#lunar low hours

[sleepinginks]

roy/lunar

cw: covid, rambling of mental health, dissociation, physical health, views on death/dying.

I ended up catching covid for the first time about a week and a half ago.

I have been feeling so weird while I have had it. I went from sleeping for almost 2 days straight to having and semi-manic episode yesterday where I was awake for around 25 hours due to getting dissociated/sucked in on learning discord programming (oops). I slept most of today so I'm fine now but most of the last two weeks have been more of a blur than usual. I was so sick that I actually missed a philza stream for the first time since I've started watching him and its thrown off the autism side of my brain.

Getting covid has also given me some health anxiety about how it will end up effecting my health since I can tell it has been putting extra strain on my heart. Like not in the "oh no I'm scared I'm going to die", but more in the "well shit I hope this doesn't mess with results of the heart tests I'm going to be getting soon" due to me not really being scared of dying since I've already come to terms that I'm probably going to be dying a lot younger then most due to my health issues. I'm not angry about my disabilities, it's more annoying than anything.

[lxnarphase]

BITCH, YOU KNOW I'M SEXY ᯓ★

━━ ❝ I'M NOT YOUR MOMMY, N★GGA! FIND A NEW HOBBY, N★GGA! ❞ wc. 5.4k

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : being toji's roommate, you finally snap after another night of not being able to sleep because of his damn late-night hookups. your house, your rules.

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...cw : blk!fem!reader x f. toji, frenemies to lovers, smut, face-sitting + pussy eating, dumbification, degradation, praise kink, dirty talk, playful arguing, hair pulling, size kink, begging, riding, unprotected sex (do not do this in real life omfg), dom-ish reader, sub-ish toji, lots of pet names, toji being an asshole, toji gets called a 'good boy' a few times

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's notes : toji toji toji, what am i going to do with you...anyways, this was super fun and i love these two so much and i need them to go out on a date properly at some point ! if you want to be tagged for the future posts, comment on the main post here ! enjoy baddies ❤︎

you love sleep. absolutely love and cherish it, even.

every night, you follow the routine you set for yourself without fail: hot shower, slipping into some comfy PJs, in-depth skincare, brushing your teeth, and then pulling your bonnet on.

nothing is better than slipping into bed, soft sheets feeling sooo good on your skin. yes, you absolutely love sleep.

except it seems that your roommate has no respect for your need for rest, considering how many times you've had to hear the high-pitched whining of women paired with the annoying thud of the headboard against the wall.

he better not damage the wall either, because he will be the one paying for it.

you both were...sort of friends, sure, but ever since you both graduated college, toji has been doing his best to get on your nerves. constantly picking on you, teasing you, or doing stupid shit that annoys the fuck out of you. especially whenever he leaves the fucking toilet seat up in the middle of the night.

and every time he hears you squeal late at night in the bathroom before shouting his name, he can't help but laugh.

eventually, it went from him just doing things to inconvenience or mess with you to this. and you were tired.

these nightly...activities of his need to be addressed because you are not letting a man of all things be the reason you can't sleep soundly at night. this is your apartment, after all!

it's a friday night and you just know you need to talk to him before you have to hear some woman fighting for her life of toji does...whatever he does that has all these women coming in and out of your apartment like it's a damn brothel...okay, well, it was the same two women, but still!

so that's how you find yourself, pounding on his door, sleepy, tired, and irritated in your hello kitty pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, ready to get in bed and actually sleep.

"fushiguro, open this damn door," you command, fluffy slipper tapping on the floor as you wait for him to open his door. after a minute, you hear a groan and the shuffling of sheets before the door swings open.

toji stands in the doorway, only in a pair of sweatpants that hang low on his hips with an eyebrow raised as he looks down at you. you don't care how hot he looks, you want nothing more than to wipe that look off his face, hating how smug he looks.

"whaddya want? 's she here already? told 'er not to come for another 2 hours," he mumbles, scratching at the scar on his lip. you're silent for a moment, processing what he just said. "who......no. nononono. absolutely not, tell whoever you are expecting she is not coming into my apartment."

crossing your arms, you fix him with a tough look. sure, you know you aren't the scariest thing, especially in hello kitty pants and puffy slippers, but it doesn't matter! he is going to respect your wishes or...or else!

"aww, what's wrong, doll? can't sleep," he teases, voice low and sinfully smooth as smirk finds its way onto his face. "guess ya should've invested in those headphone y'keep talkin' about so much. can't help that 'm just that good that the girlies can't keep their mouths shut."

having you in front of his bedroom door like this...it's so fucking adorable to him, you were just so cute and didn't have a single clue, did you? complaining that he and his little playthings were too loud and keeping you up was not what he expected. but, toji won't lie, he's genuinely surprised it took you so long to finally say something.

it seems his little comment struck a cord, his smirk getting bigger when your eyes get just a bit wider in disbelief. man, you were so fucking cute like this, all angry and huffy.

"okay, first of all, those headphones are NOT comfy to sleep with at night. and i'm not dropping almost $400 dollars on something so that i can accommodate for you," you argue, stepping forward and jabbing your finger into his stupidly big chest.

no, seriously, why were his pecs almost bigger than your tits?

"can you please just let me sleep for one night, or are you that sex deprived you can't go a single night without getting your dick wet?"

whatever this new side of you was, he liked it.

"aww, sounds like little princess s' mad no one's fuckin' her right. ya not gettin' fucked good, pipsqueak? haven't seen yer boy-toy around lately anyways.

"god, that's—that's none of your fucking business, fushiguro, shut up!"

"make me."

you blink.

a moment passes...and suddenly, your eyes are sharp.

ah...he might've fucked up with those two simple words.

"...you know what? i will, you annoying fuck."

catching toji off guard, you shove him back, taking advantage of him stumbling to walk inside his room as you slam the door shut behind you. a light chuckle escapes him, eyebrows raises. "so, the little kitten does have claws," he says with a grin.

his little roommate seems to have grown a pair of balls. what is she gonna do? hit him with pillows, curse him out, kick him out? pffft, if you kicked him out he would know you needed sleep, you both have been friends for too long...right?

as toji gets slightly worried he might've genuinely crossed a line (a bit too late to realize that, he realizes), you push him onto his bed, standing between his legs.

oh.

oh, he...he likes you from his angle, looking down at him with a little bit of a pout on those pretty full lips of yours as you try soooo hard to look angry and scary. but how can he be scared when his roommate, the one he's been fucking his hand for, looks so fucking cute?

curly hair a bit frizzy and messy (he's surprised you don't have your bonnet on yet), smelling like cocoa butter and that strawberry shortcake body spray that haunts him at night. and now you're in his fucking room. he'd never be able to escape it now.

fuck, every time you came close to him, he just suddenly couldn't process anything except you...he needed to get a grip.

propping himself up on his elbows, toji locks eyes with you, playing off his surprise. "what's gotten into ya, roomie? so aggressive, might have t' call shiu to come get you," he attempts to playfully poke. the tension in the room grows when you start to massage your temples, trying to calm down.

in.

out.

in.

out.

in-

"well, if lack of sleep is gettin' you all huffed up like this, i gotta couple o' ways t' tire ya out if y'need."

"oh my god, y'talk too fucking much," you grumble.

toji opens his mouth, ready to make another smart comment but he's shocked into silence when you tug your pajama pants off. there's no fucking way this is real. toji knows he has to be dreaming and knowing he'd be waking up with a wet spot in his pants if he didn't wake up soon.

and...are you wearing hello kitty boxer briefs too? god, you're such a fucking dork, it's cute and it's only making him harder in his pants.

but all of that is forgotten when you hook your fingers in the waistband of those stupid looking boxers and drag them down those pretty legs and toji gets a glimpse of your cute, pudgy tummy and...and....

fuck.

he doesn't even get a chance to think, he's so fucking hard. you're fucking half naked in his room right now and he can't tear his eyes away from how soft you look, that little patch of hair (is it shaped like a fucking heart? jesus fucking christ, you were serious about making yourself feel pretty everywhere), god, he's so fucked.

"shit. someone's eager. just couldn' wait to-"

"i'm so sick of you," you cut off, pushing him down onto the bed, crawling up his chest. you give him a look, one that he instantly understands and he smirks, giving you a nod before you continue moving until your hips hover over his face.

the smirk melts off his face when he realizes how real this is. your bare pussy is literally mere inches away from his mouth, so close he can practically taste you.

he's not gonna make it out of this alive, is he?

when you see him about to open his mouth to make another stupid comment, you move, pressing your hips down onto his face, shutting him up. "you wanna use your mouth so much, toj? i'll give you somethin' to use it on."

toji's response is just a muffled groan, his eyes fluttering a little. his hands move up to grip your thighs to steady you and also keep you on his face. he hasn't even tasted you, but shit, you smell so good.

wasting no more time, his tongue hungrily darts out, desperate to taste you. the moment he licks over your folds, he's sighing, melting into the bed. you're so soft, so sweet and he hasn't even gotten a taste from the main source. pulling you down onto his face a bit harder, toji finally swipes through your cunt and he's addicted.

"mmh, fuck," he grunts, burying his face as deep as possible. what the actual fuck are you made of, he thinks to himself. you taste so sweet, he's getting so dizzy as he starts to messily lap up all the slick dripping from your pussy. he barely pulls away from you to breathe, taking just a second to part, his hot breath fanning against the wet mess between your legs before he dives right back in, his low groans resonating against your core so nicely.

toji slurps loudly at your cunt, unable to stop himself from rolling his hips up, the friction of his sweats on his cock a sweet relief. he's so sure this is heaven, thanking whatever god there is for making you snap to this point but then you start talking.

you sigh, hips gently rocking against toji's face as your eyes open to look down your body at him. "mmn, 's better," you purr to yourself, little sweet noises of pleasure escaping you as one of your hands runs through his hair, giving him an encouraging little tug.

"should i just give you my pussy every night so you let me sleep, toj," you coo at him, a smug smile on your face. he didn't even notice his eyes slipped shut, but he opens them, flickering up to meet your lidded gaze and see the pride swirling around your eyes.

has his roommate always been like this? toji doesn't remember you being so fucking sexy like this. sure, you've always been attractive, and he's definitely had a thing for you for a while. but never in his life did he think his sweetheart of a friend would be smushing his face into her soft cunt.

his response is a little nod and an increase in his tongue's movements against your sloppy pussy. his lips move to suck right at your puffy clit, and he swears nearly cums when you gasp his name and whine, pulling him even deeper by his hair.

his train of thought is completely destroyed, he can't think of anything but you, can't feel anything but you, can't see, can't smell, can't taste anything but you.

he'd kill a man if it meant being able to taste you like this every fucking day.

"ohh, tojibaby, y'look s' pretty eating my pussy...poor thing, jus' needed something to shut you up for a bit."

scratch that, he'd kill SEVERAL men if it meant hearing you sing praises like that while you grind against his mouth, practically suffocating him with your thighs.

it's addicting, the way slick is gushing out of you each time he kisses your clit before sucking on it, coating his mouth. toji knows he looks a wreck, but he doesn't care, not when he's got you on him like this.

"d'you wanna make me cum, toj?" you ask it so teasingly, tugging his hair again and making him moan. "you're makin' out with my pussy...such a good boy for me."

those two words are his undoing, a visible shift in his energy. his eyes are sharp, and he almost looks angry as he grips your thighs even harder. "yes, fuck, yeah, mama, i wanna make you cum all over my face," he growls, tongue unrelenting when it slips back inside of your cunt, a nasty wet noise filling the air as you keen. he's fucking you with his tongue so messily, like he'll die if he stops tasting you.

good boy. you called him a good boy.

the compliment made something snap in him, the need to devour you whole the only thing on his mind. he's not just a good boy, no, he's your good boy, and the thought of being yours makes a thick bead of precum to drip out of his cock and stain his sweatpants.

he's brought back when you tug his head back to look at you, that thick tongue of his slipping out of you.

"i don't want you bringing anymore fucking women in my house, fushiguro," you warn, glaring down at him. you're serious. if you see another girl come in here at 11pm, you might actually kill this man in his sleep and not in a way he'd like

"i'm so tired of hearing their annoying moans. if you need a pussy to put your stupid dick in, just ask me, you fuckin' idiot." shit, you usually never talk like this, but toji likes this side of you. the usually sweet and kind roommate he was so used to was no where to be seen, replaced with this commanding and no-nonsense woman who knew what she wanted.

he can't even deny, this side of you is such a massive turn on.

"promise you're gonna let me fuckin' sleep n' i'll cum on your pretty mouth, fushiguro. otherwise, i'm getting up and i'll call shiu and see if he wants a taste."

oh, fuck no. no way in hell is toji letting that smug bastard see you like this, best friend or not.

he desperately nods, just wanting you to let go of his hair so he can dive back into your sweet pussy, licking his lips to taste you again.

"promise, mama, no more bringing other women, jus' you, don't need nobody else but you, y'got my word."

"that's my good boy."

once you let go of his hair, toji dives right back to the task at hand like man possessed. his lips press against your clit, kissing it with little wet smacks before sucking it into his mouth. his tongue doesn't give you a break, flicking over it rapidly. your moans, god, your moans are getting so loud and so pretty, his eyes never leaving your face as he watches you get closer and closer.

"c'mon, doll, please," he begs, a whininess in his voice as he massages your thick thighs, encouraging you to ride his face until you cream all over it. "give it t' me, give me what i wan', cum all over my face, baby girl."

feeling how you start to move your hips, a sweet little 't-toji, 'm gonna cum' falling from your lips, his hands grasp your ass as he seals his mouth over your cunt, sucking and licking desperately.

he needs it.

he needs you.

needs you so fucking bad.

feeling him mutter those words against your cunt makes you gasp and choke out his name, thighs squeezing around his head. "oh, fuck, toji, 'm cummin, baby!" your hands are both in his hair as you desperately hump against his mouth, body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

he doesn't stop, he keeps his mouth on you to make sure not a drop of your sweet cum goes to waste. he can feel it spilling out of his mouth, down his chin and neck. it's so messy, just how he likes it.

he watches you, how could he even think to take his eyes off you? you're so pretty, do you even realize how your hair got puffier and messier from your sweating, how a few of those tiny curls got stuck to your skin?

"g-god, fuck, toj, hoohmygod, your mouth 's so good, nngh!"

shit, you're pretty, so fucking pretty, what the fuck? god, you even cum pretty, toji's so fucked. why didn't he get you on his face like this sooner?

feeling your tremors start to subside, toji slows his tongue, switching to little licks and then to soft kisses against your clit, keeping you grounded as you come down from your high. the fact he didn't paint the inside of his sweatpants white is a miracle, but he knows the front is wet and stained.

when he feels you relax, toji guides you off his face and down to sit on his chest. he can't help the twinkle in his eye, grinning at you proudly. the bottom half of his face is a mess, covered in his spit and your slick. you like this look on him.

"has anyone ever told you that you've got t'most addicting pussy ever?"

you huff a laugh, urging him to move up further on the bed until his back rests against the pillows. he was so annoying, and you hated how attractive it made him. “you’re too awake for my liking," you sarcastically huff, giving him a sweet little pout that makes him feel a bit more things than he probably should.

tugging his sweatpants down, you let out a little noise of surprise.

ah.

it all makes sense now. no wonder those girls sounded like they were dying.

"toji, what the actual hell is wrong with you?!"

"don't get mad at me, ma, i didn't magically make my dick this size! i just got lucky!"

"lucky?! girl, this is a curse, how the fuck did those girls fit this thing in them?!"

"they didn't."

that makes you pause. they couldn't get him all the way inside? glancing down at his cock, heavy in your hand, as he helps to get his pants completely off, you're not surprised. but you could take it, right?

...guess you need to find out.

shifting your hips, you move to swipe his cock through your slick pussy, a smug look on your face when he sharply inhales. "i'm gettin' my revenge, pretty boy, for all the sleep you made me lose. 's late, anyways, yeah? don't we need to sleep soon?"

the head of his cock catches onto your entrance, causing you both to sigh in pleasure. this would be a stretch, but you're determined by pure spite from toji and those women keeping you up at night.

while you're teasing him, toji is a breath away from losing his mind. the sight of you taking charge, hair completely fluffy now from the humidity in the room, has his cock pulsing in your soft hand. he's so sure that you're not gonna be able to take it all in. shit, he's wondering if he should stop you, tell you he's gotta prep you first or else it's gonna hurt, but you use your free hand to grab his face, making him look at you as an evil grin breaks out on your face.

"i'm gonna put you t' sleep with my pussy. uhm, something something, call that pussy nyquil," you giggle, slipping the tip of his cock inside of your wet, tight little cunt.

melting, that's the best way toji can describe the feeling of behind inside you, even if it's just the tip. "jesus," he hisses, his hands coming up to grip your hips. you're so hot inside, your tight walls are so snug around him. there's no way this tight cunt of yours is gonna be able to fit him in, there's not fucking way.

despite that, he finds himself guiding you down onto him, trying his hardest not to buck up into you. but the sensation of your soft, gummy walls squeezing him so perfectly is making it so challenging to stay still.

"fuck, mama...shit," he groans, watching as he is sucked into your warm pussy. once you get halfway, he expects you to stop, and that's usually where they all do. he was fine with that, more than fine, because he's never been inside someone so fucking tight.

but then, you raise your hips until just the tip is inside, and with a devious little giggle, you slam your hips down, gasping when you get him in all the way. damn, you realize it was a stupid idea, the stretch making you feel almost sick, but the reaction you get out of toji is worth it.

his head falls back against the headboard, and he whimpers, eyes rolling back into his skull, his lip pulled between his teeth as he tries to relearn how to think.

“i'm gonna make you cum and ‘m gonna fuck you stupid for not letting me sleep, fushiguro.” giving yourself a bit to get used to his size, you slowly started moving, seeing what angle worked best for you.

meg the stallion, i'm gonna make you proud of me, you think with a little smirk before you steady yourself with your hands on his chest and start to bounce your hips, your cute little threat only making his cock throb inside you.

