#corresponding with the reader's state of mind

[konigbabe]

eleusinian mysteries

DAY 7 ⇢ Gangbang Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader x Toji Fushiguro x Kento Nanami x Choso Kamo Word count: 4k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; gangbang; oral sex (F & M receive); p-in-v; anal sex (F receive only); pure filth; fingering; cunnilingus; rimming; deepthroat/throatfucking; praise kink; protected sex; ass slaping (like once); pet names (each one calls you differently); basically 4 men 1 female gangbang Summary: How did you find yourself passed around by four men might remain a mystery; at least it's off of your bucket list now. [Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023]. Divider is mine. A/N: With NSFW Week oficially over with this piece, I wanted to give special thanks to the radiant Fae (@kennedyswhore) for her unconditional support [that kept me from dropping the event], sublime Kit (@vagabond-umlaut) for her encouraging and kind words (that subconciously pushed me to finish each piece), Karma (@kazushawty) who infected my mind with her filth (in a good way) that resulted in this mess (and kudos to her tutorial for this GIF) and to you, who's reading this [series]. Thank you for the support! ♡

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There's a thin line between reality and a dream – which can easily be blurred. Especially when the present blends with the past and gets a hold of the future within its grasp.

"What's this?"

Satoru lies spread wide on the bed; torso bared to the world and stretched out, his physique like an invitation to explore. Especially with the way the moon casts its shine onto the mop of silvery strands that crown his head.

With a soft sigh, you position one knee on the plush expanse of the bed, flicking your eyes on your lover. His curious fingers dance towards the petite diary on your nightstand; a beacon of secret desires nestled in the soft glow of tonight's moonlight.

"A journal," you reply, "of sorts," the mumble that leaves your lips is faint, tinged with skepticism. Unease. Shame maybe – even.

"Can I?" With the book already ensconced in his slender fingers, he throws you a questioning look. Seeks your permission. Your silent approval is conveyed through a gentle dip of your chin.

Satoru unfurls the pages. Flips through them. Hair clinging to his forehead, eyes darting across each paragraph and list; he takes his time reading, studying each entry. Flipping through the pages, you notice the crease between his eyebrows deepen as he reaches the last page.

The last page.

There are no hidden feelings between you. You are an open book for him – now in a more literal sense than ever before.

"This page's interesting," he mumbles to himself, yet his words reach your ears clearly. And you know what he means. A warm flush sweeps across your cheeks, causing your eyes to divert towards the sheets, where your nervous fingers fiddle with the fabric, "is this a bucket list?"

His utterance is clear, and you grasp the implication quickly.

"Yeah, well, everyone has dreams."

You feel the bed on your side dip. Satoru shifts, sits up, the sheets cascading around his lithe waist. Warm breath fans over your cheeks, adding fuel to the fire smoldering beneath your skin. His hand finds its way onto your exposed thigh, thumb caressing the damp skin.

"Yours are rather," searching for the right descriptor, the hand that was on your thigh now slips underneath your chin, gently lifting it to align your gaze with the deep, cerulean depths of his eyes, "provocative."

Filthy. That'd be more fitting, you think.

The answer on the tip of your tongue refuses to budge.

"I like that," he adds after a while. "And if you want," sitting straight, his face now stands in front of you, a breath away, "we can do number three now."

When you don't respond – only watch his face inch closer, lips hover over the curve of yours – he licks a thin stripe across your lower lip.

"And I can arrange number seven if you want," he mumbles against your lips, pushing your face towards his.

How such a simple conversation led to this will probably remain a bit of a head–scratcher. How Satoru managed to have all of them agree to this will be a mystery. Maybe he has a knack for bringing out people's hidden desires or a way of making everyone comfortable enough to do this.

But these thoughts don't really stick in your mind. Especially with the way Nanami's tongue continues to lick thick stripes over your drenched walls. Back flat against the table, legs up and spread wide. Toji keeps a vice grip on one of your ankles with Choso gripping the other one – the two men keeping your legs open for the blonde man to devour you comfortably.

You'd never imagine there would be a day when all of them would see you like this.

And that there would come a day when you discover the taste of each of their lips; the unique sensation each of their kiss can bring.

Satoru you were familiar with – hungry. Sloppy. Messy. Remaining filled with passion even after years of familiarity. Holding your face with both his hands, cradling your cheeks. Like the first plunge into a lukewarm sea that turns into swirling foam – enveloping and capricious. He always speaks with his entire body; grinding up against you and wrapping his arms around your back. A boisterous lover.

Nanami – Nanami's kiss, on the other hand, is a contrast to Satoru's intensity. It's precise, measured, and full of depth. A slow dance of passion; like the waltz. His hand comes to your face and cups your chin, lifting your head up just the slightest amount of space so that when his lips meet yours, they nestle in there perfectly. His lips meet yours with a calculated tenderness. There's a sense of control and mastery in his kiss, and it leaves you with a feeling of being cherished and understood.

Toji – like a storm. Wild and untamed, coming out of nowhere with an intensity that left you breathless. An untamed force that sweeps you off your feet. Fingers gripping your chin with iron strength, thumb pushing against your lower lip to part for him more. Tongue both demanding and teasing, as if he can't decide whether to be gentle or let the beast out. The taste of danger and desire both eminent on his lips.

And Choso – the perfect blend of sweetness and ardor. His kiss is unexpectedly tender, considering his broad, rough exterior. A hand resting on your nape, not pushing or anything, with the other sliding up and down your arm; making you feel like he had waited a lifetime for this moment and wanted to savor the warmth of your skin under his palms. He tastes like moonlight on bare skin.

So when all four kiss you, the sensation is a whirlwind – a summer storm. A combination of the intensity of Satoru's kiss, the depth of Nanami's, the wildness of Toji's, and the tenderness of Choso's.

"Mmph–fuck," Toji rumbles, teeth showing in a grimace as nails dig into the flesh of your calf. Your fingers tighten around his base when you feel Nanami's fingertips collect your wetness, spread your lips apart before his finger teases your open hole.

You want to answer, urge Nanami to finally let go of the restraints – feeling like hours have passed since he went down on his knees and buried his face between your legs. Yet it's hard to do so when Satoru's cock plunges into your mouth. So deep in your mouth that you can barely breathe as he thrusts it into you; our lips and the back of your throat rubbing raw against its pulsing flesh. You feel him hit a soft barrier and push harder.

Hands slide across your chest. Slick with saliva before the softness of someone's lips envelops one of your nipples. A kiss, soon followed by a nip of teeth. Gentle, exploring – Choso, you guess. Compared to how Toji keeps squeezing the other one. All rough and fast, his thumb flicking over your erect nipple whenever your finger presses against his slit.

"Daamn, baby," you pick up Satoru's mumbles. And with your head thrown over the table's edge, you manage to look up. To see the underside of his chin, see how he's looking up; how his hand continues to caress your hollowing cheek, thumb collecting the tears that spill over your waterline.

A moan slips past the tight seal of your lips when Nanami's finger is finally buried all the way inside your drenched cunt. You arch against him, hips grinding against his moving hand before another one presses down onto your lower belly.

"Don't move, love," Nanami's voice echoes, hot breath skittering over your wet folds moving to your aching nub, "just let me prep you."

You tighten your grip – both of them – which only earns you deep grunts. Choso's teeth swipe over the tender flesh of your breast, over the soon-to-be bruise forming upon his attack. Tongue swirling over the silk-soft skin, making it stiffen with prickly heat. Your moan and twitch at the touch.

Toji flicks your nipple, rolls it between his fingers. Eyes drawn onto the sight before him. On the way your body lies completely bared; body offered on a platter of lustful ecstasy, like a sacred offering.

As Nanami's hand slides inside of you, heat spreads through every inch of your body. His fingers are merciless, relentlessly adding another finger and curling them both up to press against your walls. Searching for that sweet spot, that one point of ecstasy that will have you seeing stars.

"Baby," Satoru whines, thumb pressing against the corner of your mouth to draw your attention to him, "gonna cum. Think you can swallow me?"

Your hands continue to slide up and down Choso's and Toji's cocks, each on either side of you. Satoru stops moving, the throbbing tip of his cock resting on your upper palate. Your tongue swipes over his leaking slit, collecting the briny, pearlescent droplets before swallowing.

"Mhm," you attempt to nod, taking a deep breath through your nose.

"Good," Satoru responds, holding you in place by digging his fingers into the nape of your neck as his cock expands against your throat walls, pushing every nerve ending until a burning pleasure washes over you.

You can feel the heat spreading through your body, coalescing in the space between your legs.

Nanami's fingers continue to massage your walls, pressing against that slightly ridged spot deep inside – the one that tightens your throat, makes you clamp down on his fingers, grip Choso and Toji tighter. Everyone feeling your pleasure rise–

Satoru stills inside you. And you feel him spill. All hot and heavy; flowing over your tongue and melting on your taste buds like an ice cream cone in the summer sun. Tengy but savory.

–and rise until the dam breaks. Warmth flooding your nerves, overwhelming your senses until you surrender to it completely.

Nanami doesn't stop moving. Instead he speeds up, his fingers working you over until you are soaked in sweat; not a single inch of your skin dry or cool.

Fucking you through the first orgasm of the night while Satoru withdraws from your mouth. A feral groan escapes his lips as he watches scant droplets of his cum escape your mouth and rustle down the side of your cheek, smearing the sensuous skin with slick fluids that threaten to drip into your eyes. He leans down and sweeps up the droplets; plunging his sticky fingers deep inside your mouth.

All while the azure depths of his eyes lock onto your hazy gaze, you watching the upside down image of your boyfriend.

"You're so good," he praises, withdrawing his fingers and licking them clean. You can taste it on his tongue; the saltiness, the sweetness of his spent, "ready for the real fun?"

Nanami's fingers scratch your quivering walls once last time. His lips – soft and velour – press against your opening, tongue teasingly licking along the entrance before he stands up.

"Mhm–definitely," you murmur and watch. Watch as Nanami stands up, torso sculpted into perfection. Muscles rippling under pale skin, the veins visible beneath the surface. Your fingers itch, coming closer until the tip of your middle finger nudges against the graven abdomen.

His hips pitch forward upon your touch. Hand tightening around his cock as he gives it a few pumps.

You want it. Want him. Want to feel the stretch as he sinks inside.

"Condoms," Satoru chimes in from your side, stern but only reminding everyone as his hand strokes your cheek. Nanami grips your thighs to spread your legs wider for him. Nodding, he reaches to your side, grabbing one from the small stack of them you prepared beforehand.

With one hand on your inner thigh, her rips open the foil packet with his teeth and rolls it down the length of his leaking cock.

"Ready," he asks to which you nod.

The burn is intense, numbing as you're filled in one smooth motion. His cock feels even better than you imagined it would; slick and hot inside you. You can feel every inch of him, every inch that fills you up. His hands tighten around your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he stays still.

A mewl cascades past your parted lips. Body shifting, seeking more friction; movement. Nanami responds with a roll of his hips – exploring. Testing whether you opened up for him enough. And when he feels the unrestrained slide of his cock inside you, he can't help it any more. At first it's slow, shallow thrusts that have you biting your lip in anticipation.

"Fuck, get it over with already Nanami or I'm gonna explode," you hear a gruff voice.

Toji.

"Y'know," it sounds more like a moan rather than words but all four sets of eyes snap to your face, "I have two holes, don't I?"

Nanami shudders against your cunt, and you could swear he got more swollen upon your words. Choso's eyes snap to Satoru as Toji grabs the bottle of lube from the table. Yet Satoru's gaze lingers on your blissful expression.

"You sure about that?"

When he asks, your chest tightens, pulse gallops.

"She's a big girl, she can decide for herself," Toji responds, hand on your hip. He nods at you and then turns to Nanami, who looks up at him. They exchange a few words, a conversation that passes by your ears.

"Hey–"

"Satoru," you interrupt the man by your side, hand reaching upwards to touch the side of his neck, "s'okay. It's a gift for me after all."

You whimper when Nanami's cock slides out; now feeling the emptiness all over again.

"Gonna move this to the couch," Choso retorts–

Everything feels weightless. Surreal. Each kiss a caress, each touch a fire. Your thoughts are muddled, consumed by the need for him. For all of them.

–and soon enough, your legs are spread wide around Nanami's waist, his cock nestled deep inside you. You move in tandem, slow and shallow thrusts as you straddle him. He leans back against the couch, his head hidden in the nook of your neck; while at the same time, Choso stands behind it, with your lips sealed around his dripping tip.

