#I might not respond right away but I will try

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK Men React to Seeing You in Their Clothes

Pairings: Gojo x fem!reader; Megumi x fem!reader; Yuta x fem!reader; Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Warnings: fluff over fluff, I'm pretty sure I already wrote something like this but I can't find it anymore lol, all scenarios talk about the clothes of the said jjk men being big on you so please don't read if this isn't what you vibe with (but feel free to let me know if you want a version in which their clothes actually fit reader quite well!)

Gojo Satoru

The apartment is unusually quiet as you move through the living room, your bare feet padding lightly across the cool floor. Gojo had left early this morning to deal with some “business,” leaving you alone with nothing but a mess of his belongings scattered around. You’re not one to complain though - cleaning up after him has become second nature after spending so much time together.

As you tidy up his place, you come across one of his oversized hoodies. It’s sprawled across the back of a chair, still slightly wrinkled from when he wore it the night before. The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the fabric, and for reasons you can’t quite explain, you find yourself reaching for it.

It’s soft, much softer than you expected. You hold it for a moment, staring at it thoughtfully before a mischievous grin tugs at your lips. You slip the hoodie over your head, the fabric swallowing you whole. The sleeves are comically long, almost covering your hands completely, and the hemline reaches down to your thighs. It’s so big that it feels like you’re wearing a blanket, and despite yourself, you giggle at the sight of your reflection in the hallway mirror.

You sit down on the couch, pulling your legs up under the hoodie, and let yourself relax into the comfort of wearing something that smells like him. His signature cologne that follows him around wherever he goes, that makes your heart skip a beat every time you smell it. To be honest, you really miss him. These past weeks were so busy that you didn’t really get the chance to see him more than 2 hours before passing out sleeping. What you’d do for a whole afternoon, just you and him…

Not long after, you hear the oh so accustomed sound of the door unlocking, followed by the familiar voice of Satoru calling out, “I’m home!”

You stiffen for a moment, wondering how he’ll react, but you can’t hide now. Fuck, you never wore his clothes before. After all, they belong to him and you have no right to grab his stuff as you please.

Before you can say anything to defend yourself, Gojo steps into the living room, his bright blue eyes immediately locking onto you.

There’s a beat of silence. Then, a slow, amused grin spreads across his face.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he teases, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

His sunglasses are perched on his head, revealing his crystalline eyes that seem to glow with delight.

“Did you raid my closet while I was gone?”

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool despite the sudden warmth creeping up your neck.

“Your place was cold. Figured I’d borrow something.”

Gojo doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he walks over to you, crouching in front of the couch as he eyes you up and down. His grin widens as he takes in the way the hoodie completely engulfs you, making you look even smaller than usual.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, laced with something playful but undeniably affectionate.

He reaches out, tugging on one of the oversized sleeves gently.

“In fact, I think it suits you better than it does me.”

You scoff, though your heart skips a beat at the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world.

“You think everything looks good on me.”

“That’s because it does.”

His grin is infuriatingly confident, but there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your breath catch.

“But you, wearing my clothes? I think that might be my favorite look.”

He leans closer, his nose brushing against your temple before pressing a soft kiss there.

“You can keep it if you want,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

“I don’t think I’m getting it back anyway.”

Megumi Fushiguro

It’s early morning, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon, casting a soft glow over Megumi’s small apartment. He’s still asleep, his dark hair a mess of unruly strands as he breathes softly beside you. You’ve been staying with him for the weekend, a rare break from the chaos of jujutsu sorcery.

As you quietly slip out of bed, careful not to wake him, you feel the cool air hit your skin. Without thinking, you look around the room for something to cover yourself with. Your eyes land on one of Megumi’s plain black shirts, tossed haphazardly over the back of a chair. It’s oversized, much bigger than anything you’d typically wear, but you shrug and grab it anyway.

Slipping it over your head, the fabric is soft and familiar, carrying the faint scent of him. It hangs loosely on your frame, the sleeves too long and the hem falling halfway down your thighs. You glance at yourself in the mirror, a small smile tugging at your lips. There’s something comforting about wearing his clothes, like having a part of him with you even when he’s asleep.

As you turn back toward the bed, you freeze. Megumi’s awake. His dark eyes are half-lidded, still clouded with sleep as he watches you from the bed. You can’t quite read his expression -it’s a mixture of surprise, confusion, and something else you can’t place.

“You’re up early,” he mutters, his voice still thick with sleep.

You shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“Couldn’t sleep. I didn’t think you’d mind if I borrowed your shirt.”

Megumi blinks, his gaze drifting over you slowly. He doesn’t say anything right away, but you can see the way his eyes linger on the way the shirt swallows you, how it looks like you’re drowning in fabric. After a long moment, he finally speaks, his voice quieter than before.

“It looks good on you,” he finally speaks out, a little awkwardly, as if he’s not quite sure how to compliment you.

“Better than it does on me.”

You can’t help but laugh at how flustered he seems, even though he’s trying to play it cool.

“Really? I think it’s a little big.”

Megumi shakes his head, sitting up in bed and running a hand through his messy hair.

“No. It’s perfect.”

He pauses for a moment before adding, almost shyly,

“You should wear my stuff more often.”

His words catch you off guard, and you raise an eyebrow at him, surprised. Even though you know all too well that Megumi Fushiguro has a soft spot for you, you never really thought about stealing or borrowing his stuff. After all, he is the guy who slaps the back of Yuji’s head each and every day over stealing his sandwich or equipment. And now…he’s telling you straightforward that he wants you to wear his shirts?

“You want me to?”

He looks away, his usual stoic mask slipping just a bit as a faint blush creeps up his cheeks.

“I mean... yeah. It suits you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his admission. Megumi isn’t one for big, flowery declarations, but this, this small, almost hesitant compliment, is enough to make your chest warm. You walk over to him, climbing back into bed and curling up beside him like you always do after waking up.

“Well, if you insist,” you mutter teasingly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“I might just steal more of your clothes.”

Megumi huffs, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Go ahead,” he mumbles, tugging at the hem of his loose shirt.

“I don’t mind.”

Yuta Okkotsu

You’ve been staying at Yuta’s apartment for the past few days, crashing at his place while you’re both on a break from missions. It’s been nice: quiet, peaceful, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company without the usual chaos of jujutsu high looming over you.

It’s late in the evening now, and you’ve just gotten out of the shower, feeling refreshed after a long day. As you towel off your hair, you realize you forgot to grab something to wear. Your suitcase is still in the living room, and you don’t really feel like walking out there in just a towel.

Your groan in frustration over your usual absent-mindlessness, eyes landing on one of Yuta’s old sweatshirts, folded neatly on the chair by his desk. It’s a little worn, clearly well-loved, and the idea of wearing something of his brings a smile to your face. Yuta definitely wouldn’t mind you wearing one of his shirts, right? And even if he did…you’d love to see that little blush creep up his face.

Without thinking twice, you pull the sweatshirt over your head. It’s oversized, the sleeves long enough to cover your hands, and the fabric is soft and cozy against your skin.

You’re adjusting the sleeves when the door creaks open slightly. You look up just as Yuta steps into the room, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees you.

“Oh, hey-” he starts, but then he freezes, his gaze locking onto the sweatshirt you’re wearing.

His face flushes almost instantly, a deep red creeping up his cheeks as he stares at you.

“Uh… is that…?”, Yuta stammers, clearly flustered.

You glance down at the sweatshirt and smile sheepishly.

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. I forgot to grab my clothes, and this looked comfortable.”

Yuta blinks, his face still bright red, but he quickly shakes his head.

“No! I mean, I don’t mind at all! It’s just… you look… um…”

He trails off, his eyes flicking away as if he’s too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

You giggle softly, stepping closer to him, to tease the hell out of him even more. That poor innocent boy who doesn’t even dare looking your direction when you stumble in the bathroom in the morning with noting but a shirt and panties on.

Even though you’ve been together for over a year by now.

“I look… what?”

Yuta clears his throat, still avoiding your gaze.

“You look… really cute,” he mutters, barely audible.

“In my sweatshirt, I mean.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you can’t help but smile as you reach out and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks, Yuta.”

He finally meets your gaze, his face still red but his expression softening as he squeezes your hand back.

“You can wear my clothes anytime you want,” he says quietly, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

You grin, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I might just take you up on that.”

Yuta chuckles, his arms wrapping around you in return as he pulls you close.

 “I wouldn’t mind,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Not at all.”

Nanami Kento

It’s late, and Nanami is still out on a mission. You’ve been waiting for him to come home, but the clock is ticking past midnight, and exhaustion is beginning to catch up with you. After all, you’ve had a long and exhausting day at work yourself.

You’re curled up on the couch, half-asleep, when the chill of the evening air prompts you to grab something warmer to wear.

Your own clothes are in the bedroom, and you don’t feel like moving that far. Instead, your eyes land on one of Nanami’s neatly folded dress shirts, sitting on the back of a chair. It’s probably not the warmest option, but the idea of wearing something of his feels comforting, like having a part of him with you while you wait for him to return.

You slip the shirt on, the crisp fabric soft against your skin. It’s too big, of course, the sleeves hanging past your wrists and the hem falling almost to your knees, but it’s cozy in its own way. You curl up on the couch again, pulling the sleeves over your hands and breathing in the faint scent of him that still lingers on the fabric.

You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until the sound of the front door opening stirs you awake. You sit up groggily, blinking as Nanami steps inside, looking tired but unharmed. He pauses when he sees you, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in the sight of you wearing his shirt.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of Nanami’s lips.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he observes, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement.

You rub your eyes sleepily, nodding.

“It was cold, and I didn’t feel like getting up.”

Nanami walks over to you, his expression soft as he takes in the sight of you.

 “It suits you,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.

“I didn’t expect to come home to this.”

You shrug, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

“If you don’t like it, I can-”

“I like it,” he cuts in, his tone firm but gentle.

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand lingers at your cheek.

“I like it very much.”

You smile, leaning into his touch as you look up at him.

“I might have to borrow your clothes more often, then.”

Nanami chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek before he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’re welcome to them,” he breathes out.

“Though I have to admit, you make my clothes look much better than I do.”

You laugh softly, your heart warming at his rare display of affection.

“I doubt that.”

Nanami shakes his head, his eyes soft and filled with affection as he looks at you.

“It’s true. But regardless, you’re welcome to them anytime” he insists.

With that, he sits down beside you on the couch, pulling you into his side as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. You snuggle into him, the warmth of his body and the comfort of his shirt making you feel safe and content.

“Thank you, Kento,” you whisper, closing your eyes as exhaustion starts to pull you back into sleep.

Nanami presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice low and soothing as he murmurs,

“Anytime, love.”

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[n0tamused]

Could I request Aventurine's s/o just making and giving him a bunch of random gifts? From simple things like cupcakes and plushies to more lavish gifts like a multi-purpose gun and tricked-out sunglasses.

A/n: A little drabble for this idea, hope you enjoy

Contents: Aventurine x GN!Reader, fluff, not proofread

“My, my, what do we have here? And who are you bringing this to?” Aventurine inquired after he glimpsed the little pile of gifts stacked on the coffee table. There are boxes wrapped in pretty and colorful papers and decorated with bows on top, and there are desert boxes next to them, ones he could see the contents of due to their translucent lids. 

You startled at the sudden voice, too immersed in wrapping up another gift in pretty green wrapping paper. Turning your head to look at him you beam with mirth, eyes gleaming as you notice the genuine confusion in his eyes. Had you not known him as best as you do, you would have thought him dull-witted for not already noticing these were for no one else but him.

