#can't edit it tho ..... pain

[linabirb]

yes i'm using my own gifs but i keep getting notes on that one milgram s1 and milgram s2 art style comparison post and a lot of people are saying that shidou and mikoto look completely different now which is true but.

haruka

just so you understand i've said before that i got into milgram back when akaa came out and i watched all the t1 mvs in the same day and then went to watch akaa and sat there. thinking that akaa haruka is like a completely different person. completely different haruka. that mv alone made me think that the theory about haruka being actually older than 17 could actually be true BECAUSE HE LOOKS SO MUCH OLDER THAN WEAKNESS HARUKA PLEASE TELL ME I AM NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO SEES IT HE EVEN LOOKS OLDER WHEN IT'S HIS CHILD SELF I AM SHAKING YOU I AM NOT INSANE

[mattodore]

waking up and hurriedly getting dressed to head off to work at the oc factory where i'm liable to succumb to any number of workplace accidents such as death dying and being dead

[wxndswept]

Don't mind me, I'm just cooking.

That said, which do you like more?

[heffrondriving]

this is the last thing u'll ever see b4 the big time rush song plays and they break ur kneecaps btw

[ambersky0319]

need to remind myself to like. revamp some of my sideblogs sometime this week

[catcze]

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 ### : 」 Modern AU ish !! GN Reader gets drunk at the club !! But Navia and Clorinde stay with you through it tho, because they're your good friends !! This is literally just humor and reader not recognizing Wrio but gushing over your husband so so much !! Reader swears when drunk bc same lmao

Had a vision. No editing. Feast on this while I feast on my Nissin Bulalo cup noodles.

The moment Wriotheseley steps into the club, he immediately spots you. Even over the painful strobing lights, the sea of dancing bodies, he can single you out a mile away— regardless of the fact that you're slumped over the bar, drunk out of your mind.

"Navia, Clorinde," he greets with a wave, hurrying over. His voice has to be almost a yell to be heard over the loud music.

They sit on either barstool beside you, bracketing you between them. When he approaches, Clorinde hands him your phone, and he knows who he has to thank for the 'come pick your bae up' text. The moment he's close enough, he's already looking you over, making sure you're alright.

"Sweetheart," Wriothesley tries to rouse you, but you just mumble and splay out further on the bar. Your hand knocks into a mostly-emptied glass of what he can only assume was tonight's poison of choice.

"How many—"

"More than five," Navia tells him, grinning sheepishly, just as Clorinde says, "Nine."

Your husband shakes his head fondly, sighing, and turns back to you. "Sweetheart," he tries again, voice a bit louder. He places a heavy hand on your waist, coaxing you up. "Let's g—"

But at the touch, your eyes —still hazy and unfocused on account of the nine drinks you've had— shoot open, and you whirl on him in your seat. If not for the hold he still keeps on your hip, you may have just toppled over. There's a look of unbridled, drunken rage on your face, more comical than actually terrifying.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" you hiss, slurring, as you wrench his hand off of you and fling it away with such contempt that he has to stifle a laugh. "Keep your hands off of the masterpieces, bucko."

Not even giving him a moment to breathe, you shove your left hand in his face, vehemently pointing at the ring that sits on your fourth finger. "I! Am! Married! If I tell my husband that you're out here getting handsy, he's gonna come and kick your ass sooo hard. He's gonna rock your shit, you trick ass bitch, if i don't do it myself!"

Wriothesley shouldn't find this funny— he shouldn't. But Navia and Clorinde and fighting smiles behind their palms themselves, and he can't help the grin that breaks across his face.

"Oh? Is your husband that strong?" He can't help but ask, and you scoff.

"Is he that strong— you wanna find out for yourself? Huh? Wriothesley could— could—" you hiccup, and he has to fight the urge to coo. "He could knock you out with just a flick of his fingers, you know!"

"And is your Wriothesley more handsome than me?"

You turn your nose up at him, scowling. Once, twice, you try to cross your arms in contempt as you drunkenly look him up and down.

"You're alright," you begrudge, "but my Wriothesley is the— the most handsomest man in the world! The fucking prettiest! No one holds a candle to my husband and his broad shoulders and his thick thighs and his... and his adorable smile."

Wriothesley has to bite his lip to control his grin. Navia is fighting for her life to stifle her giggles, and Clorinde hides her amused smile behind a cough.

It's like that loosened your tongue though, and you continue on, oblivious to the embarrassment you'd face the next morning.

"And he— he'll be very upset when he finds out that you're here, hitting on someone who is very happily married to one of the best men on this side of the fucking galaxy, so— so you can fuck off!"

He really, really tries his best to not laugh.

You huff, patting down your pockets and grumbling incoherently about your phone, not even questioning it when Wriothesley hands it back to you himself. It takes only a second of you furiously tapping your screen before his own phone buzzes in his pants.

[Sweetheart ♡]

babe pookie pick e ip plrase im drunk and i wanna go homd snd yhere's this assholr hitting o me love yoy [location attached]

As soon as the texts go out though, you yawn and the energy leaves you in one fell swoop. Wriothesley manages to catch you before you face plant back on the bar and break your nose, maneuvering you to lean into his chest. The fight escaping you, you nuzzle into his black button up, rubbing your face against him like a big cat.

"Mmm. I know that cologne." Blearily, you look up and make eye contact with those pretty, pretty blue eyes, and your face immediately lights up in the most delighted grin. "Wrio!" you gasp, arms coming to wrap around his waist and pull him towards you. You're still drunk, still pretty out of it, but it melts his heart how overjoyed you are to see him.

"Hi sweetheart," he says fondly, running a hand through your hair. Happily, you lean into his touch. "Have a fun time with Navia and Clorinde?"

"Mhm. Missed you though." Then, your eyes pop open and you sit up, looking around furiously as if you're looking for someone. When you don't find this person, you lean in to whisper conspiratorially in his ear— "There was this guy who tried to make the moves on me, you know! But I told him that I'm super duper married and with the bestest husband ever— if you wanna double team him, I'm sure the guy's around here somewhere."

But your husband just chuckles, pulling you back into his embrace. Smoothly, Wriothesley has you wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist so he can easily pick you up and into his arms.

"You two need a ride home?" He asks the two, but they shake their heads.

"Appreciated, but we only split a drink between us," Clorinde says, already standing up alongside Navia. "We'll be fine."

"Get home safe, you two!" The blonde says, waving you off, and that's that.

Wriothesley easily maneuvers the two of you out of the club, you having already fallen asleep on his shoulder. He can hear your soft breaths in his ear and feel the way you cling to him even in your sleep. No doubt you'd have a raging hangover tomorrow, but that's okay— because you'll have him to take care of you, too.

Bonus!!

You wake up to hands down the worst fucking headache in your whole life. Your temple hurts so hard that you swear your head's gonna crack open like an egg. Groaning, you pull the covers over your head and roll over, blotting out the mid-day sunlight as best as you can.

There's a chuckle from the other side of the bed, then weight moving across the sheets— then your husband's face appears in front of you, under the blankets too.

"So, darling sweetheart of mine" he starts, voice soft as to not aggravate your headache, and you're grateful. "What were you saying about my broad shoulders and my thick thighs?"

You're suddenly not as grateful.

Promptly, you kick him out of your blanket cave, and he goes with a laugh. He leaves you grumbling on the bed, cursing out all the drinks you had last night and swearing to never ever ever drink again.

Wriothesley grins, shutting the curtains of your bedroom as he ambles out the door, dead set on getting you water, advil, and something to eat.

Maybe by the end of the day, you'd add 'endlessly doting' to the list.

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

[yejinnie]

☆ only you.

the things yang jeongin would only let you do to him.

- pairing. yji x reader

- tags. fluff

✧ physical affection.

this one was quite obvious, since jeongin isnt very fond with physical affection from others. however, since he incredible whipped to you, you are the only exception. he even finds himself craving for your touch, which at first he found weird as he isnt use to feeling such emotions towards a person. his favourite physical affection from you is intertwining your fingers together or when he comes home from practice, his body aching from pain and couldnt wait to be embraced by your warmth, as he snuggled into your neck while laying ontop of you. (his members are very much jealous of you, so don't be surprised when a whiny innie is behind you trying to hide from han trying to kiss him for the 100th time)

✧ letting you have a bite of his food.

bruh you seen this dude eat, like pookie your food aint gonna run away, you don't need to shove the whole thing down your throat. 😭 eversince you and i.n had gotten together, jeongin had became more protective and affectionate over you. in the early stages of your relationship, you had went on study mode during exam season, causing you to skip sleep, as well as eating. when jeongin found out what you been doing, bro evaporated into thin air and suddenly appeared right infront of your doorsteps with a bag full of food he got along the way to your place. ever since that, he had grown into a habit of shoving whateva he's eating into your mouth. oh, jeongin is eating pizza, in your mouth it goes. he's eating ramen, wow the chopsticks has teleported infront of your mouth. if mans eating, be prepared to hear here comes the airplane~. basically just be prepared to be well fed.

✧ accepting your kisses

jeongin has made it clear to his members that his lips are only reserved for you, however, some dont get the message (han im looking at you) so whenever his members ever see you guys kiss, be prepared to hear the endless mimicking of smooching and teasing towards you two (more aimed at jeongin tho). however, even though their teasing is annoying, he would go through it all day if he had too. just so he can kiss you again.

✧ poking his dimple / touching his face

sometimes you can't contain all your love for jeongin (LMAO LOVE SURGE) so one of the ways you would express it, is by ruffing his hair and squeezing his cheeks. when you first did it, his face was painted in red, as it froze in a shock expression, however, his face quickly changed into a frown and a whiny jeongin was awaken when you started to shower him with compliments. another way you had showed your love to jeongin was when he was talking about something but instead of listening, you were distracted by the dimple that peeked out on his cheek as his mouth moved. so out of instincts you poked it, which has impacted him alot, as i.n stopped mid-sentence and started to ask you what you were doing while giggling. it may of not seem like it affected him physically, but oh boy, jeongin felt like a hot mess. his heart had stopped beating and his face started to grow hot. oh how much you affected him.

hellooo my name is zizi and this is my first post pls be niceee (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)♡

(btw this is not edited so sorry for any mistakes)

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (06)

chapter six: like lightning

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; mentions of sex, swearing, this chapter is also pretty mild in terms of warnings? the angst begins here tho !!! could've been more edited but yk lol word count: 4.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / series masterpost / taglist

If I never laid eyes on you Would I feel something missing? If you never laid eyes on me Would you know something’s gone?

Happy Accidents - Saint Motel

You don't know if you've ever changed, even once, in your life.

You feel like you're still 8 years old and your best friend is the neighbors' elderly dog that they let you play with every weekend. She's a golden retriever, and she would stand taller than you if she could walk on two legs.