"'m gonna make you regret bein' an asshole to your pretty roommate, pretty boy."

it doesn't take long for it to get messy, for it to get so fucking sloppy and noisy. each time you bring your hips down, the room is filled with a wet smack. you've really made a mess out of him, your sticky wet coating his fat cock and his lap, thick strands of it connecting you to him with each raise of your hips before you bring them right back down.

toji can't breathe, finally tilting his head back up as his eyes are glued to where his cock slips in and out of you. you're taking him, taking all of him into your sticky cunt and, shit, he thinks he might die like this.

"fuck, fuck, mama, c'mon, don' do this t' me, relax, please, fuckin' strangling my cock, oh my god—"

he's whining, it's so cute. who knew you could get toji fushiguro, mr. tough guy, to crumble under you like this so easily? it's so wet and gushy, the sound of your thick body smacking back down on his only making his insides twist in pleasure. he can feel how fucking wet you are, dripping down his cock, down his balls, it's so unfair.

"tojiii, talk t' me," you coo at him, your sweet voice bringing him back. "don't tell me my pussy's making you dumb already, jus' started."

you did, you're literally fucking him dumb, and he doesn't know what to do or what to say, but hearing you say his name like that in-between moans as you bounce your hips up and down his throbbing shaft has his babbling in an instant.

"god, this cunt 's perfect, baby, s' fucking perfect."

“yeah? y’like my pussy, toj? like my pretty cunt creaming on you?” you roll your hips, a pretty moan leaving you when his tip nudges against that soft spot perfectly. “f-fuck, you really are big...poor thing, no one could get it in all the way? am, mh, am i the first t’ take this fat cock t’ the hilt, tojibaby?”

you lean forward, hands moving from his chest to around his neck as you roll your hips, swiveling them in ways that have him gushing precum all over the insides of your cunt. the squelches your cunt makes with each roll is so fucking sinful and so nasty.

"y-yeah, mama, she feels s' good around me, all tight and warm, milking my cock like it's made just for you."

god, you smell so good...he can still smell your perfume and the sweet blueberry scent of your leave-in. you smell so sweet and taste so sweet too, he's so fucking lucky to have you fucking him like this. toji's hands move from your hips to your ass, helping you fuck yourself on his dick, groaning your name.

"god, you're the first to take it all, y'got me so fucking deep in that sloppy lil' cunt that y'can feel me in your stomach."

you giggle between moans, pressing your forehead against his. "y'so cute, toji, such a good boy f' me, yeah? feels so much better knowin' you can just tell me if you need me to put you to sleep, right?"

he groans, nodding as his eyes flutter closed again. "y-yeah, yes, baby, feels s' much better," he admits, breathless as he starts to get close. he can feel you getting tighter, getting wetter, and he'll be damned if he cums before you do.

"aww, listen t' you," you say with a little whine, your dominant mask starting to ebb away as you start to grow weaker and weaker. it's starting to feel good, really good, to the point where you can't think either, and you don't know how much more of this you can do. "m-my pretty boy, my good boy, f-fuckin' me s...s-so good..."

the moment he picks up the whininess in your voice, toji is alert, looking into your eyes to find that the pleasure is finally catching up to you, too. "yeah? yeah, mama? she's feelin' good? fuck, 'm gonna fuckin' fill you up, baby, gotta cream this pretty pussy so deep that she feels it f' days," he grunts, mouth open as he pants against your lips.

they look so pretty, he wonders if you taste like that lip balm you always carry, if your tongue is as sweet as you are, if your plump lips are as soft as they look. the thought of them pressing against his is what breaks him, and he's so embarrassed at the noise he makes before leaning back against the pillows and planting his feet into the mattress.

"i gotta fuck you, gotta fuck you good, 'm sorry, 'm so sorry, baby, promise i'll let you sleep, promise i'll be good for ya, okay? mm, fuck, c'mon, let toji make it better, gonna kiss your cunt with my cock and make it up t' ya."

toji fucks into your hole desperately, groaning at the loud wet plaps of his hips smacking against yours. your moans, god, your moans, they're so pretty, you're so pretty. he can see your tits bouncing against the fabric of the shirt you have on, and he curses, so fucking mad he didn't have you take it off. but he doesn't care, not right now, not when he sees how gorgeous you look.

he's so fucking prideful when he sees how poofed out your hair is, bouncing with each thrust up into you. "y're so fucking pretty, c'mere."

one of his hands grabs you by the back of the head and smushes his lips against yours, hungry as he licks over them before shoving his stupidly thick tongue inside your mouth. the kiss is just as messy as the rest of you, and the pitiful little moan you give has him reeling.

"i-i'm, 'm gonna cum, toj," you whisper against his mouth, nails biting into his shoulders as you do your best to match his pace. you're gonna cum, he's gonna make you cum, you're about to cum all over his fucking dick, jesus christ.

"fuck, you're so hot, so cute, mama, my pretty girl. need ya t' cum, dolly, can y'do that for me? please, baby, cum on me, make a mess s' i can fill you up an' apologize like i promised," he rambles before kissing you again, biting your lip before running his tongue over it.

it's so close, you can taste it. it's so unfair how big his cock is, how you can feel every vein and throb of it inside of you, how you can feel his hot precum smudging all over your velvety walls.

the realization that he's inside you raw has you moaning so sweetly, and your pussy is gripping him for dear life as you dig your nails into his shoulders even more, head falling forward. "t-toji, 'm, 'm gonna—f-fuck!"

you're cumming, you're cumming on him, and it feels so fucking good. you're creaming all over his lap, and your crying and moaning his name so sweetly he feels like he's gonna pass out. "baby, babyyy, no, lemme see, lemme see you cum," he begs, the hand in your hair tilting your head back up and the view he gets has his hips stuttering inside you.

your eyes are unfocused, long lashes wet from tears as you pant and whimper for him, all for him. and when you make eye contact with him, he feels your gummy walls squeeze him so tight.

"oh, fuck, yes, mama, jus' like that. keep cummin' on me, keep goin', 'm so close, gonna cum, gonna cum in this pretty pussy s' fuckin' deep you feel it in your tummy," toji babbles before he's losing himself too, pressing your head against his chest as he fucks into you, savoring your overstimulated cries for him. "'s gonna go deep, so fuckin' deep an' i'm gonna fuckin' eat it outta you, just like y-you fuckin' deserve—!"

with a pathetic sounding groan of your name, he's giving one, two, three, four hard, deep thrusts, moaning as he pumps his thick load into you, feeling your oversensitive pussy milking him dry. "g-good boy, g'fucking boy, tojiii," you whimper, moving from his chest to pepper kisses all over his face, moaning softly as you feel his hot cum coating your walls.

his mind is so blissfully blank that he doesn't even realize he's shaking a little bit from how hard he just came. cooing happily at him, you cup his cheeks, trying to bring him back down to you. "come back t' me tojiiii, don't die on me, roomie!"

still reeling from his insanely intense orgasm, manages a little chuckle, his hand moving from your ass to under your shirt, stroking your back. "'m here, 'm here, promise...i just...shit. ya fuckin' drained me, girly. what the hell are you?"

you laugh, kissing the corner of his mouth before nestling under his chin to catch your breath. "I'm your damn friend who happens to be the roommate you have been tormenting by not letting me sleep, dumbass."

"heh. fair point."

you both stay like this for a bit, just resting a little and trying to catch your breath. except...toji's eyes feel a little heavy, and he feels himself drifting away. "there you goooo," you coo, hand running through his hair. "told ya i'd put you to sleep."

"yeah, yeah, you were right," he grumbles and opens an eye, hand coming up to pinch your cheek. "jus' a lil' nap, okay? we still gotta get you cleaned up. after all, i promised i'd clean my cum outta ya, right?"

"my god, toji, you are nasty."

"but you like ittttt."

you couldn't stop yourself from laughing because, yes, you did. you liked it a lot.

soon, the room falls quiet as toji's breathing falls into rhythm with yours, the rise and fall of his chest steady and slow. his mind is still a bit dazed, and he can't help but get a little flustered as he realizes how badly he's wrapped around your little finger. the thought is only further confirmed when he feels his heart squeeze just a bit when he notices you fell asleep on his chest.

he wraps his arms around you in a gentle embrace, huffing to himself. yeah, so what he was whipped, he finally got you in his arms, so he sees it as a win.

as sleep finally starts to creep up on him, he presses a little kiss to your forehead, leaning back against the pillows and shutting his eyes. just a little nap, and then he'll get you cleaned up and make sure you accept his apology for everything he's put you through.

...he just hopes you won't be too grumpy when you realize you fell asleep without your bonnet on.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's tags : @satoruwiki @llllllllllllloser @screampied @abcdbleh @vicfuentesfangirl @sakurapeach @ohsuguru @crywolfix @naughtygobbo @aura88967 @jeanine-gt @tananaxx @tojancy @happymangosstuff

[peachdues]

THE WIND AND MOON

PROLOGUE ♢ SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA X LUNAR PILLAR!READER

A/N: oh boy! The fic that started it all is back in progress (with a slight title change).

This will be a slightly canon-divergent AU, wherein Lunar Breathing is inherited and there's actually some power involved with the breathing techniques as a whole (as opposed to the styles just being nice sword movements with illustrations lmao).

Reader will be Sanemi's tsuguko for a time, and she will eventually become a Hashira. This is their story.

This will be a multi-part fic. Be warned: the Reader is a very morally gray character (but we love her for it).

@ghost-1-y thank you for reminding me of my love for this fic.

Massive CW: 18+, canon-typical violence, graphic violence, gore, child death, and implied S/A. Smut to come. MDNI.

Sanemi was there that day; the day she became part of the Corps.

The day her world ended.

It was fucking freezing that morning. The sky was a muted gray as snow drifted down from the heavens in wet, fat clumps. It had started sometime the previous night, and by the morning, the village had been covered in its thick blanket.

The carnage, however, was fresh, and so the snow was not white.

Only an hour had passed since the watery gray light of dawn bled into the sky from the east, when Sanemi’s crow swooped low over his head, tugging frantically at his hair. Beside him, the Flame Pillar ducked as his own crow joined the panic.

“Northeast! Northeast! Right at the base of the mountain! A horde of demons attacked the village!” They cried in tandem.

Not just one. A horde. A swarm of demons had descended upon a moderately populated merchant village, tearing it and its people to shreds. 

Both the Wind and Flame Pillars furiously made their way northeast, one of the crows bleating that Tengen and Iguro were also en route. As they ran, the birds alternated in snaring what little information they had of the village, and what had prompted the attack. 

It was because of her; or rather, her family.

The head of the village was a merchant known for his imports from the West. His success meant the village prospered as a whole, and it was popular for its numerous small shops and tea houses which lined the streets, always crowded with locals and travelers alike. 

Demons had no use for money or exotic baubles; but Muzan Kibutsuji had a keen interest in obliterating Lunar Breathing from the world.

So he had. 

The very merchant whose business prowess bolstered the local economy with his imports was directly descended from the clan which had created Lunar Breathing, Breath of Sun’s powerful, dark twin. The merchant was the youngest and only living relative of the aging head of the Lunar Clan, a retired Hashira who’d never taken a wife. But unlike the other breathing techniques, Lunar Breathing was an inherited talent, and without an heir, there would be no one to continue the great family’s legacy. 

That burden was thus placed on the surviving eldest child of the merchant whose village both Sanemi and his comrade now rushed to.

There had been an elder son, Rengoku’s crow revealed, but he had died a few years prior from illness. And so, the merchant’s middle child was made the new heir, tasked with the mission of becoming a demon slayer so that she could continue on the Lunar Breathing tradition. 

Her.

There was no word as to whether she had been present for the attack. Final Selection ended only a few days prior, and it was entirely possible that she either had been killed on the Mountain, or that she was still making her way back to the village, unaware that no one would be there to welcome her home.

There was certainly no greeting for the Pillars when they finally arrived at the mountain’s base. The village was eerily silent as Sanemi and Rengoku crossed over the small bridge abutting its ravine; still. Dawn had given way to a dark gray sky, and visibility was not ideal.

Not that it would’ve taken much effort to see the blood and gore that littered the village’s once lively streets.

“What on earth?” The Sound Pillar’s familiar voice broke the silence, as he and Iguro approached their comrades from the Eastern gate of the village. Behind them, trailed a group of nearly thirty Kakushi. 

The Hashira slowly took in the nightmare around them, stunned into horrified silence as they beheld the level of destruction which had befallen the village just hours before.

“Kakushi. Spread out. Look for any survivors. They may be buried or hiding.” Rengoku’s voice was steady but uncharacteristically grave, his face stony and hard. “Shinuzagawa, we should make our way to the Lunar Merchant’s estate. We need to send word to the Clan head right away if-“

“You didn’t hear?” Iguro interjected. “The head of the Lunar House is dead.” Though the lower half of his face was covered, the anguish on the Serpent Pillar’s face was evident. “That’s where Uzui and I just came from. He was ripped to shreds.”

“Fuck,” Sanemi hissed, a toxic mixture of anger, guilt  roiling in his gut. An entire clan — and entire village— had been decimated in a matter of hours, and no one had been able to protect them.

They hadn’t been able to protect them. 

“Have we any word on the Lunar heir?” Rengoku asked quietly. Iguro and Uzui shook their heads. “Then she likely is lost, too.” The Flame Pillar turned back to Sanemi, his face a mirror of his own. “Let’s go.”

The snow and wind picked up just as the two swordsmen approached the Lunar Merchant’s manor, obscuring part of the wreckage before them. From the corner of his eye, Sanemi swore he spied movement out of the back corner of the estate, but when he turned to examine it, all was still.

Beflre he could inquire further, a sharp gasp to his right snapped his attention back to the Pillar at his side. But Rengoku was not looking at him; rather, he was staring directly ahead, right to the courtyard of the manor.

“Heavens above,” the Flame Hashira whispered. 

Sanemi followed his gaze through what had been once-proud iron gates, though only half of it remained hinged. The other had been ripped from its stone setting, twisted by some unfathomable strength and thrown carelessly to the side. Just past the gate, Sanemi beheld a single, bloodied arm. 

His heart dropped sickeningly to his stomach at what lay beyond it; for there was not an inch of ground that hadn’t been saturated with blood and bits of gore.  

Chunks of flesh and torn limbs bearing harsh jagged teeth marks were strewn across the snowy garden. Broken glass and wood from the manor littered the ground, and the few walls that remained standing had been showered in a thick coat of crimson.

But the carnage did not end with the massacre on the courtyard. Sanemi forced himself to look upon the half-severed bodies of those who’d been stuck to the sloped roofing  of the Manor, as though some demon had plucked fleeing humans from the yard to feast on them mid-air, adorning the handsome estate with a shower of bloodied entrails. 

He did not notice the small group of Kakushi that had arrived at the Manor until he heard their gasps and cries of horror. Behind him, Sanemi heard one or two begin to retch, unable to stomach the carnage before them.

“Move!” Sanemi barked, his voice scratchy over the lump forming in his throat. “Fucking look for survivors! Anyone!”

A few paces ahead, Rengoku called up to the crows checking above. “Do you have a description of the heir?”

“She is around eighteen, Lord Rengoku!”

Not helpful, given that most of the bodies around them were unrecognizable. But it was something. 

Rengoku turned back to Sanemi. “I will check inside the house. You!” Rengoku called to a small group of three Kakushi nearby, “With me!”

Sanemi continued to make his way through the debris and body parts in the courtyard, lifting stone and wood in hope that he might find someone — anyone — who had managed to hide. Yet that hope dimmed with every stone he turned, as he found only the scraps of the people who’d once called the Manor home.

He came across a large chunk of curved, chiseled stone that was half-embedded into the soft ground below. Grunting, Sanemi heaved the rock aside, thinking it was perhaps part of some fountain or statue.

His stomach lurched as the stone toppled heavily over. For there, crushed beneath the weight of the rock, was the small body of a child, severed completely at the torso. Her two halves lay next to one another, a ragged seam torn between the two as though pulled apart by force.

Sanemi felt the bile rise in his throat as his gaze fell upon the child’s face, utterly frozen in fear. Though death had snuffed out the light of life from her eyes, it had done nothing to conceal the terror she’d felt in her last moments, the girl’s mouth stretched wide, fixed in her final scream. 

She was no older than ten. 

He could not help it. Sanemi turned away from the grisly sight and vomited into the snow, every inch of him trembling. He wretched until his stomach was empty and his throat burned from the acid and strain of his dry-heaving. 

With great effort, he managed to straighten, his breath short and choppy. But he forced his legs to carry him forward, though any hope that they would find the Lunar Heir or any survivor grew dimmer by the second.

Even as Hashira, Sanemi knew he’d never seen wreckage quite like this.

He neared the center of the courtyard, and halted before a large, circular stone inset that had been smashed to gravel, leaving only a single, large piece of rounded stone wall standing.

Found the fountain, Sanemi thought bitterly. Another sharp, icy gust of wind whipped its way through the courtyard, disturbing the little bit of snow that wasn’t packed down with the carnage. But the wind also stirred up something else, something dark and wispy. 

Had the Wind Pillar’s lilac gaze been focused anywhere but that piece of stone, he would have missed it softly fluttering up before disappearing beneath the lip of the fountain. 

Lips mashed into a tight line, Sanemi moved to examine the other side of the broken stone. As he did so, Rengoku reappeared on the outer steps of the engawa surrounding the Manor, a frown etched deeply on his face.

“Shinazugawa, something is off. The demons’ presence is obvious, but the house looks like it was ransacked— jewels, silks, valuables, all strewn about. Some of it seems to be missing —“

“I found her.” Sanemi bit out, gruffly. “The heir.”

It was her hair, Sanemi realized. Her hair was what had been disturbed by the wind, a few strands having drifted up before settling back down upon the bloodied shoulder of the lifeless girl collapsed before the fountain.