“Take a wild guess, why don’t you? I might give you a reward if you get it right on the first try” you tell him, feeling rather proud of yourself with the assortment of gifts you managed to snag on the planet that was new to you both. There were local delicacies and deserts in the boxes on the table, but also wrapped goodies that would be of daily use to him, 

Aventurine feigns skepticism, although he now recognizes his momentary error and chuckles for not already having guessed. “Might it be.. hmm, hmm..” he hums and coos, dragging the moment out as he prowls around your sitting form and trying to get a glimpse at what you were wrapping up, but the box was already enveloped in the pretty glimmering paper. “Could it be me?” he asks at long last, tilting his head down at you when you look up to meet his colorful gaze.

Judging by your smile spreading further, crinkling the corners of your eyes, he was right on the dot.

“Took you long enough, but you got it right. Would you like to open these now.. or perhaps when we’re back home? I thought I had more time to hide these away - I wanted it to be a surprise, but alas, you always had such amazing timing” you tell him, clearly in jest.

“What would you prefer? I don’t wish to trash your plans any further... I may have caught you off guard with this, but now you have me rather speechless, I must praise you for that” he responded, your smile spreading to his lips like a disease as he lets his eyes wander over to the other presents once more. You rise from your seat, leaving behind the box and go to meet him in an embrace. He accepts it, a bit stiff at first but it is like your warmth melts that unease away from him, and soon after he is wrapping his arms around you. “Missed me already?” he coos at you, his tone now mellow as if his usual tone would hurt you at such close proximity.

“I have” you state simply, looking up at him as you pull away, melting into the view of the pretty blonde man.  “And I’d rather show it all to you now. We have time until this ship lands again, might as well indulge in some sweets, right?”

His gloved fingers brush against the line of your jaw, slightly tilting your head to the side and he mirrors the motion. “That is right.. I am desperately craving something sweet right now. You mentioning it is only making me more hungry for a taste” he says, and you notice the slight flush that comes over his cheeks. You beam at it, but it is him that leans in and catches your lips in a chaste kiss.

You chase his lips before he can fully part, finding yourself in a craving as well, in need of another kiss. It felt as if days had separated you until now and not just a few hours. You feel his huff against your skin, the corners of his mouth twisting upward. Once you pulled apart, you notice his grip on your arms, keeping you steady as your own hand keep him steady in return. He blinks at you, his eyes half lidded and full of warmth that was only reserved in quieter moments like these. 

“Come.. let me show you what I’ve gotten for you” 

He obliges, your voice snapping him out of his fuzzy thoughts. He doubts he’ll ever get used to your kindness and gifts, they’re too sweet to him, and he doubts he has earned them, but he is not the one to decline your invitations or offers - that’d be too mean.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 15

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: Chan has thought up a punishment for you that doesn't really help your mental state; someone thinks of a plan to help.

chapter warnings: smut! unprotected sex

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings.

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

Beep, beep, beep, beep. Click! 

That’s the sound you get accustomed to a few times throughout the day. It’s Chan, unlocking the door to let himself in. Every time he brings in a tray of food for the two of you to eat, and most of the time you pick at it but you can’t find too much of an appetite. 

The first few times, you don’t talk to Chan at all. You’re completely silent, looking out at the forest through the barred window. Occasionally you would watch his mannerisms or react when he moves something a little bit too loud. Other than that, you make it a point not to speak at all. That’s how it started, at least. 

Each time a few hours pass in total isolation, you slowly become more and more stir crazy. Mostly, you look out the window. Sometimes, you do situps and pushups or practice the self-defense exercises that Changbin and Felix had taught you until exhaustion. You take a few naps. You take a shower. You finish the latest book that Hyunjin let you borrow. Chan visits you for dinner. You do not speak with him, eat your meal in silence, and watch as he leaves. You go to sleep for the night with an empty, hollow and rotting sensation in your chest that you have never experienced before. It might be anger directed towards Chan, but also an empty feeling knowing that you are unable to see Felix, who is in the same house as you. You wonder if he feels the same as you right now. 

Beep, beep, beep, beep. Click! 

You wake up to the sound of Chan unlocking your door in the morning with breakfast. You break your silent treatment, finally, though probably more out of boredom than anything else. You only respond to his small talk, tell him that the food is alright. 

The longer increments of time that would pass, the more anger you would find bubbling in your chest. 

“Do you really expect to keep me locked here forever?” you snap at one point. You have just finished rereading The Stranger by Albert Camus for the third time. “You know that’s how people start to lose their minds? Is that what this is? A torture device? Or is it still a sick, twisted ploy to get me to fall in love with you?” you walk around the room, pacing. Your hands are strung through your hair haphazardly as you let out a laugh. “Some sort of Stockholm syndrome to the extreme? You already fucking tried that, Chan! I’m stuck in this house with you, I can’t leave, and it didn’t work. What is your plan here?”

He blinks at you, sitting on your bed and crossing his arms across his chest. “I don’t know.” 

“You… you don’t know?” 

He chuckles and you feel your blood begin to boil. “Well, I mean, I don’t know how long I plan to keep you here. At least until the Heeseung drama boils down. Until I feel confident that Felix is just as broken down about this as you are? I mean, it’s the point of a punishment, yeah?” He runs his fingers through his hair and lets out a sigh. “Obviously I know you aren’t going to fall in love with me right now, not like this, yeah? But the thought of you and Felix, it’s so wrong, y’know? So I gotta nip it in the bud.” 

You blink away a tear but wipe it away quicker than he can see. You won’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see you cry. 

“I hate you,” you spit. When Chan stands, he closes the distance between the two of you. He swipes a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You might want to watch your mouth for now, especially when you’re the one who’s not in control,” he coos. “If you want to start getting your privileges back, you might want to consider upping the sweet talk.” He leaves as a chill racks through your body and the door slams shut, lock clicking into place behind him. 

You’re not quite sure about *sweet talking*, per say, but you suppose you could calm it down with Chan for now in order to get things back to the way they were. It’s really hard, with the way your anger bubbles every time he enters the room, every additional hour that passes. You start to feel delirious, depressed with nothing much to do, sleeping far too much and eating far too little. 

The flowers start to wilt. 

The flowers that Chan had given you for your date. You don’t even know how long ago that was at this point, feeling a bit too disoriented. You watch over days as the petals start to turn brown, curling up into themselves and falling to the floor. It’s only once every flower has finally turned to black that you convince Chan to let you leave your room. 

It’s only to Hyunjin’s room that he lets you go at first. He supervises your visit. You sit on the corner of Hyunjin’s bed and you sit and talk, nodding politely when he speaks. He updates you on Seungmin’s condition, shows you his newest painting (which is stunning beyond belief), and talks about his latest venture to the bookstore. It’s more than he’s ever talked to you at once, and you’re sure he’s doing it because he knows the effects that the isolation has had on your head, but you appreciate it more than he could ever imagine. 

Chan checks his wrist watch, clearing his throat. He tells you it’s almost time for you to go and you can’t help the panicked feeling that bubbles in your chest. You know that Hyunjin notices it too, the frantic look in your eye as you look to him for help, but there’s nothing he can do about it. You wonder if he and Chan got into a disagreement about it, if anybody besides Felix had the gall to stand up to him about your circumstance but it’s unlikely. 

As Chan guides you out, Hyunjin remembers something, handing you a new book as if it were an afterthought. A brand new copy of Wuthering Heights is placed into your hands. 

“I think you’ll really like this one,” Hyunjin muses. “I hope we get a chance to talk about it soon. I purchased this at that bookstore I was telling you about. Let me take you there one day, okay?” 

You smile at him. A true, genuine, smile before Chan takes you back to your room for dinner. Feeling a little more hopeful, you eat more than usual and talk to him more than yesterday. You think he’s expecting you to thank him. You don’t. He wishes you a good evening before he locks you in your room for the evening. 

Something about Hyunjin’s words had struck you as odd. “I hope we get to talk about it soon.” Since you moved in and Hyunjin had started giving you new books to read, although he was always very sure of himself in his choices, you had never really talked about your choices. Even today during your conversation you didn’t talk about Albert Camus’ The Stranger, which you had read a whopping four times since your isolation.

This is why you’re not as surprised when you open the book and you find a note, wedged neatly between page eight and page nine. It’s not Hyunjin’s handwriting, but Felix’s. You can’t help it when your heart picks up and beats against your chest, a smile against your face despite yourself. 

‘Dear Sunshine,

I am so sorry for everything. Each day that I have not been able to see you and that I have known that you have been behind those doors has been Hell for me, as I’m sure they’ve been Hell for you as well. Let me take you far, far, away from this place if you would let me.

If you will take me, if you want this as much as I do, let us leave tonight. Leave your bathroom light on tonight and I will know that it will be okay for us to make our escape. 

Love, LF.’ 

Are you really reading this correctly? 

It was the first night here that Chan took off his belt and whipped you with it just for leaving when he told you not to leave. What would the punishment be if you and Felix were caught? You knew the answer, and you found yourself grimacing as you thought about it. If Chan found out that you and Felix had escaped—and you had a very, very short window of time before he came looking for you, until breakfast tomorrow—he would surely kill the two of you in cold blood.

Felix, was he really to risk it all for you? No questions asked? You knew you were. 

Turning off all lights in your room, leaving just your bathroom light on for the signal and to light up your path, you get ready. You throw on some clothes, a pair of thick socks and a pair of sneakers, athletic pants and a t-shirt underneath a hoodie. You try to dress both light-weight but also warm, easy for mobility in case you have to do some running. And you take a quick nap, since it’s still light out and you’re sure that the plan won’t take place until after nightfall and you should probably be well-rested. 

You’re right. You wake up a few hours later and it’s dark outside. Felix still hasn’t shown yet. You sit right by your door and wait for him. You wait and wait and wait, your heart beating so heavily out of your chest it might explode. You literally have to calm yourself down with breathing exercises several times because you find yourself so worked up. You can’t help it–you’re so nervous about seeing him again, and about the escape, about his plans, though you’re sure he has something planned out. 

After some time has passed, you almost wonder if maybe he isn’t going to show, but you laugh at that thought. It’s Felix. Of course he’s going to show. You have never met someone more true to his word and dedicated. You just hope that everything is going according to plan. And sure enough?

Beep, beep, beep, beep. Click! 

Light from the hallway spills into your room, encasing the darkness that surrounded you. When you jump to your feet, Felix pulls you in for a very chaste kiss. His name spills silently from your lips and you see him smile before grabbing your hand, pulling you into a silent run down the hallway. You can already tell that there is going to be a long night ahead of you, though you’re relieved when Felix leads you to a mundane car, a dark mini-van, and you can’t help but think thank god we aren’t literally running away. 

You hurriedly get into the passenger seat, Felix the driver’s seat, and the two of you drive away. You watch as the house gets smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror behind you until it completely disappears, and most of your anxiety along with it. 

“You came for me.” you say finally. 

“Of course I did,” Felix says, his voice soft. “I just had to work out the logistics. I’m so so incredibly sorry it took me that long. I hope you can forgive me.” 

“It’s really happening?” you ask him. “We’re really leaving?” 

Felix only smiles. “I did everything I could. I was even able to get your sister out of your house, I sent her somewhere safe where Chan can’t find her to retaliate.”

“Thank you, Felix,” you say, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Really, really, thank you.” 

He reaches over the center console and grabs your hand, bringing it to his face to kiss along your knuckles. 

“You have no need to thank me. This is my escape too. In reality, I owe you just as much.” Your heart squeezes at his words. You don’t really understand the weight behind his words but you hope that he will open up to you about them one day. About his past and his history with Chan. You stare at Felix, at the way the passing headlights illuminate his face and accentuate his features, and you just sit there and watch and watch, drinking him in and hoping that you will never have to let him go again. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You’re expecting to arrive at some sort of hotel/motel, similar to the one you and Felix had shared after the night at the gala. What you weren’t expecting was an apartment building, at least ten stories tall in the middle of a city a few hours away. 