You're still 16 and your happiest memories are of a boy who doesn't love you back. But all of your friends say that he does, and oh, how much you want to believe that their words are true.

And at the same time, you're 22, just a few months shy of 23, sitting in front of a canvas showcasing your own bleeding heart. Your growing pains, laid out by acrylics and gentle brush strokes. You liken yourself to the figure in front of you, the one that's standing in the corner of your painting, overlooking a sea of blues and grays. There's a piece of you that's left behind in everything you create. Sometimes, you leave it there on purpose, a memorabilia for your future self to look back at fondly.

You think of everything in your life that has changed and how you're the only thing that has managed to remain the same. The dog eventually dies and the boy moves on with his life. The passage of time is relentless but you seem to be the only one who can't keep up with the tireless flow. You're always running in place, always stuck behind in the end. There's a past in which you still live, one where you don’t know if you'll ever make it out of.

You think of home and the search comes up empty, like it does every single time. Home isn't here inside of your own body, nor is it within the four walls of your childhood bedroom. You've never felt like you belong anywhere. Everything is always fluctuating, constantly and unabatingly spinning and spinning and spinning when all you're asking for is a minute to stand still and catch your breath.

Home isn't always a place, that much you know. Maybe home isn't even a thing that you build but something that you find, in a person or a touch, in a feeling or a scent. Perhaps that's the problem, isn't it? Home is something you find, and you've spent your whole life searching.

People say your early 20s are supposed to be the best years of your life but that sentiment has never resonated with you. These are the years that you spend in excruciating limbo, where you're not an adult but you're forced to be anyway. The years where loneliness is an invisible friend that shadows you day in and day out, a presence you don’t want around but can't seem to shake off, a haunting that's far too gentle to be considered such. These aren't your best years; these are your saddest years.

None of it helps build character. It just hurts.

It hurts. You accept that it hurts. You keep on living, always accompanied by the hurt. At some point, it stops bothering you as much; you've grown numb to the way it stings, but it doesn't mean that there aren't days where you're pierced with a sudden and debilitating hollowness in your chest.

Here you are, half an adult but still a child, wondering if you know anything more than you did when you were 8.

You just want to go home, but you don't know where home is.

You look at the small pool of yellow acrylic paint that's been sitting on your palette for a while now. It feels so out of place among the other insipid tones, even though that has always been your intention - a burst of life amidst a sea of blues.

You don't think about anything in particular when your fingers pick up a brush and dab it in a generous amount of paint. It doesn't make much sense, but it feels right. You don't think about anything in particular when your hand smears the color on the cavas, on the figure, a startling stroke right in the center of her chest, contrasting all of the dulls and darkness surrounding.

Though, you do think of him afterward. Of him and daffodils and spring.

The rest of your friends are already present when you and Felix show up at Chan and Jess' shared apartment, holding boxes of pizzas and a case of beer.

It's a cute tradition that was started last year, when all of you promised to gather the final Friday of every month to have a cozy little dinner party among yourselves. It usually takes place at Chan's, since his apartment is bigger than the rest of yours, and because him and Jess are practically the parents of the group anyway.

The second you step into the living room, a chorus of groans erupts all around. Hyunjin and Jisung are the most vocal petulant babies, pouting from their seats, complaining that you two took too long and that they've been starving for hours.

You and Felix shrug off your jackets before delegating the tasks to the lot of them, since you were in charge of picking up the food for tonight. Minho and Seungmin grabbing plates and cups from the kitchen for Changbin and Jeongin to set on Chan's large coffee table.

You opt for a seat on the carpeted floor, next to the spot on the cream-colored couch where Minho left his phone, feeling more comfortable this way since the table is a little low for your liking. They come back a few minutes later, and you smile up at Minho when he reclaims his seat on the couch.

"Hi." He smiles back, smoothing a hand over your hair in greeting.

"Hi," you say. Even a touch so simple warms you up from the outside chill you were in mere minutes ago. No one else notices his lingering hand on you, or it's just such a you and Minho thing to be mildly affectionate with each other that the others don't care to comment on anymore.

You all fall into easy conversation soon after everyone starts digging in, chatting amongst yourselves as you always do. You and Hyunjin lament about your respective projects, reiterating the frustration that you've already expressed through your texts for the zillionth time. Chan and Jess nag Jeongin about introducing his girlfriend to the group, to which the younger one responds with an exaggerated groan as one would when their parents ask about grandchildren, though he does placate them by promising to bring her along the next time there's a party.

You don't care enough to tune into Minho's conversation with Changbin and Felix about the new gym they started going to. You do, however, catch Changbin's attempt to tease Minho. A playful scoff, followed by, "Minho lost his abs ages ago."

Your response is automatic and therefore, it doesn't warrant much thought from you before the words are tumbling out of your mouth. "No, he has abs. They're still there."

You don't recognize the weight of your words until you notice all chatter has halted, and you look up to find all eyes on you.

"How do you know that?" Jeongin is the one to voice everyone's collective thought, puzzled, a little surprised.

"Yeah, isn't Minho notoriously weird about that stuff?" Felix adds.

You blink in a daze, and you don't know if your face is reddening because of embarrassment but you sure hope that it isn't. The mouthful you're munching on gives you a reason to stall, your reputation of being a slow eater makes the excuse more believable when you don't answer right away.

As subtly as you can, you nudge Minho's leg with an elbow. He just laughs, though you're pretty certain he can tell that you're internally freaking out.

"I was walking her home from class a few weeks ago and we got caught in the rain. She let me come up to her apartment to change," he says calmly.

You remember that day. He was walking you from campus back to yours, so that part was true. But it didn't start raining until you were both sheltered in the comfort of your apartment, with him on top of you as he fucked you nice and slow on the couch. You didn't know when the rain stopped, but it must've been some time during your shower that you offered him to join with the innocent intention of cleaning yourselves up and saving water, only for him to end up on his knees with his face between your legs and his fingers buried deep inside of you. He'd made you come three times that afternoon, then took you out to udon afterward.

"And you just... changed in the middle of her living room or something?" Changbin asks, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Minho shrugs, completely nonchalant. "Yeah."

The silence in the room persists as you swallow down the bite. Their stare lingers on the pair of you, then they turn to look at each other like they're speaking a secret language that you're unfamiliar with. Why is it such a scandalous thing for you to see Minho without a shirt? You've seen your other guy friends shirtless numerous times before, when all of you are hanging out in someone's apartment on particularly hot summer days.

Though, they aren't wrong. The arrangement between the two of you muddles your memory, but you don't really remember seeing Minho flaunt his bare skin often before.

You're about to squeeze out a weak response to aid Minho's explanation, but your friends just start nodding along in acceptance.

"I guess that makes sense. If there's anyone who would see him naked, it'd be Y/N."

This definitely makes you blush. Minho laughs again.

"What?! I did not see him naked."

Well, look who's a liar now?

"Y/N, and whoever he's banging," Hyunjin supplies, which seriously doesn't help the flush on your cheeks at all.

"Why would it make sense that it was me?" you protest.

"Because you're his favorite." Jess is the one who answers, to which the rest of your friends all hum in agreement. The way they're reacting makes it seem as though it's just a fact of life that you're Minho's favorite, and that whatever boundary he lets you cross or whatever rule he breaks when it comes to you is simply a result of this fact.

Not once has it crossed your mind that everyone might have a favorite person in the group, but now that it's been said, you quickly conclude that Minho would be your favorite too (your secret arrangement notwithstanding.)

You glance up at him, seeking reassurance with a curious blink. "Am I?"

"You're alright," is what he tells you in lieu of a confirmation. "The least annoying one."

And you don't know if it's the way he speaks ever so gently when he looks at you or how his lips curl up in a knowing smile that sends a tingle of warmth down your spine. Or perhaps the culprit is the softness in his sharp eyes that makes you a little dizzy, makes a pair of butterflies go rampant at the pit of your stomach, as though they're prepared to soar when the ardor of spring begins to thaw the winter frost.

Chan laughs, "That's practically a declaration of love from Minho."

At one point, Hyunjin looks around and comments with a mouth stuffed full of pizza, "Wow. We are literally perfectly divided."

All eyes fall onto him, clearly no one is catching his drift.

Hyunjin swallows his food and washes it down with a big sip of beer before gesturing vaguely at the group, "All the singles are on the floor."

You look at the people on the couch while they stare back at you, Hyunjin, Seungmin, Changbin and Felix sitting comfortably on the fluffy rug.

"I'm single," Jisung says, pointing at himself. "Should I get on the floor?"

"No, you're not," Seungmin says flatly.

"What?"

"Didn't you get back together with your ex girlfriend?"

"What?" Jisung practically squeaks out. "Man, what are you talking about?"

"I live with you. We literally share a wall. I heard you last week. The whole two hours."

“You were home?!”

"My shoes were by the door. I had dishes in the sink. I went to the bathroom to pee several times."

Jisung gasps, growing redder and redder as more eyes start diverting their attention to him. He opens his mouth only to promptly close it as he thinks of what to say. Repeats the process a few times. "We didn't hear you. You never said anything," is what he settles on stuttering out. Then, "Why didn't you bring it up? Why do you have to air out my dirty laundry now?"

"It's more entertaining to embarrass you in front of everyone." Seungmin shrugs, and ignores Changbin's subsequent comment calling him a pervert. "And no wonder you didn't hear me. You were going at it like you were rabid."

"Wait," Jeongin says, "when did you even get back together?"

"We didn't. It's complicated! We're just… y'know…"

When Jisung trails off sheepishly with the bright blush still apparent on his cheeks, Minho cuts in, finishing his sentence bluntly, "Boning."

You send him a glare from where you're seated on the floor, to which he just gives you a lopsided grin and nudges you with his knee.

While everyone else is busy bombarding Jisung with questions on potentially getting back together with his ex, Minho quietly slithers down to the floor like a stealthy cat, squeezing himself into the space between you and Felix. Minho rests his arm behind you on the couch, leaving it stretched out comfortably on the cushions, just lightly touching your back. Usually, when you two are alone, he would have his arm wrapped around your shoulders so he could pull you close, until you're safely tucked into his side where you would remain on most of your evenings spent together. But for now, he leaves his arm where it grazes you only slightly as you sit among friends, with the exception of his hand reaching to play with your hair once in a while.

"Hey!" Hyunjin practically screeches, pointing at Minho when he notices. "Why did you get on the floor?"

"What?" Minho asks innocently. "You said the singles are on the floor."

"You're not single. You have a girlfriend."

"I don't have a girlfriend."

Hyunjin scoffs. "You have a sneaky link."

"Hmm, not the same as a girlfriend."

"Why can't you just tell us, man? There's gotta be something else you're hiding."