Had there not been a thick spread of red-stained snow and earth beneath her, Sanemi almost would have thought she’d been sleeping. Her face was almost devoid of any injury, save for a few fresh scratches along her jaw and temple. Her eyes were closed, long dark lashes tickling a soft, and unblemished cheek, as pale and smooth as the Moon. And there was a serenity to her expression, a calmness that posed a stark contrast to the chaos and horror which surrounded her.

The rest of her had not been left untouched. Sanemi noted that while she appeared to have maintained her limbs, her back was soaked in blood, no doubt the source of the large stain beneath her. Grimly, he noted that her blood still oozed from an unknown wound between her shoulders. Her left arm was stretched out before her, wrist bent at an unnatural angle, its skin mottled from a mixture of the cold and an attempt to bruise before her blood had ceased flowing in her veins. 

Beneath the torn and bloodied haori around her shoulders, were a pair of pants and a fitted, long sleeved top which had clearly seen better days. Her clothes hosted various tears and stains, and she was so caked in blood and mud that it was difficult to further discern her body’s condition.

The crows had said the Lunar Heir was around eighteen years of age, but as Sanemi stared at her lifeless form, all he could think about was how small she looked; how young she’d been, when she lost her life to the brutality of demons.

The thought made his blood run cold.

“No doubt this is her,” Rengoku said heavily, nodding at wounds Sanemi had not noticed on her hands. Squinting, the Wind Pillar spied bruises and cuts in various stages of healing dotting her knuckles and fingers. 

He suspected more lay beneath her soiled clothing.

“Final selection wounds,” the Flame Pillar confirmed. “She must have just returned from the mountain when the attack began. Perhaps she even stumbled into the middle of it.” Rengoku shook his head. “She didn’t stand a chance.”

It was well known that even if one survived final selection, they would likely descend the mountain with some degree of injury. Seven nights without access to shelter, food, or water was difficult enough, but the added danger of starving demons almost guaranteed that one would not emerge unscathed.

She must have been wounded, and severely enough to slow her return home by a few days. Even if she had the skill to hold her own against the swarm of demons that had attacked her village, whatever injuries she sustained during final selection likely sealed her fate.

Sanemi swore, looking over the last of the Lunar Breathing Clan, the acrid bite of guilt and pity seeping hotly into his veins. The poor girl survived the controlled horrors of final selection only to meet an even more grisly end at her home — where she was supposed to be safe. 

Cruelty; utter cruelty, and a damn tragedy.

“She will get a Slayer’s burial, in the Master’s garden.” Rengoku declared firmly, raising his voice so the nearby Kakushi would hear. “She passed Final Selection; she’s one of us.”

“No,” Sanemi said, voice hoarse. “Bury her here with her family.” His eyes returned to the girl’s face, an inexplicable bitterness coating his tongue. “She fought to return to them; let her be with them.”

He lifted his eyes back up to the ochre gaze of the Flame Pillar. Rengoku stared at him for a long moment, before nodding, turning back to the Kakushi. “You heard Shinazugawa. Let’s give them all a proper burial.”

The Kakushi began to move, thorough and efficient even among the horror around them. Sanemi readied himself to assist, moving to stand when his eyes snagged on the girl’s torso, his gaze drawn to the sizeable swath of smooth skin that was exposed to the icy bite of the snow. His frown deepened as he took note of the odd way that her clothes sat around her exposed abdomen. The girl was half laid on her side, but the front of her shirt was bunched and twisted together, like it had been gathered and shoved out of the way. 

His eyes lowered a fraction to the front of the girl’s pants. At first glance, all seemend normal, her trousers fitted at her hips, but that was precisely what caught his eye. The waistband on the girl’s pants slotted across her lower hips, not higher up on her waist as it should have been. One side was noticeably lower than the other, almost as though they’d nearly been tugged off.

Almost as if-

Sanemi felt the hairs on his body rise. Looking over the girl once more, he noted the suspicious lack of claw marks and bite marks to her body; the way that she seemed intact, compared to the bodies of her friends and family scattered in pieces around her.

And her blood — her blood appeared more fresh than what was caked in the snow around them, as though she’d been attacked right before the Corps arrived at the manor’s gate.

“Rengoku,” Sanemi said sharply, and the Flame Hashira was back at his side in an instant. Sanemi jutted his chin toward the girl’s body and Rengoku followed his gaze. He could see the gears turning in his comrade’s head, the owlish Slayer steadily taking note of the odd skew of her clothes and her lack of demon-like injuries.

“How many demons do you know that try to-,” Sanemi ground his teeth at the word that came to mind, his blood boiling hot. “Have their way with victims before eating them?”

“Not many,” Rengoku conceded darkly, a similar anger simmering in his eyes. “Though not unheard of. It is… rare. Most can’t resist their hunger.” 

He fell silent for a moment, contemplating.

“Didn’t you say the house had looked ransacked?” Sanemi turned his gaze away from the girl and towards the broken doors of the manor.

Rengoku’s eyes widened. “Yes. As if someone came in and grabbed anything they could.”

Sanemi nodded. “Bandits. Probably heard about the attack and got excited to loot. Found a body that wasn’t completely torn apart by demons and tried to take advantage.” 

Rather than bile, Sanemi felt anger, hot and lethal, threatening to spill out of him. 

If he found them, they would receive no mercy, human or not.

Rengoku exhaled sharply through his nose, a weariness clouding over his features.  “Though I don’t suppose we can really know for sure. There isn’t enough left of anyone else to compare.”

Rengoku clasped his hands in front of himself, and he closed his eyes, offering a small prayer for the girl. “Whatever happened to her, she’s gone now. Let us ensure she can rest.” 

He turned to head back to where the Kakushi had begun digging graves for the deceased, leaving Sanemi alone once more.

He’d stared the spot where the girl’s body had lain long after a pair of Kakushi gently removed her to ready her for her burial, watching with hollow eyes and a hollow heart as the one of them — a female — tenderly brushed the girl’s hair from her face and straightened her haori. They’d crossed her arms over her middle and gingerly carried her to join the remains of her family.

Hers was the last of the graves to be prepared. The Kakushi were just beginning to pack the mud and snow over her body when one of them collapsed from exhaustion. The group resolved to take a small water break before finishing, and neither Shinazugawa nor Rengoku had the desire to object. 

After all, digging nearly twenty graves was no easy task.

Both Hashira assisted with the effort, and their combined strength and stamina had streamlined the task considerably. While the Kakushi rested, Rengoku departed for the front gates to update Uzui and Iguro, who’d been dealing with the wreckage within the village, assisted by reinforcements of both Kakushi and lower rank slayers called in to assist with the clean up and burial.

In total, over two hundred graves were dug, and not a single survivor had been found.

It was a heavy day — perhaps one of the darkest in the Corp’s history, and its crowning poisoned jewel was the eradication of one of the oldest breathing styles.The news that there was one less defense against the demons was not a welcome one. 

Sanemi had gone to the other side of the courtyard, away from the voices and graves and rising stink of death. Out of sight from any prying eyes, he found a tree and shoved his fist through it, clear to the other side. Splinters of bark exploded around his arm and bit into the skin around his knuckles and palm, but Sanemi could not find it in himself to care; he sought only to break through the silent numbness threatening to consume him.

Because he’d taken refuge on the other side of the courtyard, away from the new burial site, Sanemi did not see the hand and arm that shoved through the pile of earth resting atop the last grave. He did not see clawed fingers sinking into the mud and snow, desperately seeking purchase as the body attached to the arm hauled itself — herself — from beneath the earth, the remnants of her grave skittering to the side as she heaved her body out.

Sanemi did hear the terrified shriek of the Kakushi, and immediately he drew his sword. In the distance, he could hear Rengoku roaring orders at the terrified attendants, though he could not discern the specifics. 

The Wind Pillar came into view of the gravesite right as the girl spilled out from the hole in the ground, using her bare hands to pull herself forward as the rest of her body remained limp.

Sanemi Shinazugawa was not a pious man; in fact, he considered himself rather skeptical of the idea of faith. If there were truly any gods out there, then Sanemi wanted nothing to do with them. They chose to let chaos and devastation run rampant. They chose to let demons exists.

But hell apparently had frozen over, and Sanemi found himself offering a prayer for the girl’s forgiveness as he prepared to behead her demonized form. He hoped she would understand; after all, she’d  joined the Corps intending to rid of the world of the very thing she’d now become.

It was what he hoped one his his fellow Hashira would do for him, if he ever found himself in that situation.

As the Swordsman cocked his blade, ready to strike the crawling demon from behind, Rengoku cried out. “Shinazugawa, NO!”

Sanemi stuttered,  his arm in mid-swing as he neared the demon’s neck. A flash of violet and white shot towards him, and a piercing shriek of metal tore through the sky as Uzui’s blade parried his, the force of the clash knocking him out of the air. A frustrated grunt echoed from his chest, and with great effort, Sanemi twisted mid-air to avoid falling flat on his ass, just barely managing to land swiftly on the balls of his feet.

“What the fuck,-“ His vicious snarl faltered at the expression on the Flame Hashira’s face, frozen and gaping. In that moment, Sanemi’s ears picked up on the faint thumping of a heart beating rapidly and unevenly below him. His nose suddenly burned with the strong scent of iron. The stench of blood so metallic that it could not have been anything but fresh. 

Ears ringing, the Wind Pillar shoved past his stupefied comrades. Only when he was face to face with her did Sanemi finally understand why the Flame Pillar had been so desperate to stop his sword from hitting its mark. 

The three Hashira were not looking at a newly turned and bloodthirsty demon. Instead, dragging her way across the bloodstained, muddied snow, was the Lunar Heir, deathly pale and trembling.. 

The girl whose death they feared doomed the Lunar Breathing House had clawed her way out from her grave with nothing but her hands and sheer will. She’d not been dead, after all.

Slowly, so slowly, her eyes lifted to glare up at the one standing directly before her. Though she strained to raise her head more than half an inch, her silver eyes met Sanemi’s lavender gaze, and a violent chill shot up his spine as he beheld what simmered within them.

Defiance. 

Pain. 

Rage. So, so much rage, relentless and raw. And so very human.

She reached another quivering hand out before her to further drag herself away from her tomb. A thin sheen of sweat coated her pallid skin, and fresh crimson began to seep into the snow beneath her. 

Sanemi’s eyes flit to the stain on her back, where fresh blood oozed from the deep wound.

She was panting, clearly fighting every urge in her body to give in, to let death beckon her back into its sweet embrace.

“I-I’m not dead!” She grit out in between shallow, uneven breaths, her jaw clenched tightly enough to crack her teeth. 

The three Hashira remained dumb and silent for half a heartbeat before-

“What are you all standing there for?” Uzui bellowed. “Help her!” 

The Kakushi sputtered into action, several of them crouching down around the girl to aid her. 

“Don’t touch me!” She screamed, eyes screwed shut and her head bowed defensively over her hands as she clenched her fists into the earth. The Kakushi fell back, looking anxiously to the Pillars to await further orders, but even they were at a loss. After several, harsh breaths through her nose, the Lunar Heir turned her face up, her gaze clashing with Sanemi’s once more.

He recognized the fear in her eyes, visceral and deep. Whatever she’d experienced over the last few hours had overtaken all her senses. She had no logic, no ability to rationalize that she was among other humans, among comrades. 

Instead, all that drove her now was the primal instinct to survive.

And to her, they were another threat.

She continued to try and crawl away from them, but her movements grew even shakier, more unstable, as the blood loss combined with her physical exhaustion. Rengoku caught his comrades’ eyes, waiting to confirm their next move. 

A quick shared nod sent Sanemi stepping quietly into her blindspot. Swiftly, the Wind Pillar struck the pressure point on the back of the woman’s neck with his hand, and she crumpled against the ground, unconscious and still. Gingerly, Sanemi lifted her over his shoulder, mindful of the open wound on her back. 

Once she was secured, the Hashira and their Kakushi began their frantic sprint toward the Butterfly Mansion.

COMMENTS/LIKES/REBLOGS ALWAYS APPRECIATED!

[etherealinowrites]

HELLO THAT PERV PROF MINHO THING WAS SO GOOD PLS CAN WE GET MORE ?!

i’m so sorry for taking so long again, but here you go <3

perv professor leeknow x female reader

smut. filthy smut. dirty talk, use of pet names and nicknames: princess, kitten, baby, angel, slut, whore etc, erotic humiliation, dacryphilia, degradation, man handling, unprotected sex, sex in a public place (minho’s office), swearing, cream pie (i really hope i got everything 🫣)

—————

professor minho who cannot help but assign low marks to you all because he wants to have you in his office, begging for an increase in the grades.

professor minho who would do anything in his power to catch faults in whatever you do so he could easily provide you with detention and force you to stay back after hours, when its just you and him on the entire floor while the sun sets.

"but- but sir you wanted a comparative analysis for the final theories-" you stuttered, going red in the face as he gives you another shrug. "and its still not a comparative analysis i want to grade miss y/n" he sighed, putting on the most defeated look ever to make himself seem helpless.

"i cannot help it, if i submit this ahead the HOD will call it out herself and you'll be fucked over twice." he would lie, oh please, he had connections that ran way over the position of the HOD but he was not going to ruin it by telling you.

"i am so sorry doll" he would coo, walking over to where you sat in front of himat his desk. his hand would come up to your shoulder, he would stand behind you and squeeze it, offering comfort. "if only you had a way to convince me to pull better strings for you." he sighed, hands now massaging your tense shoulders, this view giving him a clear view down your bra, and boy did his eyes stared at your full breasts.

“isn’t there a way though? there must be something i can do for you right sir?” you would whine, making his cock twitch at the sheer innocence in your tone.

“well, there’s definitely ways of convincing me. you know very well don’t you angel?” he would mumble in your ear, hands on your shoulder as he leaned down to smell you better.

the next thing you know he’s got you on his lap, your legs being spread open on top of his thick thighs with his warm hands. “look at that, isn’t this so nice?” he would coo, pulling your skirt up till it was bunched at your waist. “such a pretty angel for me” he mumbled, leaving wet kisses down your neck.

“s-sir, i don’t know if this is the best way-.” you would try to say, but your words die down as his hands began to grope your breast, turning your words into a moan instead.

“shh princess, sir knows best yeah? just turn that dumb little brain off and let me think for you” he grunted, pushing his fingers inside your sloppy cunt, eliciting a loud cry from you.

the next thing you know is him holding your hair tightly as your back arches, your hand holding the edge of his table while he’s fucking you from behind. “my perfect little slut, oh don’t worry at all now baby, you know how to pass all your exams now don’t you?” he would pant in your ear, making your toes curl from the intense pleasure shooting through you.

“that’s another A+ for you doll” he would mumble breathless, patting your ass as he would cum inside you yet again, maybe fifth time that week.

—-

🏷️ ✨permanent taglist- @dreamescapeswriting @cocainee-queen @lix-ables @eastleighsblog @mwitsmejk @charliesfanficlibrary @downbadfor2dmen @bluechans @janvibutbetter @bearseungmin @mal-lunar-28 8 @endzii23 3 @cypher-net @djeniryuu @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @sheraall @manuosorioh @linos-kitten

[straykeedz]

day 10: lee know + rimming

©straykeedz

tw: switch!minho; kind of softdom!reader; oral sex (m receiving); minho has a big d but what’s new; balls play (??? idk if it’s a thing); hints at subspace (minho) and aftercare; ♡

wc: 2,3k;

this is part of my kinktober masterlist. you can find my regular masterlist here (tho it will not be updated until the end of kinktober) ♡

🔖 (open): @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; ♡

to make sure i add you to the taglist, your age must be clearly visible on your profile. also, empty blogs will not be added - add at least a profile picture to your blog so that i’ll know you’re not a bot. ♡

smut below the cut, minors dni.

☁︎

The relationship you have with Minho is a relationship of mutual teaching, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

Throughout your nearly four years of dating, he taught you many things.

He taught you to cook his favorite dishes, spent hours with you in the kitchen, explaining step by step all you had to do, reading the recipe out loud and helping you with the ingredients. Laughing when you didn’t get the result you were hoping for, hugging you and kissing your pouting lips, reminding you that “practice makes perfect, jagiya”, but tasted your dishes nonetheless - even though they tasted pretty fucking awful.

He taught you how to assemble a tent in the woods and how to remove the pegs when it was time to go. To be fair, he also taught you how to survive in the woods - telling you curious anecdotes that could save your life in case you ever found yourself camping alone and in need of help - highly unlikely, really, but it was nice hearing him talk about something he’s so passionate about. 

He taught you how to take care of his three cats - Soonie, Doongie, Dori -, explaining to you that each of them has different needs and likes different things. He taught you how each one of them likes to be petted or which toy they prefer - and in record time you earned his babies’ affection. 

He taught you how he likes to be cuddled when he’s feeling low. This one, he did indirectly. Each time he’d come home after a bad day, he’d want nothing more than to lay in your arms. He’d rest his body on top of yours - in a non-sexual way -, resting his head on top of your chest, enveloping you in his arms. He’d want you to wrap your legs around his waist and run your hand through his hair. Bonus point if you kiss him on top of his head from time to time - he’d never ask you, tho -. 

He taught you how he likes to be touched down there. He’d want you to start by teasing him over the clothes, palming the growing bulge in his pants. Then, he’d want you to wrap your hand around his length and give it a single stroke. He wants to be kissed as you touch him. Not all the time, just a few pecks on the lips here and there. Then, he’d want you to move your hand faster, but not too fast. He likes it when you squeeze his member, especially when you reach the tip - and if you play with his balls with your other hand… mwah, chef’s kiss, he’d cum in record time. 

He also taught you to love and to believe yourself. It was a long and definitely not easy, a rollercoaster of emotions, but he never gave up. Showed you everyday his unconditional love and support, loved you for all your qualities and even more for your flaws, embracing them. Reminded you of how much he loves your body whenever you were feeling insecure and self conscious about a certain body part - making soft love to you in front of you bedroom mirror, whispering soft words in your ear. 

