#its one of the few things that you were able to keep working on and expanding after unlocking everything else

[leclercstars]

advantage, zweig.

college!art donaldson x college!patrick zweig x reader based on this request

Summary: You've been into Art for years, but after he misses out on your senior awards ceremony, your feelings completely disappear. Seeing you out with a new guy certainly didn't help Art feel any better either. Warnings: mentions of alcohol, drug usage, kissing, mentions of sex.

You had been friends with Art and Tashi since you all were in the 5th grade. Spent hours on the playground together and in each other’s backyards before tennis consumed all three of you. When you all committed to Stanford, the joint going-away party your parents threw was unforgettable for quite a few reasons.

There had never really been any romantic tension between any of you. You and Tashi always had different types, and Art was sort of a self-proclaimed fuckboy so neither of you wanted anything to do with that. At least neither of you ever let it show. You had a sort of evergreen crush on Art, that seemingly persisted through every phase of your lives. From playing spin the bottle in basements to sneaking out for real parties in high school, the silent yearning you had for his touch never fully went away. Even when you had other boyfriends, shamefully, you always caught yourself thinking of Art when you listened to playlists they had made you. So when you walked him out to his car alone after your party, both of you single, Tashi preoccupied with talking to the adults, you knew you couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Bathed in the yellowy light of the street lamp, you leaned up against his car, wearing a low-cut white mini dress that did a good job of showing off your assets. Exactly what you wanted in this moment. It was 10pm, and the summer breeze had picked up, making your nipples pique through the thin fabric of the little dress. Art slowly stepped towards you, saying nothing, the lighting making his features dark, shadowy, lustful. His hands found the curve of your waist and pinned you against the chrome car door, tongue snaking its way down your throat with a passion that you had never experienced before. You tangled your hands in his hair, never wanting to let go of him or this moment. You kissed for what felt like hours, but as soon as he pulled away you already missed the taste of his lips against yours. He rested his forehead on yours, eyes closed, thumb rubbing your cheek. And then he got in the car and drove off.

And that was it. You never spoke of that moment again. You never told Tashi. That was it. And it was eating away at you. Your insides were constantly being mauled by a hunger for the feeling of his hands on you again. It was like a drug. A moment that had happened two years ago, and you constantly wanted another hit of that feeling. You all stayed friends, and you started to wonder if Art even remembered that it happened. It became harder and harder with each passing day to just act like things were the same, even when you had boyfriends of your own. You felt awkward bringing them around Art, knowing the way you felt. You still texted him all the time, hoping every notification was one from him. He had never been able to tie down a serious girlfriend, but spent quite a bit of time going on dates, which Tashi thought was trashy. “You can’t just keep leading girls on!” she would constantly groan. Boy, if only she knew. You kept yourself distracted from your own emotions by throwing yourself into school work, knowing that would at least pay off eventually. You excitedly texted Tashi and Art when you learned you were earning a distinguished senior award, and both of them promised to come to the ceremony. Tashi showed up 10 minutes early, always eager and overly punctual. 5 minutes passed, then 10, then 20. No sign of Art. He wasn’t responding to either of your texts, and Tashi started rubbing your back, knowing how excited you were about him being there. You had all done everything together for so long, and Art was missing out on the most important moment of your college career. How could he? This man you had loved for so long suddenly exposing his true colors sent a shock throughout your entire body. It was like waking up from a deep sleep, your feelings for Art slowly dissipating into the air around you. You heard a knock on your apartment door late that night. It was Art, standing there with flowers, wearing his sweat-stained Stanford tennis t-shirt. 

“I am so sorry.” “I don’t care Art,” you snapped, starting to close the door when he put his hand out to stop you, forcing himself inside. “Get out of my house,” each word dripping like venom off your tongue. “At least let me apologize, I overslept.” “You don’t get to just oversleep an important moment in my life and then expect me to act like it never happened,” you were choking back tears, not wanting to appear vulnerable in front of the man who hurt you so badly. “You’re gonna throw 10 years away for this? For one moment?” Art’s emotion was visceral, slicing through the thick tension hanging between the two of you. “I loved you Art,” you said matter of factly. “But this isn’t the only time you’ve “overslept” and no one who is wasting my time is worth any of mine.” He stood there, mouth agape. Tears welling up in the bottom of his eyes. He looked like a sad puppy, which was making it harder and harder for you to remain stone faced.

“What?” he said softly, voice quivering. “Get out, Art.” you choked. You couldn’t do this right now, just wanting to push him out of your apartment and out of your life. He threw the flowers on the table and left, slamming the door behind him. The wilted flowers still sat there two weeks later when you were bringing Patrick through the door, drunkenly stumbling with him to your bedroom. Tashi had set the two of you up after you spent hours crying to her about Art. “You can’t spend the rest of your life buried in a pint of ice cream,” she said. Obviously, it went well, as you watched him slip the condom out of his wallet before you shut your bedroom door.

Things were far from serious between you and Patrick. You couldn’t stand the thought of experiencing real emotion for anyone at the moment. Patrick was fun, he was sexy.  He loved going out and he was always happy to provide you with drunk cigs. Patrick showed up right at the perfect moment on Friday night. You were already drunk and all that tequila had gone straight to your clit. It was like he had a magnetic field around him, pulling you closer and closer with each passing minute. You met on the dance floor, your ass finding his crotch pretty easily as he pulled you in, the bumping techno song intoxicating you even more on him. 

“Oh hey that guy over there sits next to me in class!” Patrick waved and grinned before getting back to feeling you up. It was Art. Standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching you bump and grind with a guy who he thought was a random classmate. Your phone pinged and you sneakily pulled it out to read the text. It was from Art.

“I’m pretty sure he does coke.” You rolled your eyes and glared at him.

“I don’t really care Art.”

“I’d be a much better dance partner.” he shot back

Your stomach fluttered a bit at that, but you suppressed it. Remembering why you had distanced yourself from Art in the first place. “Let’s get out of here” you whispered to Patrick.

The two of you waded through the crowd, hand-in-hand, and you were sure to choose a path that led you directly by Art. You walked past without glancing at him. Once you reached the door, you saw him standing there still, watching, mouth drawn in a tight line, brows furrowed.

You had never felt so satisfied.

dividers by @.cafekitsune

tags: @fangirlinc @nuhteyam

[jackrabbit-fandom]

Boothill backstory spoilers, so if you dont wanna be spoiled scroll on

This is mostly comfort/fluff mabye tiny angst due to his backstory

Yes, it will include some relationship bits cause of course

Boothill, where his daughter survives, which, yes, i understand, would probably mean he doesn't become 'boothill', but let's pretend he does for the sake of the story. Also im goin with the name cherry for her cause i think its pretty cute

These kinda imply that it's been a few years between boothills' story and penacony

Mabye he was able to save her, and in the process, his body got damaged bad enough that he had to replace it. In this situation, it would be more so because he was hurt so badly he nearly died but didn't wanna leave his daughter.

He'd likely want to keep her as safe as possible but still ended up becoming a space ranger anyway due to sharing the ideologies, but for the first few years of her life, he likely ether stays out of trouble as much as possible or has a safe house for her when he absolutely can not take her with him. On the missions where he does carry her along when she's fairly young, he's just got her attached to a baby sling on his chest. Though i dont see that being extremely common, he doesn't want to risk even a 0.0000000001% chance of her getting hurt

Imagine being intimidated by this cyborg man with a baby sling....anyway

Once she gets older, she's more steady with her walking, she's talking in full sentences, and finally, tall enough to reach his hip, hed likely start teaching her to use a gun.

It's a very serious moment due to how important he thinks it is for her to be able to defend herself when he can't be around. Hed likely has a target set up as he knelt behind her, helping her hold it and aim.

'Keep your breathing steady, don't close both eyes it puts your aim off, keep your elbows loose, respect the gun but don't fear it'

He knows he's going to have to get to work getting his revenge for the rest of his family, so he can't keep coddling her so teaching her to use a gun, or disarm someone and fight hand to hand becomes his top priority. That's not to say he over works her or forces her when she's tired, that's still his little girl, so when she's tired from training he makes sure she gets plenty of rest.

As much as being prepared is important, being well rested and happy is too.

On to more domestic and sweet ones, i donno if he'd have his own ship or just have some safe house on some random planet, but either way coming home to seeing his little girl happy healthy and alive is probably his favorite part of the day, the big bad gunslinger persona immediately melts away and he goes straight into silly annoying dad mode.

This means he has a million dad jokes to make poor cherrys eyes roll out of her head. Though I'd imagine she'd end up just like him, funny phrases, stupid jokes, and a bit of an attitude.

Once she's plenty old enough, say around 16 or so, and wants to go out on more dangerous missions with her dad, i think she would follow the path of abundance. Shed likely wants to protect others like her dad does, plus it's pretty helpful when your father is a cowboy who runs around getting into trouble. It does help put boothill at ease as well, seeing as she can heal herself if she gets hurt....as if he'd ever let that happen.

I'd think that for a while, he's more focused on his daughter rather than finding a partner, however were he to meet you at some point when cherry was fairly young one thing that would likely make him interested is you acting kindly towards her and cooing over her. Showing positive interest in his daughter is a pretty good way to get on his good side. Doesn't quite mean he'll trust you just yet. it just means you're on good terms with him.

I feel like he'd have to trust you pretty well before he lets you watch his daughter. She is his pride and joy, and his one most important person in his life. he almost lost her, and he won't risk someone trying to take her from him again.

However, once cherry is older and can, for the most part, care for herself without her papa watching over her, then hed show more interest. If you were there sense she was young and helped him care for her, he likely already started liking you early on but just didn't make a mood due to focusing on her. Due to you being closer to her in this situation, i can imagine her calling you her mom/dad/parent, too. Extra brownie points!

I imagine cherry being, like i said, like her dad. A bit goofy at times with weird phrases and a slight attitude, and growing up with his censor shed likely copy that too, yelling out "fudge!" When she stubs her toe. I can see her having an interest towards guns sense it was something her papa introduced her to it but also music. Hed likely have taught her guitar by this point so shed probably make up her own little songs and sing them to him (and you once you join the little family) and no matter if their bad or good hes always just happy to hear her sing with the biggest smile on his face, and you best be too.

Oh, and of course, shed get her own cowboy hat, but choose to keep stealing his anyway.

Overall, if she had survived, i imagine him being mostly the same, just with a little girl following him around.

If you liked the fic, feel free to give me requests around this au. I just need this motherfudger to be happy, please.

Edit: @legalize-arson gave me the name idea. I do not like not crediting

[shorlinesorrows]

Here There Be Dragons (WIP Part 1)

Nathaniel Weninski, covered in blood and absolutely exhausted, yanks another one of his daggers out of the dragon’s gullet. The lizard was a big one, and he wonders absently how it got into the Empire as he wipes off his blade against his pants. The thought is dismissed quickly. 

Not really his line of work. Someone else can deal with the logistics behind this once Nathaniel and the others report back. 

A loud whistle comes from somewhere on the opposite side of the beast’s body, shattering the quiet air of a kill and wordlessly demanding that they all check in. How Riko manages to make a whistle sound pushy and annoyed, Nathaniel doesn’t know. He waits for Kevin to respond from a nearby rooftop before whistling back, keeping an ear out for Jean and Andrew’s confirmations as he continues to gather his knives. He’d sunk a dozen of them into the monster before it fell, half of which were jammed into its eye sockets or the chinks in the scales on its neck. 

By the time Andrew comes into view, crawling up its head and toward the horns with his greataxe in hand, Nathaniel has neatly wiped and stored his bloodied knives. He’ll need to clean and repoison them properly later today. 

Concerned civilians are already leaking back out onto the streets, staying a careful distance away from the growing pool of blood around the dragon’s body. Local law enforcement arrives quickly to set up a perimeter, carefully marking Moriyama property with all the diligence of well-paid underlings. Lord Ichirou will be pleased with this one, Nathaniel knows. It’s big, and the damage to the body wasn’t that bad. The spoils from the dragon’s corpse will fetch a fine price among Evermore’s elite, and even more so in less savory places. 

There wasn’t even much property damage for Ichirou to pay out on. The dragon had been considerate enough to show up on a wider street.

Nathaniel snorts at the thought, the edges of his mouth curling up.

With a rasp of armor against scales, Andrew slides off the dead dragon, the chopped-off tip of a horn clenched in one hand, greataxe reattached to his back. He’s somehow mostly clean, despite the fact that he’s a close-range fighter like Nathaniel. He nods, and Nathaniel resists the urge to smile at him. Right now, the only thing he’d be able to pull off is a spitting impression of his father. 

He nods back instead.

“Are you done, Minyard? Let's go!” Kevin yells at them from near the dragon’s tail, voice irritable and thick with too-little sleep. 

Nathaniel rolls his eyes as he and Andrew head over. Nathaniel only got a couple hours of sleep, too, but you don’t see him being pissy about it. Jean and Riko join the three of them quickly, Riko giving all of them a quick once-over to check for damage before shooting Kevin a sharp look. 

Kevin leans a bit awkwardly on his staff, every line in his body slumped against it. He’s obviously suffering mana depletion, which makes sense after the stunt he pulled with the immobilization spell. It’s not really meant for creatures bigger than a horse, much less ones the size of a house. 

Nathaniel’s sympathetic enough, but Kevin still needs to get himself together. They’re in public. When Riko glares, Kevin straightens, blinking a few times to keep his eyes away from dangerous drooping territory. He wobbles a little, and they pull around him without a word, hiding the weakness from prying eyes. Andrew vanishes the dragon horn into someone's bag, and they move away from their kill as a group.

Four streets down, a featherlight coach is waiting, floating a few feet above the ground and ready to cart the group back to Castle Evermore. 

Ichirou will want to speak with them.

[lorebeth]

Hello. I was wondering if you could make a platonic Honkai Star Rail story with the reader being Jing Yuan's child and but they ended up running away to stay with their mother because they keep messing things up especially after Jing Yuan and the readers mother got divorced. it takes awhile but a few months later the reader suddenly returned to the Loufu because of some disaster where the reader had been living with their mother and Jing Yuan also wanted to talk the reader so he would finally be able to apologize to them especially after he accidentally saw the diary they kept on their computer. (I was kind of inspired by the first episode of The Owl House season three Thank To Them for this request but If you're not not comfortable with writing this that's completely alright and I wish you a good morning/afternoon or goodnight☺️)

I nearly cried bro I accidentally deleted everything I’m gonna sob but I rewrote it!!

IM SO SORRY IVE LITERALLY BEEN DEAD I SWEAR THE SECOND I WROTE FANFICS I GOT YHE MOST DEADLY COUGH OF MY LIFE I WAS SICK FOR THREE MONTHS STRAIGHT 😭😭😭 I HAD WHOOPING COUGH ISTG

My exams started a little while ago too and I had a request before this, I HOPE THIS IS GOOD ENOUGH AND IM SORRY ITS SO LATE OMG I DIDNT MEAN TO DROP OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH!!!