You stay quiet, still as a statue while they bicker back and forth, like the mere motion of your breathing could give your secret away. You don't doubt that Hyunjin has been hounding Minho about his new discovery ever since the night of Yeonjun's party, but Minho seems unfazed about it, evading Hyunjin's badgering with a calm composure that's distinct to no one else.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom, quickly shuffling away as if your absence at the table would help make things seem less suspicious for Minho. You splash some water on your face, wait for a while until it feels like an appropriate amount of time has passed for them to have already moved onto another topic. You are, quite literally, hiding from your own friends.

Moments later, you re-enter the room with gentle footsteps and a certain tension in your spine, but you soon grow relieved when you find that the conversation has somehow shifted to Seungmin and his on-again off-again not-girlfriend, about which he just seems kinda sad for a few seconds before he's telling everyone to fuck off and mind their own business, always quick to conceal any and all emotions. He's similar to you in that way, you suppose.

You sit back down next to Minho who's still on the floor, though you put a little distance between your bodies that wasn't previously there. You don't know if it's enough to be noticeable, but he does look at you for a brief moment before leaning a bit closer, asking softly so only you could hear, "Walk you home later?"

You embark on the familiar route from Chan and Jess' place back to yours. It's not that late, barely even 10PM on a Friday night, but the streets are almost deserted. Barely anyone tipsily roaming the streets with their friends in tow; just a few cars passing by every now and then. You relish in the peace and quiet, sighing softly to yourself as you walk in the crisp evening air.

Minho takes casual strides next to you, letting his hand brush against your hand for a while until his pinky finds its way around yours. The tranquility of the city is nice, but being with Minho is even nicer.

Just some of the stars have come out to play, though the way they gleam and glimmer is enough to make up for what they lack in numbers. It's easy to get lost tonight, when you're looking up at an infinite sky with little light and only Minho's pinky hooked around yours like an anchor to guide you back home.

In the grand scheme of things, you're just a speck of dust. You're young and confused - 23 is still a child in your mind - and most of all, you're insignificant. Not in a self-disparaging way. Maybe in the literal sense of the word would be more accurate.

You are insignificant, merely a face among billions of faces. In a crowd of hundreds, or maybe only dozens, you're not someone who would stand out and be picked. Sometimes, it's nice to blend right in and hide in plain sight; you don't particularly enjoy being under the spotlight anyway. But sometimes, it's lonely to be just a drop in the ocean. You could sink right to the bottom and no one would even notice.

Maybe that's why you enjoy being around Minho so much. He makes you feel safe, and seen, like you matter in the end. He makes you feel like if you were to disappear one day, there's a person out there who would go to the ends of the earth in search of you.

You hope that he sticks around, that he wants to be in your life for as long as you can have him. You're not sure what it is that makes you sick to your stomach at the mere thought of losing him; perhaps because you know you will never come across another one like Minho in your lifetime. There's nobody else that can make you feel the same way he does.

I don't want to lose you. You're the only good thing I have.

An intersection, two left turns, and your apartment building comes into view all too soon.

"Wanna come up?" you ask bashfully. The streetlights do a good job at masking your light flush.

"I can't tonight," he says, a little apologetic. "I'm going to my parents' house first thing in the morning."

"Oh." You're disappointed for no specific reason. Sure, you were practically glued to Minho's side for most of the evening, but you were also surrounded by the very friends who are unaware that you two have been sneaking around behind their backs. It's been about over a week since you hung out with him alone, which isn't that long ago by any means, but still. "For the weekend?"

"Yeah, just for the weekend."

There's a selfish urge, just a tiny one, to ask him to come for a while anyway, maybe only twenty minutes or so, but you swallow it down and wave it away. "Okay, have fun. Say hi to the cats for me."

"I'll send you pictures," he tells you. "They miss you, y'know."

You smile at that, laughing a little. "They've met me once."

Last fall, you and your friends all took a weekend trip to Minho's childhood home for his birthday. It was fun for you, though you're not sure how much his parents actually enjoyed it, considering they had to house and feed almost a dozen kids that weren't their own. You remember the cats, of course you do, and how Soonie took an immediate liking to you, how he mostly hovered around your personal space whenever you were in the house.

"No, seriously. My mom says Soonie meows your name once a day."

You throw him an eye roll, accompanied by a light punch to his shoulder.

"Goodnight, Min," you say. "Text me when you get home."

"Okay."

Even after that, the two of you still stay rooted to the spot, your pinkies interlocked. Minho's gaze doesn't leave your face, and for a moment there, it feels like most of the stars didn't show up because they all left to gather in his eyes.

"Can't go up if you don't let me,” you quip, glancing at your hands, knowing full well that you can easily retract your finger if you want to.

His eyes stay on you for just a moment longer. "Let me kiss you," he asks softly, releasing your pinky only to take your hand in his, tugging you closer until you’re all up in each other's personal space.

You blink at him, your heart caught somewhere in your throat. You're close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. "Min…" you murmur but you don't actually know what you want to tell him, so the nickname hangs like an idle lantern in the bubble of space between your faces.

"Just a goodnight kiss."

"Friends don't kiss," you say meekly, reminiscent of your conversation over a week ago.

"Friends don't have sex either," he repeats.

"But we’re not having sex."

"You asked me to come upstairs. What do you think we would've done?"

And he's right. If he had agreed to come up, then you would probably be pressed against the door right now, with his hands trailing down your body, removing every article of clothing they find, his lips kissing every exposed patch of skin along the way.

Minho would've been kissing you regardless - anywhere and everywhere, and you wouldn't have had any qualms about it like you do right now, even though you want to kiss him too.

"Maybe I wanted you to come up to make you peel tangerines for me while we watch a movie."

He says nothing to that, only grins amusedly and leans in to nudge his nose against yours. It's so cute that you can't help but mirror the quirk of his lips. You're sure that no one else gets to see this version of him - the one that boops you like an overly affectionate cat and smiles like you're his favorite person not just in your little group, but in the whole wide world.

"I haven't kissed you all week," he murmurs, his voice so gentle in the quietude that surrounds you. "You were right there but I couldn't kiss you all night."

You lose yourself in his brown eyes, the same eyes that hold nothing but sincerity and fondness for you. The stars here are brighter than the ones overhead.

"Let me kiss you," Minho says, "please?"

You cave. Of course you do.

The first glide of his lips over yours has you weak in the knees. Something sinks in as he kisses you deeply. Under the streetlights, not surrounded by your familiar four walls like a long lost secret but out in the open where anyone can see, even though there's not a single soul around.

Again, tears well up behind your eyelids the same way they did that morning you woke up next to him for the first time. You don't know what it is, never felt this way around anyone except for him. It's akin to the feeling of finally coming home after being away for a long time, or at least that's what you think that's how it would feel.

You don't want to be caged in by the walls of your own making. You want to be seen, and you want to be seen by him. You're the remnants of snow and ice stuck between cracks in the sidewalk, and he is warmth. You're a mosaic of a daffodil garden caught in an endless winter, and he is spring. Minho is the brief but wonderful moment when cherry blossoms have yet to fall from their branches, but green leaves are already growing impatiently, resulting in the beautiful coexistence of pinks and greens if only just for a few days.

You let him kiss you until you're both out of breath, let him wrap his strong arms around your body and hold you like he could mend all of your broken pieces. Maybe he could. Maybe you'd like him to make you whole again.

When Minho pulls away, he doesn't stray very far. He puts enough distance between your faces so you can catch your breath. But even then, you have a hard time getting air back into your lungs. He's looking at you like he would pick the moon for you if you asked, like moving mountains is no more difficult than peeling tangerines for you whenever you get a craving.

The streetlights are dim, but the stars in his eyes are bright enough to tell you something that his words don't.

It hits you all at once, in a moment where even the wind is still, as if it's been reduced to a mere spectator, watching the two of you with bated breath on the sidelines. The tipping point can be something as simple as him asking - almost pleading - to kiss you goodnight with no ulterior motive, no other intention than because he wants to. As though it would kill him if he had to go another minute without kissing you.

You realize why he's the yellow to your sea of blues, why you're so happy every time you look at the bracelet on your wrist. You realize why you feel so safe around him, why he makes you experience emotions that no one else can. You realize why you don’t like hearing about Hana, or any other person in the same sentence as his name with the implication that he could be romantically involved with them.

You realize why you kissed him for the first time all those months ago, and it wasn't because you were sad and he just happened to be there and let you cry on his shoulder. The times that your friends would tell you how you and Minho would be perfect together - you wanted it to be true. You knew it was true - that he was someone you could love, the only person who's worth opening up to. You kissed him because you wanted to love him. You realize why it made you soar when he kissed you back, because you wanted him to love you too.

You realize why the thought of losing this friendship terrifies you. You realize why you asked him to stay that night after the party and the club, even though you had never allowed him to sleep over before. You realize why the other week you let him only kiss you and nothing else, and you realize why your heart is hammering in your chest this very second, why your knees are weak, why you can't really breathe here in the middle of an empty street under a moonless sky, just because he's looking at you as if it's not the sun that the earth revolves around but rather, it's a girl who has never learned how to say what she means.

You're good at leaving things alone; it's a skill that you've unintentionally mastered over the years. Nothing has to change if you let it remain the same. And yet, the one exception always seems to be Minho, and you're a mirror of yourself when you're with him. You like the version of you that only he's able to bring out, and he does it effortlessly every time. He pulls happiness out of you so easily that it's hard to ignore what you feel for him, hard to convince yourself that what you harbor for him is still only platonic affection.

It comes bubbling up to the surface without your permission. It strikes you the same way lightning splits open the whole sky on a cloudless night, abrupt and unmistakeable. Love isn't something that you've ever come close to, and you have always been an unbeliever when people answer "You just know," in response to "How do you know when it is love?"

Though as you stand right here, right now, you think maybe this is what love is supposed to look like, personified with starry eyes and shallow dimples when he smiles.

Before he leaves, Minho presses another sweet kiss to your cheek. You're still dazed by the dawning, overwhelmed by the recognition that you can only mutter a stupid "Bye," when he bids you good night.

As you watch him go, there's something else you realize, almost tragically, that you've always been a ruiner. You run away the moment shit starts getting too real, even if it means letting beautiful things slip through your fingers like running water.

Love just isn't something you've ever learned to hold.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 15.04.2024]

[springhrtrap]

lillard!william x reader (1/?)

WARNINGS (pet names, murder, implied kidnapping, noncon, blood, knifeplay, restraints, william being creepy. the good stuff)

edit: chapter 2 is up at my ao3! (link is pinned on my profile)

You inhaled sharply as the cool steel of the blade made contact with your skin, your eyes closed tightly as you jerked your head to the side, bracing for what would come next. A cut, a slash, anything he could do to harm you. You were shaking, holding your breath to remain as still as possible. William tutted, slowly dragging the blade to your chin. He was applying slight pressure, not enough to draw blood, but enough for you to take it as a threat. A whimper escaped your lips. You silently cursed yourself.

