#/ he needs a loving but FIRM hand xD

[lcftyambiticns]

♡ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐬 & 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐘-𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋'𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑.

DISCLAIMER: Toxic. I imagine Lorroakan to be a selfish lover who has yet to learn to love selflessly. These HCs are quite general and may vary depending on who he's with. NSFW HEADCANONS

𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐬.

➣ Lor is very jealous and possessive. He believes he is entitled to his partner's undivided attention and unwavering devotion. Even though he'd never admit/acknowledge it, there's an underlying fear of rejection and loss, which fuels these beliefs.

➣ Lorroakan, on the other hand, doesn't return the same level of devotion. There are times when he becomes consumed by his own pursuits, becoming distant, detached and (sometimes unintentionally) neglects his partner.

➣ It's difficult to coax him out of his shell when when he's like that, and chances are he will snap at you and be an ass. "Can't you see I'm busy? Your incessant pestering is becoming tiresome, you know?!"

➣ Lor can be extremely toxic if his partner doesn't know how to rein him in. He knows their vulnerabilities, their insecurities, and he's not above exploiting them.

➣ If he feels insecure about their relationship, if he feels threatened or overshadowed by them, if he feels like his partner isn't paying the attention to him they should, he will chip away at their confidence, making them doubt their worth. Sometimes with veiled insinuations, venom disguised as honey; sometimes he'd point out their "flaws" pretty straightforwardly.

➣ He wants to make them feel like they wouldn't find anyone as good as him. Ever.

➣ Lorroakan simply cannot stomach the thought of being abandoned. If push comes to shove, he'll do whatever it takes to keep his lover with him, even if it means sinking his claws into them, just to ensure they won't slip away.

Lorroakan's love is, as I already mentioned, SELFISH; driven by his own desires (and insecurities) rather than the well-being of his partner. It's a love that seeks to possess rather than to nurture, to control rather than to support.

That said, I absolutely think that he has the capacity to grow and evolve (yey, redemption arcs) if he's with the right person. ♡

[rizsu]

+ love, ‘su: he's so crazyyyy!!! can't take him anywhere lol XD ── tw. mentions of murder (not u)

yuta’s been acting weird, but you can’t put your finger on it. you’ve this aching gut feeling that something’s off with him, but he hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary.

he’s still acts like your loving boyfriend who refuses to sleep unless his arms are wrapped around you. each time the thought of yuta suddenly changing crosses you, a pang of guilt hits you.

you don’t want to doubt him, but it’s getting difficult to not suspect him. he’s no longer punctual — you can’t predict his timing anymore. even the hour he returns home is now a guessing game.

what happened to him? something’s weird — no, not just weird. it’s terrifying. physically it’s your yuta but is it really? why are his eyes unfocused all the time? is something or someone bothering him?

questions after questions swirl through yet there isn’t an answer that can satisfy you. you need yuta to speak, but he dances around the questions, refusing to give in.

the more you pry the more he gets annoyed. he doesn’t show it, but his firm answer never fails to stop you.

“baby, i said nothing. is. wrong.” he’d insist, warmingly smiling at you before he follows up with a question. “don’t you trust me?”

like usual, you’d remain silent, unable to drag it on. the conversations continued to run in circles. soon you gave up.

you can’t shake off the feeling, nor can you make him talk. as unfortunate as it is, it’s better to go with the flow. it’d be meaningless to anger him with butting in his business.

as for yuta, it pains him that he’s acting so cold, but that’s the only way to get you to stop. he loves you — worships you — but it’ll be detrimental if you were to find out that he isn’t your sweet boy.

you shower him with praises everyday, he can’t imagine what life would be like if he loses you. you’ve always said his hands are your favourite, which is why he bought multiple pairs of gloves. he can’t have the hands you adore be tainted. it’s a bit sloppy to cover his traces, but it’ll do.

after all, he’s not skilled in killing humans yet. his expertise is knowing how to murder curses, but maybe he can transfer those skills to humans too.

truth be told, this has been going on for some time. if he were to recall correctly, it’s been approximately twenty-three days since his first killing. he didn’t plan for it to happen — heavens, no! it just… did.

yuta’s self control is something worthy to be jealous of, but he lost every ounce of it that night. he gifted you a new dress, one that’s perfect to be dolled up in an expensive club that’s part casino. so said, so done.

you were his woman, ever so beautiful, but like moths to a flame, you attracted unnecessary attention. the amount of men that attempted to whisk you away exceeded the number ten. he couldn’t keep count on his fingers anymore. of course, you never hesitated to reject them. you even went as far as to slip in “i’m here with my boyfriend” whenever they approached.

but they were filthy flies. flies aren’t able to read the room, nor can they handle rejection. they’ll always come back to the meal — even if all they got was a whiff of the scent. flies are known to be pesky, greedy animals. unless you see them to their death, they’ll never leave.

the night played out smoothly, but yuta’s annoyance wasn’t soothed. he wanted to relieve it physically. he needed absolute dominance over something — something that’ll be easy to register a power imbalance with. what’s better than to overpower one of the flies? they’d be drunk and yuta happened to have held his alcohol, so he’s quite sober.

once he’s assured you were in deep sleep, he quietly left to set his plan in motion. he never thought that he’d feel ‘the hunter and the prey’ emotions against a human, but here he is. life is truly unpredictable. it’s unfortunate the random fly that was singled out couldn’t predict his murder.

a death by asphyxiation. the easiest way to kill someone if it’s your first time. yuta didn’t bother to clean up, simply opting for dragging the body in a back alley. there’s been a number of violent crimes the past week, he was sure it’ll be played off as one of those crimes. in that way, he won’t ever be suspected, and he was correct.

however, yuta, too, fell to greed. the adrenaline rush, the feeling of seeing someone struggle, the continuance of the life of someone being his decision to make — he wanted more. he couldn’t settle for just one. with long eyes that yearned for more than he should’ve, yuta’s killings didn’t stop. it soon became a pattern: every two weeks he’d kill someone — it didn’t matter who, as long as they did something he deemed wrong. yuta believed he acted on justice, but he knew he was just as wrong.

he became a vigilante to some, and a serial killer to others. regardless of what the public viewed him as, it caused unrest. the only time he stopped was the day you refused to go out in fear of the increase of murders in your city. your pain is his pain, he couldn’t bear to watch you cower in fear at the thought of becoming the next addition to the kill count.

the stop only lasted for one scheduled killing. he returned to his usual activities, becoming more and more skilled. with each murder he became braver — sometimes taking a limb off depending on if he liked the person or not.

but every secret was bound to be revealed, and his almost got caught when you found a patch of blood on his sweatpants.

“yuta, did you injure yourself and didn’t tell me?” you asked him with a disappointed tone, holding up his sweatpants to show the blood.

his heart stopped, a sick feeling in his stomach bubbled up. he didn’t injure himself, but he injured (killed) someone else. it’s not like he can say that and hope you bypass it.

“oh — i, i did,” he answered, nervously laughing. “i accidentally dropped the knife on my leg, sorry baby.”

it was a half-assed excuse, but since you trust him, you’ll believe it.

“then you should’ve told me!” you pouted, jokingly thinking that he didn’t trust you.

“sorry, sorry. but next time, don’t wash my clothes. i’ll do it.” it was a sudden demand, subtly killing the mood.

your eyebrows furrowed. you found it weird, but didn’t question it. yuta knew how absurd he sounded, but he can’t have you connecting the dots. sooner or later you would’ve realised his lies.

however, even without the clothes, you still found holes in his behaviour. you kept quiet about it until you couldn’t, but that resulted in him redirecting the conversation.

you’re too smart for your own good, if you were to cast aside your trust in him and realise your worries aren’t insane, you’d leave yuta in a heartbeat. he can’t have that. he won’t settle for it. heavens know what he’d resort to just to keep you in his arms.

yuta’s your sweet boy, and he’ll continue to be. if it meant giving up the killings, he’d do it. it won’t be too hard to find a replacement to satisfy his needs. but, would he need to give it up? if you find out, can’t he keep you tied down with him? he’s the hunter, after all.

[wildestdreamsblog]

How he met you: Attorney Kim Namjoon and his little love

Pairing: Attorney Kim Namjoon x Secretary! Reader

Summary: How did you meet him?

A/N: Everybody say (belated) happy birthday to RM! He's the reason why I fell down the BTS rabbit hole tbh hehe. I remembered seeing reels of English interviews and he was answering and I was like hmmm. Who is this cutie patootie? And why is he sometimes giving me secondhand embarrassment and proceeded on asking myself why I found his answers endearing XD Years later, I'm still here ehehe 

Masterlist, Kofi full Preview:

“Do I know you, Ms…?” Namjoon finally asked, looking at you like you were a puzzle he needed to solve because that was who he was– someone who just needed to know everything.

It was the same trait that had earned him a spoon thrown at his head by Yoongi, his hyung, just last week. Namjoon had asked too many questions during lunch, dissecting some tiny detail that had driven Yoongi to the edge. “Some things don’t need to be analyzed, Joon,” Yoongi had muttered before chucking the spoon at him, more annoyed than angry.

“You probably don’t,” you answered casually as you pointed your chopstick at him. “But you most certainly should.”

Namjoon blinked, taken aback by your bluntness. His curiosity, already piqued, deepened. “Because?” he asked, his tone cautious but intrigued.

“Honey, you’re not going to survive this law firm without me. You need me. I mean. Look at you,” you leaned in, your eyes roaming over his features. “Those glasses are so out of fashion. We are in the 21st century. Contact lenses are now a thing.”

Namjoon’s hand instinctively went to his glasses, pushing them up his nose, a faint flush creeping up his neck. He opened his mouth to protest, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“And look at your tie. You are wearing a blue suit and your tie is green. Green.”

You took a deep breath as though pointing at his fashion choices were enough to stress you out.

“I think I am competent enough to survive without you, Ms.-" Namjoon began, trying to regain some composure, his voice firm but polite.

“Ms. Y/N,” you supplied, your lips twisted into an amused smile.

“-Ms. Y/N, I don’t need fashion advice or… whatever this is. I am more than capable of surviving and excelling in this firm. You may not know me, but I graduated at the top of my class.”

“I know,” you said, leaning back with a look of satisfaction. “Kim Namjoon. Age 28. Height is 181 centimeters. You graduated from Seoul National University early due to your stellar grades. You’re a nationally recognized youth with tons of awards. Top 1 in the bar exam. Not only are you smart, but you are also apparently rich, as claimed by the 2019 issue of Seoul Bachelor’s magazine. Did I miss anything?”

[itsabouttimex2]

Oooh how about some yandere headcanons of Tang , Redson and Azure lion with a reader who’s very reckless? They’re always throwing themselves into danger whenever the team is fighting, and reader just insists they’re trying to help. Please if not no worries XD

Sure thing! Also, I think I’m going to grind out a few more requests before I wipe my inbox. I let it grow shamefully out of care during my hiatuses. Then I’ll open up Character x Character (still platonic) requests for a while.

“Y/N, I find that I have warned you many times about this kind of behavior…”

You look up to the leonine demon with a frown, gripping one of your upper arms as a form of self-support. How many times have you heard this lecture? How many times would you hear it in the future? Every time that you so much as try to help him in a fight, you’re sat down for this same spiel.