Felix parks the car, a protective hand around your waist the whole walk to the building. He holds you so close you find it almost difficult to walk. The elevator takes you up to the eighth floor, where Felix leads you down the hall. The building looks well-kept, maintained inside, contrasting from its run-down exterior. 

Felix leans over the door, typing a code into the keypad. It swings open revealing a large furnished studio apartment. 

“This place looks really nice,” you admit. “It is a step-up from the motel. How did you…” 

“Chan isn’t the only one that has his connections,” Felix says, sighing as he throws a backpack down next to him. He closed the door behind him, locking it. He walks around the apartment several times, making sure that every window is locked and secure as well. “It’s safe here. We should be able to stay here for a few days before we need to pick up again. But this place is completely alarmed and equipped with security codes. He won’t find us here, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nod. You really do trust him. You feel safe. 

“The password for the front door is 0325,” Felix tells you. You don’t know why that action alone makes you want to tear up. You’re not a prisoner anymore. You’re really free. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, shucking your hoodie off of your body. You don’t miss the way his eyes rack over your frame at the way your shirt picks up slightly. How does he still manage to make you blush? “How did you get the code for my door?” you ask him. You had been wondering about it for a while, as there was no way that Chan had given it to him. 

“Hyunjin told me,” Felix discloses. “He was the only other person besides Chan that knew the code, in case of an emergency or if Chan was away and he needed to give you food.” 

“He was the only one?” you ask. “But that means… Won’t Chan know that Hyunjin…” 

“Hyunjin has already come to terms with things,” Felix says remorsefully. “I didn’t want it to go down like this either, but Hyunjin really was willing to make a sacrifice for you. For both of us. Nothing horrible is going to happen–he isn’t going to be killed, but I’m sure the punishment will be brutal.” 

You shake your head, unwilling to believe his words. “I can’t believe Hyunjin would do that for us. I really thought he was loyal to Chan.” 

“At the end of the day there must have been something he found more important to put his trust in,” he smiles. “I think he realized how bad your mental state was after spending over a week in that room.” 

“It was over a week?” you nearly cry. Felix holds you tight to his chest. You don’t cry–you’ve already come to terms with what has happened. When you pull apart, you look into his eyes and find that he has tears of his own that have started to build up. Now that is something that you had not anticipated. 

“I’m sorry–” he starts to say, but you crash your lips into his instead. Your hands pull into his hair and you push your body into his, do anything you can to get your body as inhumanly close to his as possible, so that you can feel every touch of his skin against yours. 

Felix’s hands wander underneath your hoodie, tugging off the material and throwing it to the floor in a desperate show. His hands roam your body, his lips never once leaving your skin. This time he makes it a show to suck a mark into any available surface, licking and sucking dark purples and pinks into your neck, collarbones, shoulders, breasts–any area of skin that was once pristine now has Felix’s claim on it. 

“You’re mine, do you understand? You’re mine and I’m yours.” 

“Yes, Felix, yes,” you agree, letting him push you back against the bed. He towers over you for a second, dropping to his knees onto the floor so that he can pull off the material of your pants. You lift your hips, allowing him to. You push your thighs together, utterly exposed in front of him but also so aroused by his stare and he grabs your thighs, pushing them apart. 

“Beautiful,” he comments. You throw an arm over your face, embarrassed by his comment. “Don’t hide from me, angel,” he says, kissing the insides of your thighs. “You’re mine, right? Can I compliment what’s mine? You’re not going to hide away what’s mine, hmm?” When you don’t immediately answer him, your chest rising and falling rapidly from his words, you feel a slight pinch come from inside your thigh. You look down at his mischievous face to realize he has just lightly slapped your inner thigh to get a response. 

“N-no, Felix,” you moan. 

“No, what?” he teases, his mouth going higher and higher still, his breath right above your center but waiting. 

“No, I’m not going to hide from you. Yes, you can compliment me,” you reply.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he groans. “Prove it, then. Open those legs wide for me.” And you do. You spread your legs as far as they would go and Felix rewards you by immediately diving in, his tongue lapping at your clit like a man starved. As much as your thighs tremble and shake and threaten to close, you don’t let them. Your eyes stay on Felix, and his eyes on yours. 

Suddenly, Felix pulls away with a pop. 

“What–”

He climbs onto the bed and lays down, leaving you utterly confused before he grabs you by the waist, manhandling you effortlessly by the waist onto his face. 

“Felix, what are you doing?” 

“I want you to sit on my face,” he responds, his hands caressing your thighs as if trying to coax you down to properly take your seat. 

“Are you sure? I–”

“Please, just, use me. Make yourself cum, and then I’ll fuck you open on my cock.” You can’t deny how appealing his words sound, and he had already worked you up just seconds ago so you can’t find the resolve to protest much longer. Eagerly, you sit. His tongue prods your entrance, pushing in as far as it will go. You rock yourself back and forth on his face, your clit occasionally catching on his nose, and you find Felix’s hands taking place on your ass to help you find your pace. 

Once you build up a rhythm you ride him in earnest, like nothing matters but him beneath you right now and your climax building up. He knows you’re close when he feels your thighs clench tighter around your head and your back starts to arch back, and your noises have become louder. You do exactly what he told you to do–you use him for your pleasure until you’re having one of the longest, most drawn-out orgasms of your life. 

When you finally crawl off of him, Felix wastes no time before flipping your positions, making your stomach turn with butterflies. He pulls his pants off in one swift motion and you take a moment to look at him in awe, to really just appreciate him and his beautifully toned body despite seeing it a few times before. 

You watch as he strokes his cock a few times, his eyes fixated on your pussy. He pushes forward, and just to tease–intentionally catches the head of it on your overstimulated clit, causing you to cry out. 

“Felix!” your hips buck up, your legs wrap around him, doing anything you can just to get him to enter you properly. 

“Do you want me that bad?” he asks with a smile, his voice a low timbre in your ear. 

“Yes, Felix, stop fucking teasing me, you know I want you–” and with that, he pushes right into you, fully sheathing himself in one thrust. Your hands come up to push crescent fingernail indents into his shoulders, just to ground yourself from the overwhelming sensation. 

Felix wastes no time before fucking you like he really means it, his hips pulling out to meet yours flush each time. The way his hips roll in a fluid motion into yours has you crying out, wrapping your legs around him. 

“Fuck, you’re clenching me so tight,” he pants. “I’m going to cum soon, baby. Where do you want it?” 

You wrap your legs even tighter around him. 

His hand snakes up to your neck, just placing it there, not even squeezing but it still causes you to cry out with a moan that is borderline pornagraphic. 

“You’re being so dirty, baby. Are you trying to tell me something? You want me to cum inside? Because you’re going to have you use your words to tell me that or else it’s not gonna happen,” he grins. 

His hips snap into yours so hard it’s almost bruising, but you’re so close to your second orgasm that you think you could fall over the edge any second. 

“FELIX,” you finally cry out. You’re sure the scratches you’re leaving into his back are going to leave marks, if not bleed. 

“Fuck, you gotta tell me now.” 

“Inside! Inside! I want you to cum inside, fuck, I love you Felix, please!” you sob. 

He kisses you. Rather, his lips smash into yours so hard you’re not sure what is happening, but you’re cumming so hard it’s blinding. You can feel him still as he fills you up with warm ropes of his cum. 

When you both finally come down, Felix flops beside you and you immediately curl into his chest. He embraces you, his hands stroking unknown symbols into your skin. 

“Did you mean it?” he finally asks. 

You don’t have to ask what he’s referring to. “Yes,” you reply. “I think I’ve known it for a long time.”

“I love you, too.” Felix tells you, grabbing your chin so that he can press another kiss into your lips. “You mean the world to me.” 

That night, Felix looks around the apartment again, making sure that everything is in its place. When you see that there is both a couch and a bed, you make a joke about sleeping on the couch that causes him to quite literally pick you up and throw you into bed with him. You fall asleep like that, intertwined in his arms, not worried about accidentally getting caught and what the consequences might be tomorrow. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You toss and turn. Images plague your mind. A guilt-ridden feeling plagues your gut. 

Minho, who gets anxiety on missions, who wanted to get away from his family and the life of crime from his childhood, but couldn’t let Jisung go alone for fear of what Chan would do to him.

Changbin, who has only wanted to protect his family, but instead Chan has held that over his head.

Hyunjin, who didn’t really know how to find himself after being told who to be, who didn’t know what to do with his life, exploited by Chan. 

Jisung, who has never had anybody tell him that he is good for more than shooting things and a life of violent crime, and had Chan take advantage of that. 

Seungmin, who had only one dream and had it taken away through an injury, was falsely promised by Chan that one day he could get the surgery and recover to play baseball again. 

Jeongin, who turned to a life of crime but was told he could have the money to go to fashion school, all if he would become Chan’s lackey. 

Even Felix, who you’re sure has been through something just as horrible, though he hasn’t told you yet… 

At the end of the day, there’s one common factor in all of this evil. 

You know that you can’t stay here and live a fantasy life, where you get to escape and be free while the rest of them are trapped there and still living in a nightmare. At the end of the day, you have started to develop close relationships with each and every one of them, and you can’t bring yourself to think more about the horrors that Chan continues to inflict on them each day while you get to run away with Felix. 

Picking up Felix’s arm, you kiss him on the head. You feel very remorseful for what you’re about to do, for the amount of mental anguish you are probably about to put him in when everything was finally going to go your way. You wish you could have relished in this a little bit longer. 

Opening up the bedside table, you grab Felix’s car keys and his gun. 

This has to end, and it has to end now. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: we're getting close to the end! two main chapters and two mini chapters left!! sorry for the delay today guys, I only had this chapter half written i wrote the rest in a coffee shop lol <3

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@changbokkii ; @1810cl ; @sillyhal

[kurosagi-h8r]

Rain of Affection

Character: Alan Mido x reader

Summary: Trapped under the same tent during your camping, you had no choice but to seek warmth from each other under the sudden rainstorm.

tw/cw: just kissing. a bit slowburn maybe. grammatical error might exist

word count: 1340

The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and pine. The rain drops pouring down the tent like bullets made it difficult for you to hear anything else. It was soothing, in a way. But it put you in an awkward situation where you had no choice but to be stuck in the same small tent as your camping mate.

"I'm so sorry for making your tent wet, Mido..." You tried to hide the way your lip quivered from the cold. The jacket that was once protecting you from the rain is now dropping water on the floor.

"Take off your jacket. You'll catch a cold if you keep wearing that." He's sitting awkwardly in front of you, trying to make himself small to give you more space inside. Still, being the one carrying most of the supplies and gear, he had to carry them back in his own tent because of the sudden rain.

You're reluctant to take it off but he was right. You couldn't even hide your shivers anymore. "Maybe later... all of my stuff is outside, you see." Left outside under your unmade tent. You didn't even have the chance to bring it with you inside — not that there's any space left inside Mido's.

He awkwardly inched closer to you — even without doing that you could feel his breath on your skin. Flustered, your first instinct was to lean back, however you were met with bags of his stuff. His hand reached to grab something and you swore his shoulder almost touched you. You even caught a whiff of wood scent on him, most likely from gathering branches for the fire.

"Wear mine," He said.

You stared at the jacket on his hand. "But what about you...?"

“You need it more than me.” Alan sounded rather quiet compared to the sound of rainfall on top of him. “And we don’t know how long the heavy rain will last.”

Again, he was right. He knew more about camping better than you were, of course. You complied and took off your jacket. Some of the water at the hem of your sleeve left your skin freezing. Then Alan took your jacket and folded it to be put away elsewhere.