Toji stays crouched behind you. Any other day, your face would burn over the thought – of having someone's finger up your ass. It's a strange feeling – the steady pressure of his middle finger as he twists inside you. Even with the generous amount of lube, it takes Nanami a few good thrusts and encouraging words – You feel good. Relax for us, yeah? – to get you mellowed enough for Toji to add a second finger and scissor them inside.

All while Satoru stands by the doorframe; fully naked, skin pale with pinkish hue. It feels as if he's glowing, radiant, when your eyes open and he's standing in your peripheral vision.

The motion tugs at something deep inside you. And you moan around Choso's cock. Hollowing your cheeks, tongue pressing flat against his underside as you feel pleasure washing the shame away.

Suddenly, Toji's presence leaves your body. Letting go of Choso's cock, you hold it in your hand, thumb swiping over the sensitive slit, earning you a grunt of appreciation as Satoru's eyes lock onto yours – and you feel a small smile tug at your corners before–

"What–"

Something wet slithers around your rim as Nanami stills once again. Teeth nipping at the skin on your clavicles, your lips press momentarily against the ridge of Choso's tip, tasting the saltiness before you use Nanami's shoulders to steady yourself enough to twist around. To look at Toji, crunched down, hands spreading your cheeks apart with face buried between them. His eyes, verdant windows to his carnal soul, glint in the faint luminescence as they look up at you; you can't help but gasp, mouth running dry. His tongue like fire, skin searing under his touch as he swirls around your ass before pushing inside.

"Wait, I–ugh–"

Satoru shifts in the corner of your eyes.

But somehow, it feels good. So fucking good and delightful.

"Relax, not my first rodeo," Toji rumbles when he pulls away, sinking his teeth into the plump flesh of your ass; then he goes back for more.

"Feels weird," you let out a chuckle, nodding in Satoru's direction, "but good." Hand grasping Choso's cock – who's been patiently waiting for your return – you kiss the side of the burning flesh while letting Toji devour you.

Nanami's hands slide from their spot on your hips, tracing the curves and dips of your body; settling around the globes of your breasts. They squeeze the abused flesh, kissing the tender spots. Hips having mind of its own, you circle them on top of him, causing Nanami to grow into your skin.

For what feels like an eternity, you stay this way – squeezing, warming Nanami's cock inside your dripping walls. One hand resting at the back of his head as he kisses your chest, massages your nipples and caresses your sides. The other hand moves along Choso's length, lips tightly wrapped around it as you bob your head, Choso's hand resting on top of your head, gently urging you to take more.

With Satoru watching over it all.

"Good," a sharp slap, sting on your ass when Toji finishes and stands up, "arch your back for me, kitten." His hand presses against your lower back, urging you into position.

Your body curves into Nanami's, like water around a rock.

Nanami spreads his legs more, opening you when Toji spread more lube over his cock. Tugs a few times to spread the slick, sticky substance over the condom, dipping the fingers in your ass to loosen the upcoming friction more.

You expect pain; pain of being stretched to the limit. Yet there's none when the tip of his cock slips past your rim and slowly slips inside you – further and further, until his hips are pressed against your ass.

"Fuck–good girl, ain't ya," Toji mumbles, more for himself as he feels the heat of your insides hug him tightly.

"You're doing great," Nanami's lips brush against the shell of your ear, tone quiet – just for you. "Wanna ride us?"

"Mmph–," you nod. Fingers sliding along Choso's cock, taking him in your mouth when you start to move on your own accord.

Which doesn't last too long as pleasure increases, makes it difficult for you to find a good pace. As if he can feel your struggle, Toji grasps your hips, stabilizing the pace as Nanami moves his hips.

Satoru watches on with a mixture of curiosity and admiration as Nanami starts to move; his cock sliding inside you with ease, meeting up with Toji's pace. You can feel both their cocks pushing deep within you, adding fuel to the fire inside.

Their hands never leave your body, grasping at whatever they can reach.

"Ah–" Choso's hips stutter the moment his cock breaches the entrance to your throat. You keep going, deepening the movement with each plunge. The sensation builds up in seconds, making it impossible to keep still as he grunts your name, feeling himself nearing the edge. "Gonna cum–ugh– damn."

His hands grasp your face, hips rolling forward. You grasp Nanami's shoulders, letting Choso ride out his high, his cum sliding down your throat before he slips out – spent and satisfied – and watches with grateful gaze as you swallow him down, not leaving a droplet to escape.

"Shit–," Toji speaks up after a second, "you just got tighter," and he grips your hips, moving Nanami's hands out the way as the intensity of his thrusts increases. "Look at you. Always knew you were a dirty one."

You can't even respond, just focus on the intense pleasure coursing through your veins. Pulling away, Choso takes a step back; steading yourself on Nanami, using his chest as leverage, you pull back. Back meeting Toji's solid chest, his hand wrapping around the side of your neck while he brings your head to his – cheek to cheek, lips pressed against your ear.

"Would kill to have you cum raw on my cock alone," he mumbles. And you know the reason for the quiet whisper. You can feel Nanami's hands move to your hips, steadying them as he thrusts in time with Toji. Together they create a perfect tempo, pushing you closer.

"Ah, ah–" you moan out as their combined rhythm sends pleasure through you, building up the intensity until it takes over every inch of your body. Until your walls shudder around them, body tensing before you let loose.

Nanami doesn't stay behind; his hands slide up your waist to grip your ribs. He feels you tense around him, and the sound of your name slipping past his gritted teeth echoes in the room as he drops his forehead to your collarbones. With one final thrust, he spills inside the condom with a groan. You can feel the tension in his shoulders relax; as if a weight has been lifted from them.

Still in haze – eyes closed – you let out a small sigh, feeling the last of Nanami's warmth seep out of your body before the scene shifts.

Satoru has you pinned against the wall, Toji standing behind. His hands grip your hips, pushing his hard, slick cock inside your loose asshole while Satoru moves in front of you, taking your face in his hands – his hands move down from your chin to your jaw, then to the side, to the sensitive skin along the bottom of your ear and your collarbone. The strong wide thumb of his right hand presses against the corner of your mouth, gently.

So you open up. Legs supported under Toji's wise grip, you offer yourself to the two. You can feel Toji behind you, his breath hot on your neck as he thrusts back and forth. Teeth marking your nape, electrifying your sensitive body – still high from another climax mere seconds ago, yet neither of the two stopped –

Satoru's lips move to your wet cheek before he inches closer again, lips ghosting yours until the tip of his tongue finds its way inside your mouth – warm and wet – a silent command for you to reciprocate, and you do. You let yourself get lost in his kiss while Toji's hips crash against yours, pushing you both forward.

The sensation is overwhelming – a mixture of pleasure and pain as both men push against each other, letting out groans of pleasure and grunts of delight that blur the line between lustful and loving. Primal and affectionate.

"Fuck–kitten," Toji grumbles, chest vibrating against your back, "gonna cum."

And even with the condom on, you feel it. Feel the sudden rush of warmth as Toji's cock pulsates inside you. His name sounds like a prayer on your tongue when he stills, flexing his arms and spreading you wider for Satoru's harsh thrusts to reach deeper. Pelvis massaging your swollen nub each time he buries himself balls deep inside your cunt – raw, unrestrained, without a barrier. Unlike the rest.

All while Toji relishes in the squeeze of your ass, the snug fit whenever Satoru hits that deepest spot inside you and bullies his cock in your walls (even if he hates to admit it).

The sensation sends your body into a new frenzy and you can feel the tension building up. Again. Watching Satoru's eyes close, the crease between his brows deepen. Hips stuttering, his hand cradles your cheek as he lets go. Your arms sneak around his shoulders, face nestled in the sharp contour of his neck.

(With all the sensations buzzing inside your body, in each nerve, you don't notice Toji leaving silently.)

A strong arm sneaks behind your back, the other placed on the back of your neck. Hips pushing into your softness as he grunts appreciatively; you feel the slickness flood your walls, paint it pearlescent white. He holds you close, whispers sweet nothings into your ear. Heat rolling over your body. His voice like honey and the sound of it alone is enough to bring you back to earth.

Until it all ends in a beautiful mess. A gluttony of pleasure, skin slick and breathless.

And somehow, you want more.

"Think we can do round two."

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - off the record

╰┈➤ pairing ; white house correspondents!jk x reader

╰┈➤ genre/tags ; academic rivals to lovers, coworkers to lovers, secretly in love since the day he met her, angst, smut, romcom energy

╰┈➤ summary ; The cutthroat world of White House journalism breeds eternal competition. No one knows that better than you, and you’ve got the bruises (and bylines) to prove it. Every question at a press briefing, every exclusive interview, every single headline is a battle. And there’s only one person standing in your way.

Jungkook Jeon.

Your college rival. Your biggest headache. The man who lost valedictorian to you by a fraction of a point and has apparently held a grudge ever since. Now, years later, he’s just as infuriatingly charming as he was back then, only now he has network backing, a primetime slot, and an unfairly good jawline.

You both work for rival organizations, racing to break stories first, stealing sources, and outmaneuvering each other at every turn. Professionalism in public, absolute warfare behind the scenes.

When a political scandal erupts in Washington, forcing you to work together for the first time, the game changes. The truth is, maybe the rivalry was never really about the work. Maybe it was just your way of keeping him at arm’s length. And now that he’s closer than ever… you’re starting to realize: you’ve spent all these years fighting him off. Now, off the record — you’re not sure you want to anymore.

𐙚₊˚⊹ PLAYLIST HERE 𐙚₊˚⊹

[ SERIES — PART SIX RELEASE DATE ; I’M TRYING I PROMISE ]

part one — breaking news and breaking points

part two — top secret arrangements

part three — iced oat milk latte, no sweetener

part four — prom: white house edition

part five — bergamot and cedar

part six — empire state of mind

part seven

part eight

part nine

part ten

extra extra! read all about it!

✎ the first meeting

✎ the rosalie thing [work in progress]

✎ a poorly-formatted slide deck

✎ summa cum laude

✎ award on the shelf

✎ ring of fire

character bonuses!

✎ otr!oc instagram diaries

✎ otr!jungkook instagram diaries

✎ playlist that otr!oc listens to while editing

✎ jeon jungkook’s spotify wrapped

comment if you would like to be part of the taglist!

[codnasties]

mafia!price x mafia!reader 🚬 (🌽 link)

a lot of times, mafias end up operating in the same areas, and that inevitably leads to fights over territory. that's what's going on between your and price's corresponding mafias. and it's been going on for quite a while without apparent solutions.

because the two of you are way too different to see eye to eye, to leave your egos behind for the sake of peace and maybe prosperity. it for sure stems from having different backgrounds. you had been born into it, your father was in this mob life, and so was your grandfather and even your great-grandfather. on the other hand, john had built it from scratch. a young kid with an obscure background that got taken in as a teen, quickly climbing up the other mob's ranks until he got named

that difference is precisely the reason why he sees you as a spoiled bitch with a severe lack of manners. and the thing is, you seemed to prove him right every single time. like tonight, both of you present at a charity gala - good public image is also business - and you didn't even have the decency to talk to him, not even acknowledge his presence.

it made him mad, it was not only about manners, it was the way you didn't openly recognise him as your biggest adversary. it made price's blood boil. it bothers him so much that he ends up snapping - which is extremely weird in him -. quicky pacing to you, the useless things you have as bodyguards not even stopping him, grabs you by the arm and starts pulling you out of the venue. dragging you all the way to his bedroom without being interrupted - because no one dares to -, people looking at him worriedly as you keep screaming at him to unhand you.

he won't hear you out, it's about time someone teaches you manners and respect. throwing you onto the bed and climbing on top of you. grabbing one of your hands and forcing you to wrap it around his throat in a desperate attempt for you to finally perceive him as an equal.

when you refuse to put some strength on your hand and at least try to choke him, he snaps. his own hand around your jewelry adorned neck, his thumb pressing down on the artery running along it, cutting down the blood flow to your head momentarily and also feeling how fast your heart is racing and pinning you onto the bed.

in that second that your mind takes to come down from the lightheaded state, he has already flipped you over and bunched up your dress and gotten himself a good bite of your juicy ass. his face sliding lower until his nose is bumping against the wet patch forming in your panties, taking a whiff of your sweet aroma.