But you don’t remember him ever being this stern. In fact, he seems-

“Cub,” the lion says, carefully taking your chin between two massive fingers. He says it pointedly, as though preemptively arguing his stance- you’re young and small, still a child to him. One he sees as worthy of his love and protection, even if you might try to reject it.

“Y-yes, Azure?”

“I would like you to pay close attention when I’m talking to you, please.”

Even upset, the demon remains polite and gentle, if rather firm. His fingers are soft to the touch, claws carefully sheathed. He’s never used them against you, not even once. Nor has he even threatened you with them.

His massive hand shifts to your hair, stroking the unruly strands back into place. His metacarpal pad squishes into your cheek, and you can’t help but lean into it, savoring the brief moment of warmth he offers during this long scolding.

“It seems I must switch my methods- clearly, my words will continue to fall on deaf ears if I continue down this path.”

Azure outright scruffs you- snags you by the cape attached to your pauldrons and lifts until your feet leave the ground.

“Come along, cub,” the lion says, as though you have a choice at the moment. All you can do is dangle from his blue-furred hand and try not to squirm, hoping that your cape won’t rip and sending you tumbling.

The training grounds are a familiar sight, hours and hours spent here together, learning all of Azure’s skills.

He presses a wooden training blade into your hands, then takes up one of his own.

“If I cannot teach you, perhaps a full day of training will. We will be sparring from this moment to your bedtime,” he sternly informs, a blush creeping up your face at his final word. That your mentor saw you as so young that he enforced a strict bedtime was…

Well, you tried to tell yourself it was reasonable. After all, if you were growing stronger and exhausting your body, you’d need lots of rest, wouldn’t you?

Didn’t justify the constant checking on you through the night, tucking you in every time the blankets come loose, and ensuring that all the windows were shut and locked.

And you had no doubt that was where you’d end up, exhausted and face-down on your bed, letting Azure gingerly knead out your aching muscles with his massive paws.

But all of that was for later. For now?

You had a full eight hours of training ahead.

Good luck, Y/N.

“No.”

“Wuh- what the hell do you mean, no?! I haven’t said anything yet!”

“And the answer is still no, brat.”

This is the most frequent conversation you and Red Son seem to have, constant preemptive denial of whatever scheme you’re dreaming up.

He’s viciously protective of you, serving as an ever-vigilant guard. Not only is your every move tracked and monitored, but your actions are under constant and fierce scrutiny.

“I see you went to that cheese tea stall, Y/N. After I told you that you weren’t allowed to go.”

“Red, they moved it to the inner city! It’s way safer there, so all your arguments before don’t even matter anymore!”

“…hmph. I suppose I’ll let this slide, then. But I’m not going to be so merciful next time.”

Constant restrictions on where you go and what you do, which could theoretically be lessened to some degree, if only you’d just stop being such a damn fool.

To him, your actions are proof of immaturity, preventing Red Son from genuinely trusting you or letting loose the stranglehold grip he’s taken on your life.

To you? You are genuinely just trying to help the people you love, if a bit recklessly.

But Red doesn’t see it that way, and even when you try to make a convincing argument as to why he should, it’s promptly shot down.

So with debate and brute force both proving pointless in changing his mind, you switch to stealth and subterfuge instead. Expect to get caught about fifty percent of the time, then forced back inside and placed under lock and key.

He loves you, dammit! Why do you have to be so stupid?! Why do you have to try and sneak out?! Why can’t he love any other idiotic mortal around?!

Why does it have to be you?

Red Son can’t imagine that he’ll ever find out why he came to cherish someone as small and weak and stupid as you… but he does.

And since he can’t force himself to stop caring, he’ll just have to impose harsher and harsher restrictions until you finally submit to his care.

Maybe then he’ll finally be able to berate thoroughly talk you out of your heroic ‘delusions’. Maybe you’ll crack and break down, finally discouraged from your kindness.

Just this once, he’ll let you cry into his shoulder.

It’s the least he can do for the person he loves most.

Oh, this poor man. Weak ankles, frail body, fragile heart. You are not doing him any favors by acting recklessly.

“Y/N, NO! Put that down! You- you can’t just go around swinging random swords- stop spinning it!”

“It’s fine, Mister Tang! Mei’s been teaching me!”

“Teaching you to what?! Get yourself killed as quickly as possible?!”

Yeah, he’s constantly on the verge of falling apart. Given that the scholar genuinely just wants to keep you safe and sound, it’s absolutely nerve-wracking for him to deal with you.

Expect him to turn to the Noodlefam for help eventually. Given that they cherish Tang as much as he cherishes them, it’s not hard to rally them into lending him a hand.

He’ll speak to MK about the whole matter, talking him into keeping an eye out for you. He might even convince the young hero to whip up a clone to keep surveillance on you, trying it’s hardest to keep you out of trouble.

As for Pigsy, well… if Tang sees you as a child, let’s be honest- so does the chef. Man has a ladle locked and loaded for the backside of your head, and a sharp remand to go with the sting. “Enough messing around, Y/N! Put the damn sword down and help me with these dumplings already!” And at his words you reluctantly clamber down from the windowsill you were crawling over, settling back at the counter to help the porcine demon prep a meal.

All three of them together have zero issue with keeping you under control, but Tang is clearly the most dedicated here, and sometimes on his own in tending to the matter.

You have to sit through hours of scoldings and lectures. When he’s finally done trying to impart upon you why what you’ve done is dangerous, Tang sends you off to bed with his worried words ringing in your ears.

He’ll stop by to tuck you in, of course. Even when caught in the maddening throes of obsession is Tang kind, always looking to dote on you in some way.

There’s definitely worse people to be dealing with, at least.

[jazzyblusnowflake]

do u have any headcanons for Nuzi? sorry if you've already written about this before and I just didn't see it-

Oh boi anyone here into silly headcanons? XD ill put them under the cut just in case cuz i write a loooooooooooot lol

i usually just make headcanons as i go with my fics, its hard to think about for them specifically but here i go trying, hope you enjoy uwu

Some Nuzi Headcanons i got ùwú:

[for the drone universe ofc, some of my human HCs don't work in the drone universe sadly lmao]

considering this is at a time where they would become official or heck maybe the tragedy ends and they are happy together or something:

Uzi loves calling N "Puppy", sometimes she would also call him "Sunshine" or "Angel" but her & Ns fav would be "Puppy". however N usually doesn't call Uzi many nicknames other than "Zi" rarely- and maybe occasionally "Birdie" when they are more lovey dovey- he's more into pet names like "honey - darling - sweetheart - etc" and not much of a tease... although at times when they get a bit more spicy and he DOES want to tease- he could go towards names like "lil biscuit", "baby bat", "my lady" and etc but again, very rarely 6v6;;;;

they both had to download helpful content on how to flirt 🙄 although they caught on pretty quick lol.

N is subconsciously protective of Uzi, often curling his tail around her without realizing it, or stepping in front of her; but Uzi is consciously protective of N- especially when he's being bullied or degraded- she would cut off anyone's conversation if they were talking about N badly with something like "oh stick a fork in it J-" before changing the subject-

Uzi is actively a smartass sass mouth- she just never really had the confidence for standing up for herself- but with N she's grown to be a bit more confident in herself- and yet N has never seen her be aggressive to HIM lmao- and then when he sees how sometimes she absolutely drags some other drones he has to literally pick Uzi up from the scruff of her coat and tell her to please be nice XD

Uzi and N are absolutely, hopelessly touch and affection starved- this makes them get really cuddly as a way to recharge themselves emotionally. occasionally they just sit next to eachother without words and rub their heads against eachother like cats and sometimes Uzi just sits on his lap and randomly starts prepping his whole face with tini kisses- as if to say mine mine mine- and N is... well just sitting there wagging his tail like an excited puppy :D no words needed between them, just healthy and wholesome touching, cuddling and affection from eachother-...... i mean it could get spicy too- lmao 👀 cuz Uzi really loves taking off Ns hat for more comfort and just threading her hands in his hair- sometimes tugging gently to tilt his head for a more firm and heartfelt kissing and makeout sesh- they rarely get that needy but N happily reciprocates and his grip on Uzi's body/hips tightens pulling her flush against himself more-

at the beginning they are both a flustered mess doing or saying anything romantic but then Uzi started liking teasing and flustering N at any chance she could take. N is just too easy and too smitten for her.

N also occasionally gets the confidence and mood to be more forward and assertive and teasing Uzi over things he knows she's into and Uzi is absolutely into that shit- she's sat 😤

they do share oil sometimes through bites or kisses- but usually that's only when they feel extra frisky lmao-

Uzi gets easily embarrassed during intimate moments and since contact and touching easily discharges their power as sparks, Uzi often uh.... ends up with multiple soft-reboots or powering on and off which kinda overheats her body and CPU alot lmao-

they like drawing and listening to music together- Uzi actually likes watching N draw even if they look amateur and childish- she finds them extremely cute and hangs them up in her room when he draws for her <3

they did NOT start out sleeping next to eachother well. Uzi has nightmares a lot, and even without them she still moves around frantically and is just never in the same position when she wakes up, meanwhile N sleeps like a dead person, he hardly moves and he got used to the pose of crossing his arms on his chest so yeah... dead pose lmao. this made him get kicked alot or shoved in the slot between the bed and wall often- [if he didn't sleep on the other side and just straight up get kicked off the bed anyway]😭. even at times when he decided they could sleep hanging from their tails Uzi often still found herself in the middle of the night hanging haphazardly, limbs and wings in every direction and clothes riding down which made N almost start laughing when he woke up seeing her like this 😭😭😭. in the end one of the ways they ended up making Uzi sleep alot better was cuddling. N would just hold Uzi close, if hanging he would put his wings around them. Uzi would resist and push against him alot at first but slowly after time her nightmares subdued and she felt calmer sleeping at night.... also they put a cork or something on Ns tail when they sleep lol-

All drones, disassembly or worker, can make their cores whirr in a purring noise, its just that its louder for disassemblers, the noise of Ns core helps Uzi relax <3

Uzi can lift N very easily, straight up on her shoulder even.... and somehow N is very turned on by this as she could easily carry him around bridal style if need be- esp if she gets jealous of N interacting with others and just throws him over her shoulder and leaves- or uh.... yknow, if Ns hurt or something, yep 6x6;;;

Uzi is also turned on by the fact that N is so much bigger than her. they be casually sitting and inspecting eachothers hands and Uzi's is smaller and she just blushes fervently imagining all the things she wants his hands and claws to do to her.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND thats about all i can think of atm without spoiling much of my own future ideas lol, hope it wasn't too annoying, but i really enjoyed writing this uwu<3

hope yall enjoyed it too if you made it til here :p

i diiiiid wanna include some nsfw hcs too but im gonna keep this ask as sfw as possible for now. 😇 those would be nsfw specific hcs anyway lmao

[lightlycareless]

I’m curious, how would you think Naoya’s canonical first appearance would be like if he was married to Y/N during the events of the manga? I wonder if he’d still maintain his role as antagonist(maybe he’d turn ally?) or if he’d just be nonexistent because him and Y/N decide to leave Japan post shibuya(he can’t let y/n get caught up in that) XD

Hello anon!!!