His jacket was thicker than yours, perfect for camping. Although the difference in size made you drown in it. Your hands could barely show themselves, but it made it easier for you to warm yourself. Looking at him, sitting in front of you wearing only a t-shirt that’s half drenched… won’t he also freeze himself like that? Even if he were, he clearly didn’t show it.

“Aren’t you also cold?” you asked. “I feel bad for having this all to myself…”

“You’re the one more drenched here, (y/n).” And you did. All because you weren’t that good in setting up your own tent. You couldn’t possibly ask him for help with that too on top of the pile of work he insisted on shouldering.

“Still…”

Alan was sitting with his legs crossed beside you, not looking particularly anywhere – for some reason you hope he's not trying to avoid looking at you. But sometimes you do wonder what he's thinking at the moment… because it's getting pretty awkward with just the two of you, unable to go anywhere with the heavy rain happening outside. So you decide to be the one to break the silence.

“Mido… what do you usually do to stay warm?”

That five seconds of another silence felt humiliating. Was it a weird question? Anyone can ask that, right? But if you hear it again, it feels like you were trying to suggest something. Oh God, what if he feels uncomfortable answering it…

As you were about to apologize to him, he responded with, “Exercise. But we can’t exactly do that right now.”

“Ah…” you nodded. It was expected from him. “That's one way to do it.”

Exercising was out of the option. You needed to look for another way so that he wouldn't freeze himself, because giving back his jacket was also not going to happen, he would pull out other excuses to refuse.

Then it came to you…

“We can sit closer…” in a normal situation, you would've wanted to hide yourself from embarrassment. “I can't let you freeze yourself, Mido. Please?”

He stayed quiet for a few seconds. “There’s no option for me to say no, is there?”

A smile tugged at your lips. You scooted closer to him, attempting to embrace him, trying your best to not make things even more awkward than it already has. His body went rigid upon feeling your breath on his skin, his mind was screaming for him to back away but your warmth… Alan couldn’t help but find himself starting to melt to your touch.

“Alan,” you said softly.

He swore it went straight to his heart. You shouldn’t have let his name roll off your tongue like that. What blush was to appear on his face and you had to witness that? What if his heart beats a little too loud that you could hear them? So close to your ears like how close you were that you could count his lashes.

“Can I maybe…”

“Hm?”

“Can I put my head on your shoulder… please?”

Before Alan could react, a sound of thunder roaring not so far frightened you; making you jump at your seat– accidentally pulling him tighter in your embrace. You were trembling all over and his body confirmed it. To think that seconds ago he was only thinking about his own pride and honor…

Alan – not wanting to frighten you even more – carefully wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him as he whispered in your ear, “It’s alright…”

His touches, albeit too rigid in fear of hurting you, brought you the comfort you needed. His hand soothing you on your back, and the other covering your ear from the loud noise. All you could hear was each other’s breathing, and each breath made you feel drowsy. In that moment all you wanted was to drown deeper in his embrace and never wake up.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked.

Thinking that he’s giving you a sign, you immediately put some space between you and him. But his hold on your back couldn’t get you far from him. “I’m sorry! I-i think I’m good now.”

His soft gaze was fixed on yours. “You sure?” 

The realization sent blood rushing to your face. His face was so close – too close that your nose almost touched. Did he ask me something? To be able to utter any word would be a blessing but your ability to talk seemed to jump out of the tent the moment your eyes locked.

Alan, with all the courage he had, “Y/n.”

“Yes…?”

He’s not sure whether you said something or not just now. Not with you looking up at him and your hair between his fingers. The voices in his head were whispering things to him. Telling him that he should let himself go and feel his fingertips against your skin; that he should do something with how lonely your lips were. You needed more warmth. So let him be your warmth.

‘Please don’t hate me for this,’ was what he wanted to say before he listened to his demons.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

And then the rainstorm stopped. The world to your senses was no longer thunder in the sky, or the scent of wet dirt, or even the piercing cold in your bones. All you could feel was… Alan. His trembling lips on yours, his hand on the back of your head, the heat spreading through your body.

Your world had become him.

Everything became Alan. You see him when you close your eyes, you taste him at the tip of your tongue, drowning yourself in him and all his desire to have you.

And there’s nothing you want but to seek deeper, into the depth of his affection.

[lady-phasma]

Now I need to know how Lestat would respond to someone sliding into his DMs (but like, hypothetically, because this isn’t a request lol)! Smth like “ugh, the angsty teenager in me yearns for your fangs deep in my neck 😩”. You cannot convince me that man wouldn’t be into sexting and nudes. He would get all artistic with his dick pics lmao! Which, on a separate note….imagine him and Armand competing for someone’s affections….and challenging each other to see who can take the better dick pic, which inevitably devolves into them just sending each other tasteful nudes LMAOO! (Which Armand would win, ofc….bc he, like, owned and operated a theater for years.)

Oh my god anon! Yes! That's hilarious! This is the post anon is referencing. I would love to read his responses! He is so slutty affectionately that he couldn't resist the attention.

I desperately need a drabble of his sexting! I'm looking at a particular moot and you know who you are and we need this!

Before I dive in, I have to point out that Armand might not win! Lestat helped found the Théâtre des Vampires and is quite the showman.

Okay, so in my discussion behind the scenes of that other post I was pretty convinced that Lestat wouldn't know how to take selfies right away. But you've swayed me, anon. After learning the tech he would settle for nothing short of perfection in his selfies and sexy pics.

I also 1000% support the competing dick pics! Different lighting each time, better angles, but super-artistic. Thank you so much for this headcanon!

As for a "winner"... that might be a matter of taste. I would probably call a tie. Armand's dick pics would be tasteful and flattering. While writing this I'm imagining all the horrible ones I have received over the years and Lestat's might start out the worst because Armand is the techie. I wonder if he wouldn't give subtle hints to help Lestat despite the appearance of competition and be secretly pleased when Lestat finally masters it. Outwardly, totally irritated and would call Lestat a preening, self-absorbed peacock.

Can you imagine the critiques? Not about their dicks, but about the photos themselves? LMAO! "Try a sunlight bulb for more natural lighting, Lestat." "This angle is too avant-garde, chèr. It does nothing for you."

I'm dying! Thank you so, so much for this ask!

[descendantsramblings]

Im gonna join the Morgie Male reader fans and also request something xD

Please consider writing a story where Male reader and Morgie are dating but Morgie is just always talking about Uliana and constantly trying to impress her etc and Reader feels unvalued and like Morgie is actually in love with uliana and not him so drama i guess

I like hurting myself as you can guess 🙂

-emil

Let’s not enjoy that!!!! But no I love some good angst; I’ve got you. You’re always welcome in my inbox sugar 💛

Second Place

Morgie le Fay x Reader

Pronouns used: he/him/his

Summary: just once he wants to feel like he’s not his boyfriend’s second choice

Warnings: angst, underage drinking (depending on where you are ig), Morgie isn't purposely a bad boyfriend he's just stupid. Pet names, Bestie Hades and Hook because the boys gotta stick together

Word Count: 2.3K

    His fingertips brush over different silks and starched cottons as he follows his boyfriend around the store, barely paying attention to dress shirts around him. How could he? How could the boy ever focus on the task at hand when all it did was ground his insecurities into his bones? Morgie is taking the lead as he walks through the store, occasionally lifting different button ups to feel them. Ones that seem to pique his interest led to him holding them against his chest, raising a brow to his boyfriend to silently ask his opinion. And (Y/n) does his best to respond, though it comes out more as hums and silent nods than true responses. His heart isn’t in this, he can’t focus on something like this. It is so incredibly obvious that he doesn’t want to be here, and maybe if Morgie would actually look at him instead of through him, the boy might notice. He won’t though, lord knows the sorcerer doesn’t have the time to care. Not when his task at hand is so dire. Uliana’s birthday party is only a week away, how could he think about anything but making sure it’s perfect?

   Obviously Morgie can’t look a mess, he just has to be in something new. And the gift has to just be perfect, he has to outshine everyone. Of course he does, he always does. Uliana was the sun in his solar system, and (Y/n) was barely even the tides that the moon was occupied with pulling. How could Morgie ever remember to pull the tides when he was so busy reflecting the light of the sun? How could he dare to wear something the sea witch has seen already when her eighteenth birthday was such a big deal? “Babe, you are being extremely unhelpful right now,” Morgie grumbles the words as he’s putting an honestly kind of atrocious golden silk shirt down. He’s turning away from his lover, venturing even further into the store. “Sorry, I’m just kind of tired. Didn’t sleep well,” his voice is far off to the sorcerer though, the boy too wrapped up in his own world to pay attention to a word that falls off of his fellow villain’s lips. “Once we find the right shirt we can go.” (Y/n) sighs, giving the boy a curt nod that he doesn’t even see. They’d been out shopping for four hours now, the bags in his arms were surely going to cut off his circulation soon and Morgie was still just as tuned into what he was doing as he was when they left the dorms. 

   They were supposed to see that new Nightmare on Elm Street sequel that (Y/n) had been dying to see, but now there would only be one showing left until the mall closed and it started in twenty minutes. He guesses he can kiss that plan goodbye, why would what he wants matter when Uliana was in the frame. He always fell behind her in Morgie’s priority list, he should have known that. Why would he dare to ask his boyfriend out this soon to Uliana’s “most important birthday yet”? He should have known better. The early weeks of November always took to Morgie being far more engrossed in his friend than his partner, he should have known better. 

    “Babe, can you please at least give me a color option? I’m drowning in options here!” He spares (Y/n) a look over his shoulder as he speaks, reaching back to grab his boyfriend’s hand to keep him behind him. “Go green, Uliana wears some green too,” the snarky tone has Morgie’s brows furrowing. If he looked back he’d see the way that he was shaking his head as he talked, sass falling off of every word. “Are you sure you’re okay?” “Yeah, let’s just find you a shirt, Morgz.” 

                                   ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

  If the crew of the Jolly Roger would be known for nothing else, they would still go down in history for the parties they threw during their time at Merlin Academy. So of course, they would be the true hosts of Uliana’s birthday party, and it was set to be a rager based on that alone. Of course, every villain party was known to be a good one. Obviously the group known for breaking rules and dark magic would have a reputation of throwing good parties. But a pirate party? Those could go on all night, with just about every liquor you could think of. And though no one ever saw them bring a blender in, there would be daiquiris and piña coladas flowing all night just so they could convince you that rum was good. Surely once he was a few daiquiris deep Hook would be sliding a shot of rum into his hand with the false promise that he’ll like it this time. Though he’s yet to actually like it. 

    He might need it tonight though, considering that in the hour that they’ve been here Morgie has spoken to him twice. He’s too busy being Uliana’s dog, running around and doing whatever the sea witch asks of him. So (Y/n) has occupied himself with leaning on a wall, squinting as the blue and green lights are far too bright compared to their normal tones. He barely notices that someone has idled up beside him until there's a solo cup of what he’s pretty sure is a mango daiquiri under his nose. “You look like you need this,” Hades’ gruff voice rings out beside him, the soft sound of metal spikes against the wall accompanying it. He reaches out and nearly snatches it, sipping the drink and giving it a hum of approval. Definitely mango, god bless Hook for that one. “I might just love you, you know that?” He leans his shoulder against the god’s with a smile, sparing him a glance. “Yeah, someone has to take care of you. Shouldn’t your little boyfriend be getting you drinks?” He glances around, shaking the other villain off of him to instead slide an arm around him, “Or at least be near you? Where is he?” 