Minho never explicitly thanked you - but you taught him a lot of things, too. 

For starters, you taught him how to swim. Or, at least, not to sink. Took your time with him and didn’t force him into anything if you sensed he wasn’t ready. You never let go of his hand when he finally convinced himself to entering the water. A kids’ pool is still a pool, after all. “Baby steps.”, you’d said, kissing the tip of his nose. 

You taught him how to braid you hair. It took him a long while, but now he’s become pretty good at it - even better than you if you were to be honest. Then, you taught him how you love it when he pulls it while he’s giving it to you from the back. 

You taught him to love the scar on his stomach - the scar he doesn’t show anyone, the one he keeps covered all the time. You’d noticed it the first time you saw each other naked - how he’s self conscious about it. He was scared you wouldn’t like it, that you’d think of it as a turn off. Instead, you smiled at him and placed a series of soft kisses all over it while repeating “You’re so perfect” all over again - and then, you gave him the blowjob of his life. 

You taught him the difference between having a big dick and having a big dick energy, and he learned he has both. 

You taught him that communication is key - especially in a long-term relationship. You taught him to get in touch with his emotions, to embrace and to accept them - that it’s not healthy to bottle up his feelings and that it’s best if he speaks up when something’s bother him. “We’re a family, whatever’s wrong we’ll fix it together”, you’d said - and from that moment on, he never kept a single thing to himself. Needless to say, your relationship improved a lot. 

Last but not least - you taught him that it’s important to let go sometimes. To just relax, sit back and enjoy things, that he doesn’t have to be in control all the time. You chose a peculiar way to teach him that, he has to admit. 

It started with a blowjob and him sprawled on your shared bed. 

It had been a long day for Minho - one of those days when life decides to just be a bitch with no apparent reason. He’d come home frustrated over the dance practice he’d had with the guys, mad at himself that, despite trying hard, he still couldn’t learn the fucking choreography, and nearly sprained his ankle. Given that the twenty minute long shower he took didn’t make him feel any better, there was only one option left. 

His head buried in the pillow and his lip between his teeth - Minho was having the time of his life with your mouth around his hard cock. Moreover, his mind was completely blank. Empty. Not a single thought distracting him from what was taking place in the semi-darkness of your bedroom. He entangled his fingers in your hair, pushing you down on his cock until you had most of his length in your mouth - actually, in your throat. Another thing he taught you - how to deepthroat that massive cock of his without gagging nor choking on it.

“Like that, jagiya.”, he moaned, pushing your head closer to his groin, your nose pressed against the skin of his lower abdomen. Then, he lifted his hips to meet your mouth. “You know how much I like it when you act like a slut for my cock.”, he grunted. You moaned around his length, aroused by his words. 

“You can’t get enough of it, do you?”, he thrusted his cock inside your mouth once again, and you did your best breathing through your nose while trying to stuff all of his length inside of you. “Of course not, you love this cock, don’t you?”, you tried your best to nod, but it was really fucking hard with a seven-inches dick shoved down your throat. 

“I love you so much.”, he groaned. “You’re so good to me - letting me use your mouth when you know I’ve had a rough day.”, he gripped your hair tighter. “Makin’ me forget everything…”

That’s when you released him from your mouth. He looked panicked for a second, worried he’d accidentally hurt you or been too rough. He hadn’t, of course, you just had a better idea in mind. One that, hopefully, would help him relax even more. 

“How bad did you say your day was?”, you placed a kiss on his inner thigh, hand lazily pumping his cock. 

“On a scale from one to ten?”, he asked. 

“Mh-hm.”

“A solid nine.”, he let out a heavy sigh. “Why?”

You placed a series of kisses that went from his inner thigh to his groin, teeth delicately brushing his skin, then licked the underside of his shaft. He shivered. 

“I can help you relax.” Another lick. 

“You’re already helping me relax, jagi.” Minho pointed out. “And you’re doing a pretty good job at it.”, he caressed your temple with his thumb, looking you in the eye. 

“Yeah, well… I can do an even better job.”, you said confidently. 

Minho quirked an eyebrow at you, clearly intrigued by your proposition. “Well, then. I’m all yours.”, he bit his lower lip, smirking at you. 

“Just… relax and enjoy. Let me do all the work.”

You kept on kissing the sensitive skin of his groin with his hard shaft in your hand, neglecting it, not giving it any attention, and for a solid minute there, Minho was beyond confused - but he didn’t say anything. However, his cheeks flushed red when the tip of your nose brushed the skin of his balls - his weak spot. 

“Please.”, the word came out as a whisper, as if he didn’t want to say it out loud and it just slipped. 

You smirked cockily, your other hand caressing his inner thigh as you repeated your previous motion, earning a desperate sigh from Minho. Then, you released his hard cock from your grip, letting it slap on his abdomen, and gently cupped his balls with the palm of your hand. This time, he let out a high-pitched sound. “You like it when I play with you balls like this, don’t you?”, you teased, although you already knew the answer. 

“Yes- yes, I love it.” Minho whimpered. “Need more.” 

“More?”, you repeated, placing an open-mouthed kiss on his inner thigh while you kept playing with his balls, gently squeezing them, knowing well that it drove him crazy. You knew what he wanted - you just wanted him to say it. 

“Yes, please.”, he whined. 

“What do you need me to do?”

His cheeks turned incredibly red as he swallowed the lump in his throat before whispering - “In your mouth. Please.” 

You decided to give him exactly what he’d so diligently asked for, without teasing him further. After all, your mission was to make him feel good and to get him relaxed. So you moved your mouth from his thigh to his balls, placing a soft kiss on his sensitive skin before sticking your tongue out and licking. He kicked his head back and rolled his eyes in the back of his skull at the feeling - familiar, but at the same time never the same. 

By the time you put them in your mouth he was already a shivering mess under your touch, and he could already feel the familiar, warm feeling in his stomach, signaling that his orgasm was approaching, even if from just a simple touch. Your saliva was dripping all over his balls, so you stuck your tongue out to lick it off, brushing against the sensitive skin between his balls and rim in the process - and boy, Minho didn’t even know he was capable of letting out such a high-pitched sound.

“Oh, my-“, he was cut off by you, placing your tongue flat on his rim, widening his eyes as he could feel his legs starting to tremble. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”, you snapped your head in his direction, looking him in the eye. Him being comfortable with this was what mattered the most to you, and no matter how much you were enjoying this - which was a lot -, if Minho didn’t feel like it, you’d stop immediately. 

“I don’t…”, even his ears were red now. “I don’t want you to stop.”, he admitted, flustered. 

You smirked, before placing your tongue back on his hole. This was new territory for both of you - although you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it before. 

“Spread your legs wider, baby.”, you instructed, tapping on his knee with your fingers. 

He obeyed, giving you full access to his most intimate parts, now fully exposed to you. You collected some of your saliva in your mouth before letting it drip directly onto his tight hole, still very much unexplored, and then latched your mouth on it, using your tongue to spread it all over. 

Minho fisted the sheets beneath him so hard his knuckles turned white - the feeling was too overwhelming in the best way possible, and he was pretty sure he was going to cum practically untouched. Well, without having his cock touched, at least - but it was gonna be worth it. Your tongue circled his hole a few times before you closed your lips around it while lapping at it. 

“I’m so close.”, he whimpered, chest rising as he panted heavily, toes already curling as he flexed the muscles of his thighs, on the verge of his orgasm. 

Your fingers on his balls was the final straw for him. His body trembled as he released, shooting his load onto his stomach as he let a series of high-pitched whimpers and incoherent words fall from his lips. Of all of the orgasms Minho had experienced - this was without a doubt the most intense and mind-blowing, practically sending him to another dimension. 

He lay there for a while, taking deep breaths as he came off of his high, feeling extremely light all of a sudden - absolutely no trace of worries or problems or frustration in his mind. 

“Baby?”, you called him by his pet name. 

“Hm?”, a faint hum was all he manage to get out, not even able to open his eyes. So, so relaxed and light, his whole body felt jelly. 

“C’mon, baby, let’s get you cleaned up and then off to bed.”, you kissed his temple softly. 

“Mmm, ‘kay. Love you.”, he slurred his words. 

Yeah - Minho learned that day that maybe it’s okay not to be in control of everything for once and just live the moment.

☁︎

-> reblog to support me if you enjoyed reading my works and to let me know your thoughts, i love reading your feedbacks! ♡

[actual-changeling]

1941, Soho, Aziraphale's bookshop

There are three empty wine bottles on the table and a fourth between them on the floor, freshly opened. While the couch is in perfect condition, they had both ended up in front of it, leaning against it to keep themselves somewhat upright.

Crowley in particular is swaying on the spot, allowing Aziraphale to top off his cup and handing it to him with a stern look that said don't you dare leave wine stains on my furniture.

In the low candlelight, they keep drinking, and Crowley can't help but watch the flame flicker over his cheekbones, the grey shadows softening his lips, tracing the sparkle in his eyes when the angel turns his head to look at him; they're both equally drunk and happy to leave the day behind.

"Didya' listen to a single word I jus'said?"

His nose wrinkles adorably, eyelids flutter, and he licks a stray drop of wine from his lips. Crowley mirrors him without even noticing, too caught up in trying to keep himself from reaching out, plucking the glass from his hand, and tasting the wine on his tongue.

"I almost killed you," he says, voice more fragile than he expected it to be, and the annoyance etched into Aziraphale's forehead immediately bleeds away.

"You didn't, love, 'm all here."

Oh, Crowley wants, he wants to feel that pet name against his lips and hear it whispered into his ear in the middle of the night. He wants to curse heaven and hell alike and take as much as Aziraphale is willing to give; he has lived off of scraps of affection for centuries.

Somewhere in the distance, a bomb falls, rumbling through the ground and shaking their windows, and Crowley does not make a choice as much as he empties his glass in one go and stops holding his body back from taking what it desires.

Aziraphale's thighs are soft and warm, his pupils blown so wide his irises turn them into a lunar eclipse, and he carefully extracts his angel's wine glass from his fingers, downing the rest, and puts it to the side. His shades are... somewhere, and have been for quite a while, not that he cares.

Reality is blurry, his vision swims more than it is steady, and if anyone were to ask, he'd blame it all on the alcohol and the thrill of adrenaline. He wants to slide a hand up his neck and cup his face, so he does, fingers threading through silky hair.

"Angel?"

They both have to blink several times until they can focus on each other again, but once Aziraphale fully processes the demon in his lap and the decreasing distance between their lips, well, he has never said no to pleasure.

The first touch is tentative, but the next is a proper kiss, wine-slicked lips sliding against each other, mouths opening on their own accord. Hands on his back pull him in, closer and closer until there is no space left and he can feel Aziraphale's human heart beat beneath his own.

They kiss and kiss and kiss, dreading the approaching dawn, but for now they are safe in an ink-black cocoon of their own making, a bubble in time no one will be able to pop. It is 1941, and for a few hours, an angel and a demon become an us, the bombs singing in a horrible imitation of a nightingale.

When Crowley leaves in the grey morning light, sober and with a bitter taste in his mouth, he doesn't look back.

The next time they talk, the war is over, Crowley has gained a new collection of hellish scars all over his body, and neither of them ever brings up the night they tasted freedom for the first (and perhaps last) time.

[heartfullofleeches]

I think Sunshine prince will be trust fund kid with brag a docious ton of Lamborghini in moderen au

Works for me

Modern Au Sunshine/"Innocent" Prince/Stoic Bodyguard Reader

The "Prince" is a spoiled brat with living parents that have the entire city under their thumb. He's given the title for his looks and charms; the sweetest little devil you could probably met - until you get on his bad side. When he's in one of his moods, generations will be ruined if anyone dares try to talk to him, even if it's to cheer him up. The week he found out his parents were getting him a guard - nobody was safe. Everyone's favorite teacher lost their job of thirty years for giving him a quick pep talk while he was seething. This all came after he had an altercation with another student for play flirting with their partner though he was the clear victor. His parents thought the world was too dangerous for their sweet baby. They thought he was a child - weak. He'd show them. He'd ruin his guards life and make them regret stepping one foot his house and-

"Lunar, meet Y/n. They will be attending the same college as you, but outside their studies they will be with you at all times."

And-

"A pleasure, Sir."

And....oh. He's never been called that before. Makes him feel like he's aged a century - but he likes the respect. You aren't as ugly as he thought you'd be either.

" I hear you have a reputation of being called a prince at your college. Would you prefer if I called you "Your Majesty" instead?"

There's no hint of mockery in your tone. You're serious.... Is it to late to take back what he said about ruining your life?

Princey here is all over his hired protection. He really lives up the "harmless babe, silly clumsy boy who can do no wrong." part of his act when you're around. He prefers bottled soda over canned because he can get you to crack them open for him and compliment your strength. He kicks open the doors of your class mid-lecture and whines about being hungry a whole two hours before break. You're quick to scold him for the latter, and your intervention plus his self dumbifcation leads to let mishaps among your peers - and eyes on you. Nobody is smart enough to make a move on you in his line of sight, but you pretty much become the school eye candy when he's off on his own.

The Prince moves out of his parent's four story mansion and into your dorm for a taste of that domestic bliss. Your living space gets upgraded to a two bedroom apartment because even his parents are wise enough to know putting you in one room would lead to trouble - but he weasels his way into your bed most nights regardless. He pushes his innocent act a little too far when he tries to get in the shower or bath with you, but rubbing his face on the towel you used is fine enough for now. Unbridled, unfiltered rage is casted at whoever may need your aid. You are his knight guard, and his alone.

-

[Bodyguard Guard Reader carries an unconscious peer out of the pool after they nearly drowned, their lips pale blue.]

"Oh my God. I don't think they're breathing -"

Bodyguard Reader: Don't worry - I know CPR

Prince Yan, pulling up with a vacuum: I got you covered!

-

Prince Yan: You pathetic, worthless, no good, low life, homewrecking, stupid, repulsive whor-

[Bodyguard Reader walks in]

Prince Yan: Y/n! I've been looking for you everywhere! Can you peel this apple for me with your teeth?

-

[Some thugs Prince paid off walking in limping and covered in bruises]

"Dude what the hell!? You said this was a joke

Prince Yan: The joke was it's funny you think Y/n would allow anyone to put hands on me. I would say you should see what they can do with a watermelon or pumpkin and their thighs - but if you did I'd have to skin you all alive

[phanchester]

VAMPIRE MOON

Just as it was written by @amazingphil with no additional edits

Chapter 1: Lunar Fusion

The moon hung low in the sky, its eerie glow casting long shadows across the abandoned streets of Sunnydale. Oz had finished his show at the Bronze and rather than going back to his dorm he found himself prowling the alleys, his senses heightened by the full moon’s pull. It wasn’t fully out yet but he could feel the primal draw of the wolf within. He could feel the beast within him stirring, yearning to be unleashed. But there was something else tonight, something that set his instincts on edge.

Spike.

The vampire had always been a wild card, unpredictable and dangerous. But there was a magnetism between them, a primal attraction that Oz couldn’t deny. And tonight, under the watchful eye of the moon, that attraction would lead them down a path neither could hve foreseen. 

Oz found him lurking in the shadows, his eyes gleaming with hunger. There was a hunger in those eyes that mirrored Oz’s own, a hunger for power and control.

Without a word, Oz moved closer, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Spike,” Oz breathed, his voice low and husky with desire. “What are you doing here?”

Spike smirked, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. “Just out for a stroll, love. Fancy some company?”

Oz hesitated for a moment, the beast within him urging him to run. He knew Spike could kill him instantly without setting off the government chip nestled in his brain, but there was something about Spike, somethin that drew him in despite the danger. 

With a nod, he stepped closer, his pulse quickening with anticipation

“Sure,” Oz said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why not?”

They entered a graveyard and Spike started to point to graves of nobles he had killed over 100 years ago.

“That one owed me bloody money”

“He tasted delicious”

“He was hot and also tasted delicious”

Oz couldn’t help but notice Spike was only pointing out the graves of guys he’d killed but this talk of another guy being hot awakened something he had himself too. Oz’d experimented with a few guys but it had been a while since he’d felt that draw, was it the moon, was it Spike’s charisma? Was it both? Something was pulling him towards the 150 year old vampire.

They reached a clearing and the moon got even higher in the sky

“Getting a bit prickly hamster boy?” Spike grinned.

“I have an hour or so left” Oz repleid.

“Shame to ruin those jeans when you rip out of them”

As they turned towards the mauseleoum, Spike shoved Oz hard into the wall and started kissing him. Oz was startled but kissed back but it wasn’t his human side in charge - he had started to change. And with that, as if called by the moon Oz’s transformation into his wolf form had begun

Before he got too hairy, Spike lunged forward, his fangs sinking deep into Oz’s neck. The pain was intense, but so was the pleasure as Oz felt himself being consumed by the darkness. 

But as Spike drank the band members blood, something unexpected happened. Oz felt his body contort and twist, his bones shifting and reshaping themselves into something new and terrible. When Spike finally pulled away, Oz was no longer just a werewolf - he was something more. 

He was a VAMPIRE WOLF, something new, something exciting..

His fur was now a dark shade of midnight black, sleek and shimmering in the moonlight. His eyes shone a fiery gold. His eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, brighter than the moon. And his fangs were longer and sharper than ever before, gleeming with a deadly beauty. 

“What… what have you done to me?” Oz gasped, his voice a mix of fear and wonder. 

Spike grinned, his eyes burning with triumph. 

“I’ve given you what you’ve always wanted, mate. Power. Strength. Immortality…I guess with a furry twist”

Oz howled up to the full moon as his eyes turned crimson red. This new form of evil was consuming him. His still bare back started to split and deep crimson wings sprouted from between his shoulder blades.

“Oh bloody hell what is that” Spike shreiked as Oz’s new wings started to flap

And as the moon shone down upon them, casting it’s eerie light over their twisted forms, Spike and Oz embraced their new existence, bound together by the primal forces that had brought them together.