this can only lead to one place: hot steamy hate sex.giving you a good spanking to teach you a lesson before he rips the black lacy thong off your body and kneels himself at your feet, his tongue now exploring the inside of your sweet cunt. his lips latching around your clit as you push his head even further into it.

he makes you believe you are in control, until he almost snaps the straps of your dress getting your tits out just so he can grope them, pinching your sensitive nipples. making you suck on his hard cock, your tongue swirling around his flushed tip. pushing him onto the bed so you can pleasure him better while giving him a good view of your cleavage.

because that's what all of this is about, making you believe you are the one in a position of power between the two of you. and he shows you how easily he takes it back. grabbing you by the waist, pushing you onto your back on the bed, and ripping that dress off your body, leaving you fully naked with the exception of your glinting necklace and earrings.

bullying his bulbous tip into your tight cunt, your walls squeezing trying to not only trap him in but also get more of his thick cock into you. and he fucks mercilessly, using your body however he likes. harsh deep thrusts making you cum as he starts spurting his thick seed in your pretty cunt.

maybe all that will finally teach you a lesson

[thedragonkween]

King Baldwin IV Headcanons! ♔🤍♕

A/N: So, here we are. I could not resist this mysterious and tormented king's charm. His silky voice makes me dream! These are some headcanons I've collected off the top of my head. The Reader is implied to be female and married to Baldwin IV. Please, do feel free to hit my inbox to ramble about our king because I'm literally dying of pining and yearning.

tags: female!reader x baldwin iv of jerusalem (from kingdom of heaven); reader is married to baldwin iv of jerusalem; fluff; slight angst towards the end

wc: 1150k

reccomended songs to listen to while reading: "Summertime Sadness" by Hildegard von Blingin; "Right Here" by Ashes Remain; "Blood, Sweat, Tears" by BTS (orchestral version)

"Many are the tales of the King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem and of his Queen. Despite the varying accounts of their deeds, each one of them agrees on one aspect: the King of Jerusalem loved his Queen dearly, and the world is richer for it".

Baldwin IV is mysterious, intense, valiant, noble and utterly devoted to you, his Queen. But what does this devotion look like?

Firstly, he would believe in you like no other and would always be ready to give you his best advice whenever the weight of your responsibility becomes too much. Foreign rulers would soon learn of your qualities - there would hardly be a piece of correspondence where the King of Jerusalem does not praise the intellect and insight of his dear wife. He would glance at you from time to time, while you both work at your desks sharing the burden of paperwork, silently thanking God for having sent him not only a beautiful, but reliable life companion as well.

He values your opinions greatly and has the utmost regard for your views on political, military and state matters. Disagreements happen, yet your overall values are aligned, which is why Baldwin understands your vision and where your point comes from. During the discussions regarding complex decisions, he would let you speak and explain, then he would offer his honest thoughts on the matter, should he see another, different way from yours. 

Playing chess is a favorite way of spending quality time together in your chambers, away from the chaos of the court. If you know how to play and are proficient at it, he would delight in the thrill of challenge, as he would finally have found a true equal. If you do not know how to play, he would teach you with patience, taking pride whenever you make an unexpected and astute move. He would be such a nerd while he explains the rules to you and would be delighted to see how your mind works when devising a plan.

"Congratulations, dove. You have a checkmate."

I can also see Baldwin taking you on long rides, if his health allows it. He would sweetly check the reins and saddle on your horse before mounting on his steed and leading you away to enjoy the cool early morning breeze, before the heat of Jerusalem becomes too sweltering. You would have a nice and secluded spot to enjoy and to pretend that you are a couple of young lovers without responsibilities and crowns weighing on your heads.

Your presence brings him safety and comfort, which is what would convince him to remove his mask when he is alone with you and the physicians. He would especially love to rest his head on your lap as you gently caress his curls while the physicians tend to his skin. It is a sacred moment. He does not know how he went so long without your presence during this delicate time. Speaking softly to each other, you would distract him from the pain with talk of your hometown, fairy tales from your culture, or even simply reflecting on a happening of that day. On these occasions, you learn how to best take care of him, watching the physician tend to his arm while you tend to the other, delicately dabbing the cloth over his wounded skin. Baldwin feels so protected and safe in your presence. He thinks you are God’s greatest gift to him.

Now, jealousy. Baldwin knows he boasts the honor of having an exquisite flower such as yourself to call his own. As do powerful men and courtiers from distant lands. Many covet your loveliness as one would a precious gem. Should one of these foolish people try to take you from him or even stare at you for too long to be considered proper, they would be met with a pure force to be reckoned with. Should a knight’s eye linger on you for too long, he would be quick to put him in place in his signature glacial, elegant way. Before long, everyone learns not to disrespect the Queen consort of Jerusalem.

“Perhaps you would have understood my point, had you not been so insolently ogling my wife”. He takes out his whip. “On your knees. You will pay for insulting the Queen”.

He would protect you with his life. He swore to protect Jerusalem and, as its Queen, that includes first of all you. Should a courtier doubt your devotion and mistake it for thirst for power, or should he learn of an orchestrated attempt on your life, he would waste no time in employing his best forces in your service to defend you.

His enemies and templars alike fear him, yet with you he is as gentle as the morning breeze that gently caresses Jerusalem. This powerful king who makes armies tremble and kingdoms shake is the same person who holds and kisses your hand (when in public, bringing your fingers to the lips of his mask), who silently admires your loveliness from afar and sighs to himself, who longs for your warmth after a tiring day. 

He would write you letters. Lots of them. And not always when he is away. Maybe he just liked the way the sun reflected in your eyes that morning. Or maybe when you helped a servant, he was moved by your kindness. Your every action inspires him, so much so that he has to let out his thoughts on paper. You have a pretty wooden box brimming with delicate papers penned by Baldwin in your honor. He is not only the King of Jerusalem, but also the king of pining, of yearning. Even when he has you near, he yearns for you.

I love to imagine him letting you accompany him to battle. He would love it too, in theory. You make him so strong, the both of you would be quite the sight, meeting your enemies head on, as one, donning your best armors. Yet, at the same time I cannot imagine him resting easy knowing that a loose arrow, a desperate soldier seeking glory for killing the Queen of Jerusalem, or fatigue and sickness could take you from him. It pains his heart to be parted from you, yet he cannot risk your safety. Instead, Baldwin would trust you with ruling the kingdom. He has absolute faith in your intelligence, willpower and cleverness, especially after all he has taught you about running the realm. He longs for you every second he’s away from Jerusalem, yet his heart is at peace knowing his kingdom is in the most capable hands.

When he feels that his time on this Earth is nearing his end, he calls for his most trusted advisors, including Balian and Tiberias. He would ask them, almost begging, to protect you always, at all costs, when he is no longer there to do so. Balian and Tiberias would exchange a quick glance to each other, vowing to respect their King’s wish until the very end.

“Protect her. Please.” “Always, my Lord”.

Poems, songs and stories would be written in honor of your love even centuries after your passing. Many tales would speak of Baldwin IV of Jerusalem and his Queen. Different pieces of art, such as paintings and ballads, would inspire people from all over the world to find a love as devoted and unshakable as yours. Until the very end.

All in all, to love Baldwin means knowing your time together is limited. As is the time of all creatures on Earth. He would beg you to go on after his passing, to live for him. He shall wait for you and protect you from above. Until the very end.

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

The Prodigy - Smack My Bitch Up 1997

"Smack My Bitch Up" is a song by English electronic dance music band The Prodigy. It was released in November 1997 as the third and final single from their third album, The Fat of the Land (1997). In 2013, Mixmag readers voted it the third greatest dance track of all time. The song caused considerable controversy because of its suggestive title and explicit music video. The video, directed by Jonas Åkerlund, was rarely seen on television due to its controversial subject matter. It was filmed entirely in first-person perspective and depicts a drug-and-alcohol-fueled night out through the eyes of a mostly-unseen character, and utilises different camera movements corresponding with the protagonist's altered state of mind. Despite the controversy, the video was nominated for four awards in the 1998 MTV Video Music Awards, and eventually won Best Dance Video and Breakthrough Video. In 2010, the song was voted as the most controversial song of all time in a survey conducted by PRS for Music.

The lyrics "Change my pitch up/Smack my bitch up" are sampled and altered from the song "Give the Drummer Some" by the Ultramagnetic MCs. The female vocals were performed by Shahin Badar. Her vocals and harmonies are based on "Nana (The Dreaming)" performed by Sheila Chandra. Initially Liam Howlett used a direct sample of Chandra's song, but later had the vocal resung after sample clearance issues. The track also contains samples from "Funky Man" by Kool & the Gang, "In Memory Of" by Randy Weston, "House of Rising Funk" by Afrique, "Like This" by Mixmaster Gee and the Turntable Orchestra and "Bulls on Parade" by Rage Against the Machine.

In the UK the song peaked at number 8, ultimately spending 16 weeks in the top 100, despite limited air time. The song reached the top 15 in several countries, such as Canada, New Zealand, Norway, and Sweden. The song performed best in Finland, securing the band their third Finnish number 1 hit alongside "Firestarter" and "Breathe" (poll #112). It peaked at number 22 in the Netherlands, 41 in Australia, and 89 in the US. The single also returned to the Billboard charts after Keith Flint's death, entering number 23 on its Dance/Electronic Digital Songs Sales chart in March 2019.

The song appeared in a fight scene in the 2000 film Charlie's Angels. In 2020, a cutscene in the game Cyberpunk 2077 had a corresponding song on the soundtrack titled "Smack My Chip Up". Released the same year, Assassin's Creed Valhalla includes a sidequest called "The Prodigy", where the player character boxes a clergyman, prompting a character named Keith to sing "Smack my bishop!"

"Smack My Bitch Up" received a total of 57,2% yes votes! Previous Prodigy polls: #8 "No Good (Start the Dance)", #112 "Breathe". (Maxim & Skin: #245 "Carmen Queasy")

[peachiejeongin]

Asleep and Adored | Bang Chan

synopsis: a short sleepy drabble about bang chan when he gets tired

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: pure fluff!

warnings: lowercase letters intended, no warnings!

notice: hello my loves! i wrote this sleepy chan drabble back many months ago; considering i may or may not have posted part 6 to the phantoms a bit early, enjoy this filler fiction :)

whenever bang chan was sleepy, he got clingy. that was a given as he was physically unable to fall asleep without you by his side. it would start with gentle taps on your arm or thigh, progress into frequent hugging, and by the end of the night, chan would be laid in between your legs or vice versa holding you like a life-sized teddy bear.

however, tonight seemed different.

chan had been in the studio tonight for only heaven knows how long. he had been producing, writing, you name it. you were not sure as to why; after all, stray kids had just wrapped up dominate promotions, and there were no planned song collaborations scheduled to your knowledge.

you knew he was getting tired. his eyes were drooping as he attempted to stay focused on the, unnecessary, task at hand.

“love, why don’t we head home? it’s nearly one,” you stated softly. chan drowsily checked his phone clock, shaking his head in response. “mm-mm. gotta,” he paused to yawn, “get this done.”

“what even does ‘this’ entail?” you asked both in curiosity and frustration. chan shrugged his shoulders, quickly returning them to their slumped position.

“just a side project. i got bored, y’know?” a few mouse clicks sounded, as well as a few ‘mms’ and ‘i need to adds’ from your boyfriend.

“if it’s just a side project, can’t it wait?” you sounded desperate, but you could not care less. you were desperate. desperate for your insomniac boyfriend to lay down and get even a few brief moments of sleep.

“it can, but i don’t see the point in postponing it any longer.” he went back to adjusting sounds and adding beats, clicking notes and corresponding vocals, and auto tuning voices and repositioning lyrics. you had had enough.

absent-mindedly, you stood up suddenly, reached over your boyfriend’s left shoulder, and pushed his lap top closed gently.

“baby, no!” he almost instantaneously yelped, attempting to reopen his laptop; however, your hand sat firmly in place on the technological device.

“ah, ah, ah,” you said softly. “rest. you can finish tomorrow.” chan sighed both in annoyance and defeat.

“fine.” chan made a swift reach for his keys, yet once again you stopped him.

“i don’t think either of us should be driving this late. maybe we could…” your eyes darted over to the smooth, black leather couch positioned near perfect in the center of the room. chan nodded slightly, another soft yawn eliciting from his pouty lips.

you lied down on the makeshift bed for tonight, spreading your legs slightly in invitation for chan. he quickly obliged, crawling in between them and laying his head down on your chest whilst simultaneously wrapping his arms around you.

you stroked his hair gently, and before you knew it, the adorable boy was nearly half asleep. yet, something in him seemed to be keeping him awake.