TW: mention of bad coping mechanisms - no outright mention of sh, yanqing and reader share a sibling bond, jing yuan is kinda ooc in my opinion… I genuinely think there’s a paragraph missing somewhere and a bunch of spelling mistakes so please bare with me 🙏🙏🙏 Yanqing referred to as brother multiple times near the end!!! 

It all started after the divorce. Your grades plummeted and your training sessions with your father became scarce. Your footing during combat was mediocre at best and you found yourself closing off from friends and even your own father.

He was worried about you from the beginning, never wanting you to be at the centre of the messy divorce especially during one of the most stressful weeks at the Luofu no doubt. The IPC had arrived on short notice and demanded immediate attention, leaving your father to worry about not only them but how you felt and your mental state too. 

How he showed his care however… It was not the best. He would make sure others spent time with you in his place, whenever you wanted to see him, you would be notified by a guard or one of his subordinates who would be tasked to hang out with you that he was unavailable and you wouldn’t see him until later. 

This did not make you feel better, instead you got into contact with your mother again, her reaching out and asking to spend time with you. You didn’t know how to feel and had mixed emotions but ultimately coming to the conclusion to give her a chance and slowly working up to a happier relationship with her again. Not only were you disappointed at your father but also your mother. 

She told you all about her new home and how it resembled the Luofu so much, how she would be delighted for you to join her one day. You liked that idea a lot! Especially since you had a feeling that your father’s subordinates didn’t want to babysit you anymore.

You worked on yourself and started training again, this time not with your father. The IPC had left weeks ago and promised to come back to settle matters with your father once and for all. You didn’t care about that though, you still hadn’t seen your father in a week up until the point of training.

“That’s right, Y/N!” Yanqing praised. He had become one of your closest companions and you both had a sibling-like bond: he knew you better than anyone else and you vice versa. He had become your pillar and knew all your secrets, even about the unhealthy coping you had developed and how to better maintain your emotions and habits during the tough days. 

Jing Yuan knew of you two’s training sessions and had guards keep him posted on your location at all times. He didn’t want to admit it, but he kept himself away from you at the fear of being neglectful and disappointing you again. He remembers the last time you both were in the same room, you had begged to play chess with him. He had pushed you away, saying;

“I’m busy, Y/N. Please go find someone else.” 

He in fact wasn’t that busy, he just couldn’t bare to see you and thought you were disappointed in him. He replayed that scenario in his head multiple times the entire week he’s gone without seeing you and at the back of his mind is the broken relationship with your mother. He cannot bring himself to forgive what he had done to your mother to make her leave, and he was worried you would eventually leave him as well. In desperate attempt, he would send you trinkets and clothing to try repair the missing attention he couldn’t give you, but you stopped taking them after a while. His heart couldn’t bare to see you upset at him, so he buried himself in his paper work. Surprising all those around him, especially Fu Xuan. She was extremely impressed and scared. She had no clue when he became so serious about his work and almost drowning himself in it. 

Fu Xuan knew it had to do with you. She was one of your mothers closest friends and knew that you went through one of the toughest situations of all, your parents both fighting for custody and ultimately putting you in the middle of their arguments. She also had to hang out with you in place of Jing Yuan sometimes, knowing exactly how you felt and being able to read you like an open book. She couldn’t help but feel angry at your father, cursing him and his stupidity. For a General, he sure was an idiot for denying you the love and attention you deserved, instead making others give it to you when you instead needed your father.

You fucked up. Earlier this morning in a final attempt to reconnect with your father, you walked in on a meeting of his. You had no clue he had visitors and you went everywhere in the house trying to look for him. He never let you get involved in meetings - stating you were too young and shouldn’t worry about such trivial matters. You tried to respect his wishes every time, knowing he was a well respected figure and you didn’t want to mess that up for him.

“So, this morning I received word from-“ the voice of your father stopped as you opened the door to his private study. His closest subordinates sitting around a table, waiting for him to finish his sentence. Everyone turned to look at you and you felt your face get hot, your knees wobble and tears prick your eyes. You screwed the fuck up. 

“I’m sorry! I was just-“ you couldn’t finish off the sentence, you felt your throat closing up in panic. You made eye contact with everyone, noticing pity and sympathy in their eyes. You hated it so much… But what caught you the most off guard was the hard expression on your fathers face. His eyes calculating and holding an emotion you couldn’t decipher. You wanted to explode on the spot.

Quickly and almost aggressively, you slammed the door behind you, shaking the hinges and wanting the ground to swallow you whole more than ever. 

The look in your fathers eyes. Was he disappointed with you? Did he have enough? Did he not love you anymore? Were you being too pushy about hanging out with him? Why was he looking at you so coldly? You wanted to cry and sob and forget about everything. Go back to the days before the divorce. You wanted everything to be the way it was. Going out with your mother and father, being showered with love and affection, being given small trinkets that your father said reminded him of both you and your mother. 

You felt yourself spiralling again. You needed to go see Yanqing and quick. 

“Oh Y/N…” Yanqing nearly pleaded with you. He knew that look on your face, your swollen eyes and your weak frown, he was immediately sympathetic and knew something bad happened between you and Jing Yuan. 

Yanqing himself considered Jing Yuan his father in a sense too and you his sibling, so he knew you well enough to grasp you and Jing Yuan’s connection. He also loved your mother as his own and the divorce hit him pretty harsh as well. But he understood they fought about you the most, and how helpless you felt. He never held that against you and tried his best to make sure you were safe and as happy as could be, but right now? What the hell happened?

“What happened? Do you want to talk about it?” He held you in his arms as you felt your tears never ending.

“I think father’s upset with me…” you couldn’t help inhale air with small hiccups and double takes, staining Yanqing’s shirt with your salty tears. You wanted to pry away and apologise but you felt too weak and mentally exhausted. You felt stupid and not worth it, not worth your father.

“I’m sure it was all a misunderstanding, Y/N! He loves you, of course he does!” Yanqing offered, he help you tighter and you felt all your emotions explode again, crying harder than before.

“You should have seen the look on his face- he stared and stared with that cold look!” you wrapped your arms around Yanqing’s back and clung onto him hopelessly. 

“I- N/N…” he started, only for you to cut him off.

“Y’know… I’ve been thinking about moving with mother…” you sniffled, having calmed down much more than before. You felt Yanqing freeze around you.

“W-what do you mean?” He uttered in disbelief.

You dropped your arms slowly and looked up at the young boy, wiping your tears and holding his hand in your own. 

“Let’s face it. Things haven’t been the same since the divorce. Father’s been avoiding me like the plague, sending everyone but him to come hang out with me. For Aeon’s sake, he didn’t even come to the park like we always used to on the First Full Moon of the month…” you whispered, emotion turning your voice hoarse and painful, as if thorns were tightening at your throat.

“But- but it could get better! I’m sure if I spoke to him, he’d understand!” Yanqing stared at you with determination in his eyes, his hope shining bright. 

“I don’t think it will. Not after today. I promise to come visit you, I swear it! I just- I don’t want to embarrass myself more in front of father than I already have. I don’t think he deserves that.” you state gently. 

For the first time in a few weeks, you felt excited. Not that hanging out with Yanqing and sending letters to your mother wasn’t fun, but you genuinely wanted some where new to explore, a different atmosphere away from the burden of trying to please a father who couldn’t even bother look you in the eyes. You needed a change of pace.

“I promise I’ll write you to everyday!” You beam at him. The boy looks at you with uncertainty in his gaze and sadness. After losing your mother, he didn’t want to lose you too. But he knew it would make you happier than ever. And plus, he loves reading your spelling mistakes. It’s a win-win in his book.

You had left nearly 3 months ago, keeping your promise and sending voice recordings to your brother and small videos here and there, as well as handwritten envelopes with flowers from the beautiful planet your mother came to. She had told you it’s history and how they had been rebuilding themselves as an Oasis in the making. Her mother, your grandmother came from this beautiful planet and you couldn’t help but notice how similar you looked to the natives here. You felt at home, much more than you ever did on the Luofu.

You hadn’t told you father about your departure, having opted to pack you bags immediately and call your mother, asking for a quick and easy way to travel to her home world. She accepted immediately and welcomed you with open arms.

You eventually told her why you left and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “That man wouldn’t know discipline and responsibility if it hit him with the entire Luofu itself! How he’s made it all these years is beyond me. I’m sorry you experienced that my love. I’m glad you’re with me now.” She would scoff at your father’s actions and always pat your head, getting ready to go to work or take you out during her days off. She would also help you record videos for Yanqing and would mention how she missed her son dearly, always calling him hers and asking if he’s been eating well, showing in her own way she cares.

You didn’t want to know about your father and Yanqing never told you, waiting only to tell you when you asked. Which never came.

Eventually, you had made friends with the locals, learned your native tongue and made sure that everyone was happy, having been placed to understudy your mother and work alongside her in the Guild to provide for the elders of the City. You also volunteered to as many soup kitchens as possible and helped with poverty wherever you could. Your mothers home was beautiful but the economy was rather poor, leading to the fittest to provide for the elders and young children. 

You returned home one day after a successful evening at the kitchen only to have received three distress signals from Yanqing and one from your father. You felt sick to your stomach and as if you were about to faint. 

Quickly you opened your signals and heard voice messages come through.

“Y/N! Please! You need to come back to the Luofu right now! It’s Jing Yuan! He’s- he’s been in critical condition since this evening!” 

“Please! Fu Xuan is panicking and it’s throwing me off… I- I don’t know what to do! Please…”

“He’s finally okay! He’s in a stable condition… it’s been hours! Please tell me you’re okay, Y/N! He’s been asking for you… Please return to the Luofu…” 

You didn’t dare open your father’s one. It was staring at you as if cornering you . Ready to eat you alive. 

“Y/N. You should return.” Your mother said beside your doorframe. She had heard everything and wanted to make sure you were okay. 

“I- but…?” You started, only to be met with your mother’s questioning gaze. You knew you should go visit your brother and father, Yanqing was worried and your father could have died. You had to see him. 

“Okay…” you couldn’t help but worry.

The air was different on the Luofu than your mother’s planet. It was crisp, almost as if there was electricity in the air, waiting to strike at any moment. 

As you made your way down the streets to your home, you felt a familiar presence and turned around to see Yanqing running at you full speed, nearly knocking you down ass first onto the pavement. 

“Y/NNN!!!!!” He nearly sobbed. It was endearing and a little too tight of a hug, but you reciprocated.

“Hey there, Yanqing! I’ve missed you.” You felt your eyes tear up. You had truly missed your brother and wanted him to be safe.

“I’ve missed you too. I really hope you’re happy. But..! Please- Jing Yuan- he’s been so tired and I’ve never seen him this restless. You have to go see him.” The boy stopped hugging you to stare at you with complete sadness. 

You felt as if your body was in fight or flight, wanting to drop kick your brother and run for the hills of your mothers home planet. But that would be uncivilised and you’d feel bad later.

“Okay…” you agreed with apprehension.

You had entered your father’s house. Everything was the same way it was when you left. The same colours, same tapestries, even the same stupid old vase you hated and wanted to break on multiple occasions at the ugliness of it. You truly didn’t miss this place one bit but at the same time missed all the memories and the unfulfilled promises. 

As you walked the final step of stairs and walked to the end of the hall, you were met with the door of your father’s bedroom. He had shared it once with your mother and you nearly sobbed at the sight of it. Last time you had been in his room was when you had a nightmare and wanted your mother, having snuck into the bed to be with her. 

You quickly pulled off the bandaid. Knocking softly three times and rethinking doing it again having garnered no reply.

Just as you brought your hand up to knock again, a hoarse voice spoke out. “Come in.”

You felt your stomach do summersaults and wanted to evaporate into thin air. But you had to pull the bandaid off completely, no? 

You opened the door gently and closed it behind you, walking to your father’s bed and having made eye contact with him half way through your walk. His eyes were glassy and he was in his bed with bandages all over his chest, arms and even one on his neck. You nearly broke into tears.

“Y/N…” he uttered softly. His gaze piercing yet soft. He missed you dearly and wanted to reach out desperately to apologise for how he treated you. But you weren’t here to hear his excuses.

 “Father…” you couldn’t hold it back and the tears started flowing again. Jing Yuan slowly rose up and took your hand to his chest, pulling your entire body towards him and laying you on his bed, kissing your forehead and holding you tight. You wrapped your arms around him and kept apologising, remembering how you had left without a word and wanting it all to have been a bad dream.

“You’re my child, Y/N. And I should have treated you better. I did not mean to chase you away or make you feel incompetent. I adore you and you are one of the only good things in my life. My life’s purpose.” He whispered into your hair.

“I- I should have been there when you were upset. I am sorry for neglecting you. I wish I had spoken to you more and kept the relationship.” He held you tighter, as if afraid you would disappear any minute.

“I’ve read your diary, Y/N.” You freeze. Oh shit. He started to pet your head and you feel tears blind your vision.

“Father- you weren’t..!” You can’t finish due to the hiccups taking over your body. He only pushes you away to look into your eyes carefully. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. You were never the reason me and your mother didn’t work out. You will forever be my top priority, and I am so sorry you felt otherwise. You are my child- my one true love. I will never stop fighting for you, nor your brother. Please, give me one last chance to prove to you my dear child.” His eyes were glassy and he had extreme eye bags, a curtesy of his non-existent sleep schedule. 

You didn’t know how to reply. Of course he still loved you, even after the lack of communication on his behalf and your insecurities leading up to the emotional turmoil in your relationship. 

“You’re my father. Of course I’ll always give you a second chance..” you whisper against him again.

You had a feeling that everything was going to be okay again.

[arolesbianism]

I am still not over the level cap thing what do you mean level fucking 10

[tojirights]

I absolutely love your Alastor smut! Is there anyway you can make one where your Vox’s ex and Alastor decided to somehow show off to Vox how much reader loves his c*ck more?? A special broadcast maybe?? Please keep up the great work!

a/n: i love vox but if there's one thing i love more, its making him feel inferior to alastor 😍 this is soo good. REQUESTS OPEN! 🩷

tags: 18+ smut nsfw!

vox thought alastor couldn't get any worse, there was nothing that shit-for-brains demon could do to enrage him more. that was until valentino told him that alastor had a new pretty little thing hanging on his arm. "he WHAT?!" vox's voice cracks from the sheer force he puts behind those words. valentino snickers, watching vox run to his security room.

and there you were, locked arms with that fucking deer demon, walking down the street. you looked absolutely enthralled with that fucker! "you've gotta be fucking kidding me..." he growls, static filling his vision. as if alastor can sense that they're being watched, he winks at the camera and pulls you down a more secluded path. vox puts his fist straight through the screen before pacing around the room. it couldn't have been more than a few minutes before his ears pick up that voice, that shitty radio voice.

"good evening viewers!" alastor begins, making vox's head spin around. the tvs were blank, just audio playing through them. he's about to smash the rest of them when something catches his attention. he swears he hears a familiar noise, your noises specifically. then he hears you panting, and blood rushes to his groin first and then his face. "thank you for tuning into a very special late night broadcast." alastor's voice sounds... breathier.