Before they could share another moment…

Oz took flight.

[starphenie]

my nikki x genshin au design

class doodles + notes! i have thought about this deeply and extensively (the hour and half that is my programming lecture)

the og design and a low detail bobo and kimi + my attempt at crossover worldbuilding (i am not a writer. i don’t think this makes any sense story wise. like i picked aeon as the archon for apple at first but he is so blue and water themed and i refuse to NOT make cloud the hydro nation but he is not from cloud. guess who’s not blue? desire. i think there are better fits for most of the archons i picked i just don’t know who.)

- everyone’s visions are based on vibes and colors

- nikki’s vision is fake because she’s the traveler it’s a fashion thing

- i have not played genshin impact since inazuma came out

highly critical important footnote:

((characters whose appearances already translate well))

(into Genshin…)

((& that I remember))

aka i drew favs that i have committed to memory and gave them a vision that i think makes sense, doesn’t take a lot of thought bc they have sprites that are super ornamental compared to like nikki and kimi who def need redesigns lol

here is my list of characters + visions because sorting is fun, i might update this periodically

anemo: bobo, noah, royce, mercury, shade, bai yongxi

geo: nikki, yvette, orlando, loen

pyro: zoey, zhu yuxian, mela, ozeca, lilith, qin yi, cesare, peachy

cryo: agata, louie, neva, kimi

hydro: lunar, aeon, marina, ming shuiyuan, vulture, chloris

dendro: nanari

electro: ace, elle, ai, caprico, sofia, grey raven

- pretty much all the elves fall under anemo or dendro, except for Evil Vampire Flame Sword Cesare, who is an outlier and should not be counted

- nidhogg reads geo to me but ozeca is pyro obviously and they could serve such overload slay he could be an electro wielder i see it. i just can’t pick <\3

- shade got his vision when he was flynn. hc that it doesn’t respond to him since he’s changed he just uses guns now. non magic ppl with a gun in magic universe are my favorite thing

- lilith qin yi and zhu yuxian need to stop burning down buildings

- a lot of characters are omitted actually because i can’t pick an element for them. but reid doesn’t get a vision he’s just some guy

some guys: reid, hiber, toto timi aron etc all the citizen npcs

[jooniperbonsai]

I'll Give You the Sun (jhs) | Part One

Pairing: SunDeity!Hoseok x MoonDeity!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Part One Length: 10.6k

Release Date: Fri, April 19, 2024

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, fantasy au, royalty, mythology

Summary: Fated to fulfill an ancient prophecy claiming he will ascend into a curse-breaking hero on the day of his kingdom’s first total solar eclipse, Hoseok is jaded and cynical over his lack of choice in becoming the king and god of the Solar Kingdom. He’s even less pleased that his coronation is to be shared with the future king of the Lunar Kingdom, whose clear obsession with power is already a sign of trouble ahead. 

But when the moon fully overtakes the sun and bathes everything in darkness, the ascension of gods and kings doesn’t seem to be all that the fates prophesied. With you now coming out of the shadows to claim your rightful title, the pressure is on for the two of you to break this curse together, before it completely destroys your two kingdoms. 

Warnings: Swearing, physical aggression, low self-esteem, implied emotional and physical abuse, dirty talk, grinding/thigh riding, dom! hoseok already making himself known

a/n: yayyyyy welcome to the new series! may sun deity hobi be as adored by you as he is by me. You can look forward to Part 2 where we meet our y/n very soon. -h

He can hear her shuffling down the hall. His mother. No doubt draped in the silky, long golden cape that shines as she passes by every sunny window. He doesn’t need to look at her to know that she’s wearing it. That, or her crown, pointed at all sides in honor of the many ancestral deities who have served the stars before, whose power and strength created the very particles of the universe. He also doesn’t need to look to know she’s heading directly toward his chamber, seeking Hoseok out. 

He knows she is, because he was supposed to be in the Great Hall an hour ago to go over his coronation and is instead sitting out on his balcony, looking up at the moon high in the sky despite it being one in the afternoon.

“Hoseok,” his mother echos from his doorway, breathless and exasperated. 

“I know,” he calls back. He knows he’s due for a lecture, but because his mother is impatient, because the entire palace and kingdom and evidently the entire fucking universe is impatient for their prince to become a king, and with that title, a god, there’s no time for a lecture. 

He takes one last look up at the sky, the pebbled moon inching ever closer, and scowls before retreating back indoors.

If Hoseok had things his way, he would seek out whichever god before him who uttered his prophecy to ascend to the throne and burn him with all the power of the Sun he is so called the god of. Apollo, Ra, Helios, Tsohanoai, Sol, Tai Yang Xing Jun, whoever it was who caused this, who murmured his message before the fates, he is probably laughing at Hoseok as his mother clucks at him and pinches away invisible specks of lint from his pristine suit. 

“Your father wants to see you before we begin.”

“I thought the party was already under way,” he mutters, his mother cocking an eyebrow at him. 

“It is, which I now take it you are staunchly avoiding instead of simply losing track of time like I was prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt for.” 

“Eomma, you know I don’t want to do this. I have told you so for years. I don’t want to be king. I don’t want to be a god.”

“Yes, but the fates decided it so. They chose you over your sister, and this means whether there’s a party or not, it’s going to happen. You might as well enjoy the food and music and make the best of it.” With a sigh, she adjusts the heady gilded crown pinned to her head and strolls out of Hoseok’s chamber, leaving behind the faint note of her jasmine perfume. 

Hoseok knows he can’t hide here forever. He knows that once the total eclipse occurs in a matter of hours, he will be thrust into a life of duty. And not soon after he ascends, he also knows that he will be expected to begin courting someone. That is another matter entirely, one he is not going to even entertain today.

He’s not opposed to marriage or courting, not in the slightest. His elder sister married a few years ago, a marriage that gives structure and stability. Her husband clearly loves her, and Hoseok enjoys when he sees his brother-in-law when they visit during the summer months, when the days stretch into nights and for a little while, the state of things feels less cursed and oppressive. 

They often have long, decadent dinners in the back garden, surrounded by the low hum of the bees as they move from sunflower to sunflower (his mother’s favorite). The summer months are coming, which means soon Hoseok will feel a little bit more like himself. Why wouldn’t he want to spend time with someone, to enjoy strawberries straight from the garden and walk along the river with the one he courts? 

All of these things are exactly what he wants. 

Or he used to, anyway. He glances at the mirror above his vanity, his black hair already losing some of its hold despite only being styled a handful of hours ago. Normally, it doesn’t do that. Normally, once set into place, he appears as the precise and put-together person in the room. 

But today, he realizes, is not normal. 

In his lifetime, there has never been a total solar eclipse over his kingdom. Which is why in many ways, today is the beginning of the end, as today he will fulfill his destiny within the prophecy:

On the Eve of day, the day of night,

when the moon fully captures the sun’s light

over the House of the ones who worship the rays, 

will an alliance occur that pleases the fates:

Two kingdoms will gain what they most need

after long years of suffering from past gods’ greed.

From the cliffs off the shore where the sky hangs low, 

will come the fated one crowned with a moonlit halo.

And from the flowering valleys where the rolling hills run, 

will come the destined one crowned with the beams of the sun. 

The shadows shattering during the fifteenth hour

shall bestow these two souls with ultimate power.

The moon stepping forward with nothing to hide

is burdened not by the sin of pride

nor the sun is he plagued by the darkness above, 

but balanced with allegiance, passion, and love.

United these two the fates will regard

with the highest of honor among the stars. 

What was once divided now becomes one, 

with the all sacred moon and almighty sun. 

And together these two blessed by the heavens’ ring, 

will end the curse of the promised false king.

He can recite the entire thing by heart. It is a prophecy that echoes in his oldest memories, ones when he could scarcely understand the phrases coded within, but recognized the cadence of over time as it swirled into words he one day understood. It was read on his tenth birthday as he watched the red wax of his “10” candle slide down the pillar and onto the buttercream frosting of his cake, the red upon white almost looking like blood. It was read at weddings, graduations, all a reminder of the great hope that is to come. 

Even then he knew it to be less of its intended blessing and more of a curse dooming him to follow its guidelines, to be “balanced with allegiance, passion, and love”. Hoseok doesn’t deny that these are traits he has, but he isn’t entirely sure if these are traits he was destined to have, or if through the power of suggestion and pressure over the years, he has become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

He looks back in the mirror, scooping a curl off of his face, memorizing the rich brown of his eyes, the even slant of his nose. He knows his ascension isn’t technically supposed to change him, at least not in the ways that are noticeable. All of the royal advisors and lesser gods on the council have assured him, reassured him, and if it’s even possible, over-assured him as such. 

Even his parents have dipped their toes into the conversation, despite always and forevermore being mortal.

It’s not like you’re going to sprout a second head and start devouring the souls of mortals. You are just going to feel different. More powerful. Rightly so. You will be. 

And that’s what concerns him. Not the sprouting of another head or bloodthirst. 

How can things still be the same–how can he still be the same–if he is about to be given power? Not just any power either. This is enough power to end the long-standing drought that wiped out the southeast corner of the Solar Kingdom. A drought so severe that the only thing left in that part of the kingdom is abandoned homes and stories from the Elder gods that prove it was once a vivid place full of diverse life, with lush flora that bore plump, juicy fruits, art, and culture. 

The Elder gods have been around for, well, no one quite knows how long, including them. When asked, they often click their tongue, sipping whatever sparkly alcoholic concoction that fancies them that day before dismissing the curious soul who asks. After a while, time just rolls itself together. You mortals are so obsessed with it. Relax, take it all in. Hundreds, even thousands of years may have passed, but still we eat and drink and dance. 

And from all that eating and drinking and dancing came the many stories about the parts of the kingdom that Hoseok had never heard of, and some he is still sure don’t really exist. How on this planet were there once waterfalls that fell up instead of down, or vines that could bear grapes the size of his head? Over time, he has learned to take what the Elder gods say at face value; they are bored and ancient and looking for something to entertain them. The only reason he knows the southeast corner once had any of these things is because of the ruins. 

When he was young, he was taken there by the royal council and his parents to help him understand the weight of his place in all this, how crucial it was that he rise and grow to end the drought that forced thousands to become displaced and desperate. How better was he to understand the importance of the power he would one day be given than to see how selfishly wielding it only resulted in strife and suffering for all?

The drought is expanding, leeching more from his kingdom by the year. By his twenty ninth birthday, the Great Forest of Solaria, a region two hours south of the capital, known for its tall redwoods and cypresses, has had three sizable forest fires, forcing its people, including Hoseok’s best friend Namjoon, to flee north. Namjoon and his family have been living in the palace for almost a full year. 

But because of this curse, this reign of the nefarious king Mang Shin, who tore down Hoseok’s people and the land around it for his own selfish gain, because of his cruelty that angered the fates, the Solar Kingdom has been managing a worsening drought. How much longer before the capital city can no longer sustain any of its people, when it is no longer a refuge?

His kingdom is not the only one impacted by the cruelty of Mang Shin. The Lunar Kingdom to the northwest is half underwater after high tides that led to flooding. While the capital city of the Solar Kingdom has not directly suffered from the curse of Mang Shin, the Lunar Kingdom’s capital city has not been so lucky. 

A month ago, a large tidal wave capsized the northern end of the city, drowning thousands and destroying a major sea port that was essential to the booming trade industry of the north. From the rumors Hoseok heard, the crown prince was set to be in the district that morning on official business, but was running behind after spending a night out drinking and occupying the brothels in the southern corridor. He would have been washed away in the sea if he were on time. 

Which means all this, all that Hoseok has been procrastinating on attending, has stopped seven times in the short hallway over, would have been for nothing. There would be no end to this curse, only the slow suffering of his actual fate. 

No. The crown prince is in the Great Hall waiting for Hoseok to get his shit together and help restore balance to both kingdoms. A dual coronation. Two princes to become kings of their own kingdoms. The Lunar Kingdom exists as the Solar Kingdom exists. Both need each other now to ensure the longevity of the other. There’s no other destiny than this. 

He pauses in front of the door to his father’s study, grazes his knuckles against the wood of the door. He sighs. 

You have to do this. There’s no other way. 

And just as he thinks to turn, to run, to flee his home and this kingdom and go everywhere and nowhere all at once, the door to his father’s study opens. 

He expects to see the firm set frown of his father, to be given his final lecture and coronet before his father abdicates and Hoseok is the owner of the hefty, ornate crown he has come to despise.

He is not expecting to hear a soft feminine gasp that is very different to the sounds his father makes. Nor is he expecting to see you staring right back at him. 

You’re wearing a long navy gown flecked with what looks like stars shimmering in the glow of the study’s dim light. 

You should be wearing a tiara, or at least some kind of diadem like your mother, whom Hoseok saw this morning when he snuck into the kitchen after skipping the official breakfast. He should have been embarrassed, but she seemed even more so for being there and helping herself to custard cakes that were meant for today’s celebration. 

I won’t tell if you won't, she'd said, her voice tight, possibly from speaking between bites of the creamy custard. Her diadem encrusted with diamonds in the shape of what looked like the constellation Cygnus gleamed in the sunlight that leaked into the kitchen. 

She didn’t care that he hadn’t given your family a proper greeting, and she seemed unbothered by his unwashed and unshaved state. She looked at him like he was just a boy. So he didn’t say a word, just stole a cake for himself and locked himself in his chamber until his mother hunted down Namjoon to let him in and at least convince him to bathe. 

Even informally dressed, your mother wore her head adornment, which is why it is not only odd to see you striding out of his father’s study, but to also see you walking around without anything to signify you are more than just a palace advisor or lady of the court. 

Then again, you were always odd. While your families were not close by any means, their strained allyship and understanding of their dependency on one another meant that Hoseok’s family and your family had met a few times over the years, and each time he was in the vicinity of you, he couldn’t help but notice how out of place you were. 

While your brother commanded the attention of everyone in the room, demanded the world stopped to hear the new song he composed on guitar or rambled on and on about diplomacy and trade relations over a feast, you instead faded into the background of every place you entered, a shadow that cast itself behind the path of her brother’s radiant glow. 

So maybe not wearing a crown isn’t so unexpected when it comes to you. A crown is the opposite of a shadow. It demands everyone look at it, too. And even if you wanted to be looked at– which he assumes is not true given the fact that you’re practically shrinking away from Hoseok as he looks at you now– it doesn’t seem as though your brother would be willing to share the spotlight long enough to even give you the chance. 

He realizes he doesn’t even need to ask what you are doing in his father’s study, he already knows: you are doing what you always do when he sees you, what he suspects you do when he isn’t around too: you made yourself invisible. You often snuck off during your visits here to the library or the palace gardens, returning late in the day with dirt on your skirts or charcoal on your hands. He notices the object that confirms his suspicions: a sketchbook nestled between your fingertips that is staining your inner fingers black. 

“I was just–” you begin, eyes wide as you stammer. “Your father, he said I could be in here. I didn’t touch anything, I was drawing!” You hold the book out in front of you like a shield. 

Hoseok raises his hands up. “Hey, hey, relax. I’m not accusing you of anything!” Your eyes soften a little, but you still remain frozen in the doorway, the sketchbook acting as if it's made of steel, not paper. “Speaking of my father, have you seen him? He said he wants to talk to me before, y’know…the thing.” 

“The thing…” you repeat, finally lowering the book as you knit your brows together. You give him a puzzled look before answering. “Uh, I did. I was sketching him, actually. But he left to go to the Great Hall about ten minutes ago to deal with something urgent. But he said if I saw you to tell you to get your coronet on. It’s in here, on his desk.”

With a flurry, you twirl, heading back into the soft glow of the office behind you. As you turn, a puff of air leaves Hoseok’s chest as he sees the effect your dress has in the shifting light. It’s as if millions of stars are swirling around you, centering you as their moon in a night sky. 

Whoa. 

For a moment, he’s stunned, not entirely sure what he just saw. But then he remembers what he is supposed to be doing, and he follows you like a sailor follows the stars, letting you guide him into the cold room. 

Sure enough on his father’s desk is the coronet, a small box of pins to fasten it into place beside it, and a handwritten note from his father. 

Be extraordinary. 

Or be nothing at all, he finishes mentally. Hoseok’s father has spent all of his life uttering that phrase, placing his very soul behind the words that are supposed to be inspirational. He had learned it from a book at the university he attended when he was a young scholar, coming across it and deciding it suited his philosophy: excel beyond ordinary leadership and be a great ruler to his people. If not, what was the point in being a leader at all?  

This was a phrase that always unsettled Hoseok, because extraordinary measures mean one-upping himself in the process, and that is something his father seemed to push in his youth. Top marks in his class? He then needed to be the top of his class and on the student council. Developed a grant for young dancers to encourage a stronger relationship to the arts from a younger age? He must establish an entire foundation for performing arts within the next five years. Higher and higher he has always been forced to climb, until the clouds once above him are nothing more than wisps of air at his feet. 

And he’s afraid of heights. Of falling from this place where he is held so high in regard and duty he might as well live among the stars. 

He swallows a knot in his throat, taking the note with his father’s message and crumpling it in his fist. 

You, who have been curiously watching him this entire time, raise an eyebrow. Hoseok suddenly feels particularly defensive and on edge from his father’s notice. The king has written it on official letterhead, technically making it Royal business and not familial. It’s not a phrase of encouragement for him to be extraordinary, but an order. 

“What,” he snaps, and immediately regrets it as he watches your face cloud slightly before you regain composure. 

“It’s a pretty morbid saying, isn’t it?” you say thoughtfully after a moment, nodding your head to the balled up piece of paper in his hands. “This idea that if you aren’t always beating yourself then you’re not successful or good enough to rule. But it’s so damning. How can you win when part of you must always lose?” 

Hoseok inhales sharply, the words hitting him hard. But before he can even think to respond, you are scrambling. 

“Exactly,” he says darkly. He takes the coronet in hand. “The thing is, either way you spin this, it’s a loss.” 