“got something on your mind, hon?”

“mm, just, thanks for caring about me. if it wasn’t for you, i’d never get any sleep.” a chuckled vibrated in your chest.

“any time, baby.” the soft thump of your heartbeat lulled chan to sleep before you knew it, and the sight of the sleepy boy in front of you sent you to dreamland soon after.

in different manners, both of you dreamed of how you got so lucky.

[lavendermoonlove]

Mugwort - Plant profile #2

Helloo lovely readers! Today I am continuing my plant profile series. This is a series where I share my research and UPG regarding a plant, or discover a whole new plant. One of the things that I want to incorporate into my practice, is taking a lunar cycle to form a bond with a new plant ally and work closely with it. This means that on or around the new moon, I will pick an herb that I want to work closely with and research its history, folklore and traditional & modern practice. Then during the waxing moon, I will craft and meditate with the plant according to the moon phase. On the full moon, as my bond heightens, I will charge said herb under the moonlight or choose to incorporate it in a big ritual. As the moon wanes, I will craft workings with the herb according to the moon phase. During these moon phases, I will journal in detail how this herb makes me feel and what energies I pick up during these different lunar contexts. For the upcoming cycle, that herb is going to be mugwort. My initial research on the herb will be depicted here.

Names Latin: Artemisia vulgaris Folk names: Artemis herb, Artemisia, Felon herb, Muggons, Naughty Man, Old Man, Old Uncle Henry, Sailor’s Tobacco, St. John’s plant, mother of herbs (Mater Herbarum) Other names: Cronewort, Common wormwood

Plant profile Gender: Feminine Planet: Venus Element: Earth Deities: Artemis, Hekate Personal correspondences: Psychic abilities, dreams, astral projection and protection. Other correspondences: Strength, healing, divination

***Preface warnings*** Mugwort should absolutely not be ingested nor smelled in any shape, way or form by individuals who are pregnant. It can lead to miscarriages. Furthermore, people with diabetes should stay away from mugwort. Mugwort contains the neurotoxin compound thujone, which in high concentrations may lead to seizures and an abortive effect. Please be careful with how much mugwort you use and limit it to either a cup of tea OR as incense in a day, but not both.

Folk uses Stuffing a pillow with mugwort and sleeping upon it will produce prophetic dreams or aid with lucid dreams. Anointing divinatory tools with a mugwort infusion or oil can aid in divination. Placing mugwort in a bundle above the door will keep negative spirits from entering. This is because doors are liminal spaces that make it easier for spirits—whether benevolent or malefic—to enter. Mugwort can also protect its wearer when carried in a spell bag. Putting mugwort in shoes can help with strength and stamina during long walks or runs. A Roman invocation was used to say this when picking mugwort before sunrise: Tollam te artemisia, ne lassus sim in via. “I take of you, artemisia, lest I grow weary on the road.”

Apart from magical workings, the plant has also been associated with helping treat conditions in women like infertility, irregular menstruation and problems with pregnancy. This is where the name Artemisia might have derived from, as the Greek goddess Artemis was the goddess of childbirth.

Modern uses In modern times, mugwort is much beloved for divinatory purposes. Teas are made of mugwort and drunk during divinatory work or before astral projection & lucid dreaming. Mugwort incense is burned for the same purposes. This is because mugwort contains thujone, a psychoactive compound that produces an oneirogenic effect, or brings the consciousness to a dream like state. Often this is characterised by an immersive REM state, making it easier for us to access our subconscious mind and receive messages from spirits, deities or our subconscious mind. This is also why it aids in astral projection and lucid dreaming. Regular drinking of mugwort tea can therefore also help enhance and be more in tune with your intuition, to navigate daily life.

Folklore Mugwort holds a lot of folklore, dating back to ancient Greece. As it has a vast history and folklore, I will try to summarise the most important bits here.

Mugwort was first called Artemisia vulgaris, deriving its name from the goddess Artemis. The first association has already been deducted. However, mugwort has many more associations with Artemis. Despite it being ruled by venus, due to its psychic abilities, its long been associated with the moon too, which touches on the lunar aspect of Artemis. Its silver-green leaves further build upon this association, as Artemis is associated with both silver, as a moon goddess, and green, as the goddess of the wilderness. Hekate was regarded in ancient times as the khtonian Artemis, also being associated with childbirth and a protector of women, therefore mugwort is also associated with Hekate.

It was believed that mugwort would protect from malefic spirits on St. John’s eve, thus gaining it’s folk name as St. John’s plant. This was done by wearing a crown made by its sprays and wearing it on St. John’s eve. St. John’s eve, would be close and similar to Midsummer or Litha, making mugwort a perfect protective plant during this sabbat. During medieval times in the Netherlands and Germany, the believe was that if mugwort is gathered on St. John’s eve (and thus Litha) it would protect against diseases and misfortunes.  

Mugwort gains its title as mother of all herbs due to it being held sacred by various cultures and thought to be the oldest of plants. It’s particularly viewed as a plant that offered protection to humans. Before the discovery of hops, mugwort was used to give flavour to beers.

In the pagan Anglo-Saxan nine herbs charm—a charm to heal a wound of some kind—mugwort is one of the nine herbs invoked. The other herbs were chamomile, nettle, fennel, crab apple, plantain, watercress, chervil and cockspur grass or betony.

Harvesting yourself Mugwort is a weed that you can find in both the city and countryside. Therefore it’s really accessible to harvest yourself! Harvesting mugwort on the full moon or new moon for example, mainly due to its association with the moon, can be a potent tool and ally in your craft. Be sure to ask the plant for permission upon harvesting and give an offering in return. Especially if you plan on working with the plant spirit.

Personal uses Mugwort is a staple offering to Hekate and Artemis in my practice. I strongly associate it with them. With the upcoming Elaphebolia (6th of march), it’s a perfect offering for the goddess Artemis alongside for example a prayer. I also use mugwort infusion to anoint and bless my divination tools, mainly my scrying mirror and pendulum. When practicing with lucid dreaming or inner journey meditation, I drink an infusion containing mugwort alongside other herbs. I have yet to incorporate it in protection workings, but as I am entering this lunar cycle working closely with it, I am curious to experience its protective effects alongside its other uses. Who knows, maybe I will break a long-distance running record?

Thank you so much for reading this again longwinded post haha. If you have any questions or remarks please let me know!

Have a blessed day!

[azullumi]

LAST NIGHT I DREAMT OF THE STARS AND YOU, PT. 1

premise — because that’s just how they are; alternatively, “the type to” trend with hsr characters. characters — ruan mei, veritas ratio, aventurine, and robin content tags — gender-neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, slight angst, not proofread, word vomit in some parts, 1.6k words ; headcanons

note from me — seasickness took me out and the fact that i have a 9 hr road trip tomorrow is already making me dizzy. i hope i’m asleep for the 3/4 of it,, also this has a pt. 2 which i’ll upload later on !! anyways i wrote this in between my vacation and trip and in between the long-ass separate fics with sunday and aven so sorry if it seems rusty or out of my style 🙏

RUAN MEI, (lies in between the line of a good lover and a bad lover) the type to be unable to express her affections for you through words and settles with small and simple gestures that she has observed and seen from everyone around her; having never understood “love” and never knowing how to correspond with such, she’s left silent and confused like a lost child in the wake of it. She’ll find herself staring you quietly, memorizing the lines of your face and how it creases and contorts into different expressions, studying each crevices and edges of the parts that makes up your being to bury you in her memory, and there’s a smile that tugs on her lips every time her gaze falls on you. Oh, she wishes she understood what it all meant (she simply and devastatingly adores you).

RUAN MEI, the type to subconsciously write your name on paper whenever she’s distracted. it’s a small habit she does, one that makes her smile whenever she notices the letters spelling out your name. She has ruined, tainted several of her papers, even important ones, with just a single word, a set of letters that composes of what makes warmth seep into her chest when her mind drifts into the thought of someone—you.

RUAN MEI, the type not understand the underlying reason behind her actions—why she spends the time and makes the effort in between her busy schedule and pile of papers to make sweets for you, why she lets you do her hair despite how messy it often turns out when you braid it and how she can never find the strength in herself to “fix” or disturb the state of your work, why she always seek for the warmth of your hands whenever she’s feeling uneasy or stressed, why she always lean to your shoulder or to your touch when you caress her cheek, and everything. It’s a puzzle board of missing and scattered pieces, unable to comprehend the full image of the mystery—and yet, she still delves into the enigma of her feelings that is intertwined with your existence. Maybe one day she’ll come to know it all and maybe it will be the time when she can finally be honest to herself.

VERITAS RATIO, the type to want to know every single thing you and remember all of it. Perhaps it’s the bare minimum, perhaps it’s something that he just does. “They don’t like that,” He would say when an arrogant fool would even try to give you (or do) something, and he’s there, witnessing it all, knowing the things that you prefer and like. He knows what flowers that you like, knows your favorite color, knows the way you prefer to sleep, knows the small habits that you do when you’re nervous or scared or happy, knows every little detail that paints the whole of your existence. Isn’t it simply just lovely when someone desires to know you from the inside and out? Even if it’s just a little bit, he feels more closer to you in this way.

VERITAS RATIO, the type to be sweet and reassuring towards you (through words and actions), even though he may come off as mean, blunt, or rude towards others. Sure, he may call you an idiot sometimes but he’ll never go past that nor reach the line of degrading and distasteful remarks because he never wishes to hurt your feelings; if ever he did, he’ll apologize and tell you it’s not his intention. “Fool,” But the affection that edges into the tone of his voice cuts the thread of disdain that sews into the word. Oftentimes when texting and it’s easy to misunderstand the tone of one’s message, especially his tone, he’ll reassure you that he didn’t send it in a way that he’s angry or scornful: “The ‘Ok’ that I sent is not a mad ‘Ok’, I am in a rush and could only type that out. I’m not angry.”

VERITAS RATIO, the type to entertain your questions no matter how stupid it can be; he’d give you the answers every single time. He doesn’t mind being treated like a walking encyclopedia or dictionary if it’s you—he’d hate it if you were going to ask someone else instead of him (although he probably never told you that discomfort). I mean, you have a well-known member of the Intelligentsia Guild, someone who parallels a genius, just right at the tip of your fingertips, why bother asking someone else?

AVENTURINE, the type to like listening to the sound of your breathing, the sound of your heartbeat (to listen to the sound of you blinking, to listen to your hands soothe). It’s comforting, in an odd way, and he never tells you but it helps him fall asleep—watching the rising and falling of your chest, seeing your calm face wrinkle ever so often while you sleep. He keeps the sound of your heartbeat close to the pocket on his chest, weaving the rhythm of it to his pulse, and before he knew it, the dawn will come in quiet solitude.

AVENTURINE, the type to be always on fight-or-flight mode. Perhaps it’s the way that he grew up, perhaps it was the harsh and cruel environment that he’s in, but he’s always on guard, seemingly on defensive mode as if danger lurks at every dark corner. His shoulders are always tense, his hand either hidden or playing with the ring on his finger, it’s like he never can’t seem to relax himself even when he’s in the comfort of your arms. It follows him everywhere, trailing behind his feet, and forces him awake at night—he doesn’t even know where the fear, the anxiety, is coming from, he just knows it’s there. One wrong step and his thoughts will come crashing down like cold downpour, one wrong move and you’ll come to leave him. Sometimes a little reassurance comes a long way and it’s all he needs when his mind is being tormented. (He will learn to live with it, even if he can never seem to understand or know it. He will come to know peace as if it’s all he had in his hands when the sun first held him).

AVENTURINE, the type to immediately smile after a kiss. It’s utterly affectionate; parting, staring deeply into one’s eyes with his cheeks dusted with a certain color and he’s grinning—warmth beams from his expression and there’s a certain feeling that intertwines into his gaze and he knows it’s love because it’s all he feels whenever he looks at you. He’s the type to laugh into a kiss, feeling ticklish all over his bones as if your hands are ghosting the sensitive parts of his skin, and you’ll ask him, “What?” but he’ll only answer with, “Nothing.” He’s not drunk, the ache of wanting simply swells up in his chest and all he can think of is how much he adores you.