"what the fuck is-" vox mutters to himself before his eyes go wide. "o-oh god." you moan, sounding far too sexy. and enjoying yourself far too much. "yes alastor, fuck. that's so good." your whines play out, filling the room and vox is just about to lose it. "is alastor fucking your ex?" valentino leans against the doorframe, a smug look on his face. "you’re so tight, my dear. your cunt was made for my cock just as i was made for radio." he laughs to himself, his hands finding your hips as he fucks you over his desk.

this little plan of his was working just as intended. he asked, of course, if you'd be interested in ruffling your exes feathers a little bit and you agreed. this special broadcast was only being shown directly to vox through his security. not a single other soul would be able to hear you but vox. it sent a certain chill up your spine, knowing that he was definitely listening. every thrust of alastor's cock presses you harder into the desk, bruises sure to form later in the evening.

"that's kinda hot, yknow-" "SHUT UP VAL." vox feels as though he's about to implode, anger coursing through him in a way he's sure he's never felt. "i am going to finish him. both of them. they won't live this down."

valentino covers his mouth to stop from laughing. "it sounds like they're about to finish each other." and he was right. your breathy little moans are a dead giveaway. "please, please your cock feels so good. g-gonna cum." vox paces the room, plotting your downfall but his cock is hard as a fucking rock in his pants.

"such a good girl, you are. you sing so pretty my dear." alastor grunts, pressing the head of his cock up against your cervix before he feels you clamp down around him. with every pulse of youe orgasm, alastor follows. "cum alastor, p-please fill my pussy." you gasp, riding out wave after wave of deep pleasure. vox should turn this off, he should walk away but he can't make his feet move.

and after alastor finishes deep inside of you, filling you to the point of it leaking down his cock, he lets out an almost sinister chuckle. "thank you my loyal viewers for tuning in for this one of a kind show! we hope you thoroughly enjoyed."

the room is silent after the broadcast ends. that is, until velvette clears her throat. "was that alastor fucking your bitch?" she raises a brow, a slow smirk spreading over her lips when she sees vox's face.

"no one talk to me. i have business to attend to." and with that, vox disappears, leaving valentino and velvette to themselves.

"bold move, i gotta hand it to him."

[swampjawn]

Dungeon Meshi Episode 7 was super interesting from an adaptation standpoint - this'll be a little different from what I usually write about (though I do still talk about the animation in the full video).

Studio Trigger have never done a straight-up manga adaptation before - and led by Yoshihiro Miyajima, a big fan of the manga who pushed hard for the adaptation to get made, and who has never directed a full series before, it was unclear if they'd be able to find the right balance between a simple panel-for-panel recreation and making something that's completely different.

And in the first few episodes, you could really feel the tension between the influence of a cautious young creative with great respect for the source material, and a studio with a unique established visual style. It kinda seemed like they were ping-ponging willy-nillily between the two sides of that spectrum.

But this episode showed that Miyajima (and series writer Kimiko Ueno) can take 3 chapters, slice them up and rearrange them into a cohesive-feeling episode while taking into account the differences between screen and page, and using them to their advantage.

Starting with the way the water looks. This line from the manga describes a faint magical glow to the water in this lake and you can see that the cavern fades into darkness above, but Kui's illustration style doesn't really define lighting and shadows very much compared to the cel-drawing style of animation. So the animators took the opportunity to use the water as the light source, and make a whole episode that's lit almost entirely from below. It really gives an otherworldly feeling to this area.

Particularly when the Kelpie shows up, that under-lighting works wonders to define its anatomy within the relatively simple line art.

What do you do when you can't show the immense fuck-off scale of a monster with a beautiful full-page spread like this?

Well you use what you do have: the ability to move the camera instead. This is such a great way to communicate the scale of this thing, AND such a great way to show some of Senshi's anime-original butt-cheeks!

This is one of my favorite shots from this episode - this whole sequence is super hectic, cutting quickly from character to character, but they use tricks like this to keep you from getting confused. This is framed much like it is in the manga, but with the moving image, they're able to use the trajectory of the fish head in the background to lead your eye directly from Chilchuck, right to the point where Senshi pops up in the foreground and transition seamlessly from one character to another!

Now, it's not all good - I am a bit disappointed that they removed Marcille's own Senshi-style soap-making montage, which was the perfect visual representation of the culmination of the character development and understanding built between Senshi and Marcille.

It's a shame to see it go.

I get more into that, what else was cut, and much more in this video where I broke down the entire episode!

Check it out if you feel like it. If you don't, jump in a ditch, cover yourself in leaves and jump out at people as they walk by.

Thanks for reading!

[ms-demeanor]

Due to some stuff brought up in recent posts I believe it is time to once again extol the virtues of Ms-Demeanor's Patented Where Did I Put That Fucking Paper Organizational Binder.

Hello! I am a disorganized adult! This is the system by which I manage my important shit like pink slips for my car and medical records and tax information.

You're going to need:

A 3-Ring Binder

Transparent Sheet Protectors

Notebook dividers (optional but VERY useful)

A backpack (optional)

So the way this system works is you put the sheet protectors into the binder. You can either use the dividers to divide the binder into sections or you can label some of the sheet protectors to make different sections but what you are generally going to do is make sections of the binder labeled things like "taxes" or "vet" or "doctor" and put a few sheet protectors in each section.

Then all of your papers with important information get crammed in that folder. You don't organize them, you don't sort them by date, you don't alphabetize. You put things vaguely relating to taxes into the sheet protectors in the taxes section. You put things relating to cars in the cars section. You don't even attempt to make this readable - you're not using sheet protectors so that you can read each page and keep it legible, you're using sheet protectors because it's a cheap plastic bag that will sit nicely in a binder.

You CAN put stuff into the individual sheet protectors when you get it, but let's be realistic you probably WON'T do that, so just tuck individual papers into the front of the binder until you get to a critical mass of paperwork then take an hour to sit down and sort into categories and put it in the binder once every six months to three years (depending on how frequently you get paperwork). Sometimes these sections will outgrow their original allotted space - since my spouse had a transplant surgery the medical section has had to become its own folder - and that's okay. If you end up with multiple folders just keep them together (this is why the backpack is an option, and one I strongly recommend).

Because yeah, if my organization system relies on opening up a drawer and putting something where it belongs as soon as I get the paper, I will simply not be organized. It's not going to happen. But I can handle a messy stack of paper that sits in one place and grows until it is time to shove it into a binder. I can't organize things for thirty seconds a day every day but I can organize things for an hour once every year or so (maybe two hours every five years when I sort out stuff I don't need like copies of warranties for parts on a car I don't own anymore).

When my mom died she had about fifty pounds of paper files in her office that were neatly organized in a system that didn't make any sense to my dad, my sister, and I. I ended up sorting through those files for twenty hours, tossing out copies of paid invoices from ten years ago and student handbooks from my junior high school. I reduced one filing cabinet, two desk file drawers, and a foot-high stack to a six inch binder that I gave to my dad. My mom died five years ago; two months ago my dad asked me about a medical document and I was able to tell him to go look for it in the medical section of the binder. It was there, because ALL IMPORTANT SHIT GOES IN THE BINDER.

Where is my birth certificate? In the binder. Where is my tax return from 2017? In the binder. Where is the record of my dog's last rabies shot? In the binder. Where are the records for my life insurance? In the binder.

A lot of what people consider "being organized" breaks down to whether or not you can find the specific things that you're looking for. Does my binder look nice? Is it aesthetic? Does it have color-coded tabs and papers all laid out neatly? Absolutely fucking not. But if you ask me where to find a paper I know that I can do so within about five minutes of shuffling through the pile of letter-folded sheets that I pulled out of the appropriate section of the binder.

I've discussed the Where Did I Put that Fucking Paper Binder before, but now it is time to expand that concept to the Backpack of Important Shit.

You likely have Important Shit that does not fit in a binder. Some of my Important Shit that does not fit in a binder is stuff like jewelry and the spare key for my car. Other stuff - the reason I decided to bring this up at all - includes my backup hard drive and packaging (including product key codes) for pretty much all of the software that I own. This is also where I store printed out copies of the recovery codes for most of the online accounts that I have.

There's a lot of weird fiddly shit that we have to have that we might not access all that often. This is the kind of stuff that might end up in junk drawers or under sinks or in disused laptop bags or kicking around under a bunch of papers in a desk drawer.

It doesn't matter so much when that weird fiddly shit is a set of hex keys or a utility knife or a protractor or a copy of a student handbook but it DOES matter when it's something that you might need to put your hands on in a hurry. If your computer crashes, you're not going to want to track down the software in the back of a filing cabinet and the backup drive from somewhere in the bowels of your desk. If you lock your keys in your car you are not going to want to figure out if your spare is in a junk drawer or the old purse where you keep semi-important stuff or the tin on your desk that has buttons and pins and headphone covers. Just put it in the Backpack of Important Shit and when you need it you know where to look.

So anyway, if you are a person who is a minor disaster who has trouble finding important things when you need them please don't think that you have to get your life together and have a nice organized filing cabinet or clear plastic bins full of documents or a neatly divided storage closet where everything from board games to backup drives has its own neatly labeled place. Just assign ONE LOCATION for important shit and start putting the important shit there. It doesn't matter if you have a filing cabinet where you keep old copies of homework and printouts of online orders and family history records - you do not need to keep everything that is file-able in one place and depending on what level of catastrophe you are it might be detrimental to you if you try to do that. It doesn't matter if you have a jewelry box where you keep your collection of gauges and wrist cuffs; if you are going to stress out about where grandma's ring is when you're digging through your collection of cheap earrings and silver pendants then *do not keep grandma's ring or any other Important, Vital, Cannot Be Lost jewelry in with your day-to-day wear*.

I live someplace that has fires. My binder got upgraded to my Backpack of Important Shit when the fires were getting uncomfortably close to the house I was living in and I wanted to have one bag to grab if we had to get out fast. Once I did that, I never took the binder out of the backpack and the backpack has now made three moves with me and has meant that I've had my birth certificate handy when I needed it in the middle of a move between two states, I was able to provide a history of my cholesterol panel going back six years to a visiting nurse, and I was able to give the exact names and contact info of my spouse's previous surgeon to the hospital when I had unexpectedly moved to a new state with three bags and my work computer at the beginning of the pandemic.

Get yourself a backpack of important shit and a folder of where the fuck did i put that paper. It is so much easier to search a backpack for important shit than to go through an entire house and it is so much easier to flip through a binder than it is to dig through a filing cabinet.

Anyway good luck and happy adulting.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Spending the night at Simon's for the first time and him waking up to you in nothing but his oversized t shirt

Request from here

***

Eyes blinking as light filtered through his closed lids, Simon began to stir as the first bit of the days brightness filled the small bedroom of his tiny apartment. Slowly those thick, long limbs of his stretched their compressed muscles back to life as the blood flowed through them.

Turning over, he was surprised that there wasn't another body laying next to him under the covers; your bright eyes and warm smile were what he had planned to gaze upon, but there was no one. That put him a little on edge, this being the first time you'd stayed over at his shitty little apartment, but he tried to keep calm until he was fully awake.

Simon moved up onto his elbow as he lay on his side, his large hand rubbing the rest of the sleep that lingered from out of his eyes. He looked about, trying to find any signs of you: your discarded clothes from the night before lay in a pile on the floor right next to your shoes, your earrings still sat on the bedside table, and as he checked the mattress with his hand he found that it was still warm. It was obvious you were still around, he just had to go and find you.

A full yawn passed his lips before he heard the sound of clinks and taps, bangs and rustling coming from towards the kitchen area. So that's where you'd sulked off to, making breakfast no doubt.

God you were too fucking much, he wasn't used to all this sweetness, but he wouldn't change it for anything.

Carefully and quietly he moved out of the bed, scratching at the sparse covering of hair on his bare chest before he stood and straightened his sweatpants around his hips. He was hoping he could surprise you by showing up to catch you in the act.

With easy steps, Simon walked out of the bedroom towards the kitchen and what he saw standing there amidst pots and pans, a stack of toast and a pile of bacon to your right, it took his goddamn breath away.

The expectation was to find you naked, since the only clothes you had were still on his bedroom floor, but that wasn't what he found at all. Your hair had been pulled up, a few stray hairs poking out around your hairline that hadn't been secured and it looked like the only thing you had on was one of his old baggy t shirts.

As you moved, Simon could just see a peak of the underside of your ass pop through the bottom of the shirt, playing peakaboo with him the longer he looked. The lines of your legs, looked even longer as the shirt sat just below your hips. Those juicy limbs looked good enough to eat, bare and glaring back at him.

Fuck, you had never been more beautiful to him; it nearly made his goddamn heart stop beating. Being a big man had its perks and this was one of the best ones he found, that you were able to wear his clothes.

In that moment as he watched you happily go about your work, looking like a comfy dream, images of you doing this full time flooded Simon's mind and his stomach flipped excitedly at the thought. If there was anyone that could make that rough and brazen military man soft, it was you.

And maybe it was about time he let someone do it...

There was a sudden warmness against your back as two bulky arms wrapped themselves around your from behind, making you jump a little at the surprise. " 'mornin, luv," Simon's husky voice hit your ears before his kiss touched your cheek. "See you've made yourself at home."

You leaned into him, enjoying the warmth he still had from being wrapped up tight in the covers moments before. "I just...I wanted to do something nice for you, make us breakfast," you said, giving the eggs in the pan currently in your grasp a flip.

"Pretty sure you do more than enough for a bastard like me," he chuckled as one of those thick mitts moved down and cupped lightly over your sex. "This is all I need to stay well fuckin' fed."

Immediately the heat rose in your cheeks, flushing your face bright red.

"But I meant my shirt," he continued, secretly smiling from ear to ear at how quickly he had you blushing. Certain, heavy movements from his hands flitted across your torso as he rubbed over the lines of your curves through the familiar fabric of his clothing.

"Oh, sorry," you quickly apologized, thinking you had possibly overstepped, "I hope you don't mind, I just needed something and it was just there in the top drawer and..."

Another kiss on your cheek shut you right up. "Look fuckin' good like this, luv," he purred in your ear, his low, gravely morning voice making you shiver.

"Really?" you asked, glad that he wasn't mad you'd commendeered his clothes; in reality you knew it would be nothing, but this being the first time you'd done this, you still had some giddy nervousness about everything.

"Ya look like a fuckin' picture to me," he reiterated, those full lips moving down to your next now as he leaned more against you. "I thought I looked good in this thing, but it ain't nothin' compared to a fuckin' vixen like you."

You giggled playfully at all the sweet praise. Nearly missing the eggs being done, you turned off the stove and set the aside until you both were ready to eat. "Please, I look like hell."

"Bullshit," he said as he turned you around, picked up you, and placed your butt on top of the nearest countertop. He slid in between your open legs, letting his hands run down your side from where he had lifted you, sliding tenderly over the shirt. He was right, you were naked save for the shirt and that did something to his still sleepy brain.

Greedily he tilted his head and leaned up into you, embracing your mouth fully with all of his and making your lips dance together. Feverish and sloppy Simon connected with your lips again and again, making your still sleepy brain flatline.

If you could wake up every day like this it would be a fucking living dream.