You chew your bottom lip for a moment before stepping toward him, reaching for the box of hairpins. “I’m sorry,” you mumble and pluck a pin from the box, gesturing for Hoseok to bend down. 

He isn’t the tallest man in the kingdom by far, and you’re not much shorter, but next to you, he somehow feels huge. Do you have horrible posture or something? He glances over at you, but then he notices that while your head would rest above his shoulder if you moved closer, and your back is perfectly straight–straighter than even he has been trained to stand– it’s not your height that makes you feel so small. It’s everything else. You are a walking optical illusion. In his memories, he had always placed you as half his size, and he finally understands why: it lets you fly under the radar.  

He sighs, placing the coronet upon his head at last, turning over the idea of being under the radar in his mind. Something in him sours, a prick of jealousy flaring up at how you will inevitably spend the rest of the night after the coronation. “Not like you had any part in this. Soon this will all be over and you can go back to hiding in rooms with your sketch pads and books and be invisible to everyone again.”

You flinch at his words, the pin you have begun fastening to his head to steady the crown snags into his scalp. 

“Ouch! What the fuck was that?” Hoseok yelps, and you jolt back, tears brimming your eyes as if you were the one who was just stabbed in the head. 

“Oh, I get it. So you think this is the end of the world for you and the rest of us are just going to go about our merry way like the savior gods have solved all our problems.” Your voice is sharp, unlike anything he has ever heard come from you, and he can see the fury burning into your eyes as tears begin to spill. 

“Have you ever fucking thought about how the rest of us are going to cope with these changes? Yes, I understand the ascension is damnation in its own way, and that this awful fucking curse has plagued our kingdoms for centuries but you’re so selfishly focused on yourself when there are two of you who will share the burden. And the power. Yes, you are vain and self-absorbed but your drought will end. The forest fires will have paved the way for nutrient rich soil and things here will thrive better than they ever have. Your friend Namjoon? He can return to his community and rebuild. And you, Jung Hoseok, you will live on forever in the glory of all that you saved and your stupid ego will be smoothed over with godly power. Power that who knows what the hell you’ll do with. In another thousand years you too will be bored and sighing with the other Elder gods talking about the time you saved us all and embellishing your stories to bring new life into them. 

“And the rest of us? We will be doing all that work for you as you sit on your throne and watch us break our backs to continue to pay for what Mang Shin did. And then we will die. My own best friend died in the floods we had a month ago. And I will die, having only lived a life that is in service to another god. Mang Shin or you or my fucking awful brother–” 

You freeze, realizing your mistake. But Hoseok is seeing red at your accusation. 

“You think I’m just going to be like all those other lazy gods? I want to be nothing like them! Unlike them I care about my home, my people, and family! And you have the audacity to stand in my father’s office and claim that I won’t do the right thing? That I’m in this and moping because of my ego? Oh, fuck you, Y/N! You don’t know the first thing about me. When I walk out of this room and into the Great Hall, I am no longer me. I am the pawn they raised me to be in some game I never want to play. And you, you’re free.” He spits those words at you with a sneer. 

Your nostrils flare and you close the distance between you two. He can feel the heat of your body as you shove it against him, backing him into his father’s desk so he can’t escape. The soft flurry of your gown grazes the back of his left hand. 

“Free?” you say low, your voice dripping with disgust. “Let’s get one thing straight. I am not free. I am invisible. And not by choice, by necessity.” You reach down between you, grabbing one of his wrists and pinching your fingers around it. Then, you grab the other with the same motion and hold them both up to him. “One shackle for being born without the fates’ blessing. That would have been damning enough. An outcast compared to my brother. At least your sister was given some response from the fates upon her birth. Some gift.”

You tighten your hand around the other wrist, your nails digging small crescents into Hoseok’s skin. “The other for being born into a life where I will always be cleaning up the messes of a tyrannical ruler, be it a king who lived a millennia ago or my own brother or a beloved god like you.” 

Hoseok’s stomach drops as you hiss the last word out and he tugs at his wrists to try to free himself from you. He feels as though he’s going to explode. Who the hell do you believe yourself to be? Royalty or not, you know there are rules in place that forbid you both from touching, though those rules were mostly enforced during the time of puberty for the both of you, but there was never an official retraction. If he thinks about it, this is the first time the two of you have ever even touched. And it’s probably for the best. 

He feels like he’s burning under your gaze, a fire hotter than anything he’s ever known. Your fingertips digging into his skin, feel like needles and iron weights under him. In one moment you have gone from being small and frail to fierce and terrifying, the radiant glow of royalty your entire family wears breaks from you as your raw emotion unravels your smooth exterior. 

You are in this moment the furthest thing from invisible and Hoseok’s heart beating wildly as you shift even closer to him tells him so. But Hoseok has trained his entire life for combat, knows how to put mind over matter. So he focuses and with an exhale composes himself, a devilish smirk spreading across his face. 

Your brows knit together, but your hold remains firm. 

“My sister can hold her own. The fates knew that. She was not suited to be a ruler when she had much better skills with people and commerce. That, and they probably knew that she too would lead with some kind of bias.” He snorts. “But you, that really is a shame. Maybe the fates were wrong about you. Maybe they made a mistake in forgetting to give you a gift.” 

You gasp, and he jolts, releasing your hands from his wrists. “Don’t say that. You shouldn’t say that.” 

He knows he shouldn’t. To speak ill of the fates could lead to serious punishment. When born, everyone is visited by the fates during their first long slumber. For most people of good standing, the fates bless them with some type of gift, be it physical wealth, talent, status, or some other quality or characteristic that solidifies them in society.

While there is no set pattern in who the fates often deliver gifts to, in the last few generations, most blessings from the fates are given to those born into nobility. At least for Hoseok, everyone in his family as far back as his great grandfather was given a blessing. His mother had received the precise skill of archery, picking up a bow and arrow as early as seven years old and shooting the target nearly dead center. The only reason she was off was because the bow was too heavy for her. His father was given his intellect, leading to him being a great scholar and general. His sister was given a hand mirror embedded with large rubies. 

All the gifts are left in a pouch tied to the baby’s bassinet. If the gift is not physical, a small note is often attached with an explanation or hint for what will be fulfilled. Some larger gifts may just be laid next to the bassinet, but rarely is it larger than the size of one’s hand. 

For Hoseok, the fates’ gift was a scroll with the prophecy copied to it, along with a gold ring engraved with a sun that he is wearing now. Not too cryptic to interpret. His parents knew from the start who he was. 

Your family, however, is another story. From what Hoseok understands, when your older brother was born, he did not receive such a literal interpretation of the prophecy. Rather, his gift was a monocular that for years people thought was broken. It wasn’t until he once used it while stupidly looking up at the sun that your brother realized the monocular wasn’t broken. 

Instead, it provided a very important film over the lens that allowed him to stare for hours at the sun and not go blind. During the sporadic partial solar eclipses over the years that gave Hoseok chills down his spine, your brother was often on the cliff banks, gazing at the sun flares and embracing his future. 

A monocular meant for solar eclipses. What else could that mean but that he is a fated one? 

As for you, Hoseok heard that the evening of your birth a handful of years later came and went with no blessing. When your parents had woken to find nothing in the pouch or the areas around your bassinet, had asked every palace worker thrice to see if anyone had entered the nursery that evening and everyone had assured that no one had entered and the door that separated the bathroom between you and your brother’s rooms had remained locked, your brother sound asleep, there was nothing left to do but accept that for the first time in generations, your family had ended its line of fated ones with your brother. 

In a way, did it matter? Whether you are blessed or not if your brother is the one who will finally end the curse? Perhaps not. But either way, Hoseok can’t help but feel pissed at the fates today, and wants to poke at them a bit and let him know he isn’t happy with the gift they gave him. 

Sure, no one is supposed to insult them. There are many tales told to children about what happens to those who test their authority, cautionary lessons that warn them not to misbehave or they will suffer greatly. It is, after all, the result of Mang Shin’s own challenging and disrespecting the fates that caused all of this anyway. 

But right now Hoseok doesn't have a single fuck to give about what they decided anyone is destined for. How they “always choose wisely.” That doesn’t make sense to him. The fates can’t be perfect, can they? In all things. Including you. 

Especially you, he realizes. Because he would be foolish to write you off as a boring nobody, even if that is the mask you wear. 

“Why not? Why shouldn’t I be pissed at them and question them? If they have decided this is a burden I must shoulder forever, then let me have my doubts! I’m actually disgusted by the fact that no one has ever questioned my role in this. A savior of an entire kingdom! Me? The one who broke into the armory and stole fireworks to launch on my eighteenth birthday?” 

Which, had been an awful idea. The fireworks had been locked away because of their tendency to cause fires. And with that winter having much less snow than ever before, the farmland he had drunkenly lit those fireworks in was full of dead, dry brambles. The perfect kindling. 

His transgression cost the kingdom millions. He was lucky there was no wind that day to carry the fire across the creek the farm jutted up to. But the fire did enough damage to burn that entire farm’s crops for that year. 

You snort. “Yes, well I think your accidental arson doesn’t alter your favor with the fates.” You gesture for him to bend again to finally pin on his coronet. The angry steam trapped inside his chest is starting to lessen. In some way, it just feels good to have said it out loud. 

So he obeys and lets you change the subject as you work. “Why did you want the fireworks anyway?” 

Hoseok stills, wanting to avoid another stabbing. Your fingers are more nimble this time, sweeping gently through his scalp before securing the pins. As you make your adjustments, your pinky skims the shell of his ear. 

It’s that tenderness that prompts him to answer honestly. “I was sad, or rather mad that in an entire ballroom full of people celebrating, I had never felt so alone in my whole life. It didn’t feel like they were celebrating me, but this idea of us getting closer to the end of the suffering. Another year passing means another year closer to when we could more accurately predict the eclipse, if it was actually going to be a total one and pass directly above us. So my birthday became this symbol of hope I guess.” 

You hum in response, a quiet prompt asking him to continue. He feels your fingers adjusting the pins in the back, gentle, oh so gentle. His eyes fall closed, trying to focus instead on his story. 

“I should be happy about that, right? To be this symbol of hope for everyone. But I didn’t want that. I never wanted to become a symbol of something over being a person, and that seems to be what all this ever is. I had come to realize it at the time, and wanted to rebel, to do something for myself for my birthday instead of being in service to others. 

“So I broke into the armory while everyone was dancing, said I needed a moment to relieve myself. The guard was easily bribed by a strong glass of whisky I claimed wasn’t to my taste and the smell of the feast in the hall. I told him I would find the captain to have him guard his post while he went to enjoy the celebration.” 

He hears you chuckle, an infectious, feathery sound that piques his interest. He wonders how often you laugh at things. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you do so before. 

He smirks. “Yeah, he didn’t think twice about that. Why would the well-behaved, diplomatic prince try to break into the armory during his birthday celebration? Once he was out of sight I walked right in and grabbed what I was looking for. Ditched the ball, grabbed a bottle of whisky and went to drown my sorrows. The rest was history. I barely got to look up and enjoy the fireworks before I saw the fire begin. And by that point I was too drunk to walk straight to even know what to do. I couldn’t run fast enough to stomp it out and I didn’t have any water with me. So I just stood and watched it all burn before me.” 

Your fingers stroke the coronet in Hoseok’s hair and then he feels them fall, your fingertips combing through it, nails sometimes scraping against his scalp. It’s so soothing, grounding to him, and he inhales deeply as your hands weave around him, one side and then the other, as if you are guiding every hair, every part of him back into place. 

“That’s when I started to really wonder if the fates got it all wrong with me. Because I can cause so much damage so quickly if I’m not careful. And selfishly too. What I did, that was because I couldn’t let people see me as this symbol of something that I’m not even sure I represent And if I have power? What if I use it wrong?” 

“You’re right. I am vain and selfish to be complaining about this stuff when I’m lucky. I got to go on a bender and blow up a bunch of illegal arsenal and the most I got was a stern finger waggle because I’m a ‘fated one’. And once this is all over, I don’t know. I’m probably not going to be the king everyone thinks I’m going to be. And I’ll fight like hell but I’m terrified that I’m going to be different. That somehow the second I’m blessed with this power I’m going to wield it to hurt others, to be that same selfish asshole of a child that I was.” 

He feels your hand pause, and opens his eyes. Your eyes meet, and your hand falls from his head, returning into your orbit as you cross your arms in front of you. 

“But you didn’t mean for that to happen, Hoseok. None of that. I don’t think the fates are going to fault you for a mistake like that, and I don’t think they made the wrong choice for a human acting as a human. And even when you’re a god, I don’t know. You’ll probably make mistakes too, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to be cruel.”

You sigh. “I’m sorry I said that about you. I…you’re not like him, Mang Shin. You aren’t going to be this lazy ruler or probably even a bad one. Because you care. Didn’t you repair the damage to the barn yourself?” 

He nods.   

“That really speaks more to your character than whatever air of diplomacy you think you need to have. And the same for your power that you’ll receive. The ascension doesn’t make you invincible, but it just amplifies the qualities you have. And you don’t have malice in you to burn down an entire farm.

“My brother however? I think if he was in your position, he would have argued the fire was the farm’s fault for not sprinkling the crops with a fire retardant or something. Or, if he wasn’t getting the attention he wanted, that might have made him so furious that he spread the fire beyond the farm on purpose. One time when we were younger, he received awful marks on an exam he admittedly did not study for, and when our tutor scolded him for it and wagged his finger in his direction, he bit the tip of his finger clean off. And he smiled as he did it.” 

Hoseok blanches. He has heard that your brother wasn’t the most savory of people, some of the people of the Solar kingdom having encountered him during the royal family’s visitations. Hoseok himself knows that he’s rude and narcissistic, often interrupting during their different conversations to talk about himself or scowl at the palace workers as they try to serve his meals. Particular, they always describe the Lunar Prince. He is not a bad man, just very particular. 

More like entitled, and borderline ruthless, Hoseok thinks to himself. 

“Your brother sounds very...particular,” he says instead of what he’s actually thinking.

You roll your eyes. “I hate that fucking word,” you mutter, uncrossing your arms and stepping back to look at Hoseok. You click your tongue once and then nod in approval. The coronet must be even. 

“What word would you use instead?” Hoseok whispers, taking a step toward you. 

This conversation feels private, and no matter how private his father’s study feels, he doesn’t want the physical distance between the two of you as you share more intimate thoughts. 

You hesitate. Your eyes flash to his, and then he can see the well of tears brimming up into your eyes once more. “Does it really matter anyway? A monster, a tyrant, an asshole. He’s going to be king, a god, regardless of how I describe him. And it would be treasonous, not to mention unwise, to question the decision of the fates. If he hears what I think, I’ll suffer worse. But everyone chooses to see something in him clearly that I do not, gifted him that monocular and wrote him into the prophecy to seal it. He is a fated one. And regardless of what you think or what I think, that’s how it’s going to be. I wasn’t gifted with anything. I’ll admit that I’m not looking forward to this transition and how messy it'll be. I spent most of my youth cleaning up his small messes and I’m sure I’ll be doing the big ones now. But I’m trying to make peace with it, I don’t have much of a choice.” 

A renewed anger boils in Hoseok. “So your way of handling and accepting all of this, the fact that your brother is about to receive hoards of untapped power that might teeter your kingdom into oblivion, is by being invisible? By throwing your life away? How is that supposed to be helpful?”

You jerk away, the small distance between you growing larger as your dress glitters in a spotlight, casting refractions of it onto the walls and bookshelves all around you. In every pocket of the dark room, there’s a part of you shifting yourself onto everything else, including Hoseok. He opens his palm where the refraction casts, almost as though he’s holding a part of your light in his hand. 

But just as soon as you’re in the light, you’re out of it, the refraction gone, and you into the shadows. 

He steps forward, tries to cross the distance once more, but the intimate moment of secrets is gone, and stops him in his tracks. He can tell he has struck a wound by the sharp laugh that blares from your chest. It sounds nothing like the one he heard before. 

“What am I supposed to do exactly? Go waltz in there and scream to the fates that he’s the wrong choice and we are all doomed? Demand he surrender his title and not accept this gift? Do you think anyone would even listen to me if I were to raise such doubt? I would be exiled before the eclipse reaches totality. 

“I’m no one Hoseok. Not to my kingdom, certainly not my parents or brother. I’m simply here to put as much of a wedge between the blows my brother deals and the people of my kingdom who will receive it. And as far as how I’ll handle it, I have two options: I can continue as I am now, cleaning up the mess. Or I can re-enter the shadows of life and marry the Duke of Nebula and leave the Lunar Kingdom forever.  Didn’t you say so yourself that I am free because of my position? That I am unburdened with the sense of duty that you are? Maybe you should think less about me and more about what you’re going to do after all this is over.” 

You turn away from him, the skirt of your dress rustling as you try to make your escape, to leave him without the last word. 

No, he thinks. Not like this. He has spent enough of his life not having the last word when it comes to matters about him. 

Fury licks through his veins. He feels heat rush through his face, the tips of his ears, the tingling part of his scalp you were touching mere minutes ago. No, this conversation isn’t over until he says it is. He stalks over to you as you reach for the door handle, grabbing your wrist in his palm, tugging it over your head as he shoves your back against the door, trapping you. 

You release the air in your chest with a huff, your other hand coming to fight him off. But he’s faster. Again, he’s trained his whole life to do this. He easily pins your other wrist above you. 

“So that’s it? Your two choices are to marry some old wrinkled Duke or stay as your brother’s punching bag.” 

He scoffs. You struggle against his hold. 

“That’s none of your business! Let go of me!” you growl, tugging, ragged breaths heaving your chest. 

“No,” Hoseok says. “I’m not done. If I’m going to walk out of here and take on the burdens of the world, then I’m going to at least spend the last moments of my mortal life ensuring you don’t waste yours. You have a choice in all of this freedom and you’re choosing wrong. The worst fucking things you can possibly choose. Consider it my first act of diplomacy as king.” 