Well, I actually wrote a little something detailing that hehe. Kind of. I hope it still answers your question :>

Also, because this is the perfect opportunity to do so, why not write something sad/angsty for a change. A "what would happen with Y/N and Naoya during Shibuya" :))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) but somewhat taking into consideration the post above? Hmmm more at the end.

warnings: slight mentions of character death. mentions of pregnancy. angst. sad overall I believe. :') Naoya loves you and has done things differently than the jerk we all know of course. Or not? Also, I don't remember much of Shibuya anymore so forgive me if something is odd about it.

Happy reading!

I would say Naoya would quickly decide to get you out of danger. No questions about it; he doesn’t even consider otherwise. As soon as he hears what is going down he intends to send you far away in some remote safe house where he thinks you and the kids will be ok—perfectly tended for, as he’d always made sure.

You, on the other hand, aren’t too enthusiastic about leaving everything behind, simply because your family was right in the middle of the crisis! And of course they would be, always rushing to serve the noble cause, you were not surprised to learn that they were doing their best to prevent the situation from worsening.

But this was no ordinary task, that much obvious by a simple glance. And if not through that, then by the growing uneasiness settling in your heart. One that demanded you to stay… or at least remain attentive to what is to follow.

“But I don’t think that’s even necessa—”

“We’re not discussing this anymore, Y/N. You are leaving, and you’re doing so tomorrow first thing in the morning. I already made all the preparations, you just need to have the kids awake and ready.”

“I don’t want to leave my family.” You insist. “I shouldn’t! They—They need me. They’re putting their life on the line; I can’t just leave—”

“Our children need you more. I need you more.” Naoya frowns, frustrated that of all things you’ve decided to refute him on, this had to be the one. “As I said, I won’t discuss this with you anymore—you are leaving.”

“But Naoya—!”

You’ve only seen this firm side of him on scarce occasions; either when reprimanding your naïve kids when accidentally doing something that might hurt them, or when putting his family in place after saying… well, the things they normally did.

And since you obviously don’t like pushing him over the edge, having more than enough with the weight of being the heir of a prestigious clan, as well as all his work as a sorcerer, you tend to just go with what he wants.

But not this time around, you simply couldn’t act like there wasn’t something bothering you. Something looming over your mind, a frightening omen that involved someone directly involved with you.

It could be anyone. Either your family, or… Naoya.

Both chances you did not wish to take.

“…Please.” Naoya would quietly insist after seeing you grow silent, regretful of the domineering way he seemed to take over the conversation, for after all was said and done, he loved you more than anything else in this world and would rather die than hurt you.

He wasn’t happy about this arrangement, no, in fact he despised it.

Hated the fact that he had to be the one to come up with it in the first place—but after what he heard from Shibuya, alongside his father being summoned for support, it was nothing but clear that he needed to act.

“You’ll be stationed in a nice place. A quiet little village with a nice, ample house and access to a relaxing beach for you and the kids to spend time on.  Now, doesn’t that sound nice, mochi?”

Had it been literally any other occasion, you would have been ecstatic. Happy to have the opportunity to spend time with your family without worrying about anything, simply what you and your kids were to do next.

But it wasn’t meant to be this way, so much that even the kids were unusually calm about the so-called holiday. Having sensed their mother’s anxiety and preferring being by her side than thinking of having fun.

“And school? What about their friends?” You eventually ask, of course, one of the many ways to stall him.

“I don’t believe you will be away for long, but I arranged everything in the meantime. They will be homeschooled.” Naoya explains, you frown. “As for friends… I guess I can consider occasional visits. Though they’ll more likely make new ones over there.”

“…And you? Will you be… coming with us?” You know that wouldn’t be, assumed so either way. But still, you hoped he would surprise you otherwise.

“…You know I can’t.” Naoya responds, your heart sinks to your stomach.

“Why not? Your father is already there for support. Why do you have to go?” you scowl.

“I have to stay at the estate to oversee it while he’s gone.” He explains. “I wish I could go, or that you and our kids could stay but… it’s too dangerous. If anything happens at Shibuya and things decide to escalate, it’s only logical that the estate will become a target and I won’t risk it.”

You press your lips together, understanding his words, yet disappointed that it had to be that way. A part of you tried to accept them, let it go, for you knew exactly what you were getting into when you married him.

And the other…

“I can’t… I don’t feel comfortable being away while you and my family are in danger!”

“This is no different from any other mission I’ve gone to, or that your family has.” Naoya attempts to console you, but both knew that wasn’t the trutht. “What is it? What is it that has you like this?”

“…I…I don’t…I don’t know.” You begin slowly, hesitant to admit your thoughts in fear that they might become true. To painful to even consider it! “I just… have this awful feeling that something bad is going to happen soon.”

“Like what?”

“Please don’t make me say it.”

Naoya didn’t need more to understand, and such, leans closer to you, enough to wrap his arms around you and gently place a kiss on the top of your head.

“…Nothing will happen. I swear. I will contact you whenever possible so you’ll be at ease. And if there’s any change, I’ll let you know as well. I promise.”

“…Please?”

“Of course, princess.” He smirks, now kissing your cheek. “I wouldn’t even dream otherwise.”

“You haven’t called me that in a long time.” You silently admit; his words lift some of the burdening weight from your heart.

Not enough to free you, but enough for you to slightly jest at him.

“Well, our little Naomi kind of inherited it, didn’t she?”

“She’s well deserving of it. It fits her.”

“Technically you’re my princess, and she’s our little princess.”

“…I guess so, if you put it that way it kind of makes sense.”

Silence engulfs the two for a brief moment soon after, motivating Naoya to hug you even tighter.

“Everything will be fine, Y/N. It’s nothing but a situation that… got a little bit out of hand, but nothing I can’t handle. That’s all.

Just remember that my father is involved too. And…” as much as he hated admitting it, the old man was a very talented sorcerer. A good decision was made by considering him. “Gojo-kun is also there too, and everyone knows there’s no one stronger than him. As for your sister… well, she’s quite a force to be reckoned with too.”

“I never thought I’d come to hear you compliment them, ever!” You tease, he scoffs, slightly embarrassed.

“I just want to make you happy.” Naoya silently admits, placing his fingers underneath your chin and lifting your gaze to his. “You mean the world to me; I don’t know what I would do if you—if you… I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

“Then hurry up back home.” You pout, a tear sliding down cheek. “Please, for me. For the kids.”

“Promise me to always send me pictures of you and the kids. It’ll serve me as motivation as to why I even bother doing all this…” He frowns. “…And to let me know if you’re ok. You’ll be secured there with some of my men, but I still wish to hear it from you.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll send you so many, you’ll ask me to stop!”

“Now, mochi, no need to say fallacies we know won’t happen.” He teases back, which you respond with a giggle before quieting down, the realization that his impending departure is near.

“May the gods bring you back safe to me.” You silently pray, pressing a kiss on his lips to seal your protection charm, the one you’ve previous on prior occasions and has always worked—or so you believed.

The same one you desperately hoped would work this time around as well, especially after beginning to hear the horrific loses Shibuya had brought along.

From the death of your beloved friend Nanami to Gojo’s unprecedented sealing, you remained on edge as you tried your best to keep constant communication with Naoya, trying to figure out if any of these happenings had affected him one way or the other, praying that nothing would befall him.

Eventually cursing yourself when realizing you had unknowingly called a bad presage into reality when Naoya one day, without previous warning, directly and sternly, sends you the following message:

“My father died in Shibuya. I am now clan leader.”

To congratulate him given the circumstances of his death felt out of place, if not incredibly imprudent—even if this was his biggest dream.

It just came to you so… unexpectedly, though some would say that incidences would occur in such conflict. Perhaps it was Naobito’s time to leave this earth.

And yet, another part of you decided to take this as a warning, a reminder that this was no common attack. Not if it was capable of claiming the life of someone so skillful as your father-in-law.

…

What did any of this mean for Naoya? Is he safe? Is he ok? Has he been injured? Where was he right now?

But most importantly, what is he going to do now that is Leader of the Zen’in clan?

Did this mean that you were finally able to return with him? After so many days of homesickness, would you be able to see your husband in person?

…

Or… or did this just made things even worse for your family, forced to remain away until things cooled down, because you were now a bigger target?

“It’s still not safe. With Gojo-kun’s sealing… the clans have been nothing but a mess; and apparently that’s just the tip of the iceberg. There seems to be a deeper plan unfolding in the background—We still don’t know what for, but I know for sure one thing: I wouldn’t dare endanger you.”

“…Ok. I understand” You dejectedly agree, forced to remain behind as you lonely mourn the death of your friends, or the unknown fate of one of them.

Well, at least your family was relatively safe. Your siblings sustained injuries, but nothing they wouldn’t be able to heal in due time. You could only wonder the stresses your father had to deal with now that the Gojo clan was rendered nonexistent… Was someone trying to nominate Satoru’s replacement?

…

You wished you could do more. Longed to not feel as useless as you did nowadays, more so since Naoya’s messages turned to be fewer and fewer as time passed…

But at least he still responded. Took a little bit of his time to let you know that he was fine. Busy, perhaps a partial lie, but ultimately alive.

Just a matter of days and you’ll be back in his arms, with your children, and the little bundle growing inside you. Where you belonged.

Unless… fate was to cruelly decide otherwise.

“Naoya, I… haven’t heard from you in quite a while. I just… hope you’re ok and not overworking yourself. Naomi, Naori, Naoko and Naoyuki miss you. Please let me know how everything is doing as soon as you can. I love you”

…

“I don’t want to bother you, nor distract you from your duties. But I’m very worried about you Naoya, you haven’t answered any of my messages or calls. And… and I can’t shake this feeling that something horrible happened. Please answer me, Naoya, I can’t take the thought of you mot—

Just let me know if you’re ok, please. I love you.”

…

“Please, just give me a sign that you’re alive. I beg you, Naoya. I can’t take this anymore. I feel so lonely without you. I always do, but today… today it feels worse. Please, if just a letter, you don’t even have to write a whole message. Just a dot or something. Anything!

Just… anything so I can know you’re fine. Alive. Please. I beg you”

…

“Please. Please. Please. Naoya, answer me. Please. We love you.”

…

…

“Please. For our baby. Please.”

…

…

…

“…Naoya?”

Obviously I wanted to make it tragic and say that Naoya died; but how did he die? By being in Shibuya? Maybe. Maki? That means he still would've been a jerk! akjgkags

Also, I believe he didn't tell Y/N that he wasn't actually clan leader because... I don't know, pride. It's what he wanted all his life, after all! Maybe he hoped to fix that before meeting up with you again, and that's how he died :) OOF

Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed this little "what if" piece. I still have another Shibuya-centric oneshot to write 😏 maybe that could add on to this one? Thankfully, the good things about these prompts is that they're not really connected to one another, they could all essentially be read individually hehe nice.

Now, thank you so much for sending in this ask; take care and hope to see you soon!!!

[todorokis-girl]

Hi! Well then, I have request!

The new bnha ending hitted me hard so I wanted to request something for Touya.

I don't know I'd you are up to date with the manga ( I sure am not, so no spoilers, don't worry) but I want to have some fluff angst so XD

Could you please write about Touya meeting his childhood friend and best friend ( an old crush maybe) again after the war, please?

Thank you!

