through his new baby brother’s hair and placed a gentle kiss on the crown of his head before offering to read him a book. Pony sleepily nodded against the warmth of the boy who was now his older brother, his protector. Darry didn’t even get halfway through the book before Ponyboy fell asleep against his arm. That was the first time Pony ever felt peace and trusted that he could sleep in such a vulnerable position and wake up with no chance of being hurt.

Ponyboy hadn’t expected to get much sleep the night of Darry’s birthday. He expected that he’d stay up late celebrating then spending extra time with his brother before he went back up to school. He didn’t expect to get good sleep, he just grossly misjudged the reason why.

He hadn’t meant to forget the frosting, he’d just gotten so distracted from track practice then he’d found Johnny in the lot and glory if talking to Johnny didn’t feel like an instant even if it was hours. Johnny could make his heart jump and his stomach feel warm with just a simple, knowing glance or a silent conversation. Johnny just got him in a way no one else did. Gosh, what would he ever do without him? That was the exact thinking, or lack of, that led to him walking into his home without a container of chocolate frosting. It’s what made their parents drive to the bakery and cross those god forsaken tracks.

Ponyboy was laughing when the knock came and he saw the blue and red lights. Lights. The same lights that took him from his first home were back again, and with them, another curse he’d brought. He remembers walking up behind Darry when he opened the door cause that was his big brother and protector and he would make sure Pony stayed safe. Then suddenly Pony is hearing words like “tracks”, “crash”, “sorry”, “identify”, “custody” and it’s like his world is crumbling to pieces. They can’t really be gone, right? Not the people who gave him a home and a family and loved him like he was their own son? He remembers his legs feeling weak and Darry’s hand coming to hold him up as he told the police he’d be there tomorrow and good night.

The minute the door shut, heartbreaking sobs started bubbling out of Pony’s mouth and he felt the familiar press of Darry’s chest as he held his baby brother close. Before long, he felt Soda’s arms wrap around him too. Suddenly, a thought crashed over Ponyboy like a freezing ocean wave: maybe this was his fault. After all, if he had remembered that frosting… but then again, it went back farther than that didn’t it? If he had never come to them than this never could’ve even happened. Maybe it would’ve been better if he never let his bruised arms show or if he came up with a convincing lie instead of babbling out the truth. Maybe he’d still be getting hurt but then these people, these good people who had made him feel so loved, maybe they’d still be here.

So yeah, Ponyboy hardly slept that night. He spent hours fading in and out of a restless, nightmare-ridden sleep. Each time he woke up, he felt the guilt make his blood run cold. He could hardly hear Darry and Soda’s quiet reassurances over the roaring in his ears and the voice in his head that screamed that he was to blame. Every nightmare was the same moment replayed. First he was small and running into Darry’s arms and glancing up at their parents’ faces before seeing that they were bloody and disfigured and covered in glass and metal shards from the crash. He always woke up screaming as the train horn sounded and the sickening crunch of metal could be heard.

Sleep never came easy to Ponyboy anymore. Instead, he spent his nights fighting invisible demons and screaming for the lives that had been lost. He had given up on a full night’s sleep weeks ago and slowly learned how to function without proper sleep. He got used to screaming himself awake and feeling Soda’s warm arms wrap around him and hold him tight while he shook and hot tears flew down his cheeks. After all, at least he got to sleep in a bed with people who cared enough about him to take care of him, or at least felt like they owed it to their parents to take care of him. At least he wasn’t sleeping at Buck’s or the lot, at least he had a home, right?

He thought so, but here he was, crushed into a small corner of a speeding train, wearing a t-shirt stained with blood that wasn’t his, and holding his best friend close. He was running, and for a track kid, he sure hated it. He longed for Soda’s strong embrace and warm hug, he wished he could see Darry’s worn smile again, he wished he was back home. But he wasn’t. He might never be again.

He tried to sleep that night. He tried to get rest between the train horn sounds and the sound of the wheels running over the tracks, but it was hard. Every time he closed his eyes, a different memory danced across his eyelids. First he saw Darry standing over him after his hand had collided with Ponyboy’s face. He saw the moment he felt his body shrink back to a younger version of him as he froze, deciding if he should put his arms up to block his face or if he should push himself up and run. He saw the moment Darry’s face was no longer the one that held him close when he was scared or the one that kissed his head to show he was proud, or even the one who flung Pony over his shoulder when he was being stubborn. Instead of him, Darry looked like Pony’s father. Not their dad, but Ponyboy’s bio father. And that thought terrified him because how had his protector, his big brother who took him under his wing and never seemed to question their relationship, how had he, for a split second, become the man that had hurt Ponyboy the most?