"Don't be afraid, darling." William said softly, stepping closer to you. With his knife, he guided your head to face him, taking in the beautiful sight of you. Your cheeks and lips were flushed a deep red, the tears pricking the corners of your eyes glistened in the dim light as your face twitched in fear. You refused to open your eyes, clenching them shut so hard to the point of a headache. Taking in a deep, albeit shaky breath through your nose, you could find your voice for only a moment. 

"Please, don't." You pleaded, barely audible. Your throat cracked from the dryness and you winced in pain, swallowing hard. You weren't even sure if he heard you, until you felt the blade press harder against your skin. Another whimper escaped, this time with a sob that made you shake.

"What makes you think you have any power right now? Any right to tell me what I can and can't do?" William hissed through gritted teeth, grabbing a fistful of your hair, promptly yanking your head to the side, facing away from him. He closed the gap between the two of you, tightening the grip on your hair. The knife dug dangerously into your skin, only a moment before drawing blood. After a moment, he let out a huff of air, steadying himself, trying to regain his composure. William removed the knife as he inhaled deeply, then exhaled a stream of cool air through pursed lips. You regained the strength to open your eyes, if not only for a brief moment. 

You could do nothing but watch in horror as William's eyes glanced up and down your body. He hummed softly before his eyes met yours. With a sharp exhale through his nose, similar to a laugh, he smiled. Almost instantly, you closed your eyes as tight as possible and grimaced, squirming beneath his grip with a shudder. The pit in your stomach grew larger, your heart pounding even faster. Your entire body felt hot with shame, anxiety pooling in your chest, making it even more difficult to breathe. Your hands behind your back wriggled against the restraints desperately, and, to no avail, didn't budge. To that, he let out a real huff of laughter.

"My, my." William let out a sigh before moving even closer to you, hunching over to get up close to your ear. "What am I going to do with you, bunny?" He whispered as he angled his head, his scratched voice dropping dangerously low. He let out a shuddering breath, almost animalistic. William inched closer to your head, his hand now caressing your hair, loosening the previous firm grip he had. The pain in your scalp began to dull, although you could swear you could still feel the imprint of his fingernails digging into your skin. His hot breath bounced off your skin, warming you for only a moment. It wasn't long before his calloused fingers slowly made their way toward your neck, gently caressing your soft skin. "You look so beautiful for me."

'For me', you thought. A sob escaped you, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. The thought of him owning you, you being his new little play-thing made you sick. His hand moved to cup your jaw, gently placing his thumb on your cheek, delicately wiping away a tear. "So beautiful." He hummed to himself. 

William remained there for a moment, lost in thought. It truly was a beautiful sight to him. He reveled in the thought of your powerlessness, of the desperation you must feel, of how you'd do anything to stay alive. His life was in your hands, and that was the beauty of it all. He could take away everything in an instant. Oh, how he would love to kill you, though. Push his knife into your chest, look down at you with a sickening grin. He would force it deeper inside you, inch by inch, watching in delight as fresh blood would pool on the ground, as you would gasp and thrash violently underneath him, fighting desperately to stay alive. You would scream for help, throat bleeding from the harsh yelps. He would twist the knife, pushing it all the way to the hilt before removing it completely. Blood would seep from the fatal wound, soaking your clothes. The last thing you’d see would be William Afton, bloodied knife in hand with a wicked grin. Life would leave your eyes. The corners of his mouth twisted into a smile at the thought, arousal pooling in his stomach. But what fun would that be now? No, he liked to play with his food. Let them think they have a chance. Push them to the edge, see how desperate they can get. Now that was fun. 

William shook his head slightly, forcing himself to the present. He looked down at the knife in his hand, and with a grin, pressed the knife against the skin above your collarbone. "You'll be a good girl, won't you?" It wasn't a question as much as it was a command. You inhaled sharply again, not daring to move an inch. You didn't know what to do, what to say. You simply nodded with a whimper, hoping that it would make him ease up on you, somehow. He was grinning at the state of you. Scared, desperate, begging. He wondered if you'd given up, yet. 

Without warning, he slid the knife against your collarbone, the blade gliding effortlessly, breaking the surface layer of skin, almost instantly drenching the steel with a layer of blood. "Oh my god-" Your voice shook, eyes widening as you watched your own blood seep from the cut. Barely being able to process what had happened, you began to jerk around, desperately trying to break free from your restraints. "Fucking- HELP!" You yelled, whimpering between shuddering breaths, fighting desperately against your restraints. Your breathing was erratic, with every huff of air your voice broke with whimpers and sobs, your heart racing, head pounding You couldn't help but watch, struck in place with fear as your own blood dripped slowly down your chest, soaking your clothes. It hurt, your skin stinging and pulsing from the wound. You’ve never seen yourself bleed this much before. 

-

sorry for the abrupt ending, if you guys would like to see more let me know!! im very shy when it comes to uploading my writing 😭 this is something i just wrote on a whim... he is in my head i cant get him out 💔

[hanetea]

Flowers in the winter

Summary: 6 months of the year I am technically married to Satoru Gojo; and the other 6 months, well... I still am married to him. Word count: 2.6k CWs: Teen!Gojo, he's a warning in itself..., Timid!reader, Reader!POV Canon compliant till I say so, rom-com, slow-burn, how slow? maybe like 3 chapters slow, fluff, angst, eventual smut, no beta, mildly edited This is part 2 (you can find part one here > part 1 )

“I’m sorry” I sniffled as I heard nothing but laughter for mistaking the other person at the end of the line for someone other than himself. But who could blame me!

“How can you, married for two years by the way, not even recognize the sound of my voice anymore? Was 2 years not enough for you?” his laughter finally dying down, and all I could do was to swallow how much this man was just enjoying my perfectly understandable reaction. 

“But for us it barely was two years huh” he says sighing, finally able to breathe after laughing. I pinch my arm a little. I mean after all he was right, it was barely 2 years, hell it was probably only just 6 months of us together.

“Heh, why are you quiet? Cat got your tongue?” but it's moments like these that I wish it was less than 6 months.

“Sorry sorry, I’ll stop teasing” he chuckles as if reading my mind. I pout as I bring my knees closer to my chest. Since he called me he should be able to tell me where to go right? Maybe even pick me up at the train station… I could hear a hearty sigh on the other line. “ so, you're coming tomorrow?” He's going to at least give me an address as to where jujutsu high is right?

“Yes” I said, twirling my hair between my index and thumb. ‘Please tell me where to go-’

“Great! I’ll see you then-” “WAIT!” 

There was a pause of silence between us. Me letting my nerves get the best of me, and unintentionally cutting him off mid sentence. Embarrassment creeps into my cheeks as I try to bury myself with a fistful of my hair, bringing it to the front of my face. I should’ve just asked through text or something.

‘Ahhhh I want to diee’

Gojo clears his throat, breaking the silence. “What’s wrong?” he says in a completely oblivious tone, which only made me more nervous on what to say. 

I try to collect myself breathing slowly so that I can get my words across,

“Um, Gojo, so about Jujutsu tech…” I start but my mouth just shuts on its own, 

“Gojo Satoru is not a kind man”

My mothers warning rings in my head, and my palms start getting sweaty by the second. ‘I should be more polite’ I thought, still trying to find the words to say but before I could add more he gives me a big ‘Ah!’ making me jump a little from the sudden noise.

“Yea! The admission wasn't that bad, though you know that the elders were being such a big pain about it.” he gave a loud sigh to exaggerate how much he hated it, which made me smile, this man does not like being bossed around. 

“Yknow what's crazy tho?” his voice suddenly hushed as if trying to not let anybody hear “there's only 3 students in my class” which gains a small gasp from me “i-including you?” I whisper back. In the same hush tone that he was using, “Including me!” he responds back, I can't even begin to imagine a class of 10 people, how much more just 3? With yourself included? And the worst of it is that you’re classmates with Gojo….

‘I feel bad for them…’ A whole year with him… I can't even begin to imagine how that would be, without missing a beat Gojo fills my silence with little stories of his time at jujutsu high.

“The campus is HUGE! It's very traditional in terms of architecture but I think you already know that.” He continues to ramble, Gojo can really carry the conversation with just himself, and honestly it's comforting to know that he won't get mad if I stay quiet. However…

“Um, sorry Gojo but to be honest,” Gojo turns quiet in the other line, I swallow what timidness I had to get my words across, feeling that the man on the other side is also going to listen to me. “I’ve never been to jujutsu high, o-or know where it is” I finally put out. Gojo still stays silent in the other line which makes me hope he didn't take offense. “...you’ve never been there?” he says softly which makes me embarrassed

‘Was I supposed to know?’ I bite my lip

“M-my mom doesn't really tell me about jujutsu society…” with every word that escapes, the quieter it becomes. Growing up I’ve been told that women have no place in jujutsu society. And my mom reaffirms this belief by raising me as a normal girl as much as possible. Since a woman’s role is to be a wife to her husband, I was kept in the dark about anything that revolves around jujutsu. 

‘I only know some things because it involves Gojo…’ but now I’m starting to think I should know a little bit more, just to keep up with his life… He is at the center of it after all…

“Is that so?” his voice rings clear, in a span of a few months, Gojo’s voice changed. I wonder what he looks like now? This is no longer the Gojo Satoru that I knew a year ago. Will he be disappointed that I, his wife, didn't change at all? Will I be tossed aside, the older we get?

“I can pick you up, which station are you going to?” I shook my head trying to rid of my thoughts that was occupying my head 

“M-my ticket is for Asakusa station, but I can catch a train to whichever is more convenient for you-” he giggles at the other end, confusing me as I don't really know what he found funny “no that’s fine I'll pick you up there.” His voice is so gentle, it almost made my heart leap out of my chest. I can't let myself misunderstand, Gojo didn't mean anything about it. 

“Thank you” I say, barely a whisper, twiddling my toes trying to warm them up  “No worries.” he hummed in response. My shoulders relaxed, as I let go of the breath that I didn't know I was holding. Gojo, despite his obvious status, was very different from the other male authorities that I have the displeasure of knowing in Jujutsu society. He wasn't someone to hold his authority above you unless provoked. Even though we aren't the typical couple, where mutual feelings isn't the thing keeping us together, but societal pressure. I'm happy that we are different from a typical jujutsu marriage. It’s comfortable,

“Gojo Satoru is not a kind man”

But I'm okay that it's him that I have to be with.

“Goodnight (y/n), I’ll see you soon” he says one last time before hanging up.