Ashes - Dabi x f!Reader

I hope you like it, please let me know on why you think!

Masterlist

he city lay in ruins, a testament to the cataclysmic battles that had torn it apart. Fires still smoldered in the wreckage, a stark reminder of the chaos that had ensued. Among the rubble and ash, survivors wandered aimlessly, their eyes reflecting the trauma and loss they had endured. Touya, better known to the world as Dabi, lurked in the shadows, his charred skin and vacant stare marking him as a relic of past horrors.

He hadn't expected to survive. After all he had done, he wasn't sure he wanted to. Yet here he was, hiding among the debris, searching for... what? Redemption? Closure? He wasn't sure anymore. The war had taken everything from him—his family, his purpose, his humanity.

Dabi crouched in the remnants of an old warehouse, the dark interior a welcome refuge from the outside world. He kept to the corners, avoiding the light that streamed through the broken windows. He knew he was being hunted. The heroes wouldn't stop until they had captured or killed him. He didn't blame them.

Suddenly, a noise outside caught his attention. Footsteps, hesitant and light, crunching over the debris. He tensed, ready to flee or fight, when a voice—a soft, familiar voice—called out, "Touya? Are you here?"

He froze. It couldn't be. He crept closer to the source of the voice, peering through a crack in the wall. There, amid the wreckage, stood Y/N. She was older, of course, her hair longer and her eyes carrying the weight of the years, but it was undeniably her.

"Y/N," he whispered to himself, his heart aching at the sight of her.

She wandered through the debris, looking lost but determined. "Touya, if you're here, please come out. I need to see you."

He wanted to run, to hide further, but something in her voice—desperation, maybe hope—compelled him to step out of the shadows. "Y/N," he said, his voice rough and unfamiliar to his own ears.

She turned sharply, her eyes widening in shock and relief. "Touya!" she cried, rushing toward him. She stopped short, inches away, her eyes scanning his scarred face, his burnt skin. "It's really you."

"It's me," he confirmed, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But I'm not the same."

She reached out, her hand hovering near his cheek, hesitant to touch the burn scars. "I know," she said softly. "But you're still here. That's what matters."

He stepped back, shaking his head. "You don't understand, Y/N. I'm not the person you knew. I've done terrible things. Hurt people. Killed people."

"And you think that means you don't deserve to be cared about? To be loved?" she asked, her voice breaking.

He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "I don't deserve anything."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Finally, Y/N spoke, her voice soft but firm. "We all make mistakes, Touya. Some bigger than others. But that doesn't mean we can't try to make things right. That doesn't mean we can't be forgiven."

He laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Forgiven? By whom? My family? The people I've hurt? They'd rather see me dead."

"Maybe," she conceded, taking a step closer. "But I'm not them. I remember the boy who used to bring me flowers from his mother's garden. The boy who would defend his friends no matter the cost. That boy is still in there somewhere. And I forgive you. Believe it or not your family loves you, and they’re worried sick about you”

Her words broke something inside him, the dam he had built around his heart crumbling. He sank to his knees, the weight of his guilt and sorrow pressing down on him. Y/N knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around him, holding him as he wept.

For a long time, they stayed like that, two broken souls finding solace in each other's presence. When his tears finally subsided, he looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the flicker of hope in her eyes.

"Why?" he asked, his voice raw. "Why are you here?"

"Because you need someone," she said simply. "And because I care about you."

He closed his eyes, the simple truth of her words piercing through his defenses. "I don't know if I can ever be whole again," he admitted.

"Maybe not," she said softly. "But we can try. Together."

He nodded, a small, tentative smile tugging at his lips. For the first time in a long time, he felt a glimmer of something he thought he'd lost forever: hope. With Y/N by his side, maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to heal.

As they sat there, amidst the ruins of the past, a fragile new beginning took root. It wouldn't be easy, and the road ahead would be fraught with challenges. But for now, in this moment, Touya allowed himself to believe in the possibility of redemption, and the power of forgiveness.

[giggly-squiggily]

Ooh, I just read your latest lee! Dazai ler! Kunikida fic and I loved it so, so much! If it's okay, can I please request a lee! Kunikida ler! Dazai + Atsushi fic? KuniLEEda needs to relax if you know what I mean XD. So Dazai is rough, kneading into Kunikida's ribs in a way that's making the latter lose it and he somehow convinces Atsushi to join him. Atsushi being the sweet boi he is, goes really soft and gentle on Kunikida, making Dazai go soft too. In the end, all that's left is a giggly pile consisting of a tiger, a poet, and a... Dazai. Feel free to decline and have a lovely day!

GAH I LOVE! Lee!Kuni gives me such life! :D This prompt is so perfect, anon! I've gotcha covered! This is a sequel to "Hide and Tickle"- cause why not :D

CW: Swearing

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @dirtpie39 @duckymcdoorknob @cupcake-spice13 @rachi-roo @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @sevenincubistolemyheart @riisada

“Help me tickle Kuni, will you?”

Atsushi stared- not sure if his daze was from how fast the brunette moved or by the offer itself. He knew this would happen- tickle fights never stopped at just one person here at the agency.

“Dazai, get off!” Kunikida’s yell snapped him out of his daze, bringing him back to the present. Said poet was flailing about beneath the giggling detective, grabbing at the hands reaching for his sides. “This is ridiculous! Get back to wohork!”

“Ooo, get back to work he says!” Dazai managed to wiggle a hand free, pinching at his waist and making Kunikida flinch. “Ooo, be productive! Look at me, I’m Kunikida- I’m so serious and grumpy all the time! I forgot how to relaaaaax.” He turned back to Atsushi with a devious smile, jerking his chin over. “Come on, Atsushi! Don’t be shy- get in here!”

“Erm..”

“Atsushi, don’t you da-Ahahahhahahre!” Any words of resistance Kunikida had left were lost in snickery noises, his arms shooting down to his sides in a vain attempt to block him out. “Geheheheht hihihim ohohoohff!”

“No, tickle him Atsushi! He won’t bite! Not you anyway..”

More snickers, a few more enticing invites and a wagged brow from Dazai finally convinced him. “Oh okay. Just this once.” The weretiger grinned as he dashed over, throwing himself into the fray and nearly knocking Dazai out. “Come here!”

“Gah! Nohohoho! Nohohot you toohoohoho! Shihihiihihihiahahahhaah!” Kunikida yelled out, his snickers expanding into proper laughter at the extra hands. His efforts to scrunch up were proven futile as Dazai recaptured his hands, lifting them up and giving Atsushi room to attack. “Dahahahhahamn yohoohohohohou, Dahahhahhahahzahahhahai!”

”Awwww! I love you too, Kuni! Isn’t he just the sweetest thing when tickled, Atsushi?” Dazai cooed sweetly, unfazed at the profanities the blonde was shouting at him. Keeping his grip firm, he gathered both wrists into one hand as he brought his other hand to get him in the armpit. “He has such a delicate laugh for someone so strict!”

“This is delicate?” Atsushi blurted out, voice nearly lost in the boom of Kunikida’s mirth.

“To me it is! Make sure you get him real good here! Oh, and here~” He dragged his hand down to Kunikada’s waist, tapping at the skin towards his back. “He’s really ticklish back here.”

“You must tickle him a lot to know all that.” The weretiger hummed in amusement as he brought his hands to Kunikida’s waist, turning his hands into claws that reached all the way around. “Now that I think about it- he knows pretty much all your own tickle spots too. Is this a common occurrence?”

“The hehehehell it ihihihihihihiis! Be quhuhuhuuiet, Ahahhahtsushi!” Kunikida squawked through his laughter, finally turning his daggers towards the weretiger. Dazai merely wagged his brows, the answer a secret on his lips.

“Get him good, Atsushi.”

Atsushi did as told, bringing his clawed nails gently against the sensitive skin, relishing in the way the poet arched and cackled. “Hey it’s working!”

“Of course it is! I know my stuff!”

”GEHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAH! SHUHUHUHUT THE HEHEHELL UHUUHP DAHAHAHZAIHAHAHI!! AHAHHAHATSUHUHUHUHUSHIHIHIHIHI!” Kunikida flopped about like he was having an exorcism, cheeks heating up and smiling wide enough to split his face in half. He tugged at Dazai’s grip so intensely he nearly dragged him down against him. “YOHOHOHOU TWOHOHOHOOHO SUHUHUHUUHUCK!”

“Hehe, sure we do.” Atsushi grinned. “That’s why you’re not fighting back nearly as much as you could, right Dazai?”

“You’re finally getting it.” Dazai sniffed like a proud mom, making the other boy laugh.

“AHEHAHAHAH! AHHEHAHHAHA SHIIHIHIHIIHT! GEHHAHA! OHOHOOKAY, OHOHOKAY STAHAHAHAP!” Kunikida sounded near shrill, face burning and laugh near mute.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. Kunikida’s giggle fits started to have a wheeze to them, signaling that he was at his limit. Dazai released his hands, gently tugging Atsushi back by his suspenders as the blonde gasped for air. “Let him breathe, Atsushi.”

Pulling his hands back, the weretiger was practically thrown off as Kunikida thrashed, rolling to safety with his arms around his torso- glaring daggers. He looked like a spooked cat, wild eyed and teeth grit. “Yohohou twohoho…”

He knew he should be scared. He knew he should probably run for his life- look for a good hiding spot until Kunikida’s rage subsided.

Instead, he giggled- the sight of the blonde too funny for him.

The poet blinked, as did Dazai. Atsushi’s giggles got worse, and before long he was laughing properly- falling back oh his butt and kicking his feet as he held his belly. Any previous rage faded from Kunikida’s expression as he started to smile. “You’re such a brat.”

“Gahahhaa! Ahehahahahahaha! I’m shahahrry! I’m shahaharry-” The weretiger wheezed out, eyes misting with laughter. “Yoohohu look so fuhuhuhunny!”

Dazai busted out laughing soon after, finally breaking down Kunikida’s own defense. They sat there laughing, the entire scenario stupid and silly and just what they all needed.

Maybe the work could wait. For just a little longer.

Thanks for reading!

[lunagojo]

Various Anime Boys: Being Told "I love you" For The First Time (Part 2!)

a/n: yeeeeeah i should be working on my essay but here I am

Featured: Sanemi Shinazugawa, Kento Nanami, Keigo Takami / Hawks, Atsuhiro Sako / Mr. Compress

Warnings: Swearing in Sanemi's, stitching up Atsuhiro's boo boos

~ Part 1 ~ ~ Part 3 ~ ~ Part 4 ~ ~ Part 5 ~

Sanemi Shinazugawa:

(was anyone gonna tell me he and Satoru share the same English dub VA??? It's so weird hearing Gojo's voice coming out of Nemi XD)

The other Hashira could not understand it. How did you manage to calm Sanemi down so much? It’s like your presence alone was a soothing balm to his damaged heart. Even he didn’t fully understand why he was so drawn to you, like a moth to a warm, glowing light. You were kind, patient, understanding…all things that he yearned for. And you made him ohagi, which, of course, was a bonus.

You were sitting together outside one evening, simply enjoying the peace and quiet together. Sanemi was unusually quiet, his lips pressed into a thin, firm line. He was getting annoyed with how he felt around you, and how lately you had refused to make eye contact with him.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, his voice rough, “Why the fuck don’t you look at me anymore? It’s like I’m ugly or somethin’ to you.”