His kisses would not let up as he pulled you in closer, his hands running over the curves of your back as he stole your lips with a lazy intensity.

"Breakfast is gonna get cold," you groaned with eyes closed, mouthing the words against his parted lips.

His hips bucked into your own. "Nah, my breakfast feels mighty fuckin' warm to me, luv," he said as he kept right at it.

[hoshigray]

Are you able to right a gojo fic? He pulls you aside after a meeting to a spicy makeout with you that leads to more than just a make out:,)

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: "more than a make out" indeed, lmao

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit reader; minors DNI - canon divergence; you're gojo's partner who works in Tokyo jujutsu tech with him - kissing; making out - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - breast sucking - deep impact position - praising - pet names (angel, baby, cutie, princess, sweetie) - cameos: Ijichi and Yaga - Gojo is a touch-starved fool, bless him lol.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1k

“Y/n~~!”

“…! Oh, Gojo!”

“Ahh, it’s Gojo-sensei!”

Being the strongest sorcerer in the modern world is a hassle, no matter how much Gojo loves to shake it off as if it’s not. Not that he doesn’t mind it — no, no. If anything, he prides himself in it. It fills his ego, knowing that a scarce few could be compatible with his power. He’s a dependable light for the jujutsu world, sorcerers of the nation thankful that he's not on the wrong side. 

But alas, being the best has its taxing side, especially taking in tedious missions across the land and attending mandatory meetings with the entire jujutsu faculty body — not to mention being a teacher. The white-haired sorcerer was a busy man — no other way to explain it. However, the worst thing about it all was that there would be times when he’d have less time to spend with a certain someone who had him in the palm of their hands. And if he keeps being away from them, he might – no, will – malfunction. 

You were Gojo’s partner, his sweet baby that he cherished more than anything. You were a faculty member of Tokyo Jujutsu High, making things a little easier for the two of you to meet and elope (professionally). Nevertheless, those moments seem to frequent less and less with how many meetings have Gojo backed up this past week. The poor guy can’t even remember the last time he heard your sweet voice (which is a lie since you call every morning and night; he makes sure you do). 

Although, today would be different. Once this meeting with the Kyoto officials ended, he made a straight beeline out of the room to find you. And to his cheerful chuckle, he skips in your direction when he sees you conversing with Yuuji in the hallway. The salmon-haired teen greets his teacher with a high-five and a bow from you. 

Yuuji hears Megumi call for him from outside, so the boy dismisses himself with a goodbye and wanders off, leaving you and Gojo to yourselves. 

“Hello, Y/n~,” the man says your name with a happy tune, his lanky figure swaying to be close to you.

“Good noon, Gojo,” you greet him again with a modest smile as the tall man walks to you. “How was your meeting? Did the officials give you a tough ti—Mmmph!?”Your boyfriend surprises you with a kiss, taking in your perplexed moan with his pillowy lips. One peck comes after another while Gojo’s hands sneak to your waist. You quickly push him away, but his hold keeps you close to his figure. “G–Gojo, what are you doing!?” You express your concern in confusion, covering your lips with a hand. 

“Mmm? What do you mean? I’m greeting my princess with a kiss,” the blindfolded man says so matter-of-factly, beaming his delighted demeanor that nearly blinds you. “I miss you!”

“I miss you, too, but you can’t just—“ He tilts his head as you try to explain. You chew your lip with cheeks boosting in warmth, averting your glance away from his charming face that’s inching closer and closer to yours. His eyes are masked by the black cloth around his face; however, you can still sense the intensity of his gaze. “N-Not in public, Gojo...”

He plays the whining card, bringing you in for a tight hug that could restrain your breathing. “Ehhh, but I haven’t seen or touched you in days! See, we’ve been apart for so long that you’re going back to referring to me by my last name!”

“I always call you by your family name when in the school, no??”

“Yeah, but that’s only for when people are around, not just the two of us!” His complaints are genuine, swaying around with you in his arms. You roll your eyes, listening to him yap more. “Come on, Y/n; it’s been such a hectic week for me, missions after missions, meetings after meetings. Any more than this, and I just might combust — especially when I don’t have time to see my angel.”

You hear him make fake crying noises to your shoulder, reminding yourself how much your tall, strong boyfriend can be such a whiny puppy if he’s away from you for too long. But you can’t kid yourself; you missed spending time with him just as much as he did. “I know; I wanna see you more often, too. Don’t you worry, okay? This week is almost over, so keep pushing through like the tough man you are…Hehe, my strong Satoru.”

The snow-haired sorcerer springs up with a childish smile at the use of his name, his dimples present with the shine of his teeth. “If that’s what must happen, can your strong Satoru ask for another kiss to make his hell a little bearable?”

You give him a look at his request, but his anticipation doesn’t falter. With a sigh, you smile and whisper, “Just a kiss, Satoru?”

He chuckles lightly, drawing his mouth close to yours. “Yes, princess.”

His soft lips land on yours. There’s no restraint as you welcome him, your hands coming around to cup his cheeks before breaking the kiss. “One more,” he says before your nose is brushed away from his. You comply and place another gentler peck, and the man sneaks a hand from your waist to the back of your head. You withdraw your lips again, but Gojo utters another “One more…” Your stomach does flips knowing what game he’s trying to play. Another kiss is received, and his leg sneaks in between yours.

You mewl, finding yourself stuck in this predicament. He’s now in control, using this opportunity to deepen the kiss and make it more passionate, sucking your bottom lip and running his tongue for more access. You have no choice but to accept him, whimpering at the tongue intruding into your oral cavity while his leg moves further and further. 

Your hands come to his shoulders, gripping his jacket as the Gojo furthers himself into the kiss. The hand behind your head keeps you steady, keeping him focused on your mouth, where he sucks on your tongue in a way that leaves you breathless — like, actually. After he quits the kiss, you two are gasping for air so hard, and your lips are wet because of him. 

“Hahhh, ’Toru, stop,” you wipe spit from your mouth. “We can’t be doing this here…”

Your complaint falls on deaf ears, the sorcerer placing chaste kisses on your cheek. “Hmmm, why not?”

“Mmm..Someone, your students, we’d be caught here…”

Gojo smirks; it’ll never stop being adorable how bashful you are around him, particularly when he expresses his undying affection for you in public. But he will respect your wishes, and the idea that pops into his head makes him giggle.

Before you can process anything, Gojo picks you up with your legs held up and a hand on your back. You squeak at the unexpected action, grabbing a hold of his neck to balance yourself. Your mouth opens to express your bewilderment. Yet one moment, you two are in a hallway of the school; then you’re transported to a familiar room with a bed the next — your bedroom.

You blink in perplexity as Gojo throws you on top of your bed, stammering to find the right words. “Satoru, I wish you’d stop teleporting without letting me know! And don’t you have another meeting to get to!? Why are we in my apart—“ You don’t finish that sentence; you stop yourself once Gojo crawled up on the bed to you. Suddenly, you feel too small to utter a word.

“Sorry, baby,” No, he wasn’t. Not with that childish grin posted on his face. He brings his face to yours, placing more smacks on your lips. “But you’re the one who said we shouldn’t be doing this on school grounds. Heh, you act so cute when you’re shy…”

“No, Satoru, we can’t—Mmmm,” silencing you with kisses was such a vile card, knowing you’d be whimpering under him just from him twirling his tongue with yours. “Mmph..Mmah…! You’re scheduled for…another meet—“

“Shhh, don’t worry; I can be late for a few minutes,” another lie. If Gojo’s late to another meeting, Principal Yaga will put the younger man in a chokehold again. “I’ll make this quick, I promise. So, just let me enjoy you…”

Sucking your tongue is all it takes for you to give up on trying to persuade him out of what he’s doing. Gojo takes off and throws his jacket to the bedroom floor to let his black fitted tee breathe, and his hands initiate unbuttoning your blouse. He then slithers it down to the bottom of your long pencil skirt to pull up, greeting your undergarments with his digits. You jerk at the contact of his middle finger that presses on the damp spot of your panties, earning a faint, salacious laugh from Gojo. 

“Awww, did my baby get wet just from kissing earlier?” He rubs the underwear further, soaking the spot more with your fluids. Your thighs tremble, “Did you miss me that much?”

“Sato—Oooh!” He sinks his finger deeper into your entrance; the material barrier is so wet from your essence seeping through. “Your finger...Mmm.”

“What is it, cutie?” He whispers to your ear, and you have to bite down on your lip to suppress a moan. “You want my fingers?” You nod sheepishly, amusing the snow-haired man. “Now, Y/n, you know I want to hear you tell me what you want. Use your words, princess.”

You gulp to satiate your dry throat. “Yess, Satoruu, I want your fingers. Please, let me cum on your fingers…”

“That’s my angel,” he praises before straightening himself between your sheer pantyhose-covered legs. After sliding your damp panties off, he brings a leg to his shoulder and finally slides his blindfold off his face, his hair losing its spiky position and falling with gravity. Cerulean eyes catch a glimpse of your wet cunt in his sights, biting his lip. “Made such a pretty mess all for me, huh.”

His hand returns to your now bare chasm, sliding his ring and middle finger between your soaking folds. You hum to the touch, gripping on your blouse to use as reins. After a few seconds, he inserts the middle digit inside, immediately going to work after he pulls a gasp from your surprised body.

Slow motions sneak up on you, scraping your velvet texture with the blunt fingertip. His slender digit pushed and pulled from inside you, making sure you took him to the knuckle. He swirls it around, evoking shaky screams from him, scratching your inner walls so diligently. And your eyebrows furrow once the movement quickens.

“Hooohh, ohhh!” You threw your head back to the pillows. “Ahhnn, faster, go faster…”

“Hmm? You want me to go faster?” He teases with a perched brow. He does as asked, but with a catch; he sneaks his ring finger inside with your slick as lube. You shriek, two fingers now ravaging your insides and pleasing you with faster shifts. “Like this?” Did you even have to answer that; were you gripping the sheets and hips moving on their own not enough?

“Oooo, fuahhh, fuuckk, ‘Toru, nooo, y’re making me…Hoohh!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he kisses your calf before placing his lips on your ankle to lick playfully. “Just let me make you feel all good.”

Fuck did Gojo miss this; it’s been more than a week since he’s had his hands on your body like this. The constant meetings have almost made him forget the warmth and plush of your frame. He needed this, like, BAD. He’s barely containing himself now; the image of your slit taking his fingers so well is bubbling his excitement, and the tent of his pants that shields a boner grows painfully hornier.

You were bound to cum on his fingers in no time, howling with an arched back when he does the ‘come hither’ motion and scrapes your inner walls. They contract around his digits as your legs tremble with the surge of your orgasm. Gojo loves the sight and stirs the fingers to tease your keen nerves more. “Good job, sweetie,” he kisses your ankle again while slowly removing his fingers from you, inserting them inside his mouth to lather his tongue with your juices. He almost caves in just from the taste.

But a sudden buzz in the pocket of his pants alerts him. He brings out his phone ringing with a call and presses the green button before pressing the device to his ear. “Yo, Ijichi.”

“Ah, thank goodness you picked up. Where are you; the meeting starts in a few minutes.”

“Mmm, I’m at Y/n’s,” even if you’re in a tiny daze, your face morphed into an expression of shock at his nonchalant honesty. “I’m only here to grab something real quick, and then I’ll head back to the school.”

“Are you sure…?”

He laughs, “Now, Ijichi, are you calling me a liar?”

That was precisely what he was — a whole liar.

“—Taahh, ahhhn, Sa’oruuuuu! Yer hitting shoo deep in—Saaahh!!”

It’s been a solid fifteen minutes after that call with Ijichi, and Gojo is still in the confines of your bedroom. He was very much late; of course, he was. Why would he not be? He finally has this chance to have you to himself, so he’s indulging it however long he wishes.

Gojo ripped you out of your clothes to meet with his clothing on the floor, leaving you bare and nude for him aside from your pantyhose. You’re lying on your side with one leg up on Gojo’s shoulder while the other is between his, and his cock now pushing to and fro inside your chasm that was filled with his come. 

His thrusts were sharp and rough, the curve of his dick jabbing areas in your vagina you never thought would be stimulated. Jesus, his length was dangerous, having you babbling incoherent words to the air and reaching so deep inside that you quaked under him. Your brain is stuck in a haze, especially since this is the second time he’s fucking inside you and made you cum a total of three times!

“Ohhmy, Gohhhd! Sato—Ohhhh…!!” He grasps around your leg to plunge himself further and faster, the work of his pelvis having you see stars.

“Hsshhh, God, you feel so fucking good, baby,” he coos sweetly, juxtaposing with the erratic pace of his hips that move your figure with every rut. Azure orbs take in the display before him; your naked body submitted to him to alleviate his week-long stress and please the both of you. Strands of his silverfish-white hair are drenched from the sweat built on his forehead. “—Hmmgh! Shit…keep clamping onto me like that.”

You chew on your lip, sneaking a hand down on your clitoris to whisk your fingers around it. Oh, it feels so good, playing with yourself as your boyfriend massages your insides. “Mmaaah, s’ good...”

“Hmm, what’s that?” His hips now go slow; the stretch his curve causes when entering inside has your toes curl. “What feels good?” He then snaps his pelvis to startle you.

“—Mmmph!! You! Y’u feel so good, ‘Toruuu..!”

“Heh, you feel amazing yourself, Y/n,” returning to an erratic rhythm, Gojo pumps his cock til the base kisses your squelching folds. His balls smack onto you after every push. He then curves downward for his face to be closer for you to hear him, “Hmmnn, you gonna be good and come again, right?”

You nod cursorily, your eyes shut to enhance the feeling of you rubbing on your bud. “Yesshh, I’m so close, I wanna cum…Want you to fill me u—Uuuhhn!!”

“Jesus, you look so fucking hot,” he grins before bringing his mouth to your nipple, his tongue dancing around the tip to harden. “Let’s cum together, okay, cutie?”

He sucks in your nipple as his thrusts go grim, and severe hits to your cunt result in you wailing far from your control. The tip of his cock picks at your silky walls so euphorically that you hum his name. A hand comes to your chest to keep you steady and synced with him, and he keeps rutting into you even when his body shudders as his load is exerted inside your tight slit. And you’re not far from him either; your orgasm seconds away from his hits you hard, and you quiver in the shocks coursing through your body.

As you two rock slowly through your crescendos, your essence mixes with his seed, and your sweaty bodies heave and pant for the third time this session. Gojo releases your nipple from his mouth after withdrawing his dick from inside, and his jizz seeps out of your frame. “Phew, man, how I needed that.”

You respond despite your brain feeling a bit all over the place. “Are you happy now?”

He laughs while kissing your cheek. “Thank you, princess!”

“You’re welcome, Toru,” you shook your head with a meek smile. “But you really should get going; I don’t want you getting in trouble with—“

KNOCK!! KNOCK!! KNOCK!!

An abrupt sound comes from the front door, confusing the both of you as the knock comes from out of nowhere. Nonetheless, you get up and wipe yourself quickly before putting your clothes back on. Gojo does the same as you walk out of the bedroom to see who’s at your door. And once you open the door, your heart meets your stomach.