    A sound that Hades thinks is supposed to be a laugh slips out of the other boy’s lips, the boy seeming to snuggle into the god’s side. “Oh you haven’t heard? It’s his wife’s birthday. It would be wrong of him to act like he cares about the side piece on such an important day.” As (Y/n) finishes the statement he nods aggressively towards where Uliana is sipping on a piña colada on a make-shift throne. She’s glowing, talking to Maleficent and Morgie about god knows what with a tiara sitting on her head. At least she’s having a good time with Morgie’s attention, no one else seemed to be getting any of it this week. “Oh ouch,” Hades forces out a fake hiss as he taps the other villain’s hip with his own, “Calling yourself the side piece?” 

   “Yeah well,” he shrugs, tearing his eyes away from the green silk shirt and carefully styled hair across the room, “That’s what it feels like.” Hades shakes his head, letting his hand slide up and down his friend’s bicep, “Now, you know that’s not true.” “Yet.” The singular word earns his arm a squeeze and gains him a verbal scoff from his friend. “Morgie’s little snake heart beats for you. He’s an idiot, but he does love you, you’ve gotta know that.” (Y/n) bites his lip, sliding out from under Hades’ arm. “Shouldn’t Hook have tried to force a shot of rum down my throat by now? Where is he at?” He’s walking away as Hades watches him with a disappointed face. He did know that Morgie loves him, didn’t he? Hades needs to keep an eye on him.

   Hook is at the make-shift bar in the back of the hide out when the other villain finds him, pouring two shots in the comical little solo cup shot glasses that he keeps handy for nights like this. “Where have you been? It’s not a villain party if I don’t take a shot with you before I sneak out.” He smirks, slipping one of the two shot glasses into his friend’s hand before lifting his own. “How did you get Morgie to agree to leave this early?” At the mention of his boyfriend’s name, (Y/n) slams the bottom of the shot glass in their hand against the table before them, quickly throwing the rum back before he can process so much as the taste. A strong sip from his daiquiri follows it, sliding the shot glass across the table. “Another, Cap.” It makes thick brows burrow, grabbing the rum nonetheless as he stares at him. “Finally finding a taste for it, eh?” The boy shakes his head, “I just need it. I’d like to be able to sleep when I finally hit my dorm, easier if my mind is swimming.” 

   It makes the pirate beside him frown, sliding another shot to him, “That’s a lot of alcohol compared to what you normally go for, Lad. Morgie is walking you home, right?” It draws a bitter laugh out of the slightly tipsy villain, “No it’s his wife’s birthday. He’s far too busy for me.” As Hook opens his mouth to argue, Hades comes up behind (Y/n), his hands sliding onto the boy’s shoulders. “I’ll walk you home, idiot. As long as the daiquiri stays here.” It elicits a whine from the villain in his grip, (Y/n) leaning his head back to pout at him, “No fair. You gave it to me.” And Hades scoffs, “Yeah, to drink here. You’re not drinking on our walk back to yours.” Hook wants to argue that his friends shouldn’t leave yet, but something about (Y/n) simply isn’t right. Of course, there was always a bitter air around the topic of Morgie and Uliana but this level was new. He didn’t normally act like this, and if he was this set on getting drunk over it, the boy needed to go home. So instead of arguing, he raises his shot glass to (Y/n). The two villains knocking the little glasses against each other. “Down the hatch, Darling,” he smirks, watching the way that his friend raises his brows with his own shot. And they knock them back, the same way they had at every party the group had ever thrown. 

    Of course, normally Hook didn’t take (Y/n)’s drink so it “didn’t go to waste” right after. The boy wishing Hook a good night before double checking that the god behind him truly didn’t mind walking him home. Something that the villain was sure he could do alone but there was no way that Hades or Hook would allow that, not when the boy was like this. So Hades promises Hook that he’ll be right back and wraps a hand around (Y/n)’s shoulders to drag him out of the party and back into the chilly November air. 

                                      ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ 

     (Y/n) knew his limits well enough, he was lucky for that. The second he hit the pillow he was asleep, and now he was awake without even the ghost of a hangover looming over him. Not that he wanted to be awake, he would much rather spend his Sunday wasting the day away in his bed. But how was he meant to sleep with that incessant knocking at his door? So with a begrudging whine and stiff joints, the boy finds himself swinging his legs over the side of his bed. The knocking only seems to grow louder and more urgent as he makes his way over to the door. “I’m coming, god!” A hand reaches out to snatch the door handle, basically ripping it open. Morgie le Fay all but tumbles into his room with the motion, center of gravity being thrown off as the wood he was leaning on is ripped from him. And he looks worse for wear, sweat dampened neck and dark bags under his squinted eyes. 

   “What?” He recoils at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice as if it bit him, a pout crossing over chapped lips. “Can you quiet down? My head is killing me.” (Y/n) rolls his eyes, scoffing as he goes to close his door. “Then go home.” A foot is thrown in the path of the door, stopping him from closing his boyfriend out. “I woke up after a party without you.” There’s this odd sense of disappointment hanging off of his words, eyes seeming to pout more than his lips already did. “Yeah, I’d assume so. I left hours before you did.” Morgie pushes his way into the room at that, softly closing the door behind him. “You did?” “Yeah,” there’s a scoff dripping off his lips as he makes his way back to his bed, “Which you would have noticed if you gave me so much as a minute of thought this past week.” Morgie frowns, leaning against the door with his arms crossing over his chest, “You didn’t walk home alone, did you? You should’ve come and got me. I don’t want you to walk around at night like that.” 

   “No, Hades walked me home.” Morgie nods, looking over at the boy curling up in his bed. (Y/n) obviously trying to make himself smaller as he attempts to talk about his feelings. As if he was doing something wrong. “So why did you ask Hades instead of your boyfriend?” He cuts Morgie a look, rolling his eyes, “I didn’t ask Hades, he just knows me well enough to know when something is wrong.” Morgie raises his brows, “And I don’t know you? I know you, I can tell when something is wrong.” It earns him a laugh, a twisted and broken one that makes his skin crawl. “You do, do you? Okay, then why did we originally go to the mall last Saturday?” And his stomach falls with his confidence. How was Morgie ever meant to come back from this one?

@an-absolute-waste-of-space

[moonsandmobilityaids]

All Night Long

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: The boys spend the night with you in your room. Warnings: N/A Series Masterlist

The fire in your room flickers, casting dancing shadows on the walls and filling the space with a comforting warmth. The last vestiges of daylight recede, leaving only the soft glow of the flames to illuminate the room. You're seated on your bed, legs pulled up under a thick blanket, heart beating a little faster than usual. There's something different about tonight, a subtle shift that sends a shiver down your spine despite the heat.

James, Sirius, and Remus are here, their presence filling your room with an energy that's both familiar and electric. You've all spent the night together before you were in a relationship, , but tonight feels different. It's intimate, charged with anticipation and a promise that hangs in the air, unspoken but impossible to ignore.

James is the first to move, his messy hair falling into his eyes as he leans forward. His hand comes up to gently push a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch feather-light against your skin. His lips press softly against your forehead, a gesture so simple yet so profound it makes your heart flutter.

He sits beside you on the bed, his strong arm wrapping around your shoulders, drawing you closer. The scent of him—warm spices and parchment paper—fills your senses, grounding you in this moment.

"I think it's time we made this official, don't you?" James' voice is low, teasing, but there's a sincerity behind his words that sends a thrill through you.

You turn to face him, your heart pounding with anticipation. Before you can respond, the bed shifts slightly as Sirius settles on your other side. His usual grin is replaced by a tender smile that somehow makes him look even more handsome. He reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your cheek.

"Can't let Prongs have all the fun." Sirius's whisper tickles your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Mind if we join?"

For a moment, Remus lingers by the fireplace, watching with a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His presence is quieter, thoughtful — a calming counterpoint to James and Sirius's playful energy. Finally, he crosses the room and perches on the edge of the bed, taking your hand between his.

"I think it's only right that we all stay," Remus murmurs, his thumb tracing circles over the back of your hand. "If that's alright with you?"

Your heart feels as though it might burst from the sheer joy threatening to consume you, and you nod, a genuine smile tugging at your lips. It's a sight so beautiful it coaxes mirrored grins from each of them. "Yes," you breathe out, almost whispering. "I want you here."

Sirius moves quickly, helping you lower yourself onto the bed. His arm remains around your waist, a steady presence grounding you in this impossible moment. James follows without hesitation, his body curling protectively around yours until you're nestled between him and Sirius.

Remus positions himself behind you, his long legs mirroring the curve of your own. Your back presses against his chest, each rise and fall syncing with your shallow breaths, a tangible reminder of the life persisting within despite everything. The warmth from their bodies seeps through your clothes, chasing away the chill that had started to creep into your bones.

James leans in, his lips brushing gently against your temple, lingering there for the briefest of moments. He is careful with you, as though you are a work of art to be admired and cherished, his hand resting lightly on your side as if trying to memorise the feel of you beneath him. You turn your head slightly, catching his lips with yours in a slow, sweet kiss that speaks volumes of the love you share.

When you part, Sirius is already leaning in, the corners of his mouth twitching into a playful grin even as his eyes hold a softness that belies his usual bravado. "Don't forget about me, doll," he teases before claiming your lips with his own. His kiss is different from James's—deeper, hungrier—but it carries the same tenderness that makes your heart flutter. His hand finds your waist, pulling you closer still, as if he could somehow merge the two of you into one.

Time seems to stand still as you're caught between Sirius's passion and James's warmth, but then you feel a new presence—Remus. His thumb brushes lightly against your cheek, and when he leans in to kiss you, it's with an almost reverent gentleness. His lips move slowly over yours, hesitant yet resolute, a silent promise woven into the very fabric of this moment. When you pull back, your foreheads rest together, and he smiles at you—a tender, knowing smile that sends warmth spreading through you like sunlight.

“We’re all here,” Remus whispers, his voice low and full of affection. “All night.”

With James on one side and Sirius on the other, their bodies a solid barrier against the world, you begin to understand the power of their silent promise. And behind you, Remus's warmth seeps into your back, further anchoring you in this moment of unexpected security. Their breaths mingle with yours, steady and slow, lulling you towards a peaceful oblivion that has eluded you for far too long.

There's movement—a subtle shift—and then Sirius's face tucks into the curve of your neck, his hair brushing against your skin in a delicate caress.

"You smell good," he murmurs against your throat, the low rumble of his voice more soothing than any lullaby. "Could stay like this forever."

James chuckles low in your ear, his hand tracing lazy patterns on your hip. "That's the plan, Pads."

You feel the rumble of Sirius's laughter against your throat—a sound so intimately familiar, it sends a warmth through your chest that has nothing to do with the fire crackling nearby. You shift slightly, just enough to run your fingers over the stubbled line of Sirius's jaw before pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He hums in response, arms tightening around your waist.

Remus shifts slightly, his hand finding a place at your waist just beside Sirius’s. Their touches are different, one rugged and warm, the other smooth and cool, yet both carry the same weight of affection that makes your heart flutter in a way you can’t quite explain. James is the first to break the silence, his lips gently brushing the top of your head as he whispers, “We’re here, love. We’re not going anywhere.”

You tilt your head back, looking up into those hazel eyes that hold so much emotion. He leans down, capturing your lips with his in a tender kiss that steals your breath away. His hand finds its way into your hair, fingers tangling in the tresses as he pulls you closer, holding you as if you might disappear if he lets go.

And in that moment, you know he won't. None of them will.

Time becomes a sweet blur as the night deepens. The kisses grow softer, the caresses slower, each touch an exploration, a question, and an answer all at once. The initial rush of adrenaline mellows into a current that hums with the intimacy of shared secrets, the connection between you and the Marauders deepening with every breath.

You lose count of how many times James's lips find yours in the darkness, or how often Sirius's fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, the sensation making your heart flutter. Remus's touch is equally gentle, his own heartbeat steady against your back, grounding you. Occasionally, his lips press to your shoulder, your neck, leaving warmth in their wake.