You immediately raised your hands and shook your head adamantly, “No, no, it’s…it’s not that at all, Sanemi! I’m sorry.”

“Then what the fuck is it? And don’t tell me it’s that you’re shy or some shit.”

“N—No…it’s not that either.”

“Then just tell me, dammit. You’re starting to irk me.” He huffed, narrowing his eyes at you.

You blushed and swallowed harshly, looking embarrassed. “…I love you, Sanemi.”

He froze in place, his eyes going wide. “What?! You better not be fuckin’ joking or I’ll kick your ass.” It was an empty threat, Sanemi would never hurt you. He’d kill anyone who tried.

“I’m not joking!” You replied quickly, your cheeks darkening. You looked down into your lap, terrified that you had just made some sort of big mistake. Sanemi’s hand found yours and he squeezed it, bringing it to his lips. You looked back at him, surprised.

“I love you too, idiot.”

Kento Nanami

(violently drooling over this man)

It had been several long, toiling days of work at Jujutsu Tech for you. You’d barely had any time to rest, having to wrap up mountains of paperwork that entailed the various curses that had been exorcised in the recent days. It was going to be another late night, everyone else had either gone home or gone to bed in the dorms, and it was just you, awake and working hard to finish up your work.

That is, you thought it was just you.

You didn’t even notice Kento standing in the doorway, watching you as you typed away on your computer. He didn’t know how you could look so stunning even when you were exhausted. He cleared his throat, which ended up startling you.

“I’m sorry,” He said as he entered, “ I didn’t mean to scare you.” In his hand was a paper bag.

You exhaled, relieved it was only Kento. Giving him a tired smile, you gestured for him to sit down in the spare seat. “It’s alright,” You assured him. “I guess I’ve just been way too absorbed in getting this done.”

“I can see that,” He replied, opening the bag. “You’ve been working tremendously hard lately. You need a break.” He took a wrapped sandwich out of the bag and offered it to you. “I know it isn’t much, but you do need to eat.”

You gratefully took the sandwich and didn’t hesitate to start eating it. You were starving.

“It won’t kill you to take a break,” He said. “Working overtime is never healthy.” He folded his hands in his lap, offering you a kind smile. You blushed at the sight. Kento rarely smiled around anyone.

You sighed softly and sat back in your chair. “I know…but I need to get this done.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t do any harm to get some sleep tonight.” He pressed gently, removing his glasses and loosening his tie. “If you’re adamant about finishing it then I would be more than happy to keep you company.”

Something about his kindness, his smile, the way he was looking at you, it was almost too much for you to handle. He had always been so nice and thoughtful toward you.

God, I love you.

He straightened in his seat suddenly, looking at you with a wide eyed gaze. It took you a moment to realize that you had said it.

Heat creeping up into your cheeks, you stammered out an apology, ears burning hotly. Kento then smiled again, getting up from his chair and rounding your desk, so he was stood in front of you. His hand gently cradled your face, thumb running along your cheek. “You mean that?” He asked quietly, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded. He responded by pressing his lips to your forehead, murmuring back, “I love you, too. Now come to bed.”

(these are getting longer and longer lmfao)

Keigo Takami

(sunshine bby bird boi)

“Haaawwwks~! Haaaawwwwwwkkkksss~!”

You rolled your eyes at the incessant sounds of the girls on the TV. Hawks had just rescued a bunch of people from a burning building and, of course, a fleet of his fangirls had followed him. It made your gut twist in jealousy when you saw footage of him taking selfies with some of them. You turned off the TV after that, flopping back on the couch. You knew you shouldn’t be jealous, after all, Keigo and you were just friends, nothing more. But God damn, did he make it so hard, with his stupid good looks and stupid charm and stupid sweet heart and sense of justice.

You heard the window to your apartment slide open and feet hit the floor. “Heyyyyy, Y/N, I’m baaaaack! Mind if I use your shower?”

“You have your own apartment, Kei.” You retorted, turning your head to look at him. He looked a bit scuffed up but still had that doofy big grin on his face.

“But it’s not as fun as being here with you!” He said in a sing songy voice, “Did ya see my rescue? Pretty nifty, huh?”

“Was alright.” You said back, inciting a snort from him.

“You wound me, Y/N.” He feigned heartbreak by clutching his chest. “’Kay, lemme go get cleaned up.”

He disappeared into your bathroom, leaving you resting alone on the couch again. You heard the shower running and covered your eyes with your arms, sighing heavily. You were in love with him and you felt stupid because of it.

In a few minutes he came back out, dressed in clean clothes, his hair and wings damp still. “Wanna order some takeout or something? I could really go for some yakitori, y’know?”

“No, you go ahead, though.” You said back flatly.

Keigo frowned a bit. “Hey now, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” He flopped down on the couch next to you, giving you a quizzical look. “C’mon, Y/N, talk to meeeeeee…”

“It’s nothing important, Kei.”

“It’s important to me. You’re important to me.” He pressed further, leaning into you so his chin was on your shoulder. “Please tell me?”

You sighed, finally looking at him. “I told you it’s nothing important, Keigo.”

“Noooo, c’mon, you’re torturing me now. Please please pleeeeease tell meeeee?”

“Ugh, God, I love you, stupid! I always have!” You finally blurted, annoyed and now embarrassed.

Silence fell over the apartment as humiliated tears stung your eyes. You were half expecting him to laugh, half expecting him to gently reject you. But he didn’t.

Instead, he tucked his fingers under your chin, turning your head so you’d look at him. His face had an expression on it that you’d never seen before, his eyes were so soft, his smile so warm and comforting. “I didn’t think you felt the same.” He said. ”Wha—” you began, but he cut you off with his lips on yours. Sparks flew from behind your eyelids at the feeling.

When you two broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours, a tender smile on his face. “…You sure you don’t want yakitori, though?”

Atsuhiro Sako

(this man needs so much more appreciation, honestly)

“You really ought to be more careful, Compress.” You said as you stitched up a wound on Atsuhiro’s side. “You’re probably the only sane person in the League, besides Kurogiri. How am I gonna deal with the others if you go and get yourself killed?”

“It almost sounds like you care for me, my dear.” He drawled in response, a small smirk playing across his face. Well, what you could see of it through his balaclava. He gritted his teeth, though, when you pulled the thread through again. “Fear not, I shall not leave you to fend for yourself. It would not be very theatrical of me.” His eyes lingered on your face, his grin widening when you blushed and looked away.

“…I was worried,” You admitted, finishing up with his stitches.

His smile faded then, and he placed a hand on your wrist. “I’m sorry for making you worry,” He replied, his brown eyes softening. “I promise I will be more careful from now on, alright?”

You nodded, setting your materials to the side and retrieving a bandage to wrap around his abdomen. “…Hiro?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Hm? What is it, my dear?”

“…I love you.”

He stiffened for a moment, but then a warm smile grew across his lips. He wrapped an arm around you despite the objection coming from his wounded side. Pulling you close to him, he presses his lips to your forehead, nuzzling your hair. “I know.” He said softly. “I love you, too, my dear. You mean everything to me.”

[sotwk]

The Baker from Lórien (Haldir gen ficlet)

Summary: A visitor from Lórien brings some excitement to the kitchens of the Elvenking's palace.

Word count: 1.1k

Content: Pure fluffy randomness, mother-son relationship, toddler Legolas

Rating: General (no warnings apply)

To Read on AO3: Link

A/N: I wrote this ficlet purely on a whim; I had no plans or strategy for it going in. It could be nonsense, or I could be onto something. XD It's most likely going to stay a random SotWK AU one-shot, but who knows. I pretty much just wanted to finally write any story featuring Haldir, whom I love dearly and firmly believe was one of the most desired bachelors east of the Mountains. Special thanks to my friend @creativity-of-death who inspired the concept of a Baker Haldir long ago!

Headcanons about Haldir in the SotWK AU: Any questions you might have about the background history in this fic would be answered HERE.

The Baker from Lórien

Third Age 246 Spring

Bar Lasgalen, the Palace of the Elvenking

“Down and forward, turn, and fold over. Repeat. Remember to use the heel of your hand--this part, right here.”

The lump of dough felt pleasantly squishy in Legolas’s hands, and only with great self-restraint did the four-year-old elfling manage to resist playing with it like modeling clay, instead of following his instructor’s example. With eyes narrowed in determined concentration, he watched the steadily working hands of the elf across the table from him. After just a minute or so of observation, he began to mimic the brisk kneading motion.

“Yes, good! That is very good.” The visitor from Lórien seemed pleased, albeit surprised, by how quickly the child caught on.  

Legolas beamed at the ellon’s praise, and held the smooth ball of dough up high over his head in triumph. “Is it ready for the oven now?”

“Not quite.” The silver-haired ellon took the dough from Legolas and checked it with a few expert prods of his fingers. “It needs time to rest and rise. An hour at least, although up to three is much better, and then we can reshape it into loaves. Then it must rest again, before it can be baked.” 

“Three hours?!” Legolas exclaimed, already dismissive of whatever other steps came after. “Does bread really take that long to make every time?”

“The loaves should be fresh and hot out of the oven just in time for your Highness’s breakfast.” Legolas watched as his dough ball was placed into a large pan next to five others and covered with a dish cloth.  

“And a delicious breakfast is best preceded by a sound night’s sleep, is it not?” The voice that came from the kitchen doorway made Legolas scramble off his stool. He smiled sheepishly at his nursemaid, Ninniel, as she entered with a knowing smile and firm shake of her head for him.

The older ellon spoke up. “My apologies, Emmë. I should have realized the hour was too late.”

“It’s all right. It appears some valuable learning has been accomplished here, at least.” Ninniel took in the rather comical sight of her grown son towering next to her not-at-all-grown charge, both of them dusted in flour, and felt all her exasperation melt away. She dipped a tea towel into the washing basin and set to work wiping the sticky residue off Legolas’s fingers. 

“Will you come and get me when my loaf is finished baking, Halidr?”

“Well…” Haldir of Lórien glanced hesitantly at his mother. He was still unsure what to make of Thranduil’s sons, who all behaved without any regard or perhaps even awareness of their social rank. Legolas, in particular, had been unabashed in his fascination with Haldir ever since his arrival at Bar Lasgalen. Today was merely the first day of a month-long, overdue visit to his parents, and most of it had passed with the little prince turning up wherever Haldir happened to be, armed with a constant stream of questions. “It really is not my place to--”

“When your bread comes out of the oven, I will wake you to come and have it for  breakfast, with me and Haldir,” Ninniel interjected smoothly. “But the sooner you get to bed, the sooner you can rise refreshed for a new day, yes?”

“That sounds excellent!” Legolas threw his hands up, and wriggled his hips in a little sort of dance. “I shall be back in a few hours, Haldir! Please take care of my bread!” he called out to the bemused elf before bounding out the door. 

“Are you still finding everything all right, dearest?” Ninniel swept a light hand over her son’s broad back. In one touch she could tell Haldir was fairly relaxed, as she had hoped he would gradually become. Her eldest had always been the most serious of her children, and his nature only grew graver as the ages passed and the memories of hard years weighed on him. It had been far too long since his last visit to Eryn Galen, so rarely could he be persuaded to leave his post at the March, and Ninniel hoped the brief holiday away would be restful for his spirit. 