I heave a heavy sigh, dropping my phone to the side, My other hand playing with my hair. I really ended up having a casual conversation with Gojo… ‘Gojo is so easy to talk to… I mustn't be swayed’ I thought. The more comfortable I am, the more I am able to make mistakes. I don't think he’ll be pleasant when that day arrives.  I imagine a cross Gojo, but it seems like it's hard to picture what that looks like. I twiddle my toes more just trying to think. Instead, a picture of an more diabolical Gojo came to mind, ‘No, I think he will just endlessly tease me if I do… ahhhhh’ now scratching my scalp, hating the second option even more, I look back towards the picture frame that I previously dropped.

I don’t want the marriage of a jujutsu sorcerer. Constant avoidance, infested with malice, a bitter marriage that would’ve been better off separated. ‘I don't want that’ But if that was the fate that I was preordained to have…

I pulled the picture off the frame and folded it into my wallet. Giggling as I see his little pout still peaking through.

‘I mustn’t feel anything for Satoru Gojo’

I placed my wallet into my bag, I'm now fully packed, ready for my journey… my 6 month long journey, easing my heart in what lies ahead.

-

“We have arrived to, Asakusa station” 

I inhale a lungful of air, waiting for the doors to open. As I'm immediately greeted to the warmth and bustling crowds of Tokyo. 

I hold nothing but just one luggage in my hand, and a small backpack for more personal items to be easily accessed. 

This is the station where I'm supposed to meet Gojo. If he were a normal man, I wouldn't exactly be as worried as I am right now,  it's not exactly hard to spot a 6 foot something with unbashful white hair and a pair of intimidating stark black glasses but with the lack thereof and with his track record of tardiness to multiple events. It doesn't take rocket science to deduce that I may be waiting here for a bit.

I heave a heavy sigh, one that often is released during an intense exam season. Feeling an intense load of anxiety suddenly turning at the pit of my stomach.

‘I wanna go homee’ I sob inwardly walking around the area that's within reasonable reach from the waiting deck, so that I can be easily spotted just in case the unreliable clan leader decides to swing by and save me from the predicament that he himself caused.

I find an empty bench to occupy as I wait for the time being. I tug my sleeves a little as I start to feel a chill, what a perfect welcome to the winter season. 

Ping!

I felt my phone vibrate as I open my phone I saw that I've received a message.

My eyes widen, it was a message from Gojo.

Gojo 10:15am

Sorry, the mission took surprisingly long, I'm 10 minutes away from the station did you just arrive?

I look at the message for a little bit, feeling relieved and a bit embarrassed that I assumed that he was just being leisure With his time when in fact, Gojo was a man who's always short on time with how busy he was.

But regardless he still found the time to help me when I'm in need.

You 10:16am

It’s okay, I've just arrived anyway. Take your time.

Was that too casual? Despite being similar in age I have a hard time talking to Gojo since I was taught to respond formally, but since Gojo hates tradition I was told by him explicitly to ‘ease up’ 

Ping!

I looked at the notification, it was a reply from Gojo 

Gojo 10:17am

10 seconds

“Eh?” I accidentally said out loud, but before I could ask what he meant he sent another message

Gojo 10:17am

5 seconds

By now I think I was sweating bullets, what do these mean? And why are they so ominous?

I felt a single tap on my shoulder making me to jump in surprise, I turned around and was immediately greeted to a wide grin.

“ It's been a while ” he's still as big as ever, I scramble to my feet feeling my soul leave my body just to race back inside to regain control. Gojo, despite saying he’ll arrived in 10 minutes arrived in less than a minute, and yet not a single hair was out of place or a single sweat roll down his face. Effortlessly he looked pristine and perfect. While a single tap made me look like a rag doll ready to be washed. 

“Did I scare you?” he chuckles as I feel my face with my hand to realize not only am I sweaty, my cheeks were also hot from the shock.

“I- I” stammering finding no words to say as my head was a jumbled mess. Standing in front of me was no Gojo I met from when I was 15

This was a different one, a leaner, taller and older Gojo, if his looks didn't kill me before It will kill me now.

“Wow! You haven't grown an inch!” he says while taking my luggage off my hand. While his eyes continue to inspect me. We stand with a fair distance away from each other but his domineering figure if it were to topple over would bury me whole “You look like you still sleep with a nightlight”

“I-I do not” I defend myself from the embarrassing accusation.

But I still do, every night.

‘ahh this man is too much’ I bring up my hands to fan my warm face, I can tolerate Gojos teasing but I get easily embarrassed and it shows on my face which I believe he has much delight in seeing by getting a rise out of me. I prepare myself for a wheeze or a chuckle from him, a sadistic reaction at least to come out but instead I felt a gentle cool touch my cheek. It was a hand, his hand. 

“Gojo?” I was shocked at the sensation that the name just rolled out of my tongue. 

I looked up to him and saw that he was staring down at me still wearing a smile. But it was different, my breath hitches on my throat. His glasses were still blocking his eyes, but compared to before, his smile was gentler, and his face had completely softened. 

He continues to move his hand to cup my cheek, making me squeeze my eyes shut from the sheer cool of his palm. His cool hand was a stark contrast to my warm skin. Which contributed to the growing embarrassment rising with every touch.

“But you’ve changed…” he said, tracing my lashes with his thumb as I kept my eye shut. “Your eyelashes got longer…” his hand,  never leaving my face caresses my cheek, leaving specks of cool on my skin everywhere he touches. He moves my head gently as if trying to observe every nook and cranny, Not really missing a single area, feeling like he wouldn't be satisfied till he saw everything. He slid his thumb down my nose bridge, outlining it. “Your nose is still the same” he gives a little giggle before sliding it down lower, his thumb now ghosting my lips, I puff a breath on it from the cool that it radiates but it doesn't move. Only keeping a distance, never truly touching me.

“You look good” he says softly, he moves his hand away to push some hair away from my face, and tucking it gently behind my ear before giving my earlobe a little pinch that made me flinch. 

The reaction only making him giggle as he gives my nose a little poke with his finger before shifting the front of his body away from me, while I was left with the sight of his broad back. “let's hurry before we miss our train” he moves with long strides.

I stand there completely frozen, my brain not really understanding what just happened until it starts crashing down to me like a tidal wave. I covered my mouth before a scream exploded out of my body. 

‘What was that? What was that?’ my brain was in a jumbled mess that my knees gave out and I'm left crouching on the ground. 

My heart was doing somersaults with the way it's beating. Being awestruck by how much he changed was one thing, but being caressed was a whole different story! 

“Pardon me~” I felt a strong arm slither around my waist. In an instant, my entire body was hoisted off the ground with much ease. Gojo stands there carrying me like a duffle bag. He looks down at my pitiful state but not really minding it.

“As much as I want to enjoy your reactions, we have 3 more trains and a bus to catch” the silver head beams a wide smile while announcing this, my eyes furrowed in confusion.

‘Why do we need to ride 3 more trains?’ He gives me a toothy grin as if reading my mind.

“How else are we going to reach Jujutsu high! It's all the way on the other side of Tokyo from Asakusa station.” His legs start moving as he carries me in the same awkward position. 

“EXCUSE ME?!” Gojo only laughed in response.

[midgardian-witch]

the lyrics of lilies by ethel cain are so moon boys im gonna die

After almost a month I finally got around to your ask(s), anon! I listend to the song and read through the lyrics (because I didn't know that song before) and I have to agree. It's very moon boys flavored 👀

So here we go: a little drabble inspired by that song. I have never done a songfic or something soley inspired by a song before so this was a new experience. I did have fun tho 😄

This is also not a linear story in any way, shape or form. This is really more vibes than anything else. Also almost kind of poetry-like in a way? 🤔 Idk but i kinda like the style for this.

A Wondrous Thing

tags: friends to lovers (hinted) | established relationship (hinted) | angst-y fluff | mentions of blood | gn!reader

ships: Steven Grant/Reader, Marc Spector/Reader, Jake Lockley/Reader

AO3

Edit: added AO3 link

It's the way you smile. 

Steven loves the way the whole room seems to suddenly look brighter, how he feels warmer, how every sound rings sweeter when you smile at him. 

The way you tilt your head encouragingly when he catches himself in yet another rant about Ancient Egypt. He stops himself just looking at you silently asking him to go on with a soft smile on your face. 

The way your eyes shine when you're laughing about one of his more-or-less unintentional jokes. 

His fingers twitch every time with the urge to pull you close and hold you tight. He wants to embrace you and never let go. 

But he can't. You're his friend and he can’t risk this. 

But you know. You see every twitch, hear every sigh, feel his eyes on you when Steven thinks you're distracted. 

So when you lean in, close the gap between the two of you for the first time, his heart is all but beating out of his chest with joy. 

-

It's the way you carefully treat the wounds the suit couldn’t heal in time. 

Marc loves the way your fingers run over his skin so softly, like he was made of glass or porcelain, ready to crack with the slightest pressure. Like he was something precious to be kept safe. 

It's the way your eyes grow soft when Marc returns to your apartment through the open window in the middle of the night. He can feel you checking him for injuries, checking if you would need to get the medkit stashed in the bathroom. 

It's the way you hold him after a long night, making sure he is safe and real and alive. You lay your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, your hands holding onto any part of his body you can reach as you pull him into your embrace. Marc can feel your tears soak through his shirt. 

He knows he is going to hurt you in the long run. For how much longer would you be able to deal with him and all his bullshit? Marc knows he should let you go, save you from the constant fear and worry. But he can't. He is weak. 

But you know. You know how much Marc worries about being too much, about hurting you, about being a bad person. 

So you tell him "I trust you," and you feel him melt under your hands. "I'm here for you," and his breath catches in his throat. "You're safe with me," and you hear him sob. "I love you," and you see the tears running down his cheeks. 

-

It's the way you always know it's him. 

Jake loves the way notice even the little things. A soft kiss to his jaw when he cut himself shaving. A new pair of leather gloves that is placed wordlessly next to his things when his old gloves start to fall apart from use. 

It's the way you treat him as his own person. You never compare the three of them even if they themselves do it quite often. They want to be the best for you. You're their angel and you deserve everything. 

It's the way he would do anything to keep you safe. Jake is glad you don't see the blood on his hands, the violence he is capable of. You can never see that. He would kill for you, he would die for you, and you could never know.

But you know. You know what Jake is capable of. You know the pain and guilt he carries, that they all carry. And when you see Jake sit by the window, a cigarette dangling between his fingers and his eyes staring into nothingness, you hold his hand. And you don't care what he has done because you know who he is. You know that he would never hurt anyone innocent, never kill anyone out of malice. You know he would never hurt you. And you would always hold his hand, blood stains and all. 

-

It's the way they look at you like you are their one and only. Like you are their salvation. Like you are everything they could ever need. 