There's no urgency, no insistence for anything more than this closeness. It's just the four of you, bodies entwined, sharing warmth and soft kisses in the quiet night. It feels like a dream, one you're afraid might shatter if you dare to blink.

As sleep begins to claim you, James presses a final, lingering kiss to your forehead, his breath stirring the loose strands of your hair. Sirius's hand remains on your waist, his fingers tracing lazy circles that lull you further into tranquility. And Remus—always Remus—is there, his arm secure around you, his breath a warm whisper against your shoulder.

"Goodnight, love," James murmurs, his voice the last thing you register before surrendering to sleep.

The night stretches on, silent save for the occasional rustle of sheets or the soft exhale of breath. You drift off, cradled by the boys who've stolen your heart, knowing that tonight marks the beginning of countless nights to come—nights filled with whispered words, shared laughter, and the kind of love you never dared to imagine.

[lilacwants]

I absolutely love they way you write Homelander!!! He's got me in a vice grip 😭😭😭

The brain rot is so real

I wanted to request something, you might have already done it but it dosnt hurt to ask right?

*cough cough* sky sex? Like Homelander and the reader fucking over the skyline... much like the end of season 2 except he's not alone this time?

Annnnndddd maybe the reader is terrified of heights?

Who knows 🤷🏼‍♀️

I hope this was an okay request!!! I love your work and I hope everything is going well for you 🫂

the sky is ours.

notes: hello guys! im finally back :) i know the wait was loooong and i apologise about that :’( i’ll start by responding to my asks because they’re really getting me in my writing mood. warnings: mature content. minors do not engage.

The cold night air rushed past your face, stealing your breath as you soared high above the city's skyline. Your arms were wrapped tightly around Homelander's neck, your body pressed against his as he carried you through the air like you were nothing but a feather. The world below was a blur of lights and buildings, tiny and insignificant from this height, while the sky stretched out endlessly around you.

Despite the exhilarating sensation of being weightless, your heart pounded in your chest for an entirely different reason. You weren't one for heights. In fact, you hated them.

Every instinct in your body screamed at you to hold on tighter, to demand to be put back down on solid ground, but the thought of doing so seemed impossible with Homelander's arms cradling you with such ease. His power was palpable, and even though you knew he could kill you with a single motion, there was a strange sense of comfort in his grasp.

"You okay up here?" His voice was smooth, low, and teasing, but his eyes flicked toward you with a glimmer of something genuine.

The deep blue of his eyes seemed to glow against the night, and you had to force yourself to look away.

"I'm fine," you managed to say, your voice shaky, despite your attempt to sound calm.

You didn't want him to know just how terrifying this was for you, but it was impossible to hide the tremor in your voice.

A slow, knowing smile spread across his face, his lips curling at the edges as if he could sense your fear. "You sure about that, sweetheart? You're shaking like a leaf."

You tightened your grip around his neck, digging your nails into his cape, feeling the way the fabric stretched beneath your fingers. "I said I'm fine," you repeated, more forcefully this time, though you weren't sure who you were trying to convince-him or yourself.

Homelander let out a low chuckle, his chest vibrating with amusement. "I know you're scared. I can hear your heartbeat," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "But don't worry. I've got you."

His words were meant to be comforting, but the way he said them, with that dark, seductive edge, only made you more aware of how dangerous he was. It wasn't just his power that terrified you; it was the way he made you feel. Being with him was like standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering between fear and desire, unsure of which way you were going to fall.

"You... You're not going to drop me, right?" The question came out before you could stop it, the fear lacing your voice more obvious than ever.

He grinned, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he adjusted his grip on you, his hands sliding down to your waist, holding you tighter against him. "Drop you? Now, why would I do that?" His voice was thick with teasing, but there was an undertone of seriousness that sent a chill through you.

The truth was, he could drop you. He could let you fall to your death right now, and no one would stop him. But you knew he wouldn't-at least, not tonight. Tonight, his mood was playful, almost tender, in his own twisted way. There was something possessive in the way he held you, something that made you feel like, at this moment, he didn't want to let you go.

"Relax, sweetheart. Enjoy the view," he said, his voice dropping to a softer, almost intimate tone as he flew higher, the city shrinking below you. "Not everyone gets to see the world like this."

Your stomach churned as you glanced down at the sea of lights far beneath your feet, the skyscrapers looking like toys from this height. You could feel the wind whipping through your hair, the cold biting at your skin, but the overwhelming sensation was the dizzying fear of falling, of plummeting into the void below.

"I... I can't," you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut to block out the terrifying sight. "I hate heights, Homelander. Please, can we go down?"

He hummed thoughtfully, his fingers tracing slow circles on your waist as if he were considering it. "Hmm, I don't know..." he drawled, his voice laced with amusement. "I kind of like you like this. All vulnerable. All mine."

His words sent a jolt of electricity through you, awakening a heat deep inside that contrasted with the icy fear coursing through your veins. Despite everything-despite how terrifying this was, despite the fact that he could drop you at any moment, you were drawn to him, irresistibly so.

"I thought you were stronger than this," he taunted, his breath hot against your neck.

"You can't really be that scared, can you?"

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding so loudly in your ears you were sure he could hear it. "I'm not scared," you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I don't like it."

"Oh, I think you like it more than you're willing to admit," he said, his voice dropping even lower, more predatory, as his lips grazed the sensitive skin of your neck. "The fear... the thrill. It's exciting, isn't it?"

A soft gasp escaped your lips as his mouth trailed down your throat, his tongue flicking against your skin, and despite yourself, despite the fear, you couldn't help the way your body reacted to him. Your pulse quickened, but this time it wasn't just from the terror-it was from the undeniable desire that had been building between the two of you for so long.

He chuckled, clearly aware of the effect he was having on you. "That's it," he whispered, his hand sliding up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled your head back, exposing more of your neck to his hungry mouth. "You can't deny it. You want this."

Your mind was spinning, the fear of heights warring with the intoxicating heat of his touch. You hated that he was right. You hated that despite everything, despite how dangerous and terrifying he was, you wanted him more than you had ever wanted anything in your life.

"Homelander.." you breathed, your voice trembling as his hands roamed over your body, his touch firm and possessive. You could feel the raw power beneath his fingertips, the control he had over you, and it made your heart race even faster.

"I could take you right here, right now," he murmured against your skin, his voice dark and full of promise. "High above the world... where no one else can reach us."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, the imagery sending a rush of adrenaline through your veins. The idea was terrifying, exhilarating, and utterly intoxicating all at once.

He moved his face back to yours, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that took your breath away. It was rough, demanding, and full of an intensity that only Homelander could bring. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your whole body ache with need.

Your fear melted away, replaced by the overwhelming desire coursing through your veins. You were his, completely and utterly, and in this moment, high above the world, it didn't matter that you were terrified of heights. All that mattered was him-the way he made you feel, the way his power wrapped around you like a cocoon, keeping you safe and dangerous all at once.

The tension between you both snapped like a taut wire, and in one swift, dizzying motion, Homelander had you pinned against him, hovering impossibly high above the shimmering city.

The cold air bit at your skin, but his body was a furnace, burning with heat and power as his hands roamed over you, pulling you closer.

His mouth crashed against yours, a demanding, hungry kiss that left you breathless, and before you could even comprehend the danger of the height, your body was responding to him with equal fervor. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you around his waist, his strength holding you effortlessly as he pressed into you with a low, possessive growl.

The sensation of him inside you was overwhelming, heightened by the adrenaline of being so far from solid ground, and all you could do was cling to him as he thrust into you, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.

The world around you disappeared, the city below forgotten, as the only thing that existed was him-his strength, his control, the way he dominated you completely.

Your cries were swallowed by the wind, mixing with his low, primal groans as he moved faster, his grip on you tightening with each rough, relentless thrust. The fear of falling faded into the background, replaced by the raw, intoxicating pleasure that surged between you both, as if you were defying gravity itself, suspended in the sky, lost in the intensity of the moment.

And as his hands roamed over your body, his breath hot against your skin, you realized that maybe-just maybe-the sky was where you belonged after all.

[apollos-favorite-child]

ooc post abt some drama

So I’m pretty sure everyone has either interacted with @/demigod-jack-hearth or at least seen some of the posts that were made abt his Circe au. I’ve been trying to keep track of everyone’s thoughts on this (namely @unhinged-waterlilly and @if-chaos-was-a-boy who both have really helpful posts about it) and since I’m capable of producing coherent thoughts every once in a while, I thought I would share my thoughts on all of this.

So I should probably start with the AU, which really was the cause of a lot of this chaos. So first of all, making it in the first place was a very interesting choice. I’m not sure if Jack based it more off the odyssey or the epic musical, but either way it’s just a very weird decision. I understand people like to project on their character which makes sense, but Jack never mentioned being r@ped. (And I hope he never was) but it feels like if he was comfortable enough to make that part of an AU, he would’ve probably mentioned it one of the times he was trying to defend himself.

I understand that HE might’ve thought it was a fine change to make since he was comfortable with it, but I’ve seen a handful of people saying it made them uncomfortable. I’m aware it’s not his job to make sure everyone is happy, but the whole AU was really unnecessary knowing it could’ve made someone uncomfortable.

People even went to Jack saying they were v!ctims and they didn’t like his AU, and he basically told them to fuck off, without ANY condolences or apologies to the people for having to go through that. Those people shared their experiences and he just didn’t care.

And YES Odysseus is a fictional character, but his trauma is still basically being disrespected. I’ve seen a couple of people saying other are being dramatic since they are angry about him being invalidated, but it makes sense to me why they would be angry.

One anon (who was a sa victim of I remember right) came to Jack being rude, and SO many people have been rude to this anon, calling them either rude or dramatic, but honestly I think they were just really angry about what Jack had done (which is perfectly understandable) and they didn’t really think or bother to be polite when they sent that. They made a mistake too, but I don’t think jacks response was any better.

And once he realized that he was wrong (after having to be confronted by multiple people) he NEVER apologized. The words “I’m sorry” were not on a single one of his posts. He basically was just trying and failing to defend himself. This all could’ve been solved much quicker with a simple apology, but he’s more concerned with making sure everyone likes him and that he’s right so he doesn’t have to deal with any guilt.

And now he’s apparently disappeared and has been self harming and just struggling a lot. But you want to know what I find interesting? Jack never mentioned having a boyfriend, and now Fred has taken control of his account, responding to almost everyone and trying to defend Jack. I might be the only one, but I did NOT understand how to use tumblr at first, and it took me a while until I even learned how to reblog people and tag stuff. Even once I did learn how to tag people, I wasn’t tagging 20+ people on every post like Jack does. Another interesting thing is that the blog said something along the lines of “I didn’t mean to blah blah blah” and sounded like it was Jack defending himself, but then the message ended with -Freddy

If I was Fred, I would’ve made ONE post explaining why Jack disappeared, and not mentioning any of the sh or breakdowns. He could’ve made a post without mentioning all of that and disrespecting jacks privacy. Instead, he’s been responding to every person and mostly trying to defend Jack in every one of them. He also said he locked Jack out of his tumblr account, which you LITERALLY CANNOT DO unless he took away Jacks phone, which just seems really controlling, even if he did think it was best for Jack. So yes, this is me saying that I don’t think Fred is real. Especially since Jack is a ROLEPLAYER, and we are completely used to acting like different people.

Going back to the self-harm topic, I think that parts very weird as well. He’s made self harm jokes, and while I know perfectly well people can use humor as a coping mechanism, that’s just another really insensitive thing to do. It just doesn’t really make sense to me how you can make self harm jokes one week and then let your boyfriend tell a bunch of people on the internet you’ve been trying to hurt yourself.