“Yes, everyone here at the palace has been… quite attentive.” Haldir smiled and planted a swift kiss over his mother’s hair. “The prince’s arrival sent them scurrying off, I fear, but I do not think he seemed to mind or notice.”

Ninniel shook her head. “The only thing they were running from was their own embarrassment,” she said. “I will let you return to your work, my love. Legolas and I will be back soon.”

And indeed, as soon as she exited the kitchen, she encountered the gaggle of young kitchen maids waiting in the hall, preparing to re-enter now that the royal Highness had left and gone to bed. 

“Lady Ninniel,” they curtsied to her, appearing only mildly abashed by her witness to their obvious intentions. But this was a small phenomenon Ninniel had grown accustomed to over the years, for it became clear early on that her handsome son elicited rather strong reactions from elleths, often without any encouragement. 

“My lady, if we may…” one of the girls blurted out. “We were wondering… that is, we wanted to make certain… do you know whether or not Lord Haldir…”

“He is not a lord, and he would not appreciate being addressed as one,” Ninniel corrected gently. “And as far as I know, he is not engaged, involved, or taken with anyone at present.” She gazed at the line of hopeful faces and pressed her lips to smother a chuckle. “Any of you are welcome to try and draw his interest, if that is your wish.”

But best of luck, indeed. Ninniel sighed as she departed, leaving the sounds of pitchy giggling behind her as the pack descended on her oblivious son. Whether there was any chance of a maiden in all of the Woodland Realm catching Haldir of Lórien’s eye, much less his elusive heart, she did not know. That hope had certainly not borne any fruit in over a thousand years of matchmaking attempts. But any diversion, any added source of joy outside of his work, his books, or his baking, could only be a good thing. 

Anything beyond that--dare say a betrothal, a marriage, or even a new precious grandchild--was something Ninniel was prepared to be completely surprised with. But a mother will always hope.

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[riddles-fiddles]

The pregnancy scenario is so gorgeous, I love!! And perfect timing, I literally had a dream the night before about having a kid with Leona and Idia (two different dream timelines of the same scenario converging later as a kind of after party). I thought you might get a kick out of my brain’s toy box nonsense :3

The Leona timeline was very sweet, him comforting me after someone attempted to kill me for imperfect human genetics, and then getting me pregnant to spite the killer. Idia was too nervous to kiss me to wake me up from a Maleficent curse sleep. He eventually woke me up and we then had a kid who I think was called Scoot? Started with an S and had a double O in the middle.

At the after party scene, both the kids looked like the Tsums of the father, since my brain struggles to render babies in sleep XD But the fathers were both thrilled and proceeded to show them off to everyone around them!

Honestly this is so cute anon!!! You're making me want to write more domestic scenarios with the boys,,,

Leona knocking you up in spite from the killer is so him lmao but ohhhhh think if the killer was hired by his parents to erase you out of his life. Just makes Leona more possessive of you, so when you finally grow a bump visible enough he'll be walking around with his hands always somewhere on your body, making sure to let everyone know you are his most perfect human mate (and he'll personally throw hands at anyone who even dares look at you with any hint of disgust or mockery). When the baby arrives, Leona is so lively - his lazy demeanor never truly leaves his soul, but at least now he has one motivation to get up from bed and slack off - especially if it's a girl! I can totally see him being such an endearing girldad, the type to make feminine voices when playing house and always getting so invested when throwing fake tea parties, also gets his daughter the biggest unicorn on the fair, no matter if he needs to go through some ridiculous game. Either be it a girl or a boy, Leona's favourite thing to do is go to small walks with his baby on his shoulders, squealing in excitement from all the stimuli around them, teaching them about everyday things like what is a butterfly, why birds chirp, and so on. You could say your child really did bring a light to Leona's life.

Idia... he wants to give the baby an unique name, or something regarding the online games or otaku media he consumes, but all you need to do is bat your eyelashes and hold his hand in a death gentle grip to sort his mind out of this idea. Idia's very nervous and overly cautious around the baby, always, and easily freaks out from the smallest ractions - when the baby sneezes, when they cough, even innocent, bright squeals sends him spiraling into an anxious coma. He's horrified of the idea of accidentally dropping his own child or just hurting them in some way, so he's always with a firm grip around the head and body, sustaining them even with trembling hands. He's very dedicated though, so Idia is always close to them, literally. He'll have the baby secured against his chest in a baby carrier while gaming, sometimes making effect sounds to amuse them; you know they truly are Idia's child from the way they look so enthralled to the screen, curious eyes scanning every move, every change of scenario like they're actually understanding something. He finds it annoying to go out in public with them though! His child is just so freaking cute with their cheeks so rosy and squeezable every stranger wants to talk and cuddle them, making Idia feel proud and at the same time mortified, fighting the urge to just turn heels and run back home as fast as possible. Idia doesn't care what gender his child is, but you can be sure he'll want to dress them in gamer onesies and clothing. 'Player three' and 'level 1 human' kinda shit, you know? But he will neeeeever admit he's doing it because he secretly finds it cute; god forbid Idia Shroud enjoying something so normie. Cringe.

[cuubism]

I would love to hear about the math verse AU and/or the physical therapy AU and/or Dreamling shibari for the wip game 👀 and no I cannot choose just one! xo @hardly-an-escape

posted a little bit of Math Verse, here's a tiny snippet of Physical Therapy part 9 that i wrote... today, alas there is not much of that chapter yet

--

Even if Hob doesn’t say it aloud, it’s okay. Dream knows that Hob loves him. He shows it. He doesn’t need to say it. Dream’s ex-lover had, after all, said that he loved him frequently. “Come on, you know I love you.” But where had it shown up? That was not love. It was the opposite of love. So he doesn’t need Hob to say it back, it is enough that he— “Hey, Dream?” Hob says, interrupting his thoughts. His smile is warm, successfully banishing any hope of Dream finding his line of thinking again, as sunlight does to shadows. “I love you.”

--

and Shibari, another damn thing that's so close to being finished XD light nsfw

--

This time, when he makes to do so, Dream lets Hob take his shirt off by hand. Hob himself is already shirtless, as he was before, and Dream takes a moment to run his hands down his chest, over his belly, luxuriating in the feeling of his skin. Slow, he thinks. One mistake of last time. Hob kisses the hollow space under his ear, and his jaw, and his throat. He pulls Dream close by his hips so their bellies touch, and he can feel Hob’s arousal pressed against him. Normally Dream takes a more active role in their lovemaking, but this time he lets Hob direct him, tips his head when Hob’s hand goes to his jaw, opens his mouth to Hob’s tongue. Hob takes his time in exploring him, tracing the curves of a now-familiar river, its embankments and erosions. Unbuttons Dream’s jeans without looking, pulls them down and lets Dream balance on him as he steps out of them. So physical, and almost awkward for it, for while Dream is fluid as air in the Dreaming, he always feels just a bit wrong in the waking, liable to disjoint and slip the bounds of his skin, the way dreams can fracture when hit by sunlight. He must concentrate. He must imagine himself a thing of the waking world. But Hob. Hob is a master of his body. He has had so long to learn how to use it, and he has applied it to so many different things in that time. As Dream stands, Hob brings him in close again just by leaning into his space, like he’s pressuring a skittish wild thing, loops him in with one strong hand wrapped around his upper arm. His body is surety and dominance and Dream is utterly in his thrall. When Hob turns him, steps behind him, as he had done last time, Dream is dropping to his knees already before Hob can lay a hand to the back of his neck. Hob’s sharp intake of breath catches in Dream’s chest, and Dream smiles, just a small twitch of the lips in satisfaction. He is in Hob’s thrall, but so is Hob in his, for submission is its own form of power. “You want to be good for me, love?” Hob says, stroking his fingertips up the back of Dream’s neck and into his hair. “Or do you just have something that you want?” “As you say,” Dream says, noncommittally, and delights in Hob grabbing a firm grip of his hair. “That,” Hob says, “is not quite good enough.” Hob pulls his head back, a sharp, firm tug admonishing him for his response. Dream resists automatically and Hob’s grip only tightens. Dream is not so easily overcome by sensation as he was in the immediate aftermath of his escape, the first time he had knelt for Hob. In some ways it has been a disappointment to slide back towards equilibrium. But he sees now that it has its benefits, too. The strength of Hob’s grip in his hair that would then have been too painful to tolerate now sends sparks of pleasured agony through him. Dream’s spine curves. His neck strains. Hob is immovable. It’s instinct to resist his pull, to clutch to station and power and kingship, but when he yields and lets Hob tip his head back, bares his throat, it feels like sinking into a soft bed. Hob will move him and use him but he won’t wrench him apart. And all Dream has to do is… let him. Each letting is an exhale. His eyes flutter shut.

[gurokiitty]

Hi! It's me the one who said the thing about the bugs and skin I loved it and now I can't stop thinking about it in fact I'm thinking about it more

Idk why but now I can just imagine they just like scratching shit in general because I had this idea...lets pretend for a second that maybe they get to be collared too let's just pretend...because I can imagine them just aggressively scratching strades head because they "like watching the dandruff fall out"

I was scratching stuff and this came into my head

a/n: you are so interesting anon XD thank you for sharing your fun ideas with me. i hope you enjoy!

SCRATCHING THE SURFACE

{ strade x gn! reader }

part 1: BENEATH THE SKIN

word count: 760

warnings/tags: alcohol use, drunk strade, scratching, slight body worship/fascination, mentally ill reader, poetic descriptions of dandruff lol, kinda wholesome.

The evening air was heavy with the smell of beer and cigarettes, the flickering television light casting erratic shadows across the walls. Strade lounged beside you on the couch, shirtless and slightly inebriated, lazily holding a bottle of liquor. His usual sharp edge seemed dulled by the alcohol, his eyes half-closed as he watched the screen.

Despite the heavy bandages, the mangled skin of your forearm itched with a compulsive need that had never truly left. Strade’s attention was glued to a grainy action movie, allowing your mind a moment’s distraction in the warm, quiet room.

Your gaze drifted from the television to Strade’s exposed skin, illuminated by the screen's glow that highlighted the soft contours of his abdomen. Driven by curiosity and a relentless need to scratch, your hand moved almost involuntarily.

Initially, Strade didn’t react as your fingers made contact with his warm skin. His indifference encouraged you, and you began to trace your nails lightly across his stomach— a sensation vastly different from scratching your own scarred skin. His skin was smoother, warmer, and surprisingly responsive.

At the faint sensation, Strade's muscles twitched subtly, and a slight smirk formed on his lips as if amused by your audacity.

Emboldened, your fingers ventured further, tracing the lines that segmented his stomach. The scratching was gentle at first, but the familiar urge surged, compelling you to apply more pressure. Your nails pressed harder, leaving faint red marks that faded as quickly as they appeared.

Taking a deep swig of his beer, Strade finally turned to face you, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Like what you feel?” he slurred, his breath heavy with the smell of alcohol.

You leaned closer and scratched his stomach again, the fine hairs tingling under your fingertips. "You're smoother than I imagined... like tracing patterns on silk," you whispered, your hand moving upward to trace the lines of his chest.