It's the way you never want to be apart from them; how you want to be with them until the very end. 

It's the way your heart skips a beat when they smile at you, when they kiss you, when they undress you. 

It's the way you can't believe how lucky you are. 

What a wondrous thing to be in love.

[angelofverdum]

Station 19 6x15

What in the fanfiction just happened? Like damn, I was so not ready for that. Do you think I could focus on anything besides Maya and Carina?

We finally got a shower scene and Danielle and Stefania really made the best out of it. A couple of things gagged me during this.

1. When Carina took off her pants, and she didn't have underwear? She went on a date without panties? She is a menace.

2. The way Maya put Carina's hair to the side. That kiss was hot. I don't like when they put their hand on each other faces. But I'm not complaining.

3. THAT KISS. Danielle really said let me upgrade that dearborn kiss to the wife version. It was too short, but no cuts, hair, aid cars, or walls. So no complaining.

4. Carina pinning Maya against the wall

4. The Neck kiss. Stefania knew we needed a scene like she had with Arizona on Greys and decided to deliver a better, sexier, and hotter version. I know Maya went to heaven and came back.

5. Three things are hot in this scene: 1. Carina's smile when Maya was going down. 2. Maya keeping eye contact 3. Both of those things.

But this is my favorite shot. All that was fun but the intensity in this The way they are were looking at each other. Damn!

Now the scene after that was so needed. I can't believe they gave us an actual conversation about it. Carina expressed her fears, and Maya listened and apologized.

And this shot. Paris, you are a genius.

Why did they put Carina in a towel tho? So she had something to do while saying all that? She could have said those lines pacing around the room. Because it was so silly the way she was putting her clothes, like she and Maya weren't devouring each other a couple minutes ago.

Other things about the episode:

Maya giggling when she realized what Carina meant by "hot shower" she is such a loser.

Everybody looked so pretty. Maya was glowing, and I didn't know if it was because in the first part of the season, she looked rough or what. But then Andy and Vic looked so pretty, but they are pretty, so.

Then Jack was looking pretty, too (That hasn't happened since season 3 for me). Even Sullivan was looking pretty (I do think Boris is handsome). I think this is a very hot cast, and the makeup department got a raise.

What was that scene with Theo and Alexa? To let us know he is stinky? We Know.

Jaina and Barrett were amazing in this episode. This cast is so talented. I hope they get better writing next season.

Zavier came through with the writing.

I love the slow burn and the pain, but I'm gonna need Carina to put her ring back. It's not funny anymore

Danielle is directing the next episode so I don't expect to have a lot of Maya scenes, but I can't wait to see what's next for them.

People complaining about the shower scene being edited that way, with a guy dying, but I get their vision. It's the parallels of someone dying in a fire and a new life being created in a shower, by Maya getting Carina pregnant.

I'm not complaining but if we could have gotten scenes like this and kisses like that. Why they were always interrupted, and their kisses were so safe.

This is the first time I get excited about Carina wanting a baby. When she was talking about her own practice.

I'm going to stay here until the next episode, btw.

[ugh-yoongi]

your hand is touching mine and i can't stop myself from taking it & Yoongi

thank you for the request! i've had this sitting in my drafts forever, so it gave me an excuse to finish it (and why it's so long dgkjd one day i will learn what a drabble is). i hope you enjoy it. <3

i call this yoongi's romantic comedy of errors.

pairing: yoongi x f. reader

genre: friends to lovers, miscommunication, fluff/comedy

warnings: reader is taehyung's sister, they're coworkers, yoongi is really bad at asking people out on dates someone pls help our boy, some swearing. this was long and i was too lazy to edit it, so if you see any mistakes no you didn't.

wordcount: 2100

taking valentine's day drabble requests here ♡

Yoongi reaches for his wallet, cheeks aching from hours spent laughing.

He’s glad he did this—took a chance, asked you out properly. There’s none of the usual awkwardness that comes along with nights out, none of the dread of having to turn someone down, none of the guilt. No, this had gone well. Better than he ever could’ve imagined, and instead of preparing his trademark I had a great time, but… speech, he’s trying to figure out how to ask you out again without being a floundering, incompetent mess.

But then you reach for your wallet, too, and Yoongi—

“What are you doing?” he laughs, aiming for casual.

It works. You laugh softly, quirking an eyebrow. “Getting my card so we can split the bill.”

The words are out of his mouth before his brain can catch up. “What? I can’t let you pay on a—”

Everything comes to a screeching halt. A record-scratch moment. Because he finally figures out what’s going on, sees the way your eyes widen in panic at Yoongi calling this a date. Surely, he’d been clear enough when he asked you to dinner. He had to have been. He distinctly remembers wearing his best shirt into the office that day. He’d even worn the expensive cologne—the one he’d carefully rationed because you’d complimented it before and he didn’t want it to run out before he got a chance to use it properly.

No, he couldn’t have been that dumb. Still—he wracks his brain, tries to remember how he’d worded it, except now he’s in survival mode and everything’s coming up blank. So he does the only thing he can think of—“I can’t let you pay for your birthday dinner.”—and lies.

What a fucking idiot.

“Yoongi,” you say slowly, like you’re talking to the idiot he most definitely is. “My birthday isn’t for another four months.”

The laugh he forces out can only be described as a hellish witch cackle. “I know that,” he insists, “but I just figured why not, you know! Who says you can’t take your friends to birthday dinners four months early?”

You’re nearly stunned into silence. “But this isn’t even our traditional birthday dinner restaurant.”

“I wanted to try something new,” he answers, even though it comes out more like a question. He had wanted to try something new, and look where that’s gotten him. “Hoseok said this place was nice.”

“Yeah, but Hoseok’s been with his partner for eighty years.”

Yoongi’s laugh is pained, now. No more witch cackle, just the dying wheezes of a man running out of excuses and time. One of his favorite things about you is how smart and unwilling to put up with bullshit you are. A week ago, he never would’ve entertained being on the receiving end of it, but now it’s all he can do to tread water. “Oh, really?” he asks, playing stupid. “I didn’t think this place had, like, partner vibes.”

“There’s a little candle on the table,” you deadpan. “There’s a woman in the corner playing a violin. It absolutely has partner vibes.”

“Maybe I just wanted to splurge?”

Your stare is pointed, gaze full of suspicion. “Did you, now.”

There’s a moment where the light breaks through the clouds. Clarity, and Yoongi doesn’t make the same mistake twice. You’re not buying anything he’s selling, so he’s not going to force it. This wasn’t a date for you. He’ll tuck his tail between his legs and take the loss, and it’ll hurt, sure, and it’ll be one of those things that keeps him up at night years into the future, the embarrassment agonizing, but keeping your friendship intact is more important.

So he just sighs. Hands your credit card back to you and ignores your protests. “Of course I did,” he answers. Tries handing the envelope with just his card inside to a passing waiter, but you throw your arm into the aisle to stop him.

“Quit playing with me and tell me what’s going on,” you snap. “You’re being weird and I don’t like it.”

The waiter side-steps your arm and says, “Please unhand me, ma’am.”

(God, Yoongi’s going to have to triple his tip.)

“Shut up, Taehyung, I’m not even touching you.”

(Quadruple it, by the looks of it.)

Taehyung just sighs. “Fuck you, dude. I didn’t bother you the entire time you were on your date, and now you wanna mess with me when I’m just trying to cash out and go home.”

Yoongi says—“Oh, do you know him?”

—at the same time you say, “He’s my broth—what do you mean my date?”

Taehyung looks at you the way you’d looked at Yoongi. “Do you know where you are right now?”

You snap your fingers. “Because it has partner vibes, right?”

“Definitely has partner vibes,” Taehyung agrees. “There’s little candles on the tables.”

You turn to Yoongi. “I told you!” All he can do is shrug. Candles aren’t really his thing, mostly just ambiance, so what does he know.

Taehyung looks between the two of you, clearly running numbers in his head. How to not lose his tip, probably, or maybe envisioning what Yoongi would be like as a brother-in-law. No, wait—

“Okay, I’m gonna go. This is really weird and you’re both very stupid. Bye.”

You roll your eyes. “Yoongi’s just—”

“I literally do not care who my sister is dating! It’s none of my business!” Taehyung calls over his shoulder, much to Yoongi’s horror and the dismay of the rest of the patrons.

Once he’s gone, the two of you sit in awkward silence. He’s surprised you’re sticking around. The night has turned into an absolute shitshow, and Yoongi wouldn’t blame you a bit for leaving, though the fact that you haven’t has him hesitantly optimistic. Maybe he can salvage this, figure out a way to explain the miscommunication in a way that doesn’t sound condescending, because I’m sorry I thought I asked you out properly makes you sound like a dunce who can’t comprehend when they’re being asked out properly.

What a mess.

It’s not until Taehyung returns with his card, he’s tipped 50%, and he’s moving to put on his jacket do you speak. “Was he right?”

“Your brother?” Yoongi asks reflexively. You nod and his palms get all sweaty. “Um. I’m not really sure how to answer that.”

You snort. “Honestly, for a start.”

“I—okay,” he acquiesces. “Maybe not here, though. People are still staring and it’s making me want to throw up.”

The two of you move to his car. He turns it on and lets it idle, turns on your seat warmer and the heat because it’s cold outside and he’s already sweating buckets so what difference does it make. He’s got the anxiety shakes, anyway. And it’s not lost on him that this is new, too. Before, the two of you always met up in the city. Separate cars, separate ways. He’d picked you up tonight. Right at seven, just like he’d said, so he can’t figure out where everything had gone sideways.

“Okay, I’m just gonna—I did think this was a date,” he says. Feels good to get it out there, he supposes, but the way your jaw drops doesn’t make him feel too great.

You snap it shut. “Oh. Okay.”

He picks at his dress pants. He knows the fabric is expensive but not what it is. The salesperson at the store said it was one of their best and the charge on his card confirmed it. He’d bought three-million won pants for a date and he’d managed to fuck it all up. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Huh? What d’you mean for what. For thinking it was a date when it wasn’t.”

Friendships have survived worse, right? There’s a guy who works with both of you who divorced his wife of ten years and they still go on vacations together all the time, so the two of you are going to be fine. Shit, would Yoongi be able to go to Saint-Tropez with you after a divorce? That’s some heavy shit. That’s almost insane, he thinks. Does he have that kind of maturity? Is it maturity? The guy works in the communications department, so maybe he’s just… good at that? Maybe Yoongi should’ve asked him for some pointers.

“Can I just ask,” you start, and it’s the way you turn in your seat, angling your body towards him, that activates his fight-or-flight. Yoongi’s anxiety is not built for this kind of confrontation. Not at all. “What made you think it was a date?”

“My pants are three-million won,” he blurts out.