“Y/n,” it was Yaga, the principal adorning his usual attire and sunglasses.

“Principal Yaga,” you greeted the older man with a hurried bow. “Wh–What can I do for you—“

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

Your lips flatten at the question, using the silence to speak for itself as you move out of the way for the principal to enter. Yaga apologizes for the intrusion before marching into your apartment and presumably going after the person still in your bedroom, who lets out an exclaimed shout of pain from what you can assume was from a punch to the head from his old teacher. 

The former instructor strolls back to the front door where you remained; Gojo is dragged on the floor behind him. “Sorry again for the inconvenience,” Yaga puts his shoes back on before exiting your home. You observe the men leave with a heavy sigh, waving goodbye to your snow-haired sorcerer as he’s pulled across the hall like a toddler.

“See ya, sweetie,” he cries out to you without regard to the neighbors hearing him, putting his blindfold back on. “I miss you already!”

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[rowanswriting]

ROOOOWWWWWWW

REQUESTS ARE OPEN YOU SAY???

Self indulgent because I’m that bitch.

Maybe shy/ditsy reader (cause I love her) who is like so innocent and quiet out in public and in private is the neediest horniest depraved little slut for her man (obvs can be gender neutral) with either Steve or Eddie, or steddie x reader whatever your heart desires.

I HOPE THIS ISNT A SHIT REQUEST ITS TWO AM AND IM TIRED

- hellfiremunsonn (Lillie) 🩷

Freak Like Me - E.M.

thank you so much for the request lovey! I hope this is everything you envisioned! @hellfiremunsonn ily! 🫶🏽

Word count- 1.3K

Warnings - pussy slapping, dirty talk, p in v sex, female masturbation (Eddie helps), Eddie teases you, if I miss something please tell me and I’ll be sure to add it here!

-feel free to reblog & interact it’s much appreciated thank you all for reading! I really hope you enjoy this! 18+ only!

“Where you going sugar?” Eddie’s husky voice says from behind you. One of his ringed hands coming up to grip on your shoulder. You feel your knees go weak, trying your best to remain standing as you look around at all his friends. They’re all watching you as you turn to look at Eddie. “Back to the van… if that’s okay, Sir.” You mumble out. A few of his friends chuckle as you hide your face, flushing from embarrassment. He nods, leaning forward and kissing your cheek softly before handing you the keys. “It’s all yours baby be there soon.” You listened as Eddie continued talking about some dnd campaign, the sound of his voice drowning out behind you.

He’d made a spectacle of you all night long, teasing you in front of everyone. He knew exactly what it did to you, you’d almost not agreed to come out tonight because you knew this would happen. Eddie loves teasing you, and his friends love it even more, watching you babble when he asks you a question because only a minute before he had said something incredibly dirty. The wide smirk on his face causes you to stutter as you squeeze your legs together, praying that no one will be able to see. They do. This time you decide not to stick around to hear the remarks they’d make.

You slowly open the door to his van, hopping up inside and slamming yourself back onto his seat. The uncomfortableness of your panties sticking to you is too much to handle, so you lift your hips, sliding them down your legs before throwing them in the back seat. All you can think of when you slip your fingers down to flip up your skirt is Eddie’s voice, the way he mocks you, laughs at you, the sweet nothings he’ll whisper to you once he has you all to himself. “Fuck.” You whimper out, your fingers lightly grazing against your clit.

You shuffle around a bit angling yourself so when Eddie opens the door he’ll have a perfect view of what belongs to him. To his friends, you’re shy and reserved, innocent even. Eddie knew the real truth about you and you were none of those things. Your eyes close as you get lost in the moment, you bite your lip hard enough that you’re sure it’ll bleed as you circle your fingers around your clit, the sensations running throughout your body as you moan quietly. “Please Eddie.” You cry out, sliding down against the passenger door.

“Well ain’t this a pretty picture.” Your eyes snap back open as a sick smile breaks out across your face. “Knew you wouldn’t keep me waiting long.” You say, giggling as Eddie climbs up into the drivers seat. He’s quick with the door, slamming it before turning to look back at you. Your fingers are still working over yourself, only going faster now that he’s watching. You go to stop but he grabs your wrist, guiding your hand down. “Oh please honey, don’t stop because of me. Let me see how desperate you are.”

You nod, your eyes half open from the pleasure as Eddie pushes two of your own fingers inside yourself. You groan at the feeling, it’s messy but you couldn’t love it more. The sounds of wet squelching and your moans fill up the van as Eddie’s eyes burn with lust. They’re latched onto where the both of you are moving together. “This is so good, but I really need you Ed’s please.” You beg. He shakes his head, holding your hand down, rocking your fingers in and out slowly. “I didn’t say you could stop babydoll.” He whispers as you buck your hips up, grabbing at his wrist with the hand that isn’t buried deep inside you.

Eddie leans back, sitting on his knees as he watches you. He pulls his hand away slowly and makes you do all the work as he palms himself lazily over his pants. “I wish they could see you now baby, absolutely pathetic and I haven’t even given you the real thing yet.” He says, your eyes threatening to roll back into your head as a loud moan rips its way from your throat. “Fuck. Please.” You whine, your heartbeat speeding up as the tight cord winding itself in your stomach threatens to break. A bead of sweat makes its way down the side of your face as you buck your hips up again, meeting the thrusts of your own fingers.

You sit up a little, your body trembling as you watch Eddie slowly unbuckle his belt. You trail your eyes up to his face where he’s biting his lip, his eyes staring into yours as you continue to pleasure yourself. He laughs a little when he sees tears on the corners of your eyes. “Aww darlin’ you’re so ready aren’t you? Go ahead, let me see you cum, give me a show baby.” It takes you no more than a small thrust of your fingers before you’re letting go. Your wetness spreads all over yourself and down onto Eddie’s seat as he watches. You can hear him talking you through it but the blood rushing behind your ears keeps you from hearing what he’s actually saying.

He gives you no time to recover, you hear something rush past you into the back of the van before Eddie’s on you like a wild animal. He slowly strokes himself a few times, rubbing the head of his cock right against your clit as you squirm underneath him crying and begging for him to fuck you already. He stops teasing only to reach down and slap your pussy, once, twice, three times. You yelp and just as you go to sit up to scold him he thrusts into you, practically knocking the wind out of your lungs. “Y’gonna scream for me sugar? Let all my friends hear how much of a slut you really are for me?”

“F-uckkk Eddie please!” You scream out, the slapping of Eddie’s skin against yours growing louder as he thrusts harder than before. He reaches under your ass to pull you up some, angling you just right so with every thrust his cock rubs up against your g-spot. “That’s it sugar, it’s okay I got you, let go. Cum on this dick and let everyone hear who makes you feel this good.” Your body trembles beneath him, your stomach flips at his dirty words as you look down and watch him sliding in and out of you. The drag of his cock, enough to make you feel like you’re on another planet entirely as you finally give up. Your eyes roll back as your mouth babbles on, Eddie grips onto your hips, his blunt nails digging into your skin as you feel his cock twitch inside of you. His deep moans blend with yours creating a delicious melody as he fills you up.

You hear him laugh as you both come down from your high, he slowly pulls out of you leaving you empty and sore as you open your eyes to look up at him. “What’s so funny?” You say, your voice rough from how loud you were being, he smiles at you before leaning down to kiss your forehead, moving some of the hair that’s stuck to it away. “Oh, s’nothin. Just thinking how funny it is that you’re a freak, and they have no idea.” You bite your lip before giggling, slapping his arm slightly as you sit up to fix your clothes. You don’t bother with finding your panties as you watch Eddie reach into the back of the van, grabbing his pants. “Well, next time maybe we’ll have to give them a real show, Eddie.” You whisper, running your tongue up the side of his ear, his cock throbs at your words, a low moan slipping from his lips.

tag list- @voyeurmunson @vecslut @littlexdeaths @xxbimbobunnyxx @josephquinnsfreckles

[roseykat]

TITLE: Play Bite

PAIRING: Hyunjin x Jisung x female reader

SUMMARY: You, Hyunjin, and Jisung have a really fun time playing a dirty truth or dare game after the plans for everyone to go out failed. Part 1 to the 'Play' series.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

Part 1 - Play Bite Part 2 - Play Fight Part 3 - Play Right

TAGS: Hyunjin, Jisung, and reader have all consumed alcohol but are not fully drunk, smut, kissing, hickies, making out, dirty texts, dirty talk, erotic truth or dares, use of pet names such as 'bub', 'baby' and 'pretty', swearing, food play (nothing heavy), solo orgasm, female masturbation, suggestive material, very vague mentions of choking (not emphasised), slight traces of top!Jisung.

MASTERLIST

A/N: Think of this as a prelude to this hard thought I posted a while ago. If you haven't read it, it will give you some context into what will come in the future for this type of concept. Also just to preface but not give away too many spoilers, nobody is cheating in this story.

-

“Remove one piece of clothing, socks do not count,” Jisung reads aloud from the card in his hand. 

It’s the third task into the deck of dirty truth or dare at Hyunjin's apartment. After the entire group’s plan to go out for the night fell through when it started pelting down, it was in all three of your guys’ best interests to not waste the night. So, although he invited the rest of the group over for drinks, only you and Jisung decided to go around. 

An hour later into the night and already just past the point of tipsy, the three of you progressed to playing games. A set of dirty truth or dare cards was the first thing that caught Jisung’s keen eye as he analysed the plethora of games that Hyunjin had on a shelf in his living room. 

“You’re not even wearing socks, so you have no choice,” Hyunjin chuckles, almost evilly.

Jisung dons his best thinking face, eyes narrowing as he tries to come up with which item of clothing he wants to take off. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls the entire fabric up and over his head before placing it beside him, careful not to knock over his drink. 

Your eyes glue to his gorgeous bare top half for a few seconds too long before averting them to the floor like you weren’t supposed to look at him. It’s not like you’ve never seen him topless before in all of his honey toned glory. Almost always will Jisung proudly walk around half naked unprovoked when you’re around him. 

“Your turn bub,” he continued.

You clear your throat then lean over to pick a card up from the middle, then read it out loud, “oh…”

“What’s it say?” Jisung peeks his head over to see what’s written down before his jaw unhinges. “Let the person to your left select an area of your body for them to give you a hickey. Wow.”

Hyunjin, to your left, stares back at you in shock and horror. His cheeks were ballooned and full of liquid after taking a large swig of his drink before setting it down. The more silent seconds that tick by, the more flips his stomach keeps doing. But, he had to expect the unexpected with this game.

You and Jisung were ready to play by the rules and Hyunjin wasn’t going to exempt himself from it just because of the card you pulled. 

He swallows the mouthful of alcohol, “alright. Are you okay with me doing this?”

You nod even though you can feel your heart picking up its pace, “I am.”

He takes your answer and runs with it then ponders on the best place to plant a hickey on your body. It doesn’t take him long to think of a number of unspoken places where he would and even though he’s tipsy enough to disclose those areas, he decides to keep that to himself. 

“Okay, can you lie down for me then?” He asks. 

“Lie down?”

“Mm, otherwise it might be awkward to reach,” he explains vaguely. 

You start jumping to conclusions at the instant you hear his request, yet your mind is so hazy that your body just ends up listening to what Hyunjin has asked of you instead. You end up lying back on the floor, your head next to Jisung’s thigh who looks down at you while Hyunjin moves. 

His long body straddles yours but not fully putting his weight down on you. With his hand, he pulls back some of your hair so he can reach the area he wants before gently tilting your chin up and to the side towards Jisung. 

Hyunjin then sinks his face down just to the side of your throat and sucks. For a second, your body squirms at the slight achy pang that he brings to the surface of your skin. Still, with the way that your body is buzzing, it undoubtedly feels amazing. He remains there for a few seconds and uses his tongue to swipe over the surface he just marked.  

Jisung watches with his mouth ajar. He takes in the contorted look of concentration on your face, the way your eyelids flutter closed. 

It’s not long after until Hyunjin peels himself off of you then takes your hand to help you sit back up again. In hindsight, you wonder if it was all but necessary to lie down for him in order to give you a hickey. But Hyunjin’s thinking was that to reach your throat, you had to be on the ground. 

“That might’ve been-“ his face contorts with worry just looking at the fresh, deep and reddish mark. “A bit much, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you respond, trying to act cool under the pressure. “It felt nice anyway. Okay, Hyunnie’s turn.” 

He draws another card, reading it in his mind before his eyes dart to Jisung, “make out…with the person beside you for one minute.”

“W-Which side?” You ask. 

“My left which is-“

“Me,” Jisung responds, pointing at his chest. “Alright then.”

Hyunjin stares blankly at his friend, unsure if he's joking or not, “wait, you’re…you’re serious?”

Jisung shifts his body closer to Hyunjin, his face nearing him, “that’s the game right?”

“Y-Yeah,” he replies sheepishly. “Yeah, okay then.”

“I can set a timer,” you announce.

He’s never done this before - kissed a friend, made out with a friend. For one, Hyunjin knows Jisung has done so multiple times, having been an impartial witness to it. Whether it was while Jisung was drunk, sober, high, it happened. Even with the same gender. 

“Alright,” you say, pulling out your phone as you go to the clock app to set a timer for one minute and place it on the ground. “3, 2, 1, go.”

You’re not sure who it was first that leaned in for the kiss after being so warped by the fact that they were even doing this. It was like Hyunjin offered his mouth and Jisung went for the kill. Both of them started off slowly by the time ten seconds hit. Twenty seconds in and Hyunjin’s hand comes up to the side of his friends’ face when the kiss deepens even further. 

You watch the glide of their tongues move so languidly with one another, doing unspeakable things in between your legs. Similar to Jisung’s reaction when Hyunjin gave you a hickey, your mouth was on the floor. There’s no way in hell could you ignore how hot it was to see them make out. 

After forty seconds, the pace had picked up a notch as they continued to move in sync with one another. Jisung’s hand had made it onto Hyunjin’s lap with some unintentional plan of slowly hiking up his thigh. In his mind, the more touch, the better. He already felt floaty because of the alcohol. Now Jisung touching him, kissing him, was an enhancement. 

At the mark of one minute, your phone rudely blares its alarm. Hyunjin pulls away with red lips, Jisung’s as equally as glossy as the other. They stall for a second, almost as if they briefly thought about going back at it again…

“Minho was right,” Jisung breaks the silence willingly. “You are a pretty good kisser.”

“What?” Hyunjin exclaims, his eyes almost popping out of his head. 

“What?” He whines. “He and I were trying to figure out who in the group would be the best kisser. Minho reckons you are.”

“You say that as if you’ve kissed everyone in the group to try and find that out,” You realise. 

“Well I just kissed him, so it’s everyone except for you now. Which there’s still time for since it’s my turn now,” he responds in a slightly hopeful tone and picks up his next card. “Huh, maybe not - what’s the most amount of times you’ve had sex in one day?” 

“Is that the first truth question?” Hyunjin points out, trying to subtly keep himself calm after what just went down with Jisung. 

“I think so,” you reply. “We’re nowhere near halfway through the deck.” 

“Three and a half,” Jisung answers. 