ROBIN, the type to try and make time for you. Her schedule is always packed, filled with all kinds of events and tasks that she needs to do. It’s overwhelming, everything feels overwhelming for her and it’s hard to know which one she should prioritize first not when she has a lot of things on her hands. Sometimes she feels lost, feels the weight too heavy on her shoulders, feels like her feet are tied to the ragged earth, feels the cage closing on her. She tries so hard to be the perfect lover for you, to become someone that will reach beyond your expectations; she cradles that perfect image, broken in all of its edges, that were constructed for herself close to her chest even if it feels like a knife to her heart. But really, all you need is for her to be herself (not the star that everyone admires and wishes to reach) and sometimes, that’s all she needs to hear from you—that she doesn’t have to hold on to the shattered chains when the coldness of the metal reminds her of what she has to carry.

ROBIN, the type to go on all kinds of dates with you, silly or not, and even matches clothes with you. She’s usually the one to make the invite to match, thinking that it’s cute and the both of you rarely ever has time like this so why not make the most out of it; who are you to even say no when she’s beaming at you so warmly? She has all of her options laid on the bed, displayed on clothing hangers, asking you what you’re going to wear or what color do you want. It’s lovely, sweet, seeing her like this and you could only pray to whoever aeon is listening that nobody comes to ruin the day the both of you rarely have for each other.

ROBIN, the type to bring you all kinds of souvenirs and gifts from her (universal) tours, sometimes having bought too much that you don’t know what to with some of them; the type to send you letters every time she’s away so that you won’t worry for he, especially knowing what happened last time, the type to always try to keep in touch and keep you close no matter the stars between you and her. She’ll ask for one thing that you own that she can carry with her person, making a promise that she’ll come back and return it—the item a testament to her vow—, but for the meantime, she’ll keep it so she has a little piece of you everywhere she goes and she can say that you’re always there by her side.

DRUM ROLLS PLS *dundundundundun* special mention to the one and only beloved feli @dr-felitas !! i think i owe you a lot of end notes so here i am :3 also i’m sorry if i publish this and i still haven’t responded to your messages (if you have sent me cause im on dnd to avoid my dumbass from checking and looking at the phone during car rides knowing that i get motion sick) ANYWAYS i would like to begin this with i love you mwamwa, you’re one of the sweetest and most wonderful souls i have ever met and anyone who tells u otherwise will get a boulder thrown to their head 🫵 im glad to have met you, that my anti-social ass went ahead and messaged you despite the fact that we only talked once or twice AND IT WAS OVER ASKS OR COMMENTS BUT YEAH !! idk what or where i’ll be if i hadn’t done that; maybe not replying to my friends idk (again im sorry if i take business days to answer i sometimes get busy or i sometimes dont have the energy :3 i hope u still love me hahahaha… *slides down the wall*) again, i really appreciate and adore you for everything. you are a brave and kind person and i only hope for the good things for you. don’t be too mean or harsh to yourself 🫂 know that i’m always here to listen to you no matter what you’re saying. you’re never a burden to me and i hope you’ll come to see just how you shine and radiate with so much warmth and kindness, it’s like love itself is found in you. ily lottss mwaa <33

sunday, himeko, welt, gallagher, and jing yuan next !!

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[aquasarsstuff]

My Muse

Yandere Lilia x Reader

A/N: Very short

----

Each stroke he made on the canvas was precise and neat, but it was not your focal point. His focused face and echoed voice was something you can just stare at the whole day. You were cut off from your own trance at the sound of wood slightly hitting wood.

"Do you understand it now?" he asks, a light smile on his face. You didn't think he can get more attractive. You've really fallen for his pit.

"Yeah..." you said confidently, even though you have zone out after like 5 minutes because the real masterpiece is actually him, so you observed him instead.

"That's good. You're a fast learner," he started tidying up his workplace.

"Lilia, you forgot about this," you picked up his black sketchbook that was left on your side of the desk. His eyes widen for a moment, before snatching it away from you. "Oh uhm..." you awkwardly smile, wondering if you've done something wrong. But before any evil thoughts could surface to your mind, he already took your hand.

"Break is about to be over, you should go."

"Oh right...! Thanks again Lilia! I've got to go."

———

"Lilia, where are you going?" your eyes followed his movements. You were sprawled on his bed, an open book in front of you.

"Just off to go get some supplies. I ran out of paint."

"Oh sorry, you've been using more after teaching me. I'll come with you," you hurriedly sat up on the bed to fix your hair and crumpled clothing. He place a hand in your shoulder to stop you.

"No need to reimburse me. The shop is just around the corner. I'll be back, okay?" He kissed your forehead. The effect was immediate as you were too flustered to say anything back.

A few minutes after he left, you notice his sketchbook tossed in on the floor. Its pages were trying to support the hard cover laying on it. You know he hates searching for something, so you picked it up. He'd usually place it on his desk, so you decided to leave it there... until you slip by one his clothes that came out of nowhere.

A groan left your lips as you fell down on floor, hard. As you lift your head to makes sense of your surroundings, you notice Lilia's sketchbook wide open in front of you.

"This..." all the blood drained in your face. It was pictures of you, in an angle that could only be taken from your window. You wouldn't have freak out if the calendar on top of your bed wasn't captured too. The date was before you two even knew each other!

Each picture has a corresponding sketch. As you continue to flip the pages, you realized that Lilia has been planning this for years already. But what really creep the hell out of you was sketches of girls that went missing years prior. Each girl has a red circle drawn over one of their features.

He'd also illustrate the structure of his house on the small corner, a red mark on one of the rooms: the attic. Albeit scared, you chose to go up there. As soon as you turned on the lights, you kept yourself from screaming.

Someone, or whatever it was, was rendered immobile by the ropes holding it in its place. Its body parts were stitch over, from eyes, nose, lips, limbs, and skin. You took a step at how it mirrors you almost perfectly.

"This is..." your breathe quickened. You were about to turn around when your back hit something. Your heart begun to beat faster when you felt a warm breath on your neck.

"Ah... wandering are you...? This place is strictly off limits darling, I'm afraid. Even for you," he covered your eyes. And then the next thing you know, you woke up in his bed.

"Darling I'm back!" he slips in the room.

"Get away from me!" You screech.

He tilts his head a little, confuse. Then you notice the newly bought art supplies in his hands.

What...?

You looked around the room. His sketchbook was lying on the floor. Its state was like before you picked it up earlier.

"Are you alright?" he reaches out to your shoulder. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"Lilia, you..."

"How about we go to the attic? The view of sunset there is amazing. It'll help you calm down, and keep my art supplies stored there for the meantime," he pats your head, smiling at you. "Let's go."

When both of you climb up to the attic, there was no creature to be found nor any traces of its existence. Maybe... it was just a dream after all.

You hug Lilia as you both watch the sunset, or at least you thought you both were. Lilia was staring at the small gap in the closet, glaring at it, as if daring for it to move or make a sound. He pats your head as you lay on his chest. "Rest easy, my Muse... You don't have to worry about what your just mind conjured. I'm here; I won't leave you.

[brunettemarionette]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚.

☾‧₊˚ ⋅ ― gender neutral reader. no description of features. no mentions of size, race or age. Requests are open.

a/n : if you want me to add other characters let me know!

☾‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐬

Your scream cuts through the arena’s feed like a knife, and Katniss flinches, fists clenching at her sides. Her jaw tightens. She knows pain, knows what it's like to feel the world fading as blood seeps into the dirt. But watching you go through it—when she can't shoot an arrow, can't shield you—is worse than anything she endured. “Hold on,” she whispers to the screen. “You have to hold on.”

She channels her emotions into action. She’d pressure Haymitch to send sponsor aid, even offering to trade something of her own. She may not cry in front of others, but later in private, she’d unravel—wracked with guilt and helplessness.

Post-Games: She’d be emotionally distant but present. Quietly sits by your bedside for hours during recovery, rarely speaking unless to reassure you. If you cry, she’d take your hand and say, “I know. I hate them too.”

☾‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝐏𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐚

Peeta freezes mid-sentence, whatever he was saying to the Capitol correspondents dying on his tongue. His eyes widen as the image of you, bloodied and unmoving, fills the screen. “No,” he breathes, his voice shaking. “Please… not them.” He grabs at the edge of the table, knuckles white. His mind races—not with strategy, but memories of your smile, your laugh, the way you said his name like it meant something.

He immediately goes into sponsor mode—charming every Capitol contact he has, pulling every string, painting your portrait bloodied but brave, trying to win sympathy. He sends medical supplies or comfort gifts the moment he can.

Post-Games: Peeta brings you bread, paints scenes of your recovery, stays at your bedside even when you’re unconscious. He talks to you softly, even if you can’t respond—telling you stories, trying to anchor you to life.

☾‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐞

He storms out of the room the moment you go down. The force of his anger is like a wildfire, eating through everything in its path. “They’re just letting this happen?” he snarls at no one in particular. He’s powerless and it kills him. His hands itch for a weapon, a trap, something. Anything but sitting here watching you bleed.

He can’t bear to be idle. Gale would demand action—trying to organize rebel networks to influence the Games. He’s not great at emotional vulnerability, so he expresses it through strategy and rage.

Post-Games: He’s cold at first—practical, checking on your medical state, ensuring you're safe—but emotionally distant. Eventually, you see the cracks: his voice breaks once while talking to you, and he mutters, “You scared the hell out of me.”

☾‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤

His usual charm vanishes instantly, replaced by a deadly quiet. “They won’t help them,” he says coldly. “Not unless it makes good television.” His grip tightens on the back of the chair he’s leaning against until the wood creaks. Finnick’s smile returns only in flashes—when the cameras are on him. But behind his eyes, there’s a storm. And you’re in its center.

He’ll flirt with Capitol sponsors even if it makes him sick inside, selling the illusion to get you help. If he has to, he’ll relive his own trauma to sway them. All his trauma resurfaces—he knows what it’s like to be alone and hurting.

Post-Games: He stays close, constantly touching your hand, brushing your hair, grounding you. When you cry, he doesn’t tell you it’s okay—he just holds you and says, “I know. I’m here.”

☾‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚

She’s already on her feet, shouting at the screen like she can will you to move. “Get up! You’re not dying here. Not like this.” Her voice cracks with the last word, and she turns away sharply, like she's pissed at herself for caring. But her hands tremble. “Stupid Capitol,” she mutters, punching a wall hard enough to draw blood. “If they let you die, I swear...”

She hates feeling helpless. Her way of coping is sarcasm, biting commentary, and cursing every Capitol parasite she sees. But behind the anger is fear. She contacts every sponsor she can, threatening or bargaining to get aid sent.

Post-Games: She sits beside your bed like a guard dog. If you start to doubt your worth or strength, she bites back: “You lived. That’s strength. Don’t let them take more from you.”

☾‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝐇𝐚𝐲𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡

He doesn’t say much. Just stares. And drinks. He watches your body crumple, the blood, the lack of cannon fire, and still doesn’t look away. He’s seen too many kids die. Too many he couldn’t save. He wants to believe in your odds, but his silence is thick with guilt. “Hang in there, kid,” he says, barely a whisper. “You’re tougher than you look.”

He drinks more than he should—but behind the scenes, he’s working the system. Making Capitol deals, manipulating sponsors, guilting them with a voice thick with scorn and charisma. You wouldn’t know it until the gifts come in.

Post-Games: He avoids your bedside at first—guilt-ridden, ashamed he couldn’t protect you better. But when he does come, he’s gruff: “You did good, sweetheart. Better than I ever did.”

☾‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝐄𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐞

Effie gasps, one gloved hand flying to her mouth. “Oh heavens,” she murmurs, tears already welling. The Capitol polish melts from her voice as she stares at the horror playing out in front of her. “That’s not fair. That’s not fair.” She pleads with the sponsors, the stylists, anyone who will listen—trying to pull together help, medicine, hope. For once, rules and schedules don’t matter to her. Only you do.

She uses her Capitol connections to plead for sponsor gifts. She dresses up, makes appearances, and does anything to paint your suffering as a tragic narrative worth helping. It's performative—but also deeply sincere.

Post-Games: Effie brings flowers, sweet-smelling lotions, books—anything to make your recovery feel normal. She flits around you, gently fussing, trying to make your room feel like home. Occasionally, her hands shake as she adjusts your blanket.

[str4ngr]

pmgomg i wanna request the suggestive prompt five with the itoshi brothers and reo

but they’re at a party and they’re kinda jealous so they drag you to their car in the parking lot

with also kind of a bratty reader

and i love your work so so much like sgdjejdhh and i needed to request

thank you!! 💗💗

not-so-secret.

s. itoshi. | my drug, my addiction.

cw: suggestive, foul language, jealousy, argument/silent treatment, teasing, gn & bratty! reader, secret-relationship. wc: 650. notes: i love this request i wanna go back to it and write a more full version. also my one of my faves so he's obviously first.