He hummed in response, his smirk widening as you felt the changing texture of his skin near his collarbone. You paused, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath, in sync with the low, erratic hum of the television.

Then, almost naturally, your hand drifted to his head, fingers tangling in his hair. You began to scratch gently at his scalp, the initial softness giving way to a more firm, scraping motion. As you enjoyed the sensation of his coarse locks between your fingers, tiny flakes of dried skin began to drift down like bizarre, unseasonal snow onto the back cushion.

His eyes closed and his smirk smoothed into a contented smile, appreciating how your fingers worked through his hair. The change in his expression seemed to shift the atmosphere, the room growing quieter despite the ongoing drone of the television. Each scrape of your nails seemed to sink him deeper into relaxation, his body loosening against the soft back of the couch.

You continued to explore the texture of his scalp, noting the spots that made him lean into your touch, his head subtly pushing against your hand like a cat seeking affection. The intimacy of the moment felt almost surreal, a stark contrast to the usual chaos that defined your interactions. This gentler, quieter side of him was entirely new to you.

As your nails found the dry patches, you gently loosened more flakes of dandruff. There was something oddly satisfying about watching the tiny white particles drift down, catching the light before vanishing into the shadowy room. Each flake seemed to momentarily soothe the relentless squirming sensation beneath your skin.

Your hand moved of its own accord, scratching harder, deeper, to free more stubborn flakes trapped within the roots. The frantic scraping of your nails against his scalp grew louder, almost echoing in his ears. As you intensified your efforts, a cascade of dandruff dislodged from his hair, swirling in a miniature storm of white specks. These particles caught in the dim light, swirling erratically before settling silently around you, like ash from a snuffed candle.

Suddenly, Strade’s eyes snapped open, and his hand clamped around your wrist with drunken firmness. “Like that, do you?” he asked, his focus sharpened despite his inebriation. Despite the pain of his grip, your fingers twitched, driven by a gnawing, primal urge.

"I-I like like watching the dandruff fall..." You murmured, his gaze drilling into you, curious yet hazy from the alcohol.

“Alright. Go on then, just watch the claws, yeah?” He replied, his tone carrying a hint of amusement as he loosened his grip slightly, allowing you to continue.

[fillinforlater]

Public stripping by Momo would be a cool idea for a story if you're able to. Please and thank you!

Teased Promotion

Hirai Momo (ft. you and the crowd)

Length: 1202 words

Tags: stripping, public, public indecency, teasing, flaunting cleavage and breasts, how-to-get-promoted, dominant!Momo

TW: UNEDITED QUICKIE

(A/N: This request was in my ask box since January 25th... sorry for the long wait, but if you're still around to read it, I hope you enjoy this short, teasing piece xD)

“Guess who asked for a promotion yesterday?”

Your boss has the weirdest entries. He always says a random phrase without greeting you or talking about the topic at hand. However, he is still your boss and most often, a very chill guy. You mostly go along with his antics, especially at such an important company banquet. 

“I have no clue to be honest, but it sure wasn’t me.”

“Ha, funny,” he laughs sarcastically, before answering the question himself, “It’s Miss Hirai, Momo, the one on stage right now.”

Of course you know who Momo is. Fierce in her gaze, fully focused on her case, unstoppable, ever since she stepped foot into the giant law firm. When someone meets Momo for the first time, they are allured, stunned even by her beautiful appearance and incredible body. Underneath her glasses are incomprehensible orbs and underneath her tailored suit are enormous breasts. 

As a co-worker, you of course meet Momo more than once, so you were shocked to find that the second impression she makes is far different. Behind her mouth-watering facade is a killer, someone who is ready to leap over you, take your position, your job, your life if need be. It’s impossible to get into her pants, she is completely immune to flirting or someone showing off. You assumed she was a lesbian at first, but even the hottest women in your firm get bluntly rejected. It’s all business for her.

Momo loves showing off her money, of course, otherwise she wouldn’t wear gold necklaces and watches all the time, but she seems to love a show of dominance even more. For her to want a promotion is not a surprise at all, so you wonder why your boss felt the need to mention it.

“I know her. I bet everyone does. She probably deserves it.”

“Yeah, but she did not want to negotiate with me. She said that she will make her offer tonight at the banquet when everyone from outside has left. I sent all the staff and sneaky journalists outside ten minutes ago, but she hasn’t done anything yet.”

“Maybe she is getting cold feet,” you joke and reach for a second champagne glass. You give it to your boss and you both wordlessly look up to the stage. Momo just stands there, behind a lectern. The crowd of noisy, tipsy and flirty coworkers quiets down when they hear her through the speakers. Even when she clears her throat it sounds dominant, degrading, demanding.

“Today,” she begins and even the densest person is now completely silent and focused on her, “I walked into the office of our dear boss and I did not want to leave until a deal had been done. However, he challenged me to something—and my God am I ready to accept it.”

You have never heard or seen Momo this passionate before. She was feeling herself, nothing in the entire building could be more interesting than her right now and she knew it. Even your boss mutes his phone and makes it disappear into the pocket of his navy-colored suit. Momo was about to shine, to burst, but no one had a clue how.

“Boss,” she continues, her gaze piercing through the tense air and right next to you, “I have a way to boost the morale of everyone here and make myself indispensable to the firm.”

Momo steps away from the mic. The spotlight follows her onto the empty part of the stage where she is not hiding her legs behind the lectern. The clacking of her heels onto the metal surface is the only sound your ears can pick up. Your eyes, no, everyone’s eyes widen, when Momo grabs the top of her tie and rips it off of her neck.

What the fuck?

Momo straightens herself with a smirk and you instinctively straighten your back in your seat. She effortlessly lets her fingers run down her upper body and twists the first button of her suit, then the second and stops—only for the briefest, tense moment. She pulls open the suit with such ferocity, the buttons fly off. Momo let’s the hang on her shoulders and throws her head backwards to expose her slender, perfectly sculpted neck.

Holy shit.

People shuffle all around you. They jump from their seats, shake their heads or open their suits as well to make sure this is not a dream. It’s unnecessary though, because Momo’s wild eyes sparkle and tell them: this is real. I am real. 

She spins around and sways, her hips moving to a song that is not there but that everyone can hear. Her opened suit travels further down, sadly exposing not her skin but a white, thin-striped shirt. Her back is still hidden, only the outline of the backside of her bra visible. Momo knows how to tease, how to make the crowd jump, and she is playing it out perfectly. 

The suit falls and the first cheers roar. They wake up for her, those horny coworkers. A male dominated industry for sure, but the women are left speechless as well. No one is safe from Momo. She turns back around, adjusts her glasses with one hand, fiddles at the hem of her dress pants with the other and gradually, painfully slowly bends over. 

She is showing her cleavage you imagine, but that god damn shirt is still blocking the view of her voluptuous breasts. Momo winks and sticks her tongue out, not to you, but to you, to anyone who is greedy enough to claim this wink as their own. 

Momo makes your head spin when she interrupts the slow, teasing movements to lean her upper body backwards to present her crotch while simultaneously opening the first button of her shirt. You jump as well, barely anyone is still on their seat. Some dare to move closer, some stay behind. You expect her to go faster, but no. Momo is taking it slow and feeling it.

Oh God, this woman!

Both hands are on her tummy; you imagine she is flexing her hidden abs underneath. Then they massage themselves upward to her bosom; you imagine her hard nipples being crazed even through her bra. At last, she finds her neck, touches it for a second and—this time, you don’t have to imagine things—she moves both hands under the next button and pops it free. And the next. And the next. And the next, the one above her black lace bra. 

The crowd goes nuts at the first glimpse of what Momo has kept a secret for everyone. Those that asked her out or tried to seduce her probably thought of a private session, their own victory to see the gorgeous, sexy Momo. They were wrong, bluntly. Momo wants all eyes on her.

More, fuck, more!

Somehow, your eyes fall down on your boss for a second. He is the last one still sitting, his suit open, cheeks red hot. He is fanning air to him, while failing to look unimpressed or demanding. He has fallen for Momo’s striptease and jumps the moment she opens her shirt to fully flaunt her tits. 

“She’s got you as well.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

[planetdream]

Ahhhh Bang Chan K and P which I think are kink and position?!? (But any letter is fine I've been pondering for like 5 mins before settling xD)

p - pace [fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc]

both! thinking that chan is an attentive lover. always watching you, analyzing your mood [though not in a way that makes you feel like he's hovering over you constantly] chan just picks up on your energy and adapts to it—he knows what you need and how you need it, both sexually and non-sexually.

sometimes he's real rough, almost hungry or drunk on you. chan holds you with so closely, and with firmness, that you think he might break you. especially with the way he's trying to fuck you into the bed, his strokes might be slow but the impact of his burying his cock deep into you is intense. he wants to make sure you feel every inch, every vein and curve of his cock. practically wants it imprinted in your mind and to have your cunt molded to fit only his cock.

other times he's as sweet and soft as can be. deep passionate kisses as hands that once felt noticeably calloused feel as soft as ever. he makes love to you in a way that further proves how much he loves you. he might treat you delicately but that doesn't necessarily mean you are—chan just wants to be a safe place for you.

[aralezinspace]

Pale

Requested by Anonymous: I was wondering if you’d be willing to write an angsty request (TW) with Morpheus being in an established relationship with the reader, but since he doesn’t eat and is not used to the schedules of humans—he doesn’t notice they have an eating disorder. But someone else points out that they never/rarely eat/only pick at their food and Dream just can’t let it go/stop thinking about it. I’m a sucker for hurt/comfort and I haven’t seen any stories for Morpheus where the reader has an ED

A/N: Warnings: reader has an eating disorder, general eating disorder discussion

you asked for angst? I WILL DELIVER ANGST *cackles* no lie tho, I teared up writing this one. I hope anyone who needs this kind of comfort finds it in this story, and that if you are struggling with this yourself, know that you are not alone (I'm just a stranger on the interwebs but I'm rooting for you) and have access to the help you need 💖💖

I started writing some ✨feelsy spice✨ for this but then it would have been an absolute BEHEMOTH so uh if anyone wants to read PWP/PWF ask and ye shall receive xD

~~Requests for Morpheus and the Doctor (9-13) are open!~~

“The New Inn,” your read aloud, hands jammed into your pockets as you and Morpheus approached the building. You gave him a little nudge and a playful smirk. “What happened to the old one?”

As usual, the current of the joke went right past him. “It was torn down,” he replied with a hint of melancholy, “Hob Gadling purchased the land and rebuilt it… so we could continue to meet.”

“Every hundred years, right?” A nod. Your brow furrowed as you did the mental math, a headache beginning to pound behind your eyes. “I thought your next meeting wasn’t for another decade or so.”

Dream peered at you out of the corner of his eye, a tiny smile lighting up his face. “You are correct. However, I recently learned that once every hundred years is too infrequent to see one’s friend. And…” He held the door open for you, a perfect gentleman. “I believed it was time for the two of you to become acquainted.”

You gave Dream a beaming grin; you knew how big of a step this was for him. It was a huge step for both of you: your relationship wasn’t exactly new, but it had taken a long time of you asking, and a while for Dream to agree to this. The significance of today was not lost on you, and a little shiver went down your spine.

Hob was sitting in his usual corner near the window, already nursing a pint of amber beer. He rose to his feet with a grin when his eyes found his ‘stranger.’