“And a half?” You and Hyunjin parrot in unison, the confusion very present in both of your tones.

“Halfway through the act, got caught, had to wrap it up and leave,” Jisung explains very succinctly. “It would’ve been four if it weren’t for fucking Seungmin. Doesn’t matter, it’s not like I’m holding a grudge or anything.”

“Sure,” you trail off, trying your best not to laugh at his misfortune while you go to pick up a card. “Uh, lend your phone to the person on your right and let them send a dirty text to someone in your contacts.”

Jisung claps excitedly, “hand it over baby!” 

You roll your eyes, reluctantly passing him your device, “anyone except my family otherwise I probably won’t live to see another day.” 

He takes your phone earnestly with a cheeky and devious expression before delving righteously into your contacts list, “don’t worry, I wouldn’t do anything like that.”

Jisung’s thumb scrolls excitedly trying to find the right person to send the right message to. He pauses over a couple of names and then finds one he thinks will give the most entertaining response. He creates a new message and types in what he wants to say.  

From You: I’m horny. Come over and fuck me.

The silence was palpable as the fate of your dignity rests in your friends’ hands. Once the message is sent, Jisung keeps your phone on standby while you all wait for the response. The sheer riskiness of the dare calls for you to pick up your drink and finish the rest off, knowing that you’re going to need it. 

“What did you write?” You ask him anyway, setting your empty glass aside. 

He looks smugly at the screen again and repeats what he created, “I’m horny, come over and fuck me.”

Your eyes widen in horror, “t-that’s not…who did you send that to!?”

“That’s a bit straightforward isn’t it?” Hyunjin laughs. 

“Doesn’t matter now, your turn, go,” Jisung nods to you.

“Fine,” you groan, snatching up a card. “How many times a day do you get off? Once, maybe twice. Done. Next, you go.” 

Hyunjin blinks in surprise at the information you so rapidly provided and leans into the circle to grab his card, “alright. Choose one person to sit in between your legs for the remainder of the game.” 

“I think considering that he and I just made out, it’s your turn to do something now,” Jisung smoothly contends his point before you could even get a word out. 

“Fair enough,” you respond coolly.

The move is practically childsplay in comparison to what they’ve done so far. Nonetheless, it quickly proved itself to be rather effective on your body. 

Hyunjin tries not to grin and spreads his legs for you to slot perfectly in between them. You’ve been this close to him before - in a hug at least. But never has Hyunjin been as acutely intimate with you as of right now. As he’s pressed up behind you, it’s hopeless to try not to be so affected by such subtlety. The warmth from his body glows like a heater onto your back and the steadiness of his breathing is comforting. 

“Sungie’s turn,” he says from behind you. 

Another card is taken from the deck and Jisung reads once more, “feed someone a food item with your mouth. Okay, but what kind of food?” 

“There’s that bowl of grapes just there on the coffee table,” Hyunjin points over to it. 

Jisung spins around on the floor and sees the assortment of snacks that they had laid out on the table earlier on. He turns back with the entire silver bowl in his lap, popping a couple of them in his mouth and eating away to his heart's content before proceeding with the dare. 

“You’re breathing heavy,” Hyunjin whispers teasingly in your ear while Jisung isn’t looking. 

“S-Shut up,” you utter back to him, trying not to act so utterly embarrassed by the truth he’s managed to highlight. 

Jisung pops in two more grapes and goes to sit beside you before talking with his mouth full, “bo’ o’ ya.”

“Huh?” Hyunjin retorts, trying to decipher what his friend is saying. 

You ponder for a second, “I think he said both of us?” 

Your guess comes up as correct because without a proper verbal answer from Jisung, his actions spoke louder. He leans towards your face first - closer than it has ever been since you’ve known him. The purple grape sits between his teeth as he goes to pass it to you by his mouth. It was awkward to manoeuvre at first, but the pair of you discovered that using your lips is key. By that point, Jisung manages to exchange the fruit as you crush down on the grape that explodes with such a sweet flavour. 

Then, he moves a bit behind you to reach Hyunjin. Both of them struggle to pass the grape without fully touching each other's lips once more. Then again, that was the point of the card that Jisung pulled. 

“Yummy?” he asks, sliding back to his original spot with the bowl. 

“Mm,” Hyunjin hums while he chews. “Sweet.” 

Half of the stuff that you’ve done so far with them makes you realise that you’re not that nervous to do these kinds of things. It could’ve been the alcohol, that definitely helps. But also because they’re two of your best friends and wherever they are, you feel safe in their proximity. 

“My turn,” you say as Jisung picks the top card off of the deck and slides it to you across the floor. “Oh - same as Sungie’s, remove a piece of clothing, socks do not count. Isn’t this just a forfeit card since it’s already been picked up?”

“No, not necessarily?” Hyunjin answers. “Plus, what if you forfeit that one and pick another one but it’s worse?”

He had a good point. It was a very mellow dare in comparison to the others you’ve all completed. With that in mind, your hands find their way down to your shorts, contemplating whether to take them off or not. Considering Jisung already has his top off, you went for the opposite in a sudden spur of confidence that was short lived when you saw the look on your friend's face. 

Jisung’s eyes couldn’t leave where your hands moved as you freed your legs from the fabric, allowing you to remain in your underwear. However, it becomes very apparent to you that taking your pants off wasn’t such a good idea when you know that you’re wet. Whether they knew it, particularly Jisung who had a full view of you, was too late. 

Behind you, Hyunjin was trying to keep himself calm as you moved around a bit, “w-who’s turn is it now?” 

Jumping onto a different topic gave time for Jisung to blink away from your body. He feels guilty for even staring at you like that in the first place. Then again, it’s not like you weren’t doing the same ever since he took his shirt off. 

“Yours actually,” you answer and without any spatial awareness whatsoever, you lean forward just a bit to pick up a card for Hyunjin that your ass slightly pushes back into his crotch in the process. 

After the fact of the matter, you realise what you’ve done. But it wasn’t intentional. You just wanted to pick up a card for him so that he didn’t have to move from behind you. As you come back to sit between his legs properly, you feel his forehead rest against the back of your head - a silent sign to prove he definitely recognised what you did to him.

Although he didn’t say anything because what was there to say to that? In hindsight, it might’ve been better forJisung to just read it out for Hyunjin. 

“H-Here,” you offer the card to him, playing it off. 

He lifts his head back up from yours and takes the item, “what is your dirtiest fantasy and why?” 

Right now if Hyunjin was able to answer honestly, he would say ‘fucking you while his best friend watches.’ But even for a filthy game that they’re playing, he thought it would be inappropriate to say. On top of that, it’s not actually his dirtiest fantasy. He could do way worse but just doesn’t know what at this point in time in his sex life. There was still time for him to explore…

“I haven’t really got one at the moment,” says Hyunjin. “I suppose just real…rough sex.” 

Jisung immediately becomes intrigued, oblivious to the fact that Hyunjin had it in him to admit such a scandalous piece of information, “what does that mean to you though?”

He becomes even more flustered under the heat of his friends’ question, it doesn’t help that he’s nearly fully hard behind you either, “it means things like…choking or hair pulling-”

“What…you like to do those things or those things being done to yo-

“Both, I like both. Anyway, that’s not the question,” Hyunjin interrupts impatiently. “Just move on.” 

It’s difficult for you not to laugh at him, yet as you go to pick up a card - more carefully this time for Hyunjin’s sake - your smile fades quicker than you could blink. Not one doubt crossed your mind about how obscene this game could get. Yet this card refuted all of that. 

“I…get…get yourself off in front of someone,” you mumble in a very quiet voice.

“Get what?” Jisung tries to reiterate. 

Hyunjin’s brows knit in concentration as he reads the card from over your shoulder, “she has to get herself in front of someone.”

An ‘o’ forms in Jisung’s mouth before he responds to that statement, “that’s a…an interesting card.” 

The three of you fall deathly silent to the weight that the dare has you under. Your mind wants you to do it, to satiate that instinctual appetite to pleasure yourself ever since the game heated up. To do so in front of your friends doesn’t appear to be a bad idea which technically it isn’t from the way they already have you unintentionally wet. That in itself said a lot.

Therefore, you spread your legs and bend your knees. 

An expression of realisation washes over Jisung, coming to grips with what’s about to unfold. As for Hyunjin, he can only sit and remain in place as a support for you to lean against when your hand slips down the front of your underwear as you begin to rub. A sigh of warm relief then pushes past your lips. The pads of your fingers collect your damp essence to use as you circle over your clit. 

Already, a hefty volume of pressure is escalating in the pit of your tummy, tingling and spreading throughout your lower half. All from being turned on by the game. The person in front of you and behind you feel the exact same way except the one behind you was already there a long time ago. Their cocks fill out against the inside of their thighs and Hyunjin is positive that you can feel him through his pants. 

“Y/N,” Jisung says. “Does that make you feel good?”

“Jisung,” Hyunjin warns him sharply, not wanting his friend to fuel the fire that’s burning. 

“Mm, y-yes,” you stutter, breath catching at the base of your throat the more you try and push yourself towards an edge. 

It could be better though. It could be the pair of them groping and teasing your body at their will. You know that they both know how to use their mouths with the way that they made out earlier on. Not to mention from the grapevine, you’ve heard about Jisung too; how he knows how to eat pussy. Then you have Hyunjin, who just exposed his fantasy of liking having rough sex. The possibilities with his ideas would be endless and fun. 

With the pair of them, you don’t think you would ever run out of orgasms. Just thinking about it makes your fingers speed up, becoming increasingly more wetter. Your muscles jerk every now and then when you inch closer to the tail end of your orgasm, which causes you to unintentionally move against Hyunjin’s crotch once more. 

“Y/N,” Hyunjin breathes out against you. 

“Don’t touch her,” Jisung snaps. “This is her dare.”

“I-I’m not fucking touching her,” he presses back madly, then mutters just to himself as he hides behind you. “Can’t help it Jisung.”

“K-Keep watching…” you plead. “So…close.” 

Hyunjin’s nails are digging deep into the carpet beneath him and his restraint not to touch you teeters dangerously on the last millimetre of a cliff. He’s throbbing, achingly hard. For you. Jisung can see his friends' knuckles turning white but he understands. He too remains hard in his sweats, which was obvious to you. Even just the slight outline that you can see indicates to you that he’s big.

Your mind starts wondering what that sort of length would do to your body, how would it feel to have inside of you? As you ask yourself those questions, you try to imagine that sensation when you start fingering yourself. 

You whimper pathetically, curling over that sweet spongy spot, “yes, feels so good. Makes me wanna cum…” 

“Yeah? Gonna cum in front of us?” Jisung eggs you on. “Gonna make yourself cum just for us?

Your dozy eyes lock with him just for a few seconds before you nod against Hyunjin’s body, “j-just for you both.” 

“F-Fuck,” Hyunjin squeezes his eyes tight shut, gritting his teeth so much that his jaw aches. 

As that familiar euphoric bliss catches up to you, a silent scream paints over your face while your eyelids clamp shut and your eyebrows are furrowed together, focusing on the pleasure. For a moment, you’ve forgotten that Hyunjin is behind you as you can’t help but shiver helplessly against his body from the waves of your orgasm. Quiet yet very audible moans ring throughout Hyunjin’s apartment, making themselves known as you gradually come down with heavy gasps. 

“Holy shit,” Jisung murmurs in awe, he can see that you’ve soaked through your underwear. 

The large wet and sticky patch makes him want to lurch forward, tear the piece of clothing from your body and taste you for himself. To have his face buried in between your legs would be the Atlantis of his own fantasy right now, to have you use his mouth and tongue until you’re cumming all over again. 

In the moments of quiet when the still air is filled with nothing but your staggered breathing and depleted whimpers as you try to collect yourself, your phone buzzes on Jisung’s thigh - the reply to the dirty text he sent from earlier on.

He looks down at the glowing bright screen and his jaw drops to the floor once more. His mind sobers quickly.

From Chan to You: Again? Still horny from this morning? Alright then, I can come over and give you what you need x

There was no way.

I strictly forbid and do not permit anyone or any user to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr to any other social media platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

[nasa]

Navigating Deep Space by Starlight

On August 6, 1967, astrophysicist Jocelyn Bell Burnell noticed a blip in her radio telescope data. And then another. Eventually, Bell Burnell figured out that these blips, or pulses, were not from people or machines.

The blips were constant. There was something in space that was pulsing in a regular pattern, and Bell Burnell figured out that it was a pulsar: a rapidly spinning neutron star emitting beams of light. Neutron stars are superdense objects created when a massive star dies. Not only are they dense, but neutron stars can also spin really fast! Every star we observe spins, and due to a property called angular momentum, as a collapsing star gets smaller and denser, it spins faster. It’s like how ice skaters spin faster as they bring their arms closer to their bodies and make the space that they take up smaller.

The pulses of light coming from these whirling stars are like the beacons spinning at the tops of lighthouses that help sailors safely approach the shore. As the pulsar spins, beams of radio waves (and other types of light) are swept out into the universe with each turn. The light appears and disappears from our view each time the star rotates.

After decades of studying pulsars, astronomers wondered—could they serve as cosmic beacons to help future space explorers navigate the universe? To see if it could work, scientists needed to do some testing!

First, it was important to gather more data. NASA’s NICER, or Neutron star Interior Composition Explorer, is a telescope that was installed aboard the International Space Station in 2017. Its goal is to find out things about neutron stars like their sizes and densities, using an array of 56 special X-ray concentrators and sensitive detectors to capture and measure pulsars’ light.

But how can we use these X-ray pulses as navigational tools? Enter SEXTANT, or Station Explorer for X-ray Timing and Navigation Technology. If NICER was your phone, SEXTANT would be like an app on it.  

During the first few years of NICER’s observations, SEXTANT created an on-board navigation system using NICER’s pulsar data. It worked by measuring the consistent timing between each pulsar’s pulses to map a set of cosmic beacons.

When calculating position or location, extremely accurate timekeeping is essential. We usually rely on atomic clocks, which use the predictable fluctuations of atoms to tick away the seconds. These atomic clocks can be located on the ground or in space, like the ones on GPS satellites. However, our GPS system only works on or close to Earth, and onboard atomic clocks can be expensive and heavy. Using pulsar observations instead could give us free and reliable “clocks” for navigation. During its experiment, SEXTANT was able to successfully determine the space station’s orbital position!

We can calculate distances using the time taken for a signal to travel between two objects to determine a spacecraft’s approximate location relative to those objects. However, we would need to observe more pulsars to pinpoint a more exact location of a spacecraft. As SEXTANT gathered signals from multiple pulsars, it could more accurately derive its position in space.

So, imagine you are an astronaut on a lengthy journey to the outer solar system. You could use the technology developed by SEXTANT to help plot your course. Since pulsars are reliable and consistent in their spins, you wouldn’t need Wi-Fi or cell service to figure out where you were in relation to your destination. The pulsar-based navigation data could even help you figure out your ETA!

None of these missions or experiments would be possible without Jocelyn Bell Burnell’s keen eye for an odd spot in her radio data decades ago, which set the stage for the idea to use spinning neutron stars as a celestial GPS. Her contribution to the field of astrophysics laid the groundwork for research benefitting the people of the future, who yearn to sail amongst the stars.  