He may be a football player, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy other games. He was proud, no matter how aloof he looked. His team had won another game, another trophy to weigh down the shelf that leaned with the rest of his rewards.

It was like you were dense, and from Sae's perspective, you were. You were like a magnet to any overzealous man, staring at your figure in ways only, he, your boyfriend, should ever.

He told you it was for your benefit that he didn't publicly state your relationship. But at this point, he was about to go back on his word. Sae struggled to even think of ways other men, football players, or other (in)famous characters, might try to hit on you without getting envious but watching?

It made his blood boil.

Unmistakably, two drinks were in your hand, yet that nuisance of a blurry face who truly had no pertinence, let alone social status, was talking to you as if he were worthy of your beauty and company. More and more filthy men came, flattering you, trying to touch you.

And when you let them? Sae's vision turned red, ready to rip and shred any man who dared but here he was, stuck with some pathetic correspondent. His mind raced, eyes and face calm as he glanced past the journalist's shoulder to you, smiling at another irrelevant swine.

Curt and brief answers were all the journalist got, not as though he was expecting much else considering Sae's track record. But what he wasn't expecting was the abrupt shove to the shoulder and Sae brashly pushed past him.

Heavy, hard, steps approached you. You stopped batting your lashes up at the men, regardless of their reaction. They may have thought you gave your all and every ounce of attention to them, but they should have noticed how your eyes flickered to his face every moment, relishing every twitch of jealousy on his face. You fought back a smirk, enjoying how bewildered journalists stood, eyes trailing behind him in shock as he slithered his arm around your waist.

"Do you have something to do with my partner?"

Your brows quirked as you leaned into his figure, looking up your eyelashes, feigning innocence,

"Sae? What's got you so angry? You don't like my new friends?"

Such a sweet tone you spoke in, as if the fingers digging into your waist were never there. He cleared his throat,

"No." I fucking hate them.

His hand pulled you by the waist as he dragged you out from the banquet hall, letting you stumble behind him as reporters and paparazzi were on the scene faster than any police could have shown up to a murder. He pushed past them with you in tow, his whole body tense as you could practically see the smoke fuming from his ears.

You were in the car with him, silence shrouding the both of you. Of course, you felt proud, your boyfriend fell right into your little trap. But, was it seriously worth this kind of outrage? He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly, knuckles ghostly white as if they were about to rip open,

"You need to learn how to fucking behave."

Sae muttered in irritation, sharp eyes piercing your pout. His eyes turned back to the road when you began to whine again, some pathetic excuse. Pulling over and slamming the breaks, he snarled, fed up with your attitude. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your jaw, drawing your face closer as he whispered in a dark tone,

"Keep misusing that mouth,"

Sae's eyes drop away from yours, staring at the way your soft lips quiver in fear, glossy with the overpriced bullshit he buys for you. His rough thumb brushes your warbling lip, a foxy grin on his face,

"and I'll show you how to use it properly."

notes: i'm assuming these were suppost to be separate, so the rest will come soon!!

[boneapplet]

Even Space Marines Get Sick pt.1

Relationships: minor titus x oc/afab!reader Warnings: minor talk of illness, food description Word count: 1342 Masterlist part one || part two

               A tense, and eerily quiet atmosphere has consumed the commandeered outpost ever since the Ultramarines arrival earlier this month. The 2nd company’s captain, upon his arrival, having ordered not a word is to be uttered of what occurs here to prevent panic from consuming the nearby inhabitants. Majority of the outpost has been repurposed to serve as a quarantine zone, with only a few allowed to aid in the care of the afflicted marines.

               Gently pushing open the grand doors to the repurposed hall, Nessa scans around the room. Seeing the hall now filled with various tools and machines the Apothecary had brought along, spotting the faded blue robes dawning the medicae’s form. Hurriedly, she makes her way to them.

               “Good afternoon, Medicae Rhosyn. I’ve been sent to aid you” Nessa greets the older woman.

               The middle-aged woman gives her a kind smile “Good afternoon, I’m glad to see that the Refectorium was able to send you this way. The task is simple, you will disperse these vials to the lords. Due to current circumstances, you will need to wear this to aid in preventing spread of the illness” gesturing to a filtration mask on the table.

               Nodding as she listens to what is to be expected of her, strapping the filtration pack to her side and properly sealing in place the filtration mask.

               “Lastly, only one vial is to be distributed per angel” Rhosyn informs her as she finishes placing the vials from the rack into the various slots within the carrier bag.

               Nessa “I understand” she carefully slips the carrier bag across her shoulders, bidding Rhosyn goodbye before heading toward the quarantine zone.

Weaving through the halls, keeping a brisk pace but being mindful of the precious cargo she carries. Bowing her head in respect to the towering space marines who stand guard at the entrance to the zone, squeezing by them and through the metal doors. Glancing at the list of names and their corresponding barracks number before beginning with the first name, lord Demetrian Titus in barrack 56.

Clipping the list back onto the carrier bag, she heads along the hall counting the barracks number till she reaches 56. Rapping her knuckles against the metallic door, just barely making out the sound of a gruff ‘Enter’ being said behind it. As the door slides open, she’s greeted by the sight of the scantly decorated room and the rather amusing sight of the barely big enough cot which the Astartes lieutenant is sitting on.

“Pardon my interruption of your rest my lord, I’ve brought medicine from the Apothecary” bowing as she explains why she’s intruded into his quarters.

“It is alright, little one. You may arise” Titus rasps out, throat having gone hoarse from coughing.

“Thank you, my lord,” Nessa says as she rises back up.

Looking through her carrier bag, she carefully pulls out the vial designated for him. Titus seems to be wearing thick clothing even though the room was on the warmer side. Even in this seemingly weakened state, his gaze still sent shivers down her spine. Placing the vial at the nightstand beside the cot for him to consume when he pleases.

“Is there anything else I may do for you my lord or request to be supplied?” questioning as she closes her bag.

“No, you may take your leave and go attend to my brothers” Titus says, returning to reading the codex after dismissing her.

“May the Emperor bless you with a speedy recovery my lord” bowing once more before departing his quarters.

As she goes about completing the list, she notices the rather gloomy feeling they all had. Likely unuse to feeling ill and being kept on bed rest, one of them seemed close to tearing at the blanket he’d wrapped around himself like a cloak. Nessa contemplates this as she is restricted to her own quarters for the mandated quarantine week, trying to think of a way to at least make their time in isolation bearable.

Upon being released, she begins her own campaign of trying to persuade the Master of the Refectorium to change the menu for at least one meal. Days spent arguing and reasoning her case, till he finally relented that it may be served as a one-time appetizer.

The kitchen is bustling as usual, ticking of the clock counts down the fleeting hours till supper is to be served to the space marines. Light from the grand hearths, illuminating the beads of sweat on Nessa’s brow. Her knife gleaming as she diced carrots, turnips, and parsnips, the blade slicing cleanly through. Setting aside the sliced vegetables, she swaps her cutting board for a clean one.

With the help of 2 others, they were able to bring over from the storage the humongous slab of Tyrgothus meat from yesterday’s hunt. Sharpening her knife before slicing into the dense muscle and fat, being methodical as she ensures each piece is uniform in size. As she worked, she moved around the cramped kitchen, collecting various herbs from the numerous jars and fresh bunches on the shelves. Gently crushing the herbs, releasing their fragrance into the medley of scents in the air before tossing them into a clay bowl.

Pulling mechanisms to lower a grand heavy pot onto flames, the iron groaning as it heats. Dropping sticks of butter into the bottom and begin to brown the meat in batches. The meat sizzled in the hot butter, the scent mingling with the bread that’s baking nearby in the oven. The kitchen alive with it all- the warmth, the smells, the bustle brought forth with the preparations.

Setting aside the meat, after dicing an onion she tosses it into the pot with the root vegetables. Stirring them with a wooden spoon as they begin to soften and absorb the juices released by the meat.

Nessa turned towards the large bones; the bones are precious. The marrow and connective tissue invaluable for creating the rich base the stew needed. She drops them into the pot first, the sound of them crackling in the hot butter filling the room. As they brown, she adds water, watching the marrow begin to seep out of the bones, thickening the liquid and turning it into a deep, rich color. Nessa washes dishes as she patiently waits, knowing it would be a while till the marrow enriches the broth with a velvety texture.

Once the bones have released their flavors into the broth, she adds the browned Tyrgothus and the herbs, stirring them together. The broth darkened with time, thickening, and she kept a watchful eye over the pot. Preparing the dishes to be brought to the ailing marines, giving a light brushing of melted butter over the thick, golden brown crusted loaves of bread. Passing the plates so that they may get a serving of rice before she distributes a hearty portion of the stew. Carefully placing the plates on the cart and double checking that there was the correct number of plates before it was wheeled out.

Only on the next day, as she’s cleaning up after breakfast is she approached by a fellow cook.

“So, as you know my quarters are next to Lanto, who was designated for yesterday’s round of servicing the quarantined lords. He said that they truly enjoyed and appreciated the stew you made” Molly leans in and whispers as she joins in washing the pots.

Glancing to see that the Master of the Refectorium wasn’t looking their way, she giddily asks “Truly?”

“Yes, Lord Titus even sent his compliments to the chef” softly nudging her.

“Stop, I merely wanted- “Nessa was cut off by a sharp clearing of the throat from behind them.

Now standing behind them was the Master of the Refectorium, a disapproving look plastered across his face.

“If you have enough time to gossip, then you clearly have time to aid in preparations. Finish these dishes and go aid in the butter” he sharply ordered before heading away.

The two share an amused smile before returning to their task.

[fridgemissionmaster]

Asmodeus x Reader: March Prompt/Day 13 Smell

Prompt list/available prompt requests here, making a fic everyday of march

You could always tell which brother was approaching before seeing them. Mammon you would hear his voice, talking or yelling about something. Belphie’s footfalls were always a bit clumsy and heavy from the weight of exhaustion. Leviathan, it was quiet but the sound of quick button presses was unique enough from others sound that despite it’s volume you’d usually pick it up. Beelzebub had three, his chewing sometimes with the crinkling of a bag or plastic, the growling of his stomach, or steady footfalls should his hands be full and his stomach placated. Satan’s footfalls light, his easier to notice tells were either the flipping of the page or quiet humming, a habit of his when lost in thought. Sure you could hear Lucifer’s footfalls as well, but for him in particular, even before entering a room the place seemed to dim and darken somehow, even if one were to dance across the opulent ballroom of the Demon Lord’s castle, one could find him by walking around and going where ever the place seemed slightly darker. Asmodeus like Mammon, one was more likely to hear his voice before anything else, however if he wasn’t speaking there was something else. Whether it be from a body mist, shampoo, a shower, what have you, it was a smell that seemed to announce his presents if he wouldn’t himself.

Honestly, with so many individuals in the house it was nice knowing who was behind you at any given time, like if Mammon and Levi or Satan and Lucifer entered a room together you were ready to run if a scuffle broke out, if it was Beelzebub and Belphie you either relaxed in your seat making sure to get comfy likely going to be staying there a few hours or get up so you hopefully wouldn’t succumb to that fate should you not be in the mood for it.

You sat on a couch in the lounge room picking up and putting back down a manga Levi had lent you. It was one of those awful days where you had the time to do something, yet your mind had this haze, just not able to concentrate on anything longer than five minuets before finding yourself feeling off and try finding something else.

It was odd that there was no one else and for so long too. It wasn’t like they mysteriously disappeared either, you could still hear a few of them doing their own thing in nearby rooms. Normally wherever you went if no one was explicitly following you someone would appear by your side soon enough where you were. Not that you were upset, it was just odd, and in the House of Lamentation peace and quiet was the strangest state it could be in, especially for whatever room you were in. And admittedly on some other day the time to just yourself would have been nice, but in this antsy mood you were thinking of finding Mammon and helping him with whatever get rich quick scheme he had cooking up.

… But the time to be by your self was so rarer, you didn’t want to squander i-

You yelped, lurching forward and out of the grasp of WHATEVER wrapped around your shoulders!

“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry, no touching.”

“Asmo!?” The man stood behind the couch where you just were, arms close to himself, hands up showing where they were. You sighed, placing a hand to your chest as if that pressure would help to slow it’s racing pace. “You startled me man. When did you even get here?”