“You thought this was a date because… you’re wearing expensive pants?”

He groans. Bonks his head against the steering wheel and nearly has a heart attack when the horn beeps, far too loud for this parking garage. “No, it’s not just the pants. I thought I’d been very clear when I asked you to dinner that it was, like, a date. And then I almost said that and you looked really panicked, like you’d rather be buried alive, so I lied and said it was a birthday dinner even though it obviously wasn’t, and then your brother—and, yeah. I don’t know. Clearly I’m not as good at this as I thought I was.”

“Okay, first of all: yikes.” Yoongi nearly wails. “Secondly: Yoongi, you said you don’t date coworkers! Why the hell would I have thought this was a date?”

“In my defense, I said that a long time ago.”

“And never rescinded it!” you argue back. “Why would I think that’d changed?”

“Well—because!” Your stare is blank. “Because I picked you up—”

“I told you my car is in the shop three days ago—”

“And I’m pretty sure when I asked, I said, do you want to go to dinner with me—”

“Sure,” you concede, “as friends! We always go to dinner together!”

“But…” He sighs, runs his hands down his face. Might as well rip off the bandaid. “My pants.”

“Yoongi, all of your pants are expensive. You make an ungodly amount of money a year.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day?” he tries again.

You groan. “Yeah, and I’m supposed to give you a gift.” You run your hands over your face, and it’s really stupid, Yoongi thinks, because you’re wearing makeup. Did you always wear makeup when the two of you went to dinner? He can’t remember. He knows “no makeup” makeup is a thing, so he’s not all that confident he could tell what is and isn’t makeup, and it hits him for the millionth time this evening how bad he is at this.

“Look,” you continue, “let’s just… go somewhere else.”

“Maybe you should pick, since…” He gestures vaguely at himself.

You nod. “Yeah, good idea. That new ice cream place is close. We could go there.”

Yoongi glances out the window. It’s cold outside. A little gray, too, so it’s probably going to snow, considering it’s the middle of February and it’s been unseasonably cold, even for winter. But it’s not an outright rejection. It’s your idea, and if he dares to think it, the look you’re giving him is hopeful. He’s sure the wires in his brain will overheat and start crackling at the mere thought of you wanting to spend more time with him, so he’s agreeing before he can think twice. If his fucking pants are three-million won, they better keep him warm.

He doesn’t know what to do once you’re out of the car. Does he try to hold your hand? Does he loop his arm through yours? Throw an arm over your shoulders and pull you against his side? He’s already ten steps behind. He’s got a few centimeters on you, but your legs are longer, and it’s a little embarrassing, the hurried waddle he does to catch up. And he must sidle up too close, because your hand brushes against his.

Still warm, even though it’s going to snow. Even though you aren’t wearing gloves. All he can think is that the two of you are on your way to some new ice cream place because you wanted to go there, even though he’s put you through the ringer tonight, so he exchanges his stupidity for bravery. Closes in a little more, smiles when you look up at him and cock an eyebrow.

Because your hand is brushing against his, and he can’t stop himself from taking it.

For the first time all night, he knows it’s the right move when you smile.

[v3nusxsky]

Say it again 18+

*A/n~ this fic has been going round my head all day. I'm exhausted but I just can't rest until I've written it. I'm going to edit it in the morning tho. Prompt list has been posted for you guys too feel free to request anything I absolutely adore hearing from you all*

Warnings~ dom Larissa sub reader, mommy k!nk, safewords, strap on, f!ngering, praise k!nk, degradaing k!nk, oral & just smutty goodness

Prompt- new to your relationship reader and Larissa start to explore just how far they can take things. (Start will be based off my life tw for abuses -sexual kind and non- )

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Joining Nevermore Academy to teach English language was one of your best decisions yet ranking in the top spot. The school saved you. Going through a rough break up it gave you a safe haven. A new focus that helped get you through. The staff are lovely but one particular lady caught your eye. Just so happens the stunning gorgeous goddess is your boss. How does anyone get any work done around her? It's impossible to focus when she's such a pretty picture in front of you. You formed attentive friendship with your boss. First rule of dating... no coworkers.

Months passed and you and Larissa explored your relationship at a pace that felt good for you both. Your dates were always so thoughtful and planned perfectly, she dotes on you, and listened to your wants and needs. As well as being the exact definition of your ideal women. You couldn't believe you got to call this goddess yours. And you hadn't even slept together so she went out with you because she wanted to not just for sex.

Your relationship with Larissa seas so different from the previous one with Alexis. She wouldn't give a toss about you, never tried to get to know you or anything and the had the audacity to take something from you that you didn't want to give. She didn't care if you consented. She wanted. She got. No matter if you said yes or no or awake or asleep she didn't care. So when you nervously suggested to wait before making love you'd expected Larissa to go mad. Instead she didn't, she wrapped you in her arms and just held you. No matter how badly the older women wanted you she would not take without permission. The thought made her own stomach turn.

So you can imagine the little shocked sound Larissa made as she accidentally choked on her wine. "Can we uh talk about likes and um not likes" you mumbled embarrassed, eyes towards the ground.

"Um yes ? Would you like to start?" She offered and was received with a negative.

(Guys here might get a little sexual abuse tw? It's based on a personal experience the least I'll want to do is trigger anyone with my past. I very much am y/n in this so please if anyone has anything like this reach out. It took me three years but I'm now doing okay and you deserve to be treated right)

"Okay darling so I'll start with some things I like okay? So I prefer being more dominant. I like to focus on you but I'm not against receiving. I would prefer to wear the strap but if you wanted to I'm sure we could sort that out later. I like to give my partner a safe word. So they can use it not only in the bedroom when they want to end the session but this could work in public depending on the word. Um I don't mind toys at all... I think that's all" she explained every bit so clearly.

Can my safe word be dove? " you murmured. The word being a nickname you had been called pretty much all your life. You continued "I haven't...I don't know what I'm doing either. But that's okay because that's how you learn. I um I know there's probably um pain involved?" You questioned the fear seeping through your words.

"Dove.. that works darling. So it's discreet enough you could even use it in public to show me you wish to leave an environment or situation if you wanted to. Whenever I hear that word from you I'll try my best to make you feel comfortable." She promised causing a small smile to grace your lips. She really and truly loves you it's plain to see.  "Baby? What do you mean by pain? " her tone heading caution here.

"I um well dominant people hurt their submissives? That's what she always said. It's normal? And if I say no you can still take whatever because your a dominant person?" You trailed off. You really hated your lack of knowledge here. As a teacher your thirst for knowledge was never quenched, so to have this massive gap was slightly embarrassing. Alexis had been a very rough period of your life, one in which you faced many difficulties and lost everyone in your life. Larissa knew of the relationship but none of the details. Truly isolated. No one knew the true extent of what you went through, partly because you still didn't quite understand the extent of it yourself. But if your loves crestfallen expression was anything to go by then you'd assume Larissa was starting to work everything out.

"Oh y/n. No darling that's not quite right. A dominant still needs consent love. It's a mutual agreement between both parties that have limits. So someone might adore being praised where as the other may prefer to be um put down while having some fun. Some people like to be hurt, others don't. Some like to be restrained and others don't it makes them panicky which then takes the enjoyment from such a special act. Do you understand love?" She gathered your hands in hers seeing the tears threatening to fall from your eyes, "I promise y/n when the time comes I'll never do anything you don't want. I like to check in with my partner. All I'll ever want to do is make you feel good my love" her reassuring words wrapping around you like a blanket.

"What do you like?" You whispered out almost inaudibly. "Me? Hmm well I like myself a lot of praise, I like to praise my partner let them know how good they are for me. I'm also not against using degradation with some limits and this is if and only if they enjoy so. I own some restraints and toys but would never use them unless specifically asked for" she trailed off carefully examining your reaction. So far so good. You didn't look frightened or in need to stop the conversation. "My love is there anything I said you don't want?" She queried. You sat in deep thought, her thumbs caressing the tops of your hands. "Um I don't think so? That all sounds rather enjoyable I think. I would like to try." You mumbled a bright red flush adorning your cheeks at the admission. "Okay my love, is there anything else you want to ask?" In which you shook your head just processing the new information. You moved to settle back against your girlfriend in a comfortable silence.

(End of the tw?)

What Larissa was describing sounded rather enjoyable and nothing like what you were thinking. Actually what you were being told made the whole idea rather desirable? You trusted Larissa explicitly and she would never hurt you intentionally that much was clear. Maybe you could give it a try? After all you'd been together now for a while and maybe just maybe you were ready for the next step? Larissa had promised to wait as long as you needed. And true to her word Larissa never made any advances or made you feel any kind of pressure. "Honey? Can we um I think I god this is rather hard..." your embarrassment causing the words to get lost in your throat. "I can we try?" You managed lamely gaze fixed to the flames of fire dancing in front of you.

"Are you sure y/n? You don't have to just because we had this conversation." She murmured into your hair wanting you to know it was not a requirement. "I want to... I want you and to make you feel good. Show me. Please?" You whimpered out in a response. The words reassuring the older women this was a mutual want. You turned around to see her darkened lust filled eyes in the soft glow from the fire. Absolutely stunning. Her lips sought out yours in a sweet yet desire filled kiss. Hands finding purchase on your cheek and the back of your neck, holding you to her. Your hands slipping round her neck in an attempt to get closer. You shifted so you were now sat on her lap, enjoying the kiss she was gladly offering. Her lips trailed your neck up to your ear nipping the lobe before trailing down to find your pulse point. She nipped there lightly revealing in the little gasp you made only spurring her on to repeat the action a little harder. Again the moan was a bit louder in response to her action. You could feel her lips curling upwards against your skin, she was rather pleased at how responsive you were to her simple acts. "Larissa, please" you whined the desire you felt for her now burning like a raging river. Months of wanting her but not having the confidence to do so hitting you like a freight rain.

"Okay my darling, bedroom?" She murmured against your neck not wanting to stop her assault of kisses there. The sounds you were making, simply too addicting for her to ever want to stop. With a quick nod, you were carried to your lovers room and gently laid on the bed. "Darling? Still okay?" She queried in which you nodded too distracted by the way you were feeling for words. "Words angel" she reminded you. "Please" you whimpered under her gaze. With enough consent Larissa stated to remove your clothing one by one pressing light kisses over the new exposed skin. An act you were not use to but was most certainly not unwelcome. Once fully bare for her you started to squirm under her lustful gaze. The power dynamic of you being exposed while your lover looked full composed still in her clothing, riled you up even more. God you needed her.