Keep up with the latest NICER news by following NASA Universe on X and Facebook and check out the mission’s website. For more on space navigation, follow @NASASCaN on X or visit NASA’s Space Communications and Navigation website.  

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, toxic relationship, possessiveness

fem reader

You’re not sure why you ever let it drag out this long…

In the beginning, it could be blamed on things outside your control. You were a pretty girl, and he was a bad boy – of course, that garnered tension – plus, the oncoming of puberty and its additional whirl of hormones – leaving you in the turmoil of strange feelings neither of you could understand – making you both panicked, embarrassed, confused and, most of all, in dire need of an outlet for it all.

One of which you surprisingly found in each other.

You’d been but foolish teenagers at a silly house party at the time – your first-ever shots of vodka buzzing through your system as you shared a kiss like none other. 

You’d stumbled up the stairs and gotten frisky in the bedroom while the family pictures of your shared friend witnessed you tearing at each other until the skin of childhood had shed and left you both as grown-ups.

You remember it well… how you’d practiced putting condoms on a banana and brought a few along but had no prior intention of treading one on him, of all people. 

But fuck, his hands were so big, and his tongue was so hot… and you hadn’t known he could look so pretty… cinched bushy brows and parted lips glossed with your name as he fucked you against the wall until all those onlooking family pictures came crashing down.

You woke up with a new special understanding of yourself and each other, one with a strange respect and newfound curiosity for the other’s body.

But why he hadn't grown bored of it since and why you’d never put your foot down and ended things was beyond you.

Sure, a drunk one-night stand with a person you’d otherwise avoid at all costs is life – opposites attract, after all – but to keep coming back to each other?

He’d explained it once, one of those times he'd come stumbling into your apartment, drunk and in the midst of buckling up his pants while pawing at you. Kissing you sloppy, he’d mumbled out something along the lines of how no one else knows him like you do. 

And you suppose that had mainly been the reason – that you just knew each other too well and had known each other too long, to which point everyone else just seemed alien – that there was a certain comfort, if one could call it that, in the familiarity of each other that just couldn't be replaced by anyone else. 

You thought it would go on forever like that… Not that you’d ever bothered to give it much thought. 

That is… until you had that very flirty encounter at the café where you worked – where in between being sweet-talked into a stuttering blushed mess and being asked out for coffee someplace where you wouldn't have to serve it yourself – you’d come to question your current relationship and started doubting your true obligations toward him as a partner.

You didn’t go on dates. You didn’t live together. You didn’t text or call one another. You didn’t eat dinner or plan things or visit each other’s parents. 

You didn’t have anything in his apartment, nor him in yours. You’d never washed any of his clothes. You’d never worn any of his clothes. You’d never even driven his car. 

You’d never given each other presents. You didn’t tell people about your relationship. You didn’t talk about work, your day, or your feelings. Actually… having given it a long thought… you didn’t really talk at all. 

In fact, when it came down to it, the only thing you’d been able to think of that you’d ever done together… was sex.

Sex and nothing more…

You don’t know if things would have ever changed if he hadn’t asked you what the number scrawled in blue ballpoint pen on your arm was...

But nevertheless, that’s when he started acting strange.

You’d never expected he’d get so upset by it – but you ended up apologizing that night while promising him that next time, you’d make it clear you already had a boyfriend.

You remember thinking how the way he fucked you that night had been nothing short of desperate. Having given you nearly no room to breathe with how tightly he’d held you, his face nuzzling into your neck with lovebites, thrusting into you in such a way he was barely even pulling out, pounding your womb more than your cunt to the point you’d feared it bruised, having had to pat his shoulder to tell him to calm down. 

He’d held your face then, and you’d realized that you hadn’t really had too much eye contact before. You remember that even then, you couldn’t really decide if you liked it or not. 

Or rather... you’re sure you’d found it unpleasant, though just hadn’t had the guts to give the feeling much thought. 

You regret it now that it’s too late. Maybe if you’d done or said something back then, you wouldn’t be in the situation you were trapped in now.

For lack of a better, more suitable word, you’d have to say he’d become clingy if only it didn’t sound too sweet and childish for someone so much larger than you. But maybe you’d just feared calling it what it had been.

And what it had really been… was threatening.

Overbearing and possessive, and needlessly protective. He’d quickly become paranoid with jealousy. Portraying strange obsessive emotions you hadn't known he harbored for you at all until then.

You hadn’t really been able to put your finger on it at the time.

It started out small – or small in comparison to now. Small pleasantries he’d never bothered with before. Small niceties you’d never imagined the two of them would do together. 

Thinking back, the first deviation aside from the triggering night he’d initially seen the phone number and felt the threat of you slipping from his graspwas the time he’d come and visited you at work when out on patrol. And though he hadn’t really asked, you’d come to realize rather hesitantly that he’d come there to eat lunch together with you.

Maybe you’d been too swept up in the embarrassing buzz to notice, caught in the paparazzi of hushed whispers and judgy stares – all of them asking who the Plain Jane thought she was, eating lunch with the up-and-coming pro-hero Dynamight– you hadn’t really the time nor mind to pay attention to him and all his newly awoken instincts regarding you.

It seemed fucking silly now… How you’d foolishly thought the bizarre lunch was an isolated incident that wouldn’t ever happen again, only to be schooled the next day and the day after that – coming to understand you were to expect it as a regular thing. And soon, it wasn’t even the strangest thing anymore.

Soon, he was driving you home every day, coming inside, eating dinner, watching the news until late, and staying the night. Soon, you found yourself waking up in his apartment alone, coming downstairs to find he’d made you breakfast before leaving, combined with a little note telling you when he’d be back. Soon, you weren’t spending a single week or weekend without him. Soon, you couldn’t find anything to wear that didn’t either remind her of him or smell like him or that downright didn’t belong to him completely.

And he’d started taking you places too – on dates – broadcasting your relationship to anyone who could snap a picture and send it to every gossip magazine in Japan. He’d introduced you to his colleagues – who you knew to be “friends” from some rather upsetting stories he’d told you when he was in a less and less rare mood for talking – and they’d seemed to know who you were just as intimately, giving you the sneaking suspicion that he’d been running his mouth and saying private things he ought not to.

But that had all been child’s play.

It got out of control when he’d ordered a delivery truck to pack down all your things and move them all to his apartment before you got home from work. Sure, he’d introduced the idea of living together in passing, but you couldn’t remember ever committing to it or being at all close to an understanding of where and when.

Thinking about it now, that was probably your last chance of escaping before things got ugly.

But then, it was already too late. You were living with him suddenly – sharing all his space while unable to shake that awfully crippling feeling of just being another medal or trophy up on the mantle. Just a decorative doll he’d locked behind glass.

You’d felt as though your head was in a cloud. And not in a nice way, but in the utmost hollow way. As though you’d put yourself on auto-pilot and just gone with the stream like jellyfish.

And now… now he was down on one knee, asking – no, demanding – that you give him everything. 

For life until due death.

Just the two of you. 

Together.

Forever.

You swallowed thickly, feeling your head prickle as though it had fallen asleep without taking you with it. 

Your lips are dry, your eyes are dry, feeling more sober than ever.

You took a breath and, on the next exhale, spoke, “No.”

You both just stared at each other for a while as though neither could decide who was more shell-shocked and had the right reserved to remain still the longest. You left – deciding it was the person on the floor with the expensive ring weighing down his hand – and walked towards the mudroom.

“What are you doing?” He asked then, hesitantly at first. Shaken from his spot, he’d resumed his full height again, loudly stomping across the floor to reach you.

“I’m sorry- I- I can’t stay here- I need to go.” You rushed, head spinning, only able to understand how you wanted to put shoes on and leave. Maybe get a drink at a bar by yourself and figure your shit out without being suffocated by him.

“Don’t do this.” He said then, sounding desperate and somewhat feeble if it weren’t for how he had you pushed against the wall in the same second.

You nearly decided against yourself when seeing the look on his face – warped into something truly fragile. Plead had his brows pinched together while his sharp red eyes, now doe-like, had glossed over and looked nothing short of hopeless and scared.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart twist and ache and feel a little guilty.

But nevertheless.

“I can’t marry you….”

You couldn’t keep doing this.

“I’m sorry- I don’t love-” 

You didn’t get to finish. The word taken, stifled, strangled in a fist closing around your throat.

“You do love me.” He refuted quickly, as though terrified to have let you finish. “You’ve always loved me.” Trembling while he said it, as though trying to force himself into believing it too. 

Shaking your collar in unstable hands – bearing down on you until you couldn’t be pushed flatter against the stone behind you, until his forehead rested against the wall, and his lips brushed the shell of your ear in hot, heavy, strained breaths. 

“You’re just confused.” He rasped, voice light and breathy and nearly amounting to a giggle or a sob – you weren’t sure which.

But you couldn’t care much when you couldn’t breathe. Head burning into wet cotton that was no longer able to tell you to push him off and instead let your hands go limp against his chest, knees going weak beneath you. 

You were convinced he’d kill you before the tiniest slither of air was allowed back in through your windpipe, gasping for it like a glutton until coughing it all up again when choking on your own desperate gulps. 

You held your throat in an act of soothing it from the forming bruises and shielding it from further attack. But he was ahead of you and had his sights on attacking something else.

He took you by the hair and started pulling, dragging you from the door and further into the apartment.

“Stop- stop it-” You gasped between hiccups and coughs, your hands clawing at his in an effort to free his grasp from your scalp. Your shins dragged to burns against the cold marble as your legs kicked in the struggle, hitting the floor in a series of sporadic thuds until he stopped.

He’d crossed the threshold of your bedroom and was now throwing you down on the mattress, pinning you in the same second with a hand gripping your jaw and eyes a searing cold that seemed to lash out at you like unstable fire, glaring at you with a look so blank and empty you felt it like the chill of death creep throughout your bones.

“If you want me to be nice, you should shut up.”

You knew you ought to listen, but still, one last prayer slipped off your tongue against your better judgment before you could think twice about it. “Please don’t do this-”

“Don’t do what!?” He barked – spit flying and teeth bared just like a rabid rottweiler – louder than you’d ever witnessed, loud enough to make you wince. “Break your heart!?” His voice cracked on the cry, and he paused, giving another gruesome and gut-wrenching chuckle. Head ducking to your chest with spikey hair nipping at your throat like a million needles. 

His hand tightened even more, clawing into your cheeks.

“I’m just making things even.”

You’d never realized just how hopeless you were if you’d ever needed to fend him off. But you’d never needed to before, never wanted to until now.

Now that he had you so helplessly beneath him, where the reality was slowly dawning on you and making you ever more hysteric, slowly settling upon you like dust. The ensuing violation and your utter defeat in fighting it, your failure in doing much more than make it worse.

He tugged his tie loose and threw it off his head, wrapping your wrists in the loop and tightening it into restraints.

Spreading your legs by positioning himself between them. Only now noticing just how brittle you were. So much smaller than him. So much so that tying your wrists to the bedpost seemed like overkill.

You were sobbing, gasping for breath with your chest rising and falling on beat with the deafening drums of your racing heart. You seemed less than nothing beneath him – just a defenseless pile of plush flesh soft against him and all his muscles.

You tried pulling your thighs shut, but it hardly mattered. His hands buried in the fine plume of the cakey fat had them both spread again with nearly no strength put into it at all. 

It was all right there – taken with no effort – only a cute pink cotton panty stopping him. 

His heart clenched at that, flickered and tugged with misery at the look of you crying into your own arm, trying to comfort yourself while your chest heaved, already tired of screaming and bawling – having resorted to soft sniffles and weak snivels while tiny quakes shook through you still, goosebumps adorning all your exposed flesh, which was every part of you sept for what your pretty silk dress kept hidden.

You were so beautiful… Precious and just… too good.

He knew that. He knew that you were too good for him and had always been too good for him – part of the reason why he used to act as though he hated you – when, in reality… he actually…

“I love you.” He cried. “I’ve always loved you….”

Hot tears splashed in big droplets, staining the silk with splotches that seeped into larger flecks on your stomach. 

“I can’t live without you-” He continued, his hands shaking where he held you apart while his body sagged forward, bowing down, donning soft kisses to your neck and jaw, upon the tears staining your cheeks with streaks, whispering in a voice close to breaking. “I can’t- I won’t-” Choked and pitiful, raw from shouting only a moment earlier.

One of his hands detached from its bruising grip, whilst the other loosened and slid higher – pulling your dress up with it– before rubbing loving circles into your midriff. 

You heard his buckle go undone a second later and offered another whimpering sob, your own hands jostling in their bonds on beat with your shaky breaths while trying to angle your face further away with the aim of avoiding the attack of his wet teary kisses.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, but I can’t… I can’t let you go.”

You felt him press against your clothed cunt with the weight of his swollen thickness and let out another whimper – your nose stuffed full of his breaths and eyes full of unyielding tears. 

His hand reached for your panty, hooking the trail and pulling it to the side, making you sink your teeth into the plump of your lip to suppress yet another whimper while you cringed with discomfort and the unanswered wishes for him to stop as he nibbled on the corner of your mouth with more teary proposals.

His fingers soon prodded your slit like they’d done nearly every day for years since they were but teens. Touching you with a perfected skill he’d learned would have you shiver with arousal. 

You yielded quickly, your sex turning puffy and wet sooner than you had the time to be embarrassed about it.

“No one knows you as well as I do. No one loves you as much as I do.” He chanted against your skin, entering you with both his longest digits, pumping them deep and scraping them in a cruel curl into that spot he knew had your toes doing the same. Smiling once your hips made an involuntary jolt in response. “No one else but me.” 

He pulled his hands to himself once you’d left three of his digits warm and soaking with slick, lathering his own arousal with it before nudging his cockhead against your opening in a sticky kiss and breaching it.

You stiffened, and he groaned into your neck at the feel of you clamping down even tighter as he bottomed out into your already taunt choke.

“No one else would know how to love you.” He hissed, setting a sweet tempo, lips still close, grazing on the peachfuzz of your cheek, ghosting your skin with hot breaths and even hotter words.  “No one else would know the first thing to do with you once they had you.”

You shook her head, more so in askance of space than anything else – needing air free of him – needing to clear your head off the building warmth you felt spread from your core – needing to shake the coil loose before it could knot itself further. But it seemed the more you tried fending it off, the faster it neared its end.

You always shook so prettily when cumming – when spilling over and moaning all flushed and cute for him with your hips riding it out against his until it left you panting, blushed, and adorned with a shiny sheen of dew, making you look golden in the glory of the after high.

You were his, and not even you could deny it. It almost makes him pity you, watching you writhe, unable to keep even this from him… laid completely bare to accept what he gave and give what he decided to take.

“You’re mine…”

[moondirti]

animalic (1)

series masterlist

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader rating: mature word count: 1.9k summary: he won't stop until he gets you warnings: enemies to lovers, injuries, kissing, minor ATSV spoilers, size kink (?), mentions of gore and death, not spell checked nor edited, honestly not my best work but the horny is all that matters notes: stayed up all night for this because i had to get it out of my system before finals. there'll be a few more parts, i promise i'm not this cruel haha

“I thought grace was a prerequisite for your little spider-club.” 