So instead of resting, he drifted the fine line between conscious and unconsciousness as he laid with his head on Johnny’s shoulder as his body shook from the cold, his fear, and his guilt.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since Darry slapped him and his world first cracked. Two weeks since he and Johnny had run off to the park and Johnny stabbed Bob to save him. Two weeks since they ran off to find Dally. One week and six days since Dally sent them off on a train with 50 bucks and a silent promise that he’d take care of them. One week and six days since Pony had to argue with the voices in his head and Johnny had to convince him to hand the knife back over cause he always was better at listening to Johnny than himself. One week since Dally came to them and gave Pony a letter from Soda. A plea for him to come home and written love for him from both his brothers. A tiny flicker of hope in what seemed like endless darkness. One week since flames erupted in the church and something possessed Pony to run in. One week since Johnny and Dally followed him. Then today it all came crashing down. Johnny’s heart finally gave out and he walked into the cold arms of a quiet death. Dally went out blazing, angry, and above all else, terrified.

It was late. It was quiet. He could feel both his brothers’ eyes on him but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He hadn’t eaten cause he was sure food would only make the nausea worse. He hadn’t cried cause he couldn’t for some reason. He felt numb. Like the pain had gotten so cold that he was turning blue and losing any feeling he had left. He wished he could feel, he wished he could scream or cry or just do something, but he couldn’t. He knew his brothers must be worried but he couldn’t slap on a tight smile and pretend he was fine. How could he? His person was gone. The guy he admired so damn much was gone. They were gone. He was cursed. He brought violence, death, and destruction everywhere he went.

He didn’t sleep that night, not at all. He just stared at the tv and tucked his legs in. His eyes started burning and he knew they must be red, raw, or both, but he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t let his eyes slip shut. He couldn’t do anything. He just didn’t care.

Healing. It wasn’t easy. Or fast. Or simple. It was slowly sorting through a bag of multicolor beads and sorting them before explaining why you sorted them the way you did. It was complex and meticulous and sometimes he needed help. Because it was understanding and growing and accepting. It was learning that Johnny’s death wasn’t his fault. It was learning Dally’s wasn’t either. It was accepting that he didn’t kill his parents and it ain’t his fault his first ones hurt him. It was learning to feel Darry’s love in every gesture and check in and reassurance. It was learning to feel Soda’s in every hug and pat on the back. It was understanding that his brothers loved him so damn much and they’d do anything for him cause he was their brother, blood or not.

That’s how he found himself sitting at their small table with a wobbly leg and a messed up corner and eating with his brothers. Soda had cracked some awful joke and Darry was laughing and suddenly, so was Ponyboy. It started as a silent action that gently shook his shoulders before it grew into a small giggle. Then it blossomed into a chuckle. Then, before he even realized it, his entire body was shaking and tears were building in his eyes and that joyous sound was bubbling out of his mouth. He didn’t even notice until he finally started to take in breaths and the redness drained from his face that his brothers were looking at him funny. He watched them exchange a look with each other before smiles lifted both of their lips and cheeks again.

It hit him in bed later that night. That was the first time he’d laughed like that in almost fifteen months. Since Johnny and Dally. This was the first time. He tossed over onto his side so he was facing Soda before whispering out, “why do y’all love me so much?”. Soda turned over too, facing his baby brother before sitting up, Pony following suit. Soda tossed an arm around his baby brother before whispering back, “cause you’re our baby brother, y’always have been”. He started running a hand through Pony’s choppy, bleach blonde hair, quietly noting to himself that the dark brown was growing back in.

He kissed the yellow locks and then pulled Ponyboy up and onto his back before practically skipping down the hall to their oldest brother’s room. Soda didn’t bother knowing, instead he just threw open the door. Pony prepared himself for a sleepy and frustrated grunt that was the telltale sign of Darry waking up, but he heard nothing. That’s when he noticed that Darry was completely awake and giving them a concerned glance. Darry knew Pony’s nightmares were getting less frequent, but his anxiety for his youngest brother could never burn out. He was forever worrying for him, especially because of everything that had happened in the last two years.