You angle your head up to him, your brows furrowed. “Then please, your majesty, enlighten me as to what you would choose for me, since you feel so inclined to do so.” 

Your body is just as heated under Hoseok as he is now, a sheen of perspiration blooming in your décolletage. Both of you are boiling in your anger. Yet you take it a step further, widening your stance and looping one leg behind him to try and find the weak spot behind his knees. 

You succeed, his leg slipping and tangling itself in the skirt of your dress. Rather than break the hold he has on you, however, he falls forward, his forearms falling to either side of your head, his body now fully leaning into you.  

Under any other circumstance, Hoseok would immediately untangle himself, apologize, blush at the embarrassment of his body colliding with another, especially with it being taboo in the law. But this time he doesn’t. And as you struggle against him, he can feel your soft thigh brush against the front of his trousers, sending a lap of heat to his cock. It’s almost dizzying how hot it is in the study now. The room is kept at a cool temperature to ensure the books don’t warp from humidity. 

Which means the heat that is scorching through his veins is from the two of you creating it. He pulls a deep breath into his chest, trying to focus on finishing this conversation, on his frustration with you for being so careless with yourself. 

“If I was free like you, without the universe waiting for me outside my door, I wouldn’t be hiding in the cold shadows hoping no one noticed me. I would be out in the world, discovering all the things I’ve been denied.” 

He adjusts himself against you, and as he does so, his thigh lands between your legs, resting at the crook of where they meet. A sharp intake of breath crests from you, and your eyes meet, your gaze hard.

“Like what?” you ask. “What exactly would you be chasing instead of denying yourself?”

Hoseok smirks, knowing he’s trapped you in this conversation. He really has been trained well. “Pleasure,” he says, and your eyes widen.

“What?”

“You heard me, Y/N. Pleasure. You think you’re going to find that with the Duke of Nebula? He’s so ancient, I doubt he could even get it up. And even if he still can, god what a bore he would be. He’s sired enough children in his lifetime, and can't be expected to run around and play with or care for any of the ones you would give him. 

“So you would either be sitting around just the two of you for the rest of his life–gods hoping it wouldn’t be much longer–or you would be raising his children practically by yourself. They would have no status either, too far down on the family chain to have any standing. Which means you would rot in that place until you found another man to marry. And that would be your life. What a waste of your potential. You’re young, beautiful, intelligent, and throwing your life away.” 

He clicks his tongue. “Pleasure you wouldn’t find with him. Maybe even the next guy. So why sign yourself up for any of that when you don’t have to? When you can feel alive while you’re alive and feel good. Know ecstasy, your joints coming loose in your body, fuc–”

“I’m not a virgin, Hoseok. I know what pleasure feels like,” you spit. Hoseok’s eyes flash. He licks his lips. 

“Do you really?” he whispers. “Do you know how it feels to really fuck for the sake of pleasure, Y/N? Of letting someone else hold the reins of your undoing and pulling them so taught you think you’re going to snap, only to finally give you what you truly need and set you free over the edge?” 

You shiver underneath him, closing your eyes. Good, he thinks. You’re listening, separating yourself from the rule-bound life you shouldn’t be bound to. 

“What is it you really want, Y/N? What is it that you’re denying yourself of having? Of taking?” 

“Nothing,” you whimper. 

“Liar,” Hoseok grins. “You want so much more than this. You’re too much of a dreamer. Tell me, what do you want?” 

“It’s none of your business,” you pant, though he can feel it, your resistance of your hold slipping. 

“No, it’s not. But I’ll trade you. Your secret, your dreams for mine.” 

You meet his gaze again, and Hoseok sees the shimmer in your eyes, curiosity blooming as you fall foolishly into his trap.

“Fine,” you yield. His grin spreads even further. He knows he probably looks deranged, but he can’t help it. He’s come this far. If the world is ending after this, he wants to know he at least spent his last moments of humanity trying to help someone else hold onto theirs. 

“I want things that don’t matter. To be a mother someday. I want to write and sketch and sit in an open garden where I can stare at the sky from morning to night, counting all the stars over and over again and laughing when I lose count. I want laughter the most. For someone to pull it from me in the darkness. To bottle the feeling he gives me and fall asleep in his arms. I want to feel warm, like this, because it always feels so cold and lonely out here. And I’d miss home, but I want to leave it because it’s just as cold there during the summer winds than it is on the most mild winter days. And I want pleasure. Fuck, I need pleasure. I would divide up the universe for it. I want to feel alive as I do at this moment. Electricity, fire and ice all at once. I want to be taken and held, fucked, devoured as if I matter.” 

You drag your hips up, and Hoseok gasps as you move yourself against his thigh, against what is now his throbbing erection. 

He feels it too. Electricity. Fire. Ice. All at once. So he grinds his hips back down into you, giving you more pressure as he releases some of his. This is humanity, he thinks to himself. This is what I fear losing when I ascend. 

He stops that thought there, buries it under the mountain of stability and refinement he’s been trained to put in its place.  

“Fuck,” you hiss. 

Hoseok releases your wrists, looking at your blown out pupils. He expects you to move away, but as your arms fall from over your head, they find hold on his biceps, steadying yourself as you move with each other. 

“You owe me yours,” you say breathlessly and Hoseok laughs, his voice light and airy in his chest. 

“You just want to know my dirty thoughts,” he teases and you dig your nails into his biceps, pinching him in warning. 

More. I need more. Before all of this is gone.

He laughs again at the challenge. “Okay, okay, fine. If I dream of freedom like you, I dream of excitement. Sailing away to cities we know nothing of, learning about the people there. Dancing different dances in the street and eating foods I never would have thought I would taste. Losing days to pleasure instead of deciding what treaty needs to be signed, what law approved. Lazy mornings where I lick every inch of my lover.” 

Hoseok leans in then and as if he is pulling you into his dream, licks a long strip down your neck, the salty dampness thrusting his hips sharper into yours. You moan. 

Something in him shifts, a desperate need to hear it again. So he lathes his tongue along your neck and collarbone, sucking sharply on the skin after. 

“Shit,” you rasp. 

“Yes. That’s it. This is what you are missing out on, Y/N, pleasure.” He ruts against you. “I bet under those skirts you’re absolutely dripping, aren’t you? Isn’t this what you want?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then take it honey. Give yourself what you want.” He pulls back slightly, enough to keep his thigh firmly for you to use, and he sees the lust in your heavy eyelids, welcoming more of him into your orbit. He dips his head again, this time his tongue exploring the cleft between your breasts that peeks out over your dress. He hears you sigh, and hums in satisfaction. 

He feels alive, not like those dinners with his family or sunsets in summer. This is different, a type of freedom he has never experienced before. Yes, he’s fucked people, he’s had fantastic sex in scandalous places, has known the thrumming of his pulse under his skin as he worked his body over another. But that was sex, and the two of you are still clothed, just exploring each other’s bodies. 

It dawns on him. Is this what freedom is supposed to feel like? 

He chases after the feeling, addicted now, teeth grazing along your breasts as you shiver below him, your hands leaving his biceps to pull through his hair, to cup the back of his neck to keep him steady. 

“It could always be like this, if you wanted. Those sweet sighs, long days where you lie back and stare at the clouds and stars while coming undone on my mouth.” He presses back and you let him rise, where he fixes his gaze on your mouth. 

You lick your lips, drawing him forward. 

“We could forget the whole world and just be free,” he says, his lips resting mere millimeters away from yours. 

And just as he moves in to claim them, Hoseok feels your hand on his chest, shoving him back. He recoils, pulling himself away to see your incredulous stare. 

“We can’t just forget the whole world,” you say, and Hoseok takes a deep inhale, feeling the natural cold of the study quickly overtaking the heat in his body. 

What happened? Weren’t you both on the same page?

“Why,” he asks. “Why not for a little while?”

“Why? Hoseok, look around us. What are we doing?” 

He obeys, the gray walls of the study a dull reminder of reality. He looks back at you. 

“I thought we were giving each other what we wanted,” he argues. “I thought you were finally understanding how much better things can be if you don’t keep pretending you don’t matter. Because you do.” 

He takes a step forward again but you push him back again, harder. 

Your face falls. “But I don’t.” You take a deep breath, pushing off the door and adjusting your dress. “Because what you are describing isn’t real. You said so yourself. It’s a dream. When we walk through those doors, you will be seated on the dais, waiting for the sun and moon to converge and to take your rightful place as a leader. And I will be standing in the crowd, watching you and my brother ascend and break this curse. I will not have the power to divide the universe for pleasure or anything else. I will go back to my kingdom, stare out at the cliff’s edge. Marry someone, maybe not the Duke, but someone and I’ll try to be happy. To live within my means. This is what the fates decided.” 

Another jolt of reality slaps against him. 

“Fuck the fates!” Hoseok roars, slamming his fist into the nearby bookshelf, toppling a few onto the floor. “Stop giving them this much power over us! To decide everything, to rip away the things we want!”

“Stop trying to assume you know what I want!” You yell back. “You don’t! You don’t know me! Stop trying to blame the fates for the world we live in! This is it! This is what we have. And we can’t play pretend that it could ever be any different. There are too many factors, too many risks. You said so yourself you care too much about your people to not do anything, so this feverish, desperate attempt at divorcing yourself from your reality needs to end.

“I’m sorry I fed into it even for a moment. I should have known better. I know it’s scary! I know this is fucking awful. A half an hour ago you were ready to dig your own grave over the reality of things. But that doesn’t mean we just…run from it!” 

“I’m not running! Gods, I’m sorry I just wanted to find some other way to make our bleak reality feel better. So that when I walk into the Great Hall and stand before your monstrous brother, as I let my entire world shift beneath me, I could have something to ground me from what is to come. Do you feel it, too? That feeling of hope that things could be different? Of feeling alive? There’s hope in these dreams we have and–”

“And they’re dreams, Hoseok! They aren’t real!” 

He feels like he’s been flayed open and then dragged through a pile of glass. He can see you drawing the curtain on yourself, going back into that hiding spot that he only just coaxed you from. 

You scoff. “What, you fucking me in a field will somehow fix all of this? Suddenly I will be healed and you won’t become an immortal god slated to stop the end of the world as we know it?” 

Hoseok sucks in a breath. His cheeks heat with embarrassment. Why did he let it go this far?

No, no you were just as much a part of this as him. “You didn’t seem to mind the idea of me fucking you a few minutes ago as you grinded against my thigh,” he says through gritted teeth. 

“Don’t try and act like you didn’t want this too.” 

“Stop! Stop assuming you know what I want!” 

“Stop pretending that no one could ever understand what you want! Stop denying yourself of a life you could be living!”

Your hands clench into fists, and you close your eyes, drawing breath in and out. 

“You know what Hoseok? I feel bad for you. Truly, I do. This is going to be a long road ahead and I know you feel like you don’t have a choice. But that doesn’t mean you get to choose for me. We are both imprisoned by something greater than us. Damned to be pawns in the universe’s game. But you need to get it through your head. This is fate. Like it or not. It’s time we stop dreaming about things that will never be real.”

His stomach sours, the music echoing down the hallway flooding his ears with an awful tinny ring. Somewhere inside me, the steady mountain of rock he’s steeled himself under cracks.

“Don’t say that.” 

You are looking down, though he can hear from the shakiness in your voice you’re on the verge of crying again. “Dreaming is nice, isn’t it? It’s a break from reality. A moment we get to feel alive. But at some point, we have to wake up.” 

“Stop.” He feels the fight leave him as the words lance from his throat, all the heaviness of the world that he’s been fated to carry bursting from him, toppling pillar after pillar, rock after rock among him. 

“I’m sorry,” you cry. “This is just how it is. You have to be extraordinary. I have to be invisible.”

That goddamn phrase is like pouring acid on his open wounds. You’re doing this on purpose, he realizes. Adding to his agony and he doesn’t know why. 

“Fuck you,” he spits, a knot forming in his throat as he tries to hold back his tears. “Fucking get out of my sight.” 

You reach for the door handle, turning it and opening it a crack. 

Bright light bursts forward, almost knocking Hoseok down. He can no longer see your face in the shock of it, just the glimmer of your gown as it captures the beams of the sun, using the very thing he will soon rule to blind him.  

“I know you think you’re not worthy of this. Or that you can’t do it. But you can. I was there on your birthday. Maybe I was too good of a shadow or you were too drunk to remember. But you saw me as you snuck out, begged me not to say anything. So I didn’t. And I watched the fireworks from the window. Saw the spark that caught the fire. And Hoseok,” he can hear a smile in your voice. “At no point did I ever stop thinking it was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” 

If there were any more rocks left in the mountain, they’ve now buried Hoseok alive under them. The fury and fight left extinguishes. With his eyes finally adjusting to the brightness, he watches you walk out of the dark study, toward the Great Hall, never looking back.

The rage that licks at him starts to fall away, the dullness of the room now more familiar and steadying.

After a few moments, he composes himself, sliding the mask of allegiance, passion, and love back into place over his crumpled spirit. You are right. This is just how it is.  

When he steps into the light, a flicker of something on the wall catches his eye, and he realizes it’s a refraction of light like the ones you caused in the study. But you’re nowhere to be found in the hallway. Puzzled, he looks down at himself, his chest tightening at the realization. 

The glitter of your dress has transferred onto him, a large concentration of it along his crotch, but it’s everywhere, even in his hair. In a flurry, he tries to brush it off, to not draw suspicion from other party goers about you two humping like wild animals in his father’s study. But he realizes it’s useless. 

You’ve left your mark on him and he can’t get rid of it. As he catches his glimmering reflection in the window, Hoseok can’t help but think that he looks like he’s covered in stars. 

©2024 by jooniperbonsai

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Astronaut AU

Had some ideas about the boys as modern day NASA astronauts (and Air Force pilots). Taking place in 2025, Bucky is about to head to the moon as mission commander of Artemis III while Buck is back-up commander and CAPCOM on the ground at NASA. Established relationship (obnoxiously in love).

Here is a part 1. See end notes for some term definitions.

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September 8, 2025 Johnson Space Center, Houston, TX

Despite the crew’s best efforts, the alarm sounds. In another universe, the spacecraft is most likely meeting a violent but silent death as they fail to dock with the Starship lunar lander. Much of the outer hull may be destroyed, maybe a fuel tank or two, making the crew sitting ducks at the mercy of the vacuum of space with nothing but their OCS suits to keep them alive. They’d have 6 days of life support to somehow find a way home.

In this universe, Bucky mutters an angry “dammit” as he smacks the console in front of his face with the palm of his hand. No need to don the survival suit today. All four crew members are instead in everyday blue NASA flight suits, oxygen and pressure down here on Earth perfectly nominal. They’ve been working through this mission simulation for far too long.

Artemis 3 is going to leave human footprints on the moon for the first time in decades, and launch is in just over two months. This crew needs to be perfect, and they only have a handful of weeks to get themselves there. Major John Egan will not accept sub-par performance in this simulator from any member of his crew, including himself. The stakes may be low down here where they can breathe easy and try again, but up there, if this kind of thing happens, the stakes will be higher than ever. No second tries. No mercy.

“Hey, ya gotta be kind to her,” Curt admonishes from the next seat over. “Ya own bloody fault anyway. Tryin’ to dock with a busted thruster.”

Bucky looks over at him, though it’s not a particularly easy feat, laying flat on their backs in the Orion crew capsule mock-up. Bucky and Curt are next to each other, staring up at the consoles, the crew capsule’s control center. Alex and Rosie are in the seats in front of them, or rather, in their reclined orientation, more like below them. “Rather I just let us drift into space for all eternity?” Bucky asks.

Curt puts up his hands defensively. “Just sayin’. If we gotta die this ain’t a bad way to go.”

“Starvation or suffocation, you pick, Curt.” Bucky says crossly. “Or why don’t I just open the hatch door and see what happens.”

“It ain’t Egan’s fault,” Rosie chips in. “Blame the guys runnin’ the sim for givin’ us an impossible situation.”

“Not impossible,” Gale pipes in over coms from the control center outside the Orion mock-up, where he, as back-up commander and CAPCOM, had been observing their training simulation. “And you wouldn’t be saying that if this were a real mission.”

“If this were a real mission we’d be dead,” Curt responds unhelpfully. Bucky can’t say he disagrees. But he’s not willing to accept that right now. Failure Is Not An Option – that was the poster he’d hung over his bed in college. It may not be the healthiest motto if you truly value your mental health and sense of self worth, but when had Bucky ever? He’d worked damn hard to get to NASA, to fly on the ISS, to be assigned this groundbreaking mission. Those words from Gene Kranz had guided him his whole life and he is not about to let go of them now.

He is not about to let Artemis 3 become the new Apollo 13, not if he can help it.

“Let’s run it again boys,” Bucky says. He doesn’t, in truth, know what time it is or how long they’ve been strapped into this thing. He also doesn’t care.

“Bucky,” Alex groans. “We’ve been at it for hours. Maybe we should call it a day.”

Bucky scoffs. “Oh yeah? Well we’ll stay at it for hours until we stop lookin’ like a bunch of little boys playin’ astronauts.” He lifts a hand and spins a finger around in the air. “Let’s go, set it up.” The flight controllers outside collectively groan but ready the sim to go again. This close to a mission, they know not to fight with the astronauts about when it’s time to stop. If the mission commander says go again, they go again.

The next attempt doesn’t end any better. No matter how hard Bucky and Curt try, they can’t beat out this scenario. They’re Air Force test pilots and experienced astronauts; they should be able to handle this with little issue. Two of the best pilots NASA has ever seen, my ass, Bucky thinks. And usually he’s quite a cocky son of a bitch, so he knows it’s been a long day. He groans, banging his head back on his seat over and over.

“Bucky,” Rosie tries. “We’ve managed every other curve ball they’ve thrown at us. We’ve logged hundreds of hours in this thing. We can revisit tomorrow if you want but we’re not gettin’ anywhere tonight.” Crew physician, always trying to keep the peace.