Your quip sounds disjointed – even to your own ears – entwined with wheezes that rattle your splintered rib cage. In all honesty, the circumstances don’t seem to be favouring you; he’s got you confined upon the wreckage of your own fight, hanging off the remnants of a crane that dangerously tips over a quarry. And though this isn’t the worst you’ve faced, Miguel’s presence always seems to make things more complicated than they need to be.

You’d had a stable hold on the beam, ready to pull yourself up and dematerialise to wherever he wasn’t. Until, of course, the asshole kicked your elbows off. Now, your fingers remain as your only attachment to the structure, shaking violently with their diminishing strength. Your torso isn’t faring any better, either – the bleeding both internal and trickling from the gashes in your hoodie. 

(You wonder if he’s toying with you, like a panther with its food. Of the rare times he’s assigned another spiderman to pursue you, they didn’t tend to drag it out for this long. 

But, you suppose, Miguel’s different.) 

He takes a small step forward, lifting his foot over your digits. He could crush them like this, turn the bone to powder and keep pressing until it macerates in the gore. You can’t put it past him, really, not if you utter one more self-sabotaging word. You’ve seen him rip through steel and silk alike, fueled on the resentment that simmers deep within his very essence. Yours is merely the same fate that’s befallen every other obstacle that’s dared to come his way. 

But the tension buzzes between you two, thickening until it’s palpable enough to taste. Miguel is quiet as ever, completely still save for the flickering light of his dimensional travel watch. You envy his position – that resolute stature, brimful of power as his shoulders square, his calf rippling with subdued strength, still stretched over your hand. You blame that, or the mask, slick with sweat and humid as it sticks to your nose. Or the glasses that slowly slip to reveal your squinting eyes. You blame anything apart from what it is; that fear that steadily begins to flood your senses, numbing it all into one, cohesive panic. 

You’ve never been good at life or death scenarios. 

“Or, maybe, the big boss thinks he can break his own rules?” 

The air snaps. With an infuriated roar, he lunges at you, razor-sharp talons swiping at your face. In your frenzied dunk to avoid them, your fingers drop. 

You plunge to the bottomless chasm below.

Okay. Let’s try to get this right, one last time. 

Your name doesn’t matter. It hasn’t, not for a while now. 

For the past year, you’ve been on the run from the Spider Society. You don’t exactly blame them for it, either. Every world you’ve crashed has gone to shit, despite serious lack of trying. Food-barren wastelands, borderless warzones. Truthfully, after the mantle of Earth 7BB-1 convected in on itself, you were inclined to turn yourself in. 

Independant of the fact that Nueva York seems to be the only place you can’t fuck up. Regardless of the relatability you have with the residents of its lobby. You were bitten by a radioactive spider just the same, and for all the good you’ve tried to do, you’ve never been a spider-hero. If it meant that no one else got hurt, you really would have been able to cope with lifetime confinement.

(Greater good and all that.)

Would’ve. Could’ve. If it weren’t for Miguel O’Hara’s interjection, and his goddamn alternative solution, things just might have turned out that way. 

You’re not dead. 

The realisation whips your consciousness into high alert, eyes snapping open to survey your surroundings. You process the light first, its brilliance piercing through the bromine-doused cotton that stuffs your skull. Then, it’s the pain that, up until this point, had been thrumming in the background. It crackles, marrow-deep, tearing down the tendons in your shoulders to the throbbing area around your ribs. They’re in doubtlessly worse shape than they had been at the quarry, the ache searing across to engulf your spine too. 

He had let you fall on your back, that dickhead. 

But– 

You’re not dead. 

It doesn’t take you long to figure out why that is. 

A red forcefield entraps you, droning its monotonous hum, partially obscuring everything beyond your own reflection. You can see the faint impression of a silhouette – no, multiple – stalking you on the other end, a great shadow court. They warp and grow with every passing second, gorging on your offered vulnerability, awaiting some wordless signal from the harbinger of death, to execute justice upon the one who’s been causing them so much trouble. Jess Drew. Hobie Brown. Ben Reilly. 

(They’d been more forgiving, once. Willing to negotiate peace, to treat you more than the screw up you’ve proven to be. 

His voice overrode theirs. Always.)

It’s easier to make out the devil himself – more so than the others. You’ve come to memorise the slope of those shoulders, how his fists clench at his sides as he circles you. You imagine the smug set of his jaw and those eyes, just as luminous as the cage you curl within. The puck at the base is recognisable, akin to the capture weapons he’s thrown at you previously. He’d saved your life, then.

On a technicality. You’ll bury that thought to rage over later. 

“How–”

The question hardly forms before you’re ripped in two, the atoms of all but your spirit splicing into one another in a defect of blue and orange. The glitch exacerbates the fractures that threaten to knock you out, racking through your system as it rearranges your matter into amorphous forms. It’s only when something is thrown into the enclosure do you snap back to. A bracelet clatters to the floor. 

“Didn’t know whether you’d be used to the glitching yet.” A disembodied voice remarks. It’s at a particularly whiny pitch – you assign it to Ben. 

“We… tried to get it on you, kid. But you–” A feminine inflection crops up. Jess sounds the same since the last you spoke. 

You glower at them from the corner of your eye – unsure if they can actually see you – and snap the day pass on. Your spectral abilities were handy at the best of times; to shift from the corporeal, coming into immateriality, makes the most complicated situations evadeable. You credit it for your continued survival, if nothing else. Yet to speak like you could control it, especially while unconscious, was pushing it. You clearly weren’t able to activate it when you needed it the most.

And now you’re here. 

“I’m not going to ask what you want, so let’s keep this short– y-yeah? Either you let me go, or this Earth’ll be the next to unravel.” Despite your intentions, the demand escapes you in a long-winded croak. You hear Hobie snicker, the laugh teetering the edge of approval. Anyone can tell the promise has no foundation.

“That won’t be happ–” 

“Leave us.” 

The room clips into white noise. You fail to focus on anything but that echoing order. 

His voice comes across clearer than all else, too, cadence resonating past any natural boundary, tugging your heart right where it’s tender. There’s that fear again, that singular dread, only ever triggered by his indifference. Perhaps more potent than fury, his patience gives away an all-assured determination. Deadly. 

You bite your cheek, steeling your expression into one of similar apathy. It feels like a child’s attempt at dress up, grubby hands clutched around mother’s lipstick, painting on a clown’s complexion. Crackling apprehension brushes across your most vulnerable parts; layer by layer, you’re skinned as the group files out. Bare nerves are all that’s left for your faceoff with the hulking man.

He throws another puck to the floor. His own forcefield conjoins to yours. 

His cheeks have gotten hollower, you notice, emphasising the cheekbones that are just as keen as everything else about him. He offers no smile, no grand boast of victory. Instead, he breathes – calmly, fixedly, and lets you absorb the overwhelming magnitude of his size once more. He’s aware of what it strikes in you, can see it in the way you falter upon every reintroduction. Miguel is colossal, a reality that has never been more apparent than in this cramped enclosure. 

You know that if you stop to ponder it, it’ll ruin you. 

Rearing on your heels, you bounce from your place on the ground, making a grab for his watch. He anticipates it, having caught the decision blaze in your pupils, and side steps, pivoting to gain the upper hand while your back is still turned. You rebound off the field wall, stumbling back when he yanks you by your hoodie. Your shoulder presses into his chest, and he moves to wrap himself around your form.

Your skin prickles. His body passes right through you. 

His recovery time is nearly nonexistent relative to your last fight – quick learner – but you’re still swift on your feet, bolting to his watch again. It’s a millisecond too slow, for his talons sink into your forearm when you start to pull away. 

Your pained yelp loses momentum as he slams your back against the wall, using a knee to pin your other arm in place, his free hand wrapping around your neck. 

He’s close. Too close. Your stomach flips, pushing up on your oesophagus until you choke with the bile that sears its lining. Your breaths are as deep enough as his clutch will allow, index and thumb cutting off the circulation on both sides of your neck.

Ichor blooms from the puncture points at your wrist, the warmth puddling at your palm, not yet heavy enough to drip down onto the floor. You don’t think he realises how deep his claws are, how near he is to scratching bone. You don’t think you do, either. It doesn’t hurt as much as it should, and while you’re sure you’ll regret not prioritising it sooner, you don’t think– Don’t think–

“I-I’m not goi…going home,” You gasp. 

“It’s not up to you, Wraith.” Miguel growls, chokehold loosening.

It hits you, then. Animalic. He smells addictingly animalic. Like musk, a blend of brine and hot air and hints of a patchouli aftershave that still clings to his jaw. Your eyes flutter, seeking all you can get of the latter. Unwittingly, you move in closer. 

You haven’t been this close to anyone in a long time. 

His expression oscillates between a sneer and a grimace, nose pulling up to reveal the very pointed ends of his two canines. Set side by side with plush lips, you zero in on the thought of experiencing the contrast with your own. 

He’s huge. 

Closer. 

Completely overwhelms you, in size and presence and–

Closer. 

Your ribs ache. Your back groans. You’re quickly losing feeling in your fingers, and movement – soon – if you don’t do something. 

Your breath weaves with his. He doesn’t reciprocate when your lips brush, but he doesn’t pull away, either. 

You kiss him for longer than you should. Longer than you need to. It’s firm, and not unlike what you expected. 

(World-shattering, all the same.) 

Your skin prickles. It takes all of your rationale to pull away – dematerializing out of his grasp, and into the portal you’d activated from his wrist.

chapter 2 →

follow @moondirti-archive and turn on post notifs to be notified of future updates!

[slttygeto]

HEART TO HEART : GOJO SATORU

what is heart to heart? a show in which we bring two people who have history together to ask them a couple of interesting, heartbreaking questions.

today's episode: 27 year old Gojo Satoru broke up with his girlfriend 4 years ago, yet he cannot move on. does she feel the same? and does a person really not move on even after four years?

note: i started this…without a second thought. i dont know where its going or if its gonna do well. but i enjoyed it very much

a cold room, a white set, two chairs and a table—satoru gojo knew that the point of this very simple and minimalistic set was to make him feel vulnerable and uncomfortable, but a tiny vase would’ve been appreciated.

“why did you two break up?”

the ivory haired man leans back in his chair with a dry chuckle, fingers drumming along the surface of the wooden table.

“I was insecure,” he admits rather bitterly. “I just had a lot of things to work on, and letting go of her seemed like the right thing to do.”

“do you miss her?”

“oh, absolutely,” there’s a smile on his face when he says that, and sits up straight with his hands clasped together (an indicator that he was most likely anxious to be asked such vulnerable question). he goes on to squeeze his hands a bit and his lips are sealed shut for a bit before opening them again. “I thought to myself that I wouldn’t find love for a while after her—but it’s been four years, and I cannot get myself to move on.”

“has she moved on?”

“maybe? I’m not sure,” he lets out a nervous laugh and looks away from the camera before holding his head in his hands, there was a mental battle going on inside his head—before he finally decides to speak again. “I actually stalked her instagram account last week through a mutual friend and… I didn’t see a man on any of the pictures. she could just be super private.”

“was she private about being with you?”

“she would post pictures here and there, we didn’t like to keep our relationship a secret.”

gojo is handed a blindfold and he neatly wraps it around his eyes and waits, heart thumping loudly in his chest.

when you were asked by a friend if you would do this interview, a part of you was a bit hesitant just because you weren’t sure if you wanted to air out your love life like this and have to deal with the consequences of a potential future lover being upset about it—but when you were told that it was gojo satoru, your ex-boyfriend whom you dated for 3 years and were planning on building a future with—that is until it abruptly ended with no warnings whatsoever. perhaps you ignored the tornado warnings? were there even any to begin with? you will never know because you blocked him everywhere on social media. from instagram to his phone number. you couldn’t deal with the fact that he existed around you, near you yet you couldn’t have him.

four long years of not having seen him took a toll on your heart, as it sure gets excited the moment you spot white strands on top of a head that is laid out on the table. his sense of style is still so casual and laid back, but not in a cocky way. satoru has always been about feeling comfortable in your clothes but you notice his tense shoulders and his foot tapping and can immediately tell that he is anxious.

you silently pull the chair back facing him and he lifts his head off of the table. your hands rest on top of the surface and the producer finally asks gojo to take off the blindfold.

when he does and you two lock eyes, you both start smiling big but you can’t help the little tremble to your lips before you look away from the camera to wipe a few emotional tears.

“sorry,” you whisper but your mic was able to pick it up. almost on instinct, satoru reaches towards you and squeezes your arm reassuringly.

“when was the last time you spoke to one another?”

“four years ago.” you are the one to answer the questions now and you keep avoiding satoru’s big blue eyes.

“was it hard having to walk away from a long term relationship?”

“It’s always hard when you thought there was a connection,” your emphasis on the word “thought” makes gojo look down at his lap almost in shame. he had no time to explain himself or what he did, yet he couldn’t help but feel that this interview was going to be like a second chance to explain himself and perhaps give a proper apology.

“you had no closure?”

“nope.” you both answer at the same time and it feels as though feelings of resentment are starting to resurface as your demeanor grows cold around him and you pull your hands away from the table.

“why do you think you broke up?”

“you said you couldn’t really see us together anymore,” you were now speaking to satoru directly and he gladly took the heat of your words. “you said…that us being together was just a waste of time and that one of us has to walk away,” you were clearly hurt by his words, even four years later. the breakup took a toll on you both physically and emotionally. you were incapable of going on dates for a painfully long period of time that your friends had to drag you outside to meet some potential new partners—but none of them felt like satoru. you resented him for crawling into your heart and finding a safe space there, for settling down and building a warm house inside only to tear it down and leave as quickly as he came.

“I wasn’t… sure what I wanted to do at the time, I was confused about my future,” satoru admits for the first time ever. “I thought it was so unfair to drag you down that hole with me when it was so clear to you that you had a plan in mind—a secure one so I just-“

“left.” you finish the sentence for him and he lets out a pained laugh.

“yeah, I left. and when I realized that you had blocked me, I knew that there was no going back and that I actually did it. yknow, like, it wasn’t this bad dream where I would wake up and you were still beside me—you were actually gone, I made you leave.”

there was a long silence after this and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not after that confession.

“did you miss me?” gojo takes the initiative to ask this question instead of the producer but they don’t complain, watching carefully as you look back at your ex partner.

“I did,” you say again in a whisper, almost scared that you coming to terms with this horrible realization was going to hurt you further.

“do you think that…we could’ve worked out had I been honest at the time?”

“satoru, I would’ve never left you as easily as you did,” you knew that it wasn’t easy for him, but you want him to know that your love for him was bigger than he ever thought.

“would you like to try again?”

you two stare at each other for a bit and you sneak your hand towards his huge palm, resting your index finger there and tracing soft circles.

“yeah… I want to. do you?” you look up at him through your eyelashes and gojo’s heart feels as though it is about to burst.

“I would love to.”

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

—💭 if you like this, leave me a tip!