“Hello stranger,” he greeted Dream with a beaming smile, holding out his hand for a shake. You had to give Morpheus a little nudge but he eventually gave Hob a firm handshake and a little nod of his head. Warm brown eyes then darted to you, quickly roving up and down your body, taking in every detail and committing it to memory. So, this is the one who has so captivated the famously aloof and closed off Dream of the Endless. His first thoughts were that you seemed to be open and kind, but strong and perceptive as well- a perfect combination for his stranger. Loving and giving, but also wouldn’t take his shit.

“Hob,” Morpheus began with a gentle and gallant hand at the small of your back, “This is Y/N, my... my partner.” You held out a hand for a shake, meeting his eyes with a warm smile. Instead of shaking it, Hob gently took your hand and kissed the back before giving it a light squeeze.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N. The change you have brought on our mutual friend is nothing short of astounding.”

A flush touched your cheeks in time with your giggle, the sound slightly choked as the pounding in your head intensified. Morpheus gave you both a tiny frown, but there was no real ire behind it. Hob gestured for the two of you to sit. Once again, a perfect gentleman, Morpheus pulled out your chair for you to sit before stiffly sitting himself. Hob gestured to the bar and a waitress came over to take your orders. Hob ordered another beer and a sandwich, Morpheus minutely shook his head, and the waitress’ eyes came to you.

“Umm…” you glanced at the menu and ordered the first appetizer your eyes focused on. “I’ll have a water and a cup of the onion soup, please.” The waitress nodded with a smile and headed back to the bar.

You mostly listened as Hob and Morpheus caught up- meaning Hob did most of the talking and you and Dream listened. He was full of entertaining and touching stories from his hundreds of years of being alive, all the ups and downs and everything in between. Hob started asking you about your life as the food arrived: what you did for work, if you had pets (not counting Morpheus), what you did in your free time (besides Morpheus).

By the time you had to leave, you had only eaten about half of your soup, both from the fact that the idea of eating made you feel ten shades of awful, and because Hob had kept you talking with his easy going charm. Your headache had faded, only to be replaced by jitters, chills, nausea, and a fog tightly bound to your mind. You excused yourself to the bathroom before you left, barricading yourself in a stall and sitting on the toilet before you passed out.

You doubled over, head hanging between your knees to try alleviating the light-headedness. A deep breath shuddered in and out of your lungs. You massaged your temples, trying to get the rest of your headache to go away. You knew you would have to go back out soon, or Hob and Dream would get suspicious. One more deep breath and you hauled yourself to your feet. You plastered a smile on your face as you stepped out of the bathroom. Hob and Morpheus were waiting by the door, their coat collars turned up and hands jammed into their pockets. Both smiled in their own ways when you approached, but Hob’s immediately fell from his face.

“No offense,” he began carefully, “Your face is kind of pale, are you feeling okay?”

“Oh yea, I’m fine,” you responded a little too quickly. “Just a bit tired, work has been busy.” Hob didn’t press it, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced.

~~

You and Morpheus met up with Hob almost every two or three weeks, mostly at Hob’s request, to get to know you and “make up for lost time.” Most of the time you met at the New Inn for lunch or drinks, but you did have Hob over to your apartment for dinner twice. He was very appreciative of your cooking, asking to bring home the leftovers.

Hob kept a close eye on you during visits. Steadily, his concerns grew: not about your fitness as a partner, although he was pleased and comforted by how much you cared for his stranger and how well you worked together. No, he was concerned for your physical well-being, and the fact Morpheus didn’t notice. How could someone as observant and almost omnipotent as Morpheus not notice how little you ate?

He finally brought it to Dream’s attention one night at your apartment. You had been cooking dinner, gently stirring a pot of pasta, when you asked Hob to mind the stove before rushing off to the bathroom, pale and shaking. He stirred in silence for a moment before peaking at Dream over his shoulder. The endless was seated on your slightly squishy couch like it was a throne, his hands folded serenely in his lap, staring straight ahead. Must be plugged into the Dream Matrix, he thought to himself.

“Dream?” Morpheus’ eyes focused again as he turned to Hob, eyebrows slightly raised in permission to go on. “It’s not my place, but… is Y/N alright?” He paused. “I’ve noticed when we’re together, they… don’t really… eat. Much of anything.”

Morpheus’ brow furrowed in confusion. “Why mention this to me? They are perfectly capable of caring for themselves and eating when their body demands.” Hob sighed.

“Yes, I normally would agree, but… they always seem pale, and weak, and ready to fall over. I’m sure you know, that’s not an indication of good health in a human.”

A deep frown etched itself into Dream’s face as he thought on Hob’s words, and realized his friend was right. “I… never noticed.” His insides writhed with a hot feeling that was somewhat unfamiliar to him. He hadn’t felt it often, and didn’t like to acknowledge when he felt it: it was shame. You occupied his every waking thought, how could he not have noticed?

“I don’t blame you,” Hob continued quickly as he turned off the stove and moved the pot off the burner. “I know a lot of human things aren’t exactly… at the forefront of your mind, but…” he sighed. “I think they may have an eating disorder.” A tense silence filled your apartment.

“An… eating disorder?” Dream repeated slowly. Hob nodded.

“An unhealthy relationship with food, destructive eating habits, that can lead to other problems, or be caused by other issues, other things happening in their life.” Morpheus’ frown grew deeper, the writhing shame suffused with bone deep concern. How could he not have noticed the neglectful harm you were doing to yourself?

“Thank you for telling me,” he murmured darkly. Hob could tell he was angry, but not at you. He knew Morpheus was angry at himself for not noticing, not knowing. For not taking care of you.

You emerged from the bathroom a moment later, profusely thanking Hob for watching the pasta. Dream watched you carefully- now he saw what Hob meant, and wondered how in the infinite realms he could have missed it. He saw the tremors in your hands, the paleness under your skin, the bags under your eyes, your slightly heavy breathing. Hob was right, you looked like you were about to keel over.

You could feel the tension rolling off Morpheus as you placed the food on the table, could feel his stare on your back, could feel the intensity of his frown. You could tell he was pissed, but had no idea what had set him off. Anxiety gnawed at your insides.

All through the meal, Morpheus’ responses were clipped and ground out, but his hand on your thigh was as gentle as it had always been. It didn’t escape your notice that he gave your leg an encouraging squeeze every time you took a bite, no matter how small.

It began to dawn on you what may have happened while you were in the bathroom trying not to pass out.

The rest of the visit was calm and enjoyable, but you could still feel the tension coming off Morpheus in waves. When Hob left, he murmured to the Endless, “Be gentle with them, they know you care and they’ll tell you in their own time.” Morpheus nodded and bid him farewell.

After he had seen Hob out, Dream turned to you. You were seated on the couch, fiddling with your fingers, curled in on yourself as if expecting a harsh scolding. Morpheus let out a breath through his nose. He hated how fragile you seemed, how small. Now was not the time to ask you about what Hob had said. He feared one wrong word would completely shatter you beyond repair.

As you went through your bedtime routine, Morpheus wrapped his arms around your waist. “There is something I must see to in the Dreaming,” he choked softly, the words landing on the sensitive skin behind your ear. “I will find you when you arrive.” You gave him a quick smile and nodded as you rubbed moisturizer into your cheeks.

“Okay, I’ll be there soon. Just need to brush my teeth.” Dream pressed a lingering kiss to the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “I love you,” he breathed into the ridges of your spine, fluttering the little hairs there. A whirl of sand at your back and he was gone.

~~

Back in the Dreaming, Morpheus prowled through the halls to the library, a determined frown creasing his face. “Lucienne!” he half bellowed, the rumbling echo of his voice bouncing of the ceiling. The librarian jolted out of her seat and faced her lord with her hands behind her back.

“Yes my lord?” she asked anxiously, wondering what could have possibly gotten him worked into such a state.

“I need to do some research, on…” he swallowed hard. “On eating disorders. In humans.”

Lucienne blinked in confusion. “Eating disorders, my lord?”

“Yes,” Dream grit out. “Whatever you can find.” Lucienne nodded and pushed her glasses further up her nose.

“Of course my lord. I’ll bring them to your study.”

“Thank you. I will be with Y/N this evening.” He gave her a nod and swept out of the library. Lucienne frowned as he left, putting the pieces together. She could only hope you were alright.

~~

Morpheus spent all his solitary free time with his nose buried in a book- reading about various eating disorders, how to support loved ones dealing with them. There was a sort of unspoken understanding between the two of you, but one filled with tension that would one day snap. You knew it was a matter of time before he approached you and began asking questions, and you dreaded the day.

It came sooner than you anticipated. The two of you were in one of the palace’s many sitting rooms, reading in arm chairs in front of the fireplace. Morpheus softly closed his book. “Darling,” he asked gently, “Why did you not tell me about your eating disorder?”

You froze, a deer in headlights. Morpheus was never one to mince words, but his question caught you off guard. You closed your book and chewed your bottom lip, trying to piece together an answer. “I am not upset with you my love,” he assured you, reaching over to take your hand, “I am concerned for your welfare.”

Your hand was shaking in his grasp, your eyes watery with unshed tears. Unformed words were stuck in a massive lump in your throat. How could you possibly explain the tangled web of thoughts, fears, and insecurities that had ultimately led to your self-imposed torture?

“Hob brought it to my attention,” he continued carefully, leaving space for you to chime in if you so wished. “I was unsure of what he meant, at first. Lucienne directed me to information in the library, so that I may learn what ails you.” He rose from his chair and knelt in front of you, taking your hands in his. “My darling, you need not explain. I only ask that you tell me how I may be of support to you in overcoming this.” A pause. He swallowed hard, eyes silver and swimming.

“I understand these things can have roots in low self-regard. My love- I will worship your body with love and care until you know and believe, as I do, that you are beautiful in every way, and then continue to do so. I do not wish to see you endure such needless and undeserved suffering.” He lowered his head to press a desperate kiss to your knuckles, and you could have sworn you felt a single tear scorch the skin.

“I am not angry or ashamed,” he assured you again, speaking the words into your hands for you to hold onto forever. “Not at you. Only at myself for not noticing your pain and struggles sooner, for letting you suffer alone and in silence. It seems… I still have much to learn about humans.”

Despite it all, you chuckled, sniffing back your tears. Who’d have thought you’d see Dream of the Endless admit on bended knee that he didn’t know everything. The small sound of mirth took him by surprise; surely nothing about this was laughable.

You slid out of your chair and into Dream’s lap, the warmth of the fireplace suffusing your face and making Dream’s silhouette against the flames appear even darker and more enchanting. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” you finally admitted softly. “I… I was afraid you would see it as just one more human weakness, one more reason why we- I- wasn’t worth your time. I… didn’t want you to think I was weak, or finally agree with the words in my head that’re always saying I’ll never be enough for you-“

Morpheus stopped your words the best way he knew: by kissing you. Unyielding but gentle hands held your face as he captured your lips, leaning you back into the chair. “You need not say any more, my heart,” he growled softly against your lips. His words vibrated with power and promise, an oath he had no intention of breaking before the stars burned out. “Whatever aid you need, you shall have.” One kiss. “You need not endure this alone any longer. I will be by your side.” Another kiss, more lingering. “Always.”