Overall I think this spiraled into a lot more than it should’ve been, and this all wouldn’t have happened if he had just apologized, or just never have made that AU.

jacks tag list- @zariahthewitch @thegroovydaughterofhestia @if-chaos-was-a-boy @the-gods-strange-children @silena-daughterofaphrodite

@fabulousdaughterofhecate @weakest-son-of-sun @chaos-pers0nified @neoptolemus-achilles-son

@bast-the-best26 @goddess-of-bubblegum @gaygirldoodles @luck-is-crucial

@reyna4ever @vicious-daughter-of-zeus @feral-hermes-child @oopsies-i-did-a-thing @unfortunate-daughter-of-hestia

@that-girl-cupid @ariathemortal @love-lightning-forethought @emdabitchass

@kaiaalwayswins @champion-of-revenge @i-was-never-sane @clown-energy-skyrocketing @zoe-aura-of-d3ath

@itsyourboyezra @lunar-eklipso-r @pink-koi-lovejoy @that-daughter-of-athena

@sleepy-as-a-song @smileyalater @thedaughter-of-death @gellyhelio @daughter-ofthe-moontitan

@demeters-daughter-is-done @the-smart-and-the-dumb-one @trinket-snatcher @southerndaughterofeos

@creature-under-ur-bed @burnt-out-bitxhes

[thenightsystem]

Have you ever wanted to be known?

Have you ever wanted to be known? Have you ever wanted to be known?

H̶a̶v̷e̴ ̷y̷o̴u̶ ̶e̵v̵e̴r̷ ̷w̷a̷n̵t̶e̷d̸ ̷t̵o̷ ̷b̴e̵ ̶k̸n̷o̷w̴n̷?̷

H̷̖͛ȁ̸̜v̸̖͌e̵̠͊ ̶͚̇y̸̝͂ö̴̺́u̸͓͠ ̵̲̕è̵̟v̸̳̇e̷̡͝ȓ̷̻ ̷̨͑w̶̜̃ȁ̸̲n̷͉̏t̶͈̚e̷̯̽d̴̯͂ ̴̥͌t̶̝̍o̸͎̅ ̷͉͂ḅ̵͘ȇ̵̹ ̷̟̄k̷͓͆n̸͙͒o̶̲̔ẉ̸͗n̸̈́͜?̸͎̊

H̴̗̉͠a̷̬͐̆̓v̷͖̜̋͠ě̷̳̊ ̵̖̦̍̒̿y̵̟̙͇̆̆̃ŏ̴̪̪̘͠ú̶̙́̉ ̸̼̳̣͛e̴̞̎v̵͖̀̀́e̶̖̒͝ȑ̵̼̺̱̇ ̶̬̇w̷̖͍̉́ͅá̴͊̋͜ͅn̵͚͒̕t̸̻̰̾̀ͅe̵̗̯͈̾̃d̵̘̉ ̶̭̖͎̓̕͝t̷̥̂o̸̝̤̍ ̷̖̙̠̌̀b̸̧͖̩̃̐ḙ̵͆͠ ̵̠̩̗̍̓͝k̷͓͐ͅn̸̥͍͚̆ơ̷̡͝͠w̴̜̣͐ṋ̵͌͊?̴̤̎͆̏

H̶̡̝̦̱̼̪̃̌̽̓͐̈́͝ạ̵͈̉̂̃̓͐͝v̵̛͍̗͊͗̉͊̕͠e̸̢̨̬̞̼̻͍͌ ̵̘̖̬͆͌̐̂̍͋̆y̷̺̜͛̂͑̇̐͑͜͠ȍ̷͓̝͈̇̅̇͋̚ͅṳ̴͖͍̗̼͒̽̇̏ ̷̮͈̓̄ę̶̡̥̳̓̚͝v̷̬͛̒é̸͔͔͗̈́̊̕͘r̷͈̎̏͗̓ ̵̡̧̲͓̹̫͆́̅w̵̢̛̪͚̭͉̪̩̌ạ̷̢̧̱̙̑̕͝ͅn̸̤̐ẗ̸̯͙́̔́ë̶͍̹̥̠̺̖̈͜d̵̞͔̼͊͐͊̆́͆ ̴̧̰̪̱̺̂t̸̢̰͇̘͎̩̊ō̵̧̘͉̆ ̵͍͔͚̫̩̹͋b̷̢͎͉͍͗é̷̪̭͖̄̇͗͘͝ͅͅ ̷̨̧̤̠̰̈̎͒̽͘k̸͍̣͍̲͛͂̏̽͠n̴̢̛̮̲̘̟̊̔̄͗̊͝ǫ̵̤̪̞̲̞͍͛w̴̺̘͚̿̆͊̅̊̀͝n̵̰͚̥̉͂͐̎̋͠?̴̟̱̟̫̑̀̔̄̆͘

H̶͓͍̝̼͖͂̅̈̄̂̂̂̎͛̆̂͌̔̌̈́̒a̵̳̰͇̙̥̱̟͖̓̅̒͐̔̏̂͆̀̾́͘̕͘ͅͅv̸̝͚̲̻͓̆̒͛͆́͌̒̃̓̽é̵̢̡͉̥̥̼͓̥̩̱͓̈́͆́̍͆͂̈́̔͋̈̓̃̍̈́̚͜͝ ̵̧̛̠̟̱̟̅̃͛́͋̉̓͆̓̽̿̿̈́̐͜͝y̸̞͎̙̞̻͙̯̳̥͎̗̱͈͇͍̩͊̅͒͗̃̔͗̂͗͑͜ͅo̶̱͎̝̜͈̻̤͛̌̿̏͒̄̋͛̀́̌͊̀̔̚̚͠ú̴͌ͅ ̸̢̡̧̥͚͇̰͋͒͛͗͆̈́̿͜͜͝ẹ̸̡̡͎͈̘̦͎̬̝͇̩͉̩̲̱̺̐v̷̢̢̧̢̥͓̱͇̣͍̙̺̺̠̤̳͋͌̉e̶̮͔̫͎̱̱͉̮̳̬̝̫̊̑ͅͅȓ̶̢̛̛̛͈̞͕͙̺̮̐̅̑̌͊̔̏̔͜͠͝͝ ̸̨̨̝͚̭͐w̷̧͇̟͇̩͇̲͈̟̣̩͓͓̙̟̗͐̐̐̏́̔͝a̴̛̤̝͍̯͇̽̐̿̑̓̊̆͆̍̌͊̓̚͝n̸̨̘̭̹͉̘̱̪̈́̉̐͝t̷̮͙̻̔̓̿̒̀e̵̘͕͙̟̎̌͛ͅḑ̸̭͍̘̲̣̻̫̰͇̣͎͐͌̆̐͆̍̉̉͒͋̄̽̓̔́͘͠ ̶̧̖̻̥͉̬̟̫̩̯̤̺̐̾̂͒͛̐̎̈͂͌͂̚t̶̨̗̩̜̰̏́̓̈͜͜ͅò̸̲͖̺̦̙͎̟͎̥̥̝̺͇͔̼̩͒͛̎̾̽̂̇̏̈͑̈̑͋ ̷̛̦̘̝͉̅͋̏̀͆̒̽̿̿̅̄̎̾͝b̵̧̮͈̩͎̙͍͇̝̯͕͍̳̺͕̩͔̫̑̄̎̉̏̽͛̃̅̈́͊͌̃̚̚͠ḛ̸͈͈̘͇͔̬͂̓̾͘̕ ̶̢̢̨̳͕̻͉̣̙̯͉̠̦̝̘̺̜͘̚͜k̵̨̡̰̹̥̲̯̒̈́͗̈́͒̓͂̑̐̑͗̔̔̈́͝͠n̶̨̘͓̫͎͔̐̾̋o̴̡̮̻̗̺̪̝̖͍̊̀̈͒͐̇̐̀͘͠ẇ̷̛͗̓̎́͐́̏̂̔͋̒̆̕̕͜͝n̴̥̗̼̱̜̹̤̋̊̒͆͗ͅ?̴̜̣̓

H̸̛̲̙̍̽͌̔̌̎̃̀̐̀̓̏͛̊̎̽͛̄̌͗̉͊̿̌̒͑̊̇̃̉̚̕̚͘̕͝a̸̡̧̛̭͖͉̱̻̺̞̩̤̮̗̠̣̹̹̫̩̫̩͌̉̀̍̎̈́̏̀͊̈́̇̋̀̾v̵̳͍̮̺̺͉͍͎̳̟̞̻̱̹̪̟̗͇̂̐̒̓̉̽͜e̸̤̠͇̰̘̯̩̲̠̾̔̽͐͝ͅ ̷̨̦̳̲͔̮͕̗͉͙̪̟̅̎̄̆̈́̂̆̀̌̄̀̐̆̄̑̓̆͆̊́͑́͂̈́̂̐̽̈͘͝y̶̡̢̨̨̭̣̙̼͍͔̠̪̖̬̬͎̜͙̻̫̥̲̱̳̻͑̅̆͗̀͒̊͆̈́̂̉͋̎̃̎̉̿̅̓͊̋̀̅͂̓͒̾̿̑́̚͝͠͝o̵̹̔͐̇̃̄̂̈͛͑̕ū̸̡̡̬̦̘͖̦̮̣͕̖̦̩͍̯̼͙̥̳̬̗͊͌͑̽̇̑͗̂́̃̽̈́̋̿̽́͐͗̾̐̓̀̅̏̋͑̉͐͊́̄̏̈́͐͒̚͘͜͝ ̷̧̡̧̢̢̢̳͔̲̣̮̹̳̮͚̳̭͕͚̗̖̳͓̪͎͔͖̳̭̮͎̮̲͔̫̯͇͋̾̈́̽̀͗̎͌͒͆̒͛̃́̅̎̅̍̓̊͒̉̒̅̆̀̂͌̈́̚͘͝͝͝ͅẽ̸̡̢̡̢̡̧̨̥̥̜͓̠̜̠̤̣̖̳̱̻̜̫̜̭͔̞̤̮͇̼̭͈̤̦̤̤̘̯̀̋͋̿̈v̵͚̙͒̔͆͂͊̒̀͑̅̄̀͑͂́̇̓̄̈́̄͘ę̴̧̨̡̧̛͇̜̪̟̣͎͍̻̝̮̺̥̱̰̰̠͍͓̦̝̫̦͎͓͍̣̥̳͈̝͕̳̯̙̥͉͊̈̌̆̍̋̀̿̐͊̎̊̂̓͑́͐͒̔̈́͋̓̃̕͘̚̕͘͜͠͝͠ͅr̷̡̪͖̬͚̤̠̘̼͎̹̗̮̘̹̣͖̞͍̭̯̺̯̦̙̻̣͎̭̫͇͊̋̒́̈́̽̎̈̀̈́̅̾͛͌̋͊̈́̒͌͋̓͋̃̇̃͌͜ ̷̧̜̬̣͕̭͎͈͕͖̦͛̀̎̆̋͑͊́͐͜w̶̨̡̢̛̛͕̞̠͕̬̙͙̤̳̝͖̝̼̞͐̄̐͗͌̊̅͗̏̓͐̐̃̾̒̌̂̃̈͛́̽͌̄̆̑̊͂͋̕͘̕͘͜͜͝͝å̸̧̦̥͎̻̠̝͈͗̏͛̿̃̔̇͂̉̇͒̚͜͝n̶̨̢̤̖̗̻͇̲̣̯̞̲̺̲̫̔̍͛̑̃̈́̉́̆̈́͌͒̌̽̐̂͒̚̚͝͝͝ͅt̴̨̨̛̖̬̬̜̲̥̻̭̄͛̆͗̒͌̏͂̒̓͗̒͠ę̷̜̮̭͔̙͑́̀̈́͆́̀̾̓̈́͘ͅd̸̢̦̦̺̺̥̜̻̻̤͐́̈̍̾̉͌͘͜ ̵̢̞̘̞͙̭̩̱̫̜̣̜̖̮͕̠̣͕̫͓͙̮̺͔͚̜̜̳̳̻̐̈́̀̏̽̉̆̆̈̓̀̒̀̍̒̐͊̂̽̋̀̃͊̏͑̀̕͘̕̚t̴̬͓̤͈̱͂́͌̇̈̍̍͒͊̍̀́̇̌̋̚̕͠͝ǫ̷̧̨̛̜̯͙͉̗̮̘̩̜̅́͜ ̴̢͔̪̖̠̣̳͚̯̪̥̫̻͕́b̸̢͖̺͈͍̫͙͉̻͚̮͔̦̗̲͙̼̱͇̂̓̂̈́̉̎̓̈́̿̓̃͌̕̕͝ě̵̡̦̩̱̭̠̱̱͈̤͔̖͓̜͕̼̥̥͚̯̻̯̟̝̣̥̫̤̦̠̎̎͛̎̇͌̔͆͒͋̑̇̊̋̈́̀̈͌́̋̓̒͂̈́̂̉̍̚͘͝͠͠ͅͅͅ ̸̡̧̧̢̡̡̧̮̖͚͍̪̲̥̬̱͙̞͔̖̬̼̣̭̤̭̺̝̥̼̯̰͚͎̬̖͇̋̒̇̃̓̉͂͒̓̀̐̄͌̄̓̋̔͐́̈́̊̇̾͛͘̕͘͘͘͝͝͝ͅk̷̡̟̹̪̯͙͉̞̳̩̜͇̪̞̫͚̩͔̱̩̝͉̣̹̜̮̩̳͆́̔̑̂̚̚ń̷̡̨͇̜͚̮͎̲͚̥̤̹̤̹̝̲̫̣̮̘́̈͑͛̎͂͝ͅǒ̸̙̞̩͙͈̻̣̱̲͖̭͇̰̝̠͉̌̀̑͝w̶̪̓͆̈́͊͗̏͐̃̋ń̵̯̮͈̥̖̤͔̝̜̞̖̝̠̪͉̏̈́͜͝ͅ?̶͔̩̦̺̮̥͓̐̓̈́̔̈͆̽̇̆̅̂̾̏͜͝