“Oh, well-” Slowly he slinked around the couch, a hand tracing it’s wooden frame, the other ‘spoke’ gesturing this way and that in correspondence with his words. “I saw you here all by yourself and I thought you could use some company. And~ I wanted to show you something!”

Hands behind his back he shimmied just a little too close into your personal space, but he didn’t move after that, just excitedly swaying in place. “Uh… What’s the thing you wanted to show me?”

“You’d don’t notice!?” he held up his wrist to your face. There didn’t appear anything different with it.

“You…… tested a new foundation on it?” You knew that probably wasn’t the answer, if he liked a foundation he’d use it on his face, but you really just couldn’t come up with anything and a stupid answer was better than no answer, right?

Maybe not, immediately regretting your words seeing a flash of genuine hurt across his face for a moment. “No silly.” He laughed, tapping the end of your nose. “My new perfume arrived!”

You leaned in taking a whiff.

…

“Oh yeah, I guess so.”

“What do you mean you guess so!?”

“Huh, maybe I’m just going nose blind.”

“Nose blind?”

Oh! That was more so to yourself, you didn’t mean to say anything out loud but… “Yeah, nose blind, do you, not, know about that?”

He placed a hand on one of his cheeks pondering for a moment. “This sounds like another one of those human quirks.”

“Well… for humans, when we get… exposed to something for a long consistent time our heads kinda just start to… block it out for some reason? Like, we still smell and hear the things but we no longer take note of it. And you, well, even when you get new bodywashes and stuff you have this distinct style you always go for, rosy florals. So either I’m getting sick or I’ve gotten used to your scent. Or maybe it is very different, but the difference is just too subtle for a human to pick up on.”

Asmo crossed his arms, an annoyed hum buzzling in his throat. “Well that won’t do! It’s not just the painting itself that’s gives it it’s beauty, it’s also the frame, the lighting. This can’t stand that your nose is ignoring me!”

“It’s not qui-”

With a smile he clapped his hands together before taking your own beginning to slightly jump in place. “We’ll just have to go shopping and find something irresistible!” Spinning on toes he got to your side, looping an arm through your own, his free hand landing on your upper arm giving it a light squeeze. “Ooh! I can’t wait, let’s go!”

And with that you were dragged out the house and out into town. There were many, many, many, MANY detours, so many Asmodeus ended up calling Beelzebub to carry your bags, but eventually you guys arrived at the place… or so you thought Asmo walking past it. When you asked he said he needed something different so you were off to find some place else, preferably one near a food stall or something to occupy Beel so there wouldn’t be the possibility of him drinking the perfumes in a desperate fit of hunger.

Eventually you did find a place across the street from a saladbar. The pair of you went around trying scent after scent, some were nice but Asmo didn’t particularly care for, others he liked but made you sneeze or worried you about how similar they were to ones he used before.

There was one that caught your eye. “I know all these.”

“Hmm?”

“Top Notes: bergamot, basil, clove, gerbera. Middle Notes: rose, lily of the valley, carnation. Final Notes: patchouli, musk, sandalwood, vanilla… They’re all human world ingredients.”

As you read off the list Asmo already was grabbing one of those testing strips and put a sprits on it. Once you were finished it was held before your nose.

.

.

.

Your eyes half closed, a small soft smile pulled on your lips. Even if you didn’t care for flowers, it was so familiar, so human, so… home, earth, nature, floral, but nostalgic.

Asmodeus was left awestruck, left standing there staring as you got lost in the feeling.

Maybe… this turned out better than he had hopped. But this one seemed special, he couldn’t bring himself to wear it all the time and make you nose blind to this one too. No, you two would have to find another one for daily wear, but, he needed two of these. One for you, and one for him for special occasions, or for when you felt homesick. The search was far from over, but… this place seemed like a good start.

[cursedpiratestash]

I'm going genuinely feral for your overwatch Talon headcanons im here growling and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.. So may I request Talon with an extremely clingy reader pretty please <3

Talon x Reader

Clingy Reader headcanons

A/n: Sorry for the long break! Was not expecting to come back to that many notes honestly it makes me super excited to write again! Thank you for requesting I hope you enjoy! <3

Doomfist:

Surprisingly enough it hardly bothers him; even the mild PDA

However, at work, he realized how lenient he has become with you and that eventually bothered him enough to talk to you about it

His position in talon demanded respect and he couldn’t commit to that with you clinging to him any chance you got

That being said you agree, more or less, to a compromise that allows him to better command a room

Thankfully, at home he anticipates your needs before they’re even needed whether it be to carry you around the house or even just a tender moment by the door as soon as he walks in

Reaper:

When he begins to realize just how clingy you are it takes him some time to adjust

He loves you dearly, but he is quick to set boundaries mainly pertaining to your behavior at work

Outside of that, however, he simply cannot help himself. You make him melt at your touch

Even through his agony he softens at your beckon call and your pleas to accompany him in his more mundane activities

In fact, despite popular belief, your clinginess comforts him in ways nothing else can

Moira:

Doesn’t mind it as much as one would think however she does establish a boundary concerning when she really has to focus on something/needs the space

Is occasionally too wrapped up in work to let you know when she would be late or wouldn’t be showing up but is easily forgiven with a little bit of a cuddle session

Despite her persistent studies she has her moments in which she craves your attention for a bit of a recharge

She comes to you masking her disheveled state with confident posture, but, the second she’s in your company she instantly relaxes as you retell the details of your day

Sombra:

Honestly doesn’t even notice that you are clingy and makes it a common occurrence to have you lay with her or on her while she works if possible

On days she's too busy or a mission is taking way too long she's already sending you a quick text with a few corresponding emojis while she's at it

She never tires of your company and is easily the biggest flirt on the team

When you two are apart she's always texting and answering you

Best chat logs out of everybody and almost never leaves you hanging unless the mission truly interferes in someway

Mauga:

If anything, this one is much clingier than you are

You two are always texting when you're apart even if he's in a meeting or briefing

You’re lucky if you even get out of bed as he’s always holding you. He hardly keeps his hands off of you when you’re together whether it be an arm over your shoulder or a hand around your waist

Your PDA makes everyone around you laughably uncomfortable and annoyed, although, you hardly notice them

Spending time with you is the best part of his day; he can’t imagine any other way he’d like to unwind

Widowmaker:

Isn’t the most touchy person out of everybody, but she tries to indulge your habits when she can

You two have a bit of a system built to avoid any uncomfortable moments when she needs her space

Regardless of this she cares about you very much and also enjoys her fair share of cuddles on the couch/in bed

Your dynamic leans more towards you talking while she listens, however, she does comment here and there when prompted

Although some distance remains, she can’t help but feel something every time she’s with you

Sigma:

Finds it incredibly endearing and indulges you quite easily when he isn’t solely focused on his work. Even so he doesn’t mind having you there with him from time to time

It’s quite common to find you two floating around spending time together and the PDA hardly warrants any complaints

His mind partially clears when he gets to spend time with you

You can see him hang on your every word as well as the joy in his eyes when he speaks so sweetly to you

Whenever you two are apart it isn’t surprising to hear him talk about you whenever he gets the chance. The other teammates are actually pretty fond of it

[n1ght0f-nyx]

Hiii! Do you also write for male!reader? If its a yes, may I request for Artist!male!reader x Erik? They have a long-distance relationship, yet reader always send him lovely letters (maybe even gifts or complete arts of Erik on special occasions [on Erik's birthday, on Valentine's Day, or on Christmas])

tags/themes- long distance, dont ask how erik sends his letters idk

word count- 1389

The room was quiet save for the faint scratching of pen against paper. You sat at your desk, surrounded by the clutter of your artistic life: half-finished sketches, tubes of paint, and brushes in varying states of wear. The letter in front of you was nearing completion, the words flowing from your heart with ease as they always did when you wrote to him.

Erik.

Even the mere thought of his name brought a warmth to your chest. Your relationship had started in the most unexpected way���a chance meeting at a gallery showcasing your work. Erik had been there, his piercing gaze studying your portraits of faceless figures with an intensity that almost made you falter. You remembered how he’d lingered at one particular piece: a shadowed figure at a grand piano, the light catching only the back of their head and hands. When he’d spoken, his voice was soft yet commanding, full of an almost musical cadence.

“You see people for what they truly are, don’t you?”

From that moment on, letters became your lifeline. Erik was often away, always elusive about his whereabouts, yet he never failed to reply to your missives. Your correspondence was a dance of words—his letters were intricate, almost poetic, weaving his thoughts in ways that left you breathless. You responded in kind, pouring your soul onto the page and, often, into your art.

Today, you were finishing a letter for his birthday. The ink on your pen flowed smoothly as you wrote:

My dearest Erik,

Another year has passed, and though the miles stretch between us, I feel closer to you with every stroke of this pen. Happy birthday, my love. I hope this letter finds you in good health and in the comfort of your music. I wish I could be there to celebrate with you properly, but until that day, let this letter and the gift enclosed be my stand-ins.

You mentioned in your last letter that you’ve been composing again, and it fills me with such joy to know that you’re finding solace in your melodies. Your music has always been a window to your soul, Erik, and I’m honored to be one of the few who gets to witness it.

I’ve included a new piece for you. It’s a portrait, though not a typical one. I wanted to capture the essence of you—the brilliance, the complexity, the beauty I see when I think of you. I hope you like it.

With all my love,

Yours always.

You set the pen down and folded the letter carefully, slipping it into an envelope along with the small, flat package. The painting you’d enclosed was one of your favorites: Erik seated at his organ, the faint glow of candlelight casting shadows across the room. His face was partially obscured, not by intention but by reverence—you’d painted him as you imagined he’d want to be seen, enigmatic yet deeply human.

The next morning, you mailed the package. As always, you felt a pang of bittersweet emotion as you handed it over to the postal worker. Would he love it? Would he write back soon? These questions buzzed in your mind as you walked back to your studio, where your next project awaited.

Weeks passed, and though you busied yourself with commissions and gallery deadlines, the anticipation of Erik’s reply lingered in the back of your mind. One crisp autumn morning, a letter finally arrived. The envelope was thick, the parchment inside scented faintly of something earthy and rich. You opened it with trembling hands.

My dearest,

Your letter and your gift have left me utterly speechless. The painting… I scarcely have words to describe it. You have captured something within me that I thought was long buried, perhaps even lost. It is a gift not just of art but of understanding, and for that, I am more grateful than I can ever express.

I wish you could see how it looks in my home, placed where the light hits it just so. It feels as though a part of you is here with me, and I find myself drawn to it whenever I play. It is a comfort in ways I didn’t expect.

Your letters sustain me, more than I can say. There are days when the world feels insurmountable, when the shadows of my past threaten to consume me. Yet, your words are a beacon, guiding me back to myself. Thank you, my love. Thank you for seeing me, for believing in me.

Yours always,

Erik.

You pressed the letter to your chest, a smile breaking across your face. Knowing that your work had brought him comfort made the hours spent on it all the more worthwhile. As you folded the letter back into its envelope, you resolved to start another piece for him—a gift for Christmas.

Christmas came quickly, the chill of winter settling into the city as snow blanketed the streets. You’d spent countless nights working on Erik’s gift: a series of small watercolor sketches depicting scenes from your letters. One showed the imagined interior of his home, a grand yet shadowed space illuminated by candlelight. Another depicted his hands at the keys of an organ, delicate and precise. The final piece was more abstract, a swirling blend of colors that you felt represented the music he often described in his letters.

Along with the sketches, you wrote him another letter:

My dearest Erik,

As the year draws to a close, I find myself reflecting on all the moments that have brought me joy, and you are at the center of them. Merry Christmas, my love. I hope these sketches bring a bit of warmth to your holiday season.

Your last letter has stayed with me. The thought of my work bringing you comfort fills me with more happiness than I can express. You have given me so much, Erik, more than you realize. Your words, your music, your very existence… they inspire me every day.

I hope one day we can spend this season together, but until then, know that you are always in my heart.

With all my love,

Yours always.

The weeks after Christmas were quieter than usual. No letter arrived, and you began to worry. Had something happened? Had your gift not reached him? The silence gnawed at you, and you found yourself pouring your anxiety into your work, creating piece after piece in an attempt to distract yourself.

Finally, in early February, a letter arrived. The envelope was thicker than usual, and your heart raced as you opened it.