Instead of Soda whispering out that he couldn’t get Ponyboy to wake up from his nightmare before timidly asking Darry for help, Soda dropped a very awake Pony onto the bed and laughed before he turned towards Darry and laughed out “kid brother here wants to know why it is that we love him so much”. Darry turned to Pony, eyes clouding with worry once more. Did Ponyboy still not realize that they cared so much? Was he still worried as to why? Did he still not see himself as their baby brother? The thoughts started swarming his head before he finally whispered, “we love you cause you’re our baby brother and nothing, and I mean nothing, is gonna change that”. He watched Pony turn his head towards him and saw eyes that had seen more than they ever should but were also so damn young. He watched his baby brother’s eyes get glossy with tears before he was pulling him into his chest. He held onto him like Ponyboy would fade away from him if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

Love. It came hand in hand with healing. He needed each one to be good at the other. He spent that night in Darry’s room, sandwiched between his brothers. Sleep came easy for the first time in a while. Cause that night, he fell asleep with his head tucked against Darry’s neck and Soda’s hand still running through his hair. He fell asleep knowing once again that he was safe and loved. That didn’t mean that he would magically wake up and not feel different from them. It didn’t mean his guilt was gone. It just meant that whenever he felt a little too terrible, he could collapse and his brothers were there to love and protect him unconditionally. He knew that because they loved him. He knew that they loved him because he was healing.

[onboardsorasora]

me: ....

my brain: dirtbag alpha daniel takes omega max's virginity

[oh-no-its-bird]

Current mood is Muichiro beating Danzo to death in front of Shisui: the fic

[mangonadaeddie]

Sunday Sentences!

Tagged by @circledwithaheart thank you Hippo!!

Here’s more space fic! And tbh this wouldn’t be a trademarked kitteneddiediaz fic if there weren’t just a little bit of smut. So this next bit is under the cut.

And here’s where the rationalization comes in. Because, what if it isn’t his Eddie? What if it’s a random Eddie from a parallel universe who’s in love with Buck and likes having sex with him and honestly? Would probably be pretty happy that Buck has to think of him to get off.

He rolls over onto his stomach, hand still wrapped around his cock. He can’t move it as well this way but he can move his hips. Up and down and back and forth. Imagining he’s some other Buck in some other universe who’s currently buried deep, deep inside his best friend.

tags!

@diazsdimples @hotshotsxyz @daffi-990 @dangerpronebuddie

@pirate-hunter @inell @laurennnnn21 @aroeddiediaz

@theotherbuckley @loveyouanyway @wildlife4life @actuallyitsellie

@moonsharky @rainbow-nerdss @elvensorceress @jesuisici33

@watchyourbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @queerweewoo @41noodlesoups

@epicbuddieficrecs @diazheartsbuckley @sunflower-eddiediaz

@queerprincesseddiediaz @keynb @drunkandsupportiveeddie @xxlizzy19xx

@lilac-lauren @singitforthegirls @misshiss727 @steadfastsaturnsrings

[arowithwood]

*grabbing my own smut WIP by the shoulders and shaking it around* whyy the hell are you two still talking please just get round to fucking I’m Begging You

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

I will most likely be updating my Kidnapped Style fic tonight at some point. It's 3/4 done so if it's not posted tonight, it will probably be in the morning.

And It's definitely going to be longer than 2 chapters as well. I'm thinking 3 chapters plus an epilogue.

[hungrydogs-if]

almost did a huge oopsie by revealing 13's real name in this holiday special. not that it'd matter, it wouldn't come up in the game. probably. maybe.

... i wanna.

[holdoncallfailed]

ugh people probably saw it coming but i cracked and wrote a fic about the baseball lesbians. haven't written non-rpf in 3 years so i'm kind of #scared i won't lie...not really. ok bye

[23fallencomets]

edited chapter four if you guys want to see logan lay some people out, the beginning hasn’t changed it just the last few paragraphs

[madaqueue]

hm . managed to turn my quick little drabble idea into a character study on the transformation of ajax into childe . hmmmm

[sexlapis]

OK LET ME. LET ME GO FINISH MY CECIL X READER SEX POLLEN FIC…