Ḥ̸̢͙̝̻̺̯̫̮̰̗̟̫̭͔̪̥͔͇̇̍̅̃̈́̆̿̊̂͗̈́͆̽̽̾̚̚͜ǎ̸̡̡͙͙̫̪͙̖̩̙̱̱̯͚̦̜̜͔̰̗̦̳̤͔̖̱̪̫͇̟̔̐͛̿̈́̑̃̽͌͑̑̑̽́͗̌̍̏̐͐̕̕͠͝͝ͅv̷̨̨̢̢̢͔̙̟̜̰̤̬̱͚̮̰̦̳̭͚͍̺̯̝̼̘̥̰͉̰̤͉͖̱͚̣̞̦̳̪͉̙̖̯̾̔́͗̋̑̏̓̊̏̾̀̅̿̾̾̂̕̚͠͠ͅę̷̡̢̨̧̨͉̮̰͕̜̮̙̦̣͈̤̥̬̱̯̠̔͋͊͑́̀͆́̇̽̈̎͛̃́̈̀̕͘͜ͅ ̵̢̢̨̧̣̣̥̗̳̦͚̯̻̱̖̙̱̖̫̟̻͙̬̻̪̖̜͖̻̟͔̖͇͖͓̅͂̓ͅͅͅy̷̢̡̛̛̛̛͈̪̰͚͈͔͓͉̭̲̣̼͕̲͍̜̖͉͚̞̯̥̪̪̙̝̠̩̣̳͐̇́̎͋̈́̌̐̔̀̌̓̂̍̇͋̇̉̊͗̆̓͒̑̀͊̆̀̌́̍̈̆́̇́̈̐͐̿̕̚̕͘͜͝ͅǫ̴̗͚̦͍͚̣̥̥̣̮̭̐́̋͑̈̾̿̄̏̾̈́͊͒̓̒͘͘͜͜u̸̧̡̨̧͉͙̮̠̣͓̭̤̯͕̱͚̮̙͚̼̪̟̼̓̓̈̎̍̆̂̿̂̅̓̅͑̈́̇͋͗͛̐̉͌̆̌̌͌̓͐̓͂̓̈́͂́̒́̑͘͘̕͜͝͠ͅ ̴̨̹͕̠̮̱̿̂̆̓̈̔̀͆̾̂̅̀̇̑͊̎̓͆͑͑͝ͅè̶̢̨̪͈̳͎̹̮͙̝̯̦͚͔͖̝͚̥̃̇͊͆̅̀̊̔͂̕ͅv̵͍̝̭͓͎͗̋́͛̓̿̈́̄̕͝ȇ̴̡̡̡̛̺͙͇̳̺̺̮͍̞̮̙́̐͗́͐̊͐͐̎͛͐͋̚r̶̨̢̢̨̢͎̻̻͖̠̰̜̻̯̗̞͇̩̲̞̝̻̫̩̱̯̗̪̙̥̮̲̍͆̊̋̉́̈̀͆͛̾̎͜͜ͅ ̶̨̨̢̨͔͙̥̼̺̩͖̠͎̓̾͐̐̀̔͆͋̉͒́̉̾̍̊͐̓̇͋̚̕͝͝͝͝w̵̢̡̧̛̛̯͉̗͉̼͓̲̤̝̣͈̟̘͓̦̬̭̲̤̜̦̫̰̯̻̖͔̯̼͔̹͉̠̌̍͊̏̈́̾͛̐̉̃̃̊̇̅́́̈́̅̈́̐̌̅̋̉̂̔͆̐͑͐̈́̓̽̂̈́̕̕͘͜͜͜͝͝͠ă̸̛̗̄̅̐̊̂̾͒̃̄̌́͌̑͐̎̀͆̿̎̓͗̀͑̈̋̉̀̈͑͒̐̚͝͠͝͠n̸̡̨͇̰̣̫̜̮̳͓̱͍̙͖̗̜̊̑̌͊͆́̿͜t̷̛̗̞͔̀̒̀́͑̿̽̅̑̇̐̊̚͘̕̕͝ę̴̨̨̡̢̧̢̢̢̳̰͇͉̺̜̯͇͇͚̞̮͙̜͈̼͍̼͔͖̦͇͇͓̖̜̜͖̪̞̯̜̯͎̙̮̌̓̇̒̌͜͜d̸̢̡̛͚̙̟̘̭̫͙̪̭̭̖̬̤̼͎͉͓͎̳̤͗̉͒̈̿̐̄̅̉͑̓̒̽͌́́͋͋̿̅̊͐̆̇́̈̾̽̍̊̀̕̚̚̕̕ͅ ̵̛̛͎̫̜̗͔̝͇̝̯̤̝͈̥̫̫̯̊̈͒̓̄͑̎͛͑̈́̓͗̀̌̽̽́͋̿̒̉̿̓́̂͛̅̂̈͘̕͝͝͝͠ţ̵̨̢̡̛̺̖̘͉̳̲̣̩̭͓̭̜̘͆̒͆̊̌͊̈́̾̈́̿̅̅̀̉̾͑̉̇͒̈́́́̀́̈́̀̅́̅͗͊͂̅͋̈̚͘͝ő̴̧̡̢̫̦̲̞̪̩͓̪͉̗̦͔͖̭̠͔̣͙̱̖̟̤̫̘̆̌́͒͐̋͊̓̐̄͒͒́̓͌̔̓̀͑͂͌͑̚̕̕͜͜͝ͅ ̷̡̨̡̧̡̢̨̡̹̺̫̟͉̥̟̯̱̭̥̼̱̩̼̗̦̖̬̠͓̣̼̗̝̬͖̭̥̚͜ͅͅḇ̶̛͕͍̦̜͔̤̜̟͖̥̔̅́͛̿͒̑̅̂̌̎́̂̑̑̽̇̀͒̈̓̀̊̈́̕̕̕͘͜͠͝ȩ̴̨̙̱̗̻̻͓̣̗͔̗̜͈͈̲̜͑͊̀͆͛̏̌́̓͜͜͠ ̸̨̝̹͈̹͎͙̣̩̼̠̪̘͚̩͇̝̗̪̥̪̲̲̪͇̜͎̼́̀͑̄̆̐̊̒̋͂̇̏̑͋͊̿͒̎̓͆̉̓͒́̓̐̈̋͗̌͛͛̕̚̚͘͜ķ̷̛̥̩̯̟̖̿̾͌͌͋͊́̌́̿͌̂͆͂͛̉́̋̉͠͠n̸̢̡̙̘̺̻̹̖̬̥̱͉̱̰��̭̯̝͇̻̠͈͙͈̲͔̖̫̯͕͗̍͑̈́̃̐̒̈́̂̐̀̌̐̈́́̔͋̔̈̅̚͝͝ǫ̶̗̦̦͓͈̩̝̮͖͇̠͈̍̌̐̆̌͐̏̿̀͑̀̋̇̇̊̈́̿̅͒͛̃͂͊̉̈́̓̃̒̀͊̋͛̚̕͠w̶̡̢̨̖̗̺̳̞̼̬͕͕̻̞̜̻̳̞̬̺̩̠̹͔̝̯̳͉̼͐̾͊̒͊͂͐́̂̇̏͒́̿͋̈́̐̈́̕͝ṅ̵̨̢̧̨̡̨͈̮̘͙̠͔̻͈͙̩̪͉̙͕̩̳͚̻̳̜͓̘̬̙̣͉̲̘͔̩̣̫̬̜̺̫͈̰̻̖̜͓̆̉̋̄͆͂̅̋̔̀͂̀̐͆͗͑͒̌̈́͂̇̋̊͆͂̆̌̆͛͌̀͘̚̕͘̕̕͜͝͝͠͝͠?̸̡͕̘̳̯̫̜͈̫̖̫̫̜̟̻̭͎̟͙̘͈͕̹̝͓̘̮̝̗̱͔̓̓̇͑̔̇̄̅̈́͛͛̓̽̒̃̇̾̎͑̕͜͠͝

Have you ever wanted to be unknown?

[redbean-nom]

watched the first 2 episodes of acolyte and so far i like every character except for the main one lol. (also is her name osha as in occupational safety and health administration??)

[slasherscream]

really wish people would read blog rules more, it makes running blogs like this very low reward and you feel like a machine if people aren't commenting and aren't even abiding by one of the, honestly, very few and politely phrased rules i even have

[smolpout]

pls 4giv me if im xtra soft n mushy n talkativ tonite (aka if i send lovey asks 2 moots) ,, i had a panic attack n like frantically took 3 of my emergency meds instead of 1 bcus i felt so bad. uhhh babie is accidentally high  ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

genuinely not saying this in a like kinkyy intox bait thing , i just feel so lovey n soft n little n im worried i might accidentally spam moots or send little asks and embarrass myself bcus i tend to do that when i accidentally take too much idkidk .

but ilu all sm and i hope ur taking care of urselves, u deserve it ! i know it can b hard, if u ever need someone my dms r open  ♡

[drygrasses]

🔇-

[stonesandswords]

it’s not even been a full two weeks since my supervisor left and my mental health is already so much fucking better

[dredshirtroberts]

i'm remembering why i don't stay on dating apps for long and why i have a hard time making connections with folks in general. if i have to teach one more fucking person about polite conversation with people you do not know yet, i swear to GOD.