My dearest,

I must apologize for my silence. The past weeks have been… difficult. There are things I wish I could tell you, things I long to share, but the words escape me. Please know that it is not a lack of love that kept me from writing but rather an overabundance of it. Your gifts arrived on Christmas Eve, and they were nothing short of miraculous. The sketches, especially the one of my hands at the organ… it brought tears to my eyes. How do you see me so clearly, even from so far away?

Valentine’s Day is soon approaching, and I find myself wishing more than ever that you were here. You are the light in my life, the one who gives me hope even when the world feels dark. I am sending something to you, a token of my affection. It is not much, but I hope it conveys even a fraction of what you mean to me.

Yours always,

Erik.

The package arrived a few days later. Inside was a delicate music box, its craftsmanship exquisite. When you opened it, a hauntingly beautiful melody filled the room—one of Erik’s compositions, you realized, rendered in miniature. Tears welled in your eyes as you listened, the music carrying his love across the distance between you.

You set the music box on your desk, its melody playing softly as you began your next letter. Though you longed to be with Erik in person, you knew that your words and your art were enough for now. Each letter, each gift, was a testament to the bond you shared, a love that transcended distance and circumstance. And as you wrote, you felt that bond grow stronger, tethering you to the man who had captured your heart.

[mandyarin]

Spring has come to me

Shohei Ohtani x Reader (female pronouns)

Synopsis: A story of love between the team physician and the superstar of the team.

Author's note: Hey y'all this is my first ever fic! I have been reading fics since forever and have been contemplating on making my own for the longest time and well my first piece is dedicated to Shohei Ohtani, since not much people write for this talented gorgeous man, I figured why not. Feedbacks are highly appreciated, altho pls don't be mean :< i didn't check for grammar or punctuation mistakes so I'm sorry for dat :>> there might also be some mistakes abt team technicalities and dynamics sooo :3

Working as part of the Dodgers' medical team was not really the dream but the opportunity was dropped into your lap and you'd be a fool not to take it. Spring training has started but not everyone on the team has been on the field as consistently as the star player of the team, Shohei Ohtani. Without fail he has been on the stadium even before beginning spring training. As part of the medical team you have been corresponding closely with the rehabilitation personnel that works closely with the players, most notably Shohei. It was slightly different from working in a hospital but certainly a lot less work and stress. Although the higher ups breathing down your neck making sure the star was going to be alright might be causing you a headache. You weren't much for baseball or sports in general, what with being an over achiever who seeks validation through academics, never having much extra curricular unless it involves the academe, despite that though, you have certainly heard of the name Shohei Ohtani and the ripples of his achievements.

You were at your office, contemplating the best course of care to be administered to common baseball injuries and rehabilitation, personalized treatment, the best apparatus to use. Your mind running through every possible scenario and making contingency plan for each. Not only is your skill and credibility as a professional on the line but also a player's professional career. Everything has to be perfect. Nothing more, nothing less.

A knock came through the door, "Come in" you called.

"Hey would you like to meet the players? They're out on the field right now, I figured we introduce you", Called out a staff member as he entered through the door.

"Yeah, sure. Let me just save this and I'll be right out."

There wasn't much distance to walk out on the field, you see the long stretch of players talking amongst themselves, stretching, checking out their equipments.

"Alright, everyone listen up. This is the new team physician joining us this season. She will be corresponding with the medical staff and personnel in ensuring the best care and treatment for every single one of you. She is one of the best in orthopedics. I expect that you guys will heed her advices regarding to your health." The team manager gathered everyone near him and had me introduce myself to everyone present.

Everyone had the opportunity to introduce themselves, accompanied by a handshake. Soon it was the superstar's turn. A hand that shook yours in greeting, dwarfing it in his roughed up hand. He gave you a smile that reached his eyes, you like his eyes, you decide. Like crescent moons as he gives a slight chuckle.

It wasn't all that hard to get occupied with Shohei's matters, you had to correspond with his surgeon about his recent surgery, you had to be in constant communication with the physical therapist in charge of him and you had to plan and administer the best care for his current state. One might say that you are too focused on him despite being the team physician but that is just the effect of having a $700 million player in your care. Not a thing spared if it's for his well-being. Besides he's the only player in the current roster with the most recent surgery done and you'll be damned if he's not good to go when the season starts.

Being in close proximity with him made you realize things about him. The talent he has and the grit he puts in everything he does on the field makes him the amazing player that he is, you have not seen someone as dedicated as he was in their craft. He's meticulous in his actions, moves with intention. Careful and purposeful. When he is off the zone, his laughter rings, albeit like a hyena. Wide smiles and the carefree way he carries himself. So carefree but so sure. You have never seen him look like he was out of place in his new team. He always looked like he belonged where he is, wherever might that be. An energy so magnetic but the type of magnetism that pulls you in slowly, carefully, like a smooth caress and then when you least expect it you were pulled into his orbit and you were none the wiser.

It started when he would be in your space. Rushing towards you as he finishes his set, like he has a special radar that is exclusively for you. Whether you're observing him or the other players or talking to other staff members. Nothing will stop him from going to you. Smiling down at you with a boyish smile, engaging you in conversations like "What have you been up to?", "Are you here to supervise?", "Are you here to see me?", "I'm gonna practice my batting today, can you check my form?". It flustered you at first but it has been such a common occurence that it has failed to phase you anymore.

Then, he would message you outside working hours. Sending pictures and videos of his adventures with Dekopin, fully taking advantage at the fact that you are weak for cute animals. You guys would talk about the everyday mundane things like the weather, food, hobbies and many other things. Then came more personal questions that dug deeper to reveal more of each other. A peek inside this amazing athlete, the person inside. Grasping the melancholy he feels, the little joys in his days, the trepidation that tomorrow brings, the pressure of the pedestal that he was put on. He seemed a little more human, a little more relatable. A little more like a boy who dreamed big and is now living it but still grasping at what was lost.

Then came the invites. Inviting you outside working hours for food, hanging out at his home, tagging along at Dekopin's vet appointments and anywhere else you could think of. Of course, there is definetely skepticisms and wariness with all these invites. He was a man who has his whole country watching him through the media's lenses, whether it be from reputable sources or the tabloids. For him to be seen with a woman was a sentence. Sentenced to be lump into rumors and gossips. The man of the hour and his partner. It was a headline just waiting to happen. But you reasoned with yourself. Surely they are aware that you are one of the team physicians, right? Surely they'll think it's just an appointment outside working hours, a bit unconventional but people wouldn't think you guys are together, right? Right. No one will think so. You were just a team doctor hanging out with one of your team's player, nothing more. You said in your head like a mantra, as you accept his offers to go out. Truly hoping for it to be the case.

The realization came to you on a quiet night. You didn't mind the closeness of Shohei, you didn't mind that he would come running to you whenever he sees you, in fact you enjoyed seeing him jog to you and grace you with that ever so handsome smile of his. He fills your head with mindless ramblings and chats, you think you would hate it since you have learned to value silence as your companion but you found out you didn't. His voice and presence now accompanies you too. You found that you didn't mind being linked to him. You didn't mind if your face or name will be plastered on a headline on Japanese newspapers or tabloids by tomorrow. You didn't mind people writing about you and your relationship. It really doesn't matter. What matters is if he is happy, it matters if he is comfortable with you accompanying him to whatever and wherever and well, he is happy, he is comfortable. What matters is that you love him. You have learned that Shohei has wormed his way to your heart slowly but surely and he is there to stay, taking hold of a chunk of your heart. Ready to hold his hand tightly and face the world. Courageously love and be loved.

Shohei was intrigued by you, you were young, the youngest physician he has seen on the team and yet you managed to be one of the best orthopedic in the country and landing a job at Dodgers, well he might have also been struck by your outwardly appearance and honestly he isn't shy to admit that. You are beautiful.

You are a constant presence in his training, checking up on him and the others, taking special care of him and his recent surgery. He noticed how you're a little stoic, maintaining that air of professionalism like an armor, your brilliance showing through the improved physical care of the players and everyone surely took notice of it. But you were also coy, giving him small smiles or chuckles when he finds courage to talk to you or when you're assisting him on his rehab exercises, putting slight pressure on his forearms and chest, eyes shyly meeting his. It never fails to makes his heart flutter like a teenager.

You had a strong wall built around you, from past hurt, perhaps? He doesn't know but he vowed to himself that he will do anything to break it down or climb his way up over to you. Meticulously planning everything to give his heart and to have yours.

Shohei figures that you love cute and loveable things and he thinks Dekopin could be the best wingman for the job. He was cute and loveable, the perfect tool, the perfect excuse to message you. He knows you couldn't resist and from then on he would talk and talk until you'd answer, he didn't mind waiting he knows you're busy and he knows you might not be used to it. It's okay he'll glady start the conversation if it means getting to talk to you. He's patient and he will wait until you come around. The conversations turn personal at one point and he saw a little more of you. The anxious, perfectionist that is a tad bit hard on herself. A tortured genius, if you will. He can sympathize with you in that regard, with both being young people on such peaks of successes, people from your respective fields waiting on your next moves, ready to pounce when the chance arises. It's exhausting but he figured he wouldn't mind being exhausted together.

Shohei knows he's always being watched, he knows paparazzi are lurking at corners near the stadium, near his home, and wherever places he frequents to. He admits it is a little selfish of him to invite you to his home, or wherever outside work. He knows there is a big possibility of getting caught and photographed but he couldn't give a damn. He doesn't care if people speculates about his romantic life if it is with you. He doesn't mind giving out a statement that you and him are at a stage of getting to know each other. He doesn't mind declaring to the world that he only has eyes for you. He knows he's selfish, the press might hound you and pick you apart so he's careful when inviting you out. Always at odd hours, using an unusual and discreet car, making sure to cover your face when arriving and leaving his home. Yes, he is selfish but he is not to put you in any kind of pressure and danger. He cares about you too much to be too selfish.

On a perfect breezy midnight of spring he received a call from you, asking him if he was awake. His heart quickens, mouth dries a little, he answered you "Yes", with a light waver in his voice.

"Alright, wait for me, I'm coming over."

"Okay, I'll be waiting for you. Be safe."

His heart stutters in his chest, you have never called him first, never initiated on coming to his house, he was a little scared but your voice seems resolute like there is something that has to be done and he hopes deep deep in his heart that it is what he think it is.

You came knocking on his door after a few minutes and Shohei almost falls over trying to get to the door to get you. And there you were in your full glory, a little disheveled in your most comfortable sweater and sweats. The breeze caressing your hair, your skin. Shohei can't believe that he starts to get a little jealous of the way the breeze kisses you and be so upclose to you. You also take him in, in his loungewear shorts and thin sweatshirt, tousled hair and a slight pink tint to his full cheeks.

"May I come in?"

He's stunned for a little bit then clears his throat and replies, "Of course, come on in. Don't mind the mess Dekopin just destroyed another one of his toys".

As you guys shuffled inside his home, the air stills and there's an undeniable tension between the two of you. Shyly meeting each other's gaze for a minute and like magnets you draw towards each other. Timidly, you put your hands against Shohei's chest, both your hearts jumping out of your ribcages at the action.

"Is this okay?", you asked looking up at him through your eyelashes. Eyes flitting between his eyes and his lips. Shohei noticed the action and wrapped his arms around your torso, bringing you impossibly closer to him, he needs to feel you, he needs to feel your skin on his, your breath on his skin, your lips on his.

"Yes", he replied as he carefully places one of his hand on the back of your head. Slowly inching towards your lips.

"Is this also okay?", he asked lips almost touching yours as he spoke. You didn't waste your time and finally have your lips meet in a sweet embrace that slowly deepened into a dance of lips flitting at each other. The kiss was sweet and sensual, just like him, you think. The kiss was everything the both of you have hoped for. A kiss that says everything and a kiss that seals everything. You finally break away from each other to catch your breath, but lips still touching each other, exhanging breathes, panting on each other's lips.

"Thank you for being patient with me. I love you." You said to him, lips touching his as you speak. He gives you a long peck.

"I'll be here always waiting for you, I love you too. I love you." He utters to you sweetly, saying the last part in his native tongue. Conveying all the love he has in those words. He hopes that you can feel his sincerity, if not then he'll just have to show it to you every time until you can feel it.

Truly, spring has come and bloomed love both to you and Shohei.

A/N: I've been inspired by what the phrase "Spring has come" mean to both Korean and Japanese language ik its not yet spring but yeah I just rlly wanted to write about this. Hope you guys enjoyed it <3