An inpatient whine filled the room causing Larissa to smirk. "Aw my poor baby, do you need something darling?" She taunted very carefully here not knowing if you'd respond well. To her relief you rolled your eyes and whined at her, "you know I need you please." God you were sexy when you begged her. Making a mental note to try and achieve more begging later Larissa decided to tell you what she planned to do to you and see what you'd like. Her plan was vague but sounded absolutely delightful so you made no adjustments. Kisses were being trailed over your stomach as her hands palmed your breasts. Everything felt so good. And then her mouth found your aching core. A delicious cry of pure pleasure tore through you when you felt her tongue at your soaked cunt. Her movements slow, maddeningly slow as she explored and savoured every moment. Your moans were now falling freely as you brought your hands to her hair. You needed more. This sensation like no other, your lover certainly knew what she was doing. Your first dance with pleasure was brought on by her sucking and licking at your bundle of nerves. Never really feeling anything like this meant your control of the climax was none existent as you fell from the edge. Moans tearing through you as your thighs tightened around her head instinctively trying to hold her there. Only when you came down panting did Larissa move, your mixture of arousal and cum coating her face.  "Want to taste darling?" She purred causing more arousal to rush straight to your core.

You brought her lips to yours moaning at the unfamiliar taste of yourself mixed with her. The kiss became needy and your hands began tugging at her clothing. "Off" you half growled and half moaned against her lips. She chuckled at the needy mess you now were and complied with the request. "So beautiful" you murmured, unable to tear your gaze from her. "Darling are we still okay?" The consistency of her checking in was so adorable and p you and you loved it. You felt so safe and well she'd given you your first orgasm and you'd be lying if you said you didn't want more. "Yes god please I want more"

Only then did she settle between your thighs once more. This time her fingers trailed ever so lightly on your thighs, creating idle patterns. Never quite reaching where you wanted her. Your hips bucked up on their own accord startling you slightly. "Aw is my good girl needy?" She husked at you sensing the confusion you felt at the action. "Mmm please" begging her seemed to get you what you wanted. And all sense of embarrassment fled your mind. It was just you and your lover.

Gently, you felt her long slender finger pushing into your heat. A groan forced its way from your lips. Not registering the volume or really caring. You were absolutely dripping for her. And she added another knowing you could manage if she was carful. Once your body adjusted to the intrusion the pleasure became overwhelming. The need to move almost painful. Sensing your impatience Larissa started to slowly thrust her fingers in and out curling them slightly. God did she have a map of where to touch you? Your second orgasm of the night fast approaching under her skilled hands.  Your moans tangled with her statements of praise and the sounds your slickness filled the room. You desperately began to chase the high. Recognising the feeling from before and wanting it even more. It was the feeling of her talented tongue on your clit that threw you violently over the edge. Your vision blurring as you swore you saw stars. After bringing you back down to earth she crawled up your body once more. You looked absolutely delightful, laid spread, and well and truly fucked and stated.

"You-you never had anything?" You tried to get out and steady your breathing. "I want to please you. Please" you whimpered. "Well darling, what do you think of trying the strap?" She tried cautiously only to be met by a grin on your face as a sparkle in your eyes at the suggestion. "Please" was all she needed to jump into action. Despite this being the first time you'd been touched by your girlfriend, your girlfriend spent many nights with her own hand or her vibrator bringing herself to pleasure with this thought. Taking you with her strap, hearing your delicious moans tumble from you uncontrollably as you took her like a good girl. The thought enough to make her drool.

Soon enough a red strap sat between her strong thighs, your gaze refusing to leave that sight. Commuting it to memory. "Are you sure my darling?" You were transfixed at the sight and she was misinterpreting that for fear. After all she knew this was a new experience for you. "Please Rissa I want to" you reassured her and moved your legs to be more open in a obvious request.

The sensation nothing like anything you could remember. The burning pain at the intrusion nothing like that of her fingers just previous. Tears sprang to your eyes and then you felt her hand clutching yours, her head dropping to your neck peppering kisses there. "You're doing so good darling. I know it hurts, such a good girl for me hmm?" Slowly the pain subsided and an unmatched level of pleasure began to course through you. The sensation eliciting a pleasure filled groan. "Fuck please mommy-" wait? What? Mommy? Did you just call her mommy?

"Oh my darling girl, you want mommy to help you?" She then pulled out gently only to thrust back in setting a steady pace. "Oh fuck god mommy please" starting to become extremely sensitive all you could do is whine and mewl at her thrusts. Both approaching the fall together. And that's how you fell. Together. Screaming out your lovers name as she fell beside you. Only pulling out from your heat once she was sure you had ridden out your pleasure. A slither of pain hit you at the action causing a little pained whimper. "Oh darling I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you okay? Do you need anything? Water? Snacks ? Bath? Cuddles?" Her list seemed to flow endlessly."

"I um what?" You muttered dumbly, your limbs heavy exhaustion quickly creeping over you. "Aftercare darling. Have you never?" She trailed off the question obvious. In which the answer was no. "Cuddles please" you whimpered, your emotions were heightened which caused tears to finally fall. "Oh baby, come here." She gathered you up in her arms and laid back with you snuggled up to her chest. "Mommy has you baby" she murmured into your hair which caused a slight giggle. "You didn't mind that? I didn't even know it escaped." You explained and she chuckled at your reaction. " darling you can call me whatever you wish and it was very hot" she clarified and you mentally settled on mommy, after all it was the first thought that came to you as she was taking care of you. Before sleep claimed you you managed to whisper out "nobody could love me like you do."

Larissa laid there with you snuggled up to her, basking in the after glow of the night. It was an absolute perfect night and she couldn't wait for many more nights with you. After all you were proving to be quite the interesting pretty thing to play with. She wondered how far she could eventually push you. The thought causing her to smirk as sleep claimed her.

Word count~ 3043

*A/n~ I was listening to a song called zero which Inspired y/n's last line the lyrics are

"Do you know there ain't nobody, ain't nobody that make it hot like me."

[chthonion]

State of the author

So in case anybody's wondering, my current situation goes something like this:

Using my eyes on screens or moving objects sometimes makes me so nauseated that I can't function. Not all the time! But way too often.

Medical answers and actual solutions are both going to take a while. Is it a pain free migraine? Is it something else? So far all we've determined is that my eyes are fine! (are they tho)

Edits have slowed to a crawl for the abovementioned reasons.

As I grapple with all of this, people still keep leaving nice comments on my fic and saying nice things to me and just generally making me really happy and I appreciate you all more than I can say even if I'm not currently answering very often!

[pixeliest]

Little skit i did when mw3 got out

Not edited,rushed writing

---------------

Simon was in the kitchen next to the barracks,sipping the last drops of his tea,the warmth of the liquid felt nice while it was droping to his stomach,that little warm drop in his cold body,after this it was even more colder.

He looked at the empty chair next to him,it wasn't always empty,it was never empty next to him.

How would you react when someone who was close to you like a brother died?

How would you react when you tried checking his pulse and felt his warm body turning cold?

How would you feel?

Well Simon didn't know how to feel,people see him as a cold blooded solider,a killing machine.He had no mercy to his enemies,wouldn't even care if he had their blood on his hands.

But having his hands on Johnny's neck and looking for pulse was something else.

He still can't belive that he will never see him again,never hear his voice again.

Right now Price was in Soap's 'old' room,they were cleaning his room and keeping some of his stuff,even though Simon is a strong and brave solider he just couldn't enter that room,neither did Gaz,Price had no choice but atleast Kate was there for support.

Price was picking up clothes on the floor and placing them in the closet,Soap's bed was messy,he thought he was going to bed again.Their shared pictures with Alejandro and Rudy,141 pictures.This wasn't easy to see,or eve think about the plans their made for the future.

He was removing papers from Soap's desk,he saw a notebook,not new but not old.

Then it clicked,they bought this for Soap on his birthday,they all knew Soap was an artist.None of them really knew how art goes so they bought him a maths notebook and not a thick sketchbook,but it didn't matter to Soap,he was happy no matter what.

He picked up the notebook and gave it Kate "Give this to them" Price sniffed and avoided eye contact.

Kate understood and took it.She left the room and looking around.and saw Gaz walking past

"Kyle" Kate gave him a small smile, "Price wanted me to give this to you" she handed him the notebook and Kyle reconized it in a second.

Kyle gave her a small nod and took it "Thanks"

Kate nodded back and went back in the room,Kyle opened it and already saw some sketches from Soap.

The first page was them trying out the pens Soap got for birtday,next to them was a little doodle of Price as a joke.The second page had some words and drawings.

The drawings were showing dogs,dogs who bite and could eat you alive,Kyle chuckled because this was drew when Soap got bit by a dog,he remembers that day like it was yesterday.Other sketches were guns and notes about the missions,next page has drawings of a man,more men but they all had the same eyes.

Kyle could sworn he saw those eyes before but never that face,of course that drawing had notes besides them and it wrote "L.t".

L.t?

Oh,yeah.

Lieutenant.

His lieutenant Simon "Ghosft" Riley.

He always bugged Ghost about that damn mask he always wore,askig him to take it off but Simon never listened,until that day when Graves betrayed them so he took off the mask.

These drawings happened before that,he was drawing how he think Ghost looks like.

Kyle smiled a little,he walked to the kitchen and saw Ghost.

"Take a look at this" He left the notebook next to Simon and walked away,even tho it was funny to him that Soap was drawing how he thinks Ghost's face looks like,he was scared to see Simon's reaction.

Simon nodded to Kyle when he walked away and started looking at the drawings,when he saw those drawings.

He felt a sharp pain in his chest.

You know that feelig of wanting to cry bit just couldn't?

Yeah,he was feeling that.

He smiled at the little drawings but still felt an empty feeling.He remembered those missions when they would just fuck around and be goofy.

When Soap was amazed by Ghost's skills.

"I wanna be like you when I grow up,L.t"

But he never had the chance to grow up.

Life was took from him to early,to soon.

"Boys" Simon snapped out of his thoughts by Price.

Kyle walked in again and sat on a chair in the kitchen,Kate walked behind Price.

"You two,I need to talk with you"

How did

"You guys"turned into "You two"

They won't get used to that.

"Johnny was our loyal solider,was our friend." Price said,avoiding eye contact. "I think we all know he would laugh in our face for crying,he wants to be remember by his loyality,his skills,his brave soul." He crossed his arms.

"He would be angry if everytime we hear his name we think about his death,he would rather be happy if we remember some of our missions together,our drinks,our break days"

Simom nodded by Price's sayings.

Kyle saw Soap as a brother,admiring his skills and was super close to him,this will be a tough pill to swallow,but he has to let Soap go.

Price smiled at them to change the mood but it didn't work out.

Price sighed "This is military,people die,it's normal.I saw people die,people died in my hands,some even by me" He chuckled.

"But trust my word,Makarov will get his karma,he won't know what hit him" Price smirked,and Simon chuckled at that.

"We will get his revange"