Gale’s voice pipes in from the outside. “It’s your birthday, John. Don’t you wanna get out of here?”

Bucky grins as he stares up at his console. “You gonna drink with me tonight, Buck?”

“Not a chance.”

“Come on, baby. Just one to celebrate the fact that I’m not dead yet.” He can practically hear Gale rolling his eyes.

“No wonder you’re crashing your ship, you don’t have your head on straight.”

“I’ll drink with ya Bucky,” Curt butts in.

Bucky raises his fist for Curt to fist bump. “Curt loves me more than you,” he tells Gale. “Maybe I oughta marry him instead.”

Curt shakes his head, making a face. “You ain’t my type, Egan.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at him and presses a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded. You’re uninvited to my birthday.”

“You’ll be down a drinking buddy.”

Suddenly, just about every alarm inside the Orion simulator – pressure low, oxygen low, carbon dioxide high, hull breach, smoke detected, and the list goes on – is flashing bright red and blaring at the astronauts inside, making them all look around in confusion. Good thing they aren’t actually in space; that kind of half-assed reaction to a catastrophic emergency would likely get them killed faster than their inability to work through this sim.

“Oh noooo,” Gale says mockingly from where he’s taken over control of the simulator. The other present flight controllers can be heard laughing in the background, all too happy to let Major Cleven fuck around with the console if it means getting these astronauts out of their hair for the night. It’s nearly 7:30. Personal life is, naturally, often sacrificed in the space program, but people do still have families to get home to. “All your alarms are going off,” Gale states with a mixture of sass and monotone that only he can manage – the voice of someone who is unequivocally done with this. “You’re all gonna die. Again. Cause you can’t get your fucking shit together.”

“Uh oh, Saint Cleven’s losing it.” Bucky smirks, working to turn off the various alarms flashing in his face. “Good job boys, we’ve pushed Gale over the edge. He’s finally up and killed us.”

“You’ve got a big mouth, John,” Gale says.

“You gonna come in here and shut me up?”

Alex gags from his seat in front of him. “Gross guys, get a room.”

“Just be glad they’re not on the same mission,” Rosie teases. Yes, everyone is glad of that, even the men in question. Well, Gale is at least.

A year ago, when Buck and Bucky first got engaged, Marge – the Artemis program’s public affairs officer and Gale’s long time best friend – informed them of some jokes going around the NASA offices that the two astronauts should be put on the same Artemis mission so they could be married on the moon. Make a big media affair out of it. None of the higher ups took it seriously, of course, but Marge thought the boys would get a kick out of it.

Bucky had enthusiastically yelled “YES!” at the same time Gale, mortified, cried “NO!” Marge hadn’t been able to stop laughing, having to sit down for a minute and catch her breath while Bucky tried to convince Gale why this was a fantastic idea. Gale wasn’t having it, wouldn’t even look at his fiancé for entertaining such absurdity. When Bucky wouldn’t relent, Gale finally spun around and declared, “John I DO NOT want to be worried about using up too much fucking oxygen on my wedding day!” And Bucky dropped it.

Instead, they’ll be getting married in just about four weeks, a nice, classy October wedding – on Earth – a month before Bucky flies to the moon, with about a few hundred of their closest friends in attendance. Gale was worried it would be too big, too much, but he’d been outvoted. A bit of a media spectacle after all. Astronauts are not subtle, and they do not miss a chance to have a good party.

Speaking of parties. They’ve really gotta get going.

The hatch of the Orion simulator swings open and Gale pokes his head in. This late in the day, he’d loosened his black tie and popped open the top button of his neat white dress shirt. His hair gel has started to give up due to running his hands through it too many times — this crew has always been and always will be the death of him — leaving his hair messier than is generally befitting of a NASA employee, indispensable astronaut or no. Bucky fans himself dramatically with one hand as he ogles Gale. “Goddamn boys, there’s life on the moon and it’s hot.”

Gale rolls his eyes, as does the whole crew. “Alright fellas. Let’s get this show on the road.” He nods to them, but before stepping out of the way, he adds, “Marge asked me to keep y’all from getting too out of hand for the public image and all, but just don’t burn any buildings down and we’ll call it good.”

The crew makes various noises of assent as they maneuver themselves out of their seats. With a groan, working out the stiffness in his lower body, Rosie pulls himself towards and through the hatch, giving Gale a fist bump on the way out. He’s followed by Alex, who pats the outside of the simulator and claps Gale on the shoulder. When Bucky pops his head through, he beams at Gale. Exiting the capsule and straightening himself to his full towering height, he swiftly grabs Gale by the tie and pulls him close, planting a kiss right on his mouth in front of the hatch. Behind him, Curt gags as he exits the capsule.

“You taste like coffee,” Bucky tells Gale as they stand in front of each other, faces just inches apart.

“Well, I had to stay functional somehow.” Gale tilts his head and looks pointedly at Bucky. “Some stubborn commander kept us working for hours after we were scheduled to be done for the day.”

“Well who could that be?” Bucky asks sweetly.

“You, you ass,” Curt says. He shoves in between them, pushing them apart with his arms like some kind of divine ruler. “Now save room for Jesus and let’s get outta here. I wanna get DRUNK!”

Gale laughs as Curt walks away, joining Alex and Rosie as they head off to change out of their flight suits and get ready for the night’s festivities. “You better go shower and change,” he tells Bucky. “I’ll meet you at the bar.”

As Bucky jogs away to catch up with the others, he glances back at Gale, who is still standing by the capsule going over some of the notes from their training exercise with one of the other flight controllers. “Buck!” He calls. Gale looks up, the end of his pencil resting thoughtfully on his lower lip and damn Bucky loves that. “Wear something cute, will ya?”

Gale blushes and shakes his head, looking back down at his clipboard.

---

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Part 2

Terms: Orion = the crew capsule for Artemis missions

OCS = Orion Crew Survival suits; worn in the Orion spacecraft in emergency situations and during critical mission phases such as launch and reentry; connects to Orion to provide life support for up to 6 days

CAPCOM = Capsule Communicator; the person in Mission Control, typically another astronaut, who handles all direct communication with the crew during a mission

ISS = International Space Station

Gene Kranz = NASA chief flight director during the Apollo missions

[sleepinginks]

About us/boundaries

Please read before leaving any asks

General blog trigger warnings:

religious trauma/sa/csa/mental health abuse/disabled abuse/growing up repressed lgbtq+ related trauma/familial\parental estrangement/ and related topics.

-!This blog will have a certain amount of personal info about who we are and some of the trauma we have delt with. Please remember that we are a person who has actually experienced these things and that this first and foremost a way for us to write our thoughts down and out of our head.!-

-Introdutions-

We are someone who has been diagnosed with DID aka dissociative identity disorder. For context this is a disorder that is caused by repeated severe childhood trauma by a caregiver (or close adult) before the age of 8/9 and fundamentally changes how the brain process trauma. (Colin A. Ross, MD who was the first and still is the leading researcher on DID for over thirty years is a great resource if you would like to read/watch more of the topic. He has a few of his lectures on youtube (link is one of said lecture) for free.)

At last count we have roughly 40+ alters in our system and about a dozen that front on a regular basis.

The alters that will be posting the most on here are

Roy: he/they/ze, non-human, biblically accurate angels vibes :tag: roy ramble

Tilo: she/they/ze, non-human, used to be part of Roy :tag: tilo loitering

Grey: they/them/ze, non-human, nickname-goatman, used to be part of Roy :tag: grey the goatman

Ariana: she/they, human, nickname-Ari, 19 :tag: ari ginja ninja

Lunar: she/they, literally the moon :tag: lunar low hours

Wander: they/them, dragon, mouth piece for littles :tag: wander the dragon and wander mouth piece

Mr Jace: he/him, vampire (vibes of alucard from hellsing), vamp may feel eye roll worthy but its because of trauma related to blood :tag: Jace vamp corner

Other info: body is 22, POC, we are intersex but raised as female by force, we will not be posting pictures our body physically here but we are an "accountant" by trade that can be found in other places. This is due to our physical disabilities that lead to us not being able to have a more traditional job anymore, fun fact: before our body basically imploded we worked as an EMT and before that a semi professional dancer (never associated with a particular company but had been scouted by them and did freelance)

If we do not answer as ask, know its for a good reason and not related to who may be asking it.

Thank you for reading and we hope that you can vibe with us in our little corner.

[breelandwalker]

Flower Moon - May 5, 2023

Ready your gathering baskets and your best shoes for traipsing, witches - it's time to greet the Flower Moon!

Flower Moon

The Flower Moon gives us the fulfillment of the first flush of the Pink Moon, with fragrant blossoms greeting us at every turn and heralding the merry month of May. The floral name for this particular cycle is shared by a number of indigenous nations, include the Algonquin, Anishnaabe, and Dakota. Other names include Budding Moon and Frog Moon (Cree), Planting Moon (Dakota and Lakota), and the Moon of Mulberry (Choctaw).

European names for this moon include Milk Moon (Anglo-Saxon) and Hare Moon (Celtic, allegedly). Modern pagan circles sometimes call it the Grass Moon as well, since the flourishing of grasslands is more common in some areas than the appearance of flowers.

Notes: This year, there is a Penumbral Lunar Eclipse accompanying the Flower Moon. This is a barely visible shadow on the full moon which will be visible largely in the Eastern Hemisphere. Check your local astronomical forecast to see if it will be visible in your area.

This full moon peaks during daylight hours in the Western Hemisphere (around 1:35pm EDT), so the moon may appear to be full on both the nights of the 4th and 5th. It also falls about three-quarters through a Mercury Retrograde, so take whatever steps you deem appropriate.

What Does It Mean For Witches?

As we pass the spring rites and move toward the summer season, it's the perfect time to celebrate your growth and the ways in which you want to flourish. This is the season for romance and love, and not just that which comes when we put on flower crowns and go a-Maying. This is a time to love ourselves as much as each other, and to be reminded of our own beauty and strength. Remember the things you love about yourself and consciously take a moment to remind your loved ones how much you care for them.

It is also a time to celebrate fertility, be it animal, vegetable, mineral, or spiritual. Put new plans into action, start that project you've been meaning to do, embark on that new hobby or activity you wanted to try. If you have a long-term goal or a big project, now is the time to outline your path to completion and plan how to direct your energy so you don't burn out halfway through. Don't hold back - break through the walls of imposter syndrome and anxiety, indulge in your creative urges, and let your inspiration soar. What you choose to plant and nurture now determines what you will harvest later in the year. And above all, remember to have FUN!

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

If you've been feeling the urge to do some flower-related magic, now is the perfect time! Familiarize yourself with the wildflowers in your area and if possible, maybe grab your basket and scissors and go on a foraging trip. Remember to properly identify flowers before picking them, don't overharvest, and don't take anything from private property without permission or from national parks full stop. You can press the flowers with a notebook and something flat and heavy, or you can dry them in hanging bunches, in a cardboard tray, or in a low-temp oven for later use.

This is also a good opportunity to get your hands in the dirt and connect with the land where you live. If there are plants in your care, take a little time to do some pruning and watering. Check them for spring pests and treat where needed. Give them some love - talk to them, sing to them, encourage them to grow tall and strong and abundant. Bless them as you tend their plots and reaffirm your commitment to be a good caretaker.

As an exercise, try making flower crowns, garlands, bouquets, wreaths, or centerpieces using plant correspondences, flower language, or color magic for a desired effect. This can be done with real flowers or silk ones, depending on how long you want to keep them around. Try your hand at making flower water with roses or other blooms - it makes a wonderful base for moon water!

Experiment with recipes for dishes and drinks that use edible flowers too! Whether it's color-changing butterfly peaflower tea, sweet and peppery nasturtium, adorable pressed pansy shortbread cookies, or the tried-and-true comforts of chamomile, flowers have many tasty secrets to offer. Don't be afraid to add botanicals to your health and beauty routine as well! (Just make sure nothing's going to negatively interact with your meds or irritate a pre-existing condition. Safety first!)

Whether you do so with your near-and-dear, your witchy circle, or by yourself, celebrate everything that blooms - including you!

Happy Flower Moon, witches! 🌕🌼

Further Reading:

Flower Moon: Full Moon in May 2023, The Old Farmer's Almanac

Moonrise and Moonset Calculator, The Old Farmer's Almanac

Flower Meanings: Symbolism of Flowers, Herbs, and More Plants, The Old Farmer's Almanac

Floriography, the Language of Flowers, AllFlorists.co.uk

Flower Moon: The Astonishing Full Moon of May 2023, The Peculiar Brunette

How to Dry Flowers 5 Ways, MasterClass, June 7, 2021

DIY Floral Water or Hydrosol, Patti Estep, Hearth and Vine, July 4, 2021

17 Edible Flower Recipes, Better Homes and Gardens, March 8, 2022

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison

(If you're enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

[lilithgreye]

Vietnamese Astrology

Vietnamese astrology is a type of astrology based on the lunar calendar that assigns an animal to each of the 12 years in a repeating cycle. This is what people refer to when they ask what your vietnamese zodiac animal is. However, there is also such thing as animal times, days, hours, and months that can be resourceful (similar to transits in western/sidereal astrology) in planning new events, launching new businesses, starting a new relationship, etc.

Vietnamese compatibility

Just like in other forms of astrology, in Vietnamese astrology there is also certain signs that are more compatible than others as well as opposite signs which some refer to as enemy signs. During our enemy years, months, days, etc we tend to come across many obstacles whereas during our own animal year and friendly animal years we tend to succeed more often and have happier years

Chinese vs Vietnamese

There isn’t a huge different between these two types of astrology. You could use either I just personally feel as though the Cat and Buffalo make more sense when it comes to the personalities of people than the Rabbit and Ox do which is why I go by Vietnamese

What should I do during my enemy years?

The best thing you can do during these years from my experience and others experiences I’ve witnessed is to lay low. Don’t do anything risky, don’t surround yourself with people who will put you in dangerous/negative situations, and don’t start anything new during this time such as a company/business

How are my own animal years/trine years beneficial?

Some things I recommend doing during your own trine/animal year are having children, beginning a new relationship, creating new friendships, starting a new company, etc as this will help you have more success and happiness in life

Does numerology matter more than VA?

In my opinion both matter but especially numerology. For example in 2023 I got very sick for months yet it was my friend year. This is because 2+0+2+3 = 7 and 7 is the number of illness. You’re more likely to get sick in 7 years. A lot of people I know got sick during 2023 because of this. This is why numerology is also a very important factor to pay attention to

More resources:

• vietnamese astrology sign guide

• vietnamese compatibility trines and incompatible signs

• if you’re born at the beginning of the year

• vietnamese astro notes

[lonestarflight]

Cancelled Missions: Gemini Saturn V

-Concept Art, however this has a typo, as this is clearly the Saturn V.

"American manned lunar orbiter. In l LP late 1964 McDonnell, in addition to a Saturn IB-boosted circumlunar Gemini, McDonnell proposed a lunar-orbit version of Gemini to comprehensively scout the Apollo landing zones prior to the first Apollo missions.

Status: Design 1964. Gross mass: 11,182 kg (24,652 lb).

The lunar orbit version required an Agena stage to provide the delta-V for lunar orbit insertion and trans earth injection. The 1.52 m-diameter Agena was enclosed in an inverted conical fairing to both transmit thrust loads to the Gemini and provide thermal protection during the coast to the moon.

Alternatively, a propulsion module based on a repackaged Apollo Service Module propulsion system, as had been proposed two years earlier for a lunar-landing version of Gemini, could be used. This raised the translunar injection mass of the spacecraft to 11,182 kg, well above the capability of a Saturn IB or Titan III-C, but only a quarter that of a Saturn V. The launch vehicle was unspecified, but could only have been a Saturn V used on an early test mission. The mission profile would have involved a 68 hour flight from low earth orbit to lunar orbit, a 24 hour lunar mapping mission in a 10 nm x 80 nm lunar orbit, and a 68 hour return flight. The scientific equipment would consist of a modest camera array installed in the nose of the spacecraft. This consisted of a long focal-length telescope, to which were attached two narrow-field stereo mapping cameras, a wide field mapping camera, a panoramic camera, and two 16 mm film cameras. The film was not accessible by the astronauts, being stored in a film vault shielded against radiation in the nose of the spacecraft. The camera compartment would protrude from the stub nose of the Gemini after parachute deployment.

The manned portion was the same as the circumlunar version, a modified earth-orbit Gemini. The aft modules would be retained, but with the retrorockets removed. The retro module space would be used to install Apollo-type lunar distance communications, navigation, and test equipment. Deployable DSIF omni-directional and parabolic antennae would deploy from the aft modules to support lunar-distance communications. To handle re-entry from lunar distances, several modifications were necessary. The capsule's heat shield would be beefed up, and the Rene 41 corrugated shingles of Gemini's skin would be replaced with ablative shingles. The load of attitude control propellant for the capsule's reaction control system was substantially increased. Additional strap-down gyros and solar sensor packages would be added to provide navigation system redundancy. The ejection seats would be deleted and a Mercury-style launch escape tower added. The then-planned Rogallo wing recovery system would be used to glide to the Gemini to a runway landing on US territory after return from the moon. To handle the scientific payload, a camera compartment was added to the nose below the parachute/Rogallo wing housing. The Gemini spacecraft modified in this way had on on-orbit mass of 3955 kg as compared to the 3207 kg of the earth-orbit version.

Crew Size: 2. Habitable Volume: 2.55 m3."

-information from Astronautix.com: link

source, source, source

[bunnakit]

Not Me Episode 2 Music

this is kind of a boring day but there are some gems. thank you all for the kind words in the tags, pls know i'm not just rawdogging this. there is a spotify playlist of MOST of the songs (some are truly impossible to find) and i've listened to it on repeat enough i can recognize a lot of them.

So To Say - Taylor Crane

@williamrikers already touched on this one a little! This plays when White confronts the group about the plan and makes Yok reiterate the details of the plan as they're picking up the gas. (This song is also featured in episode 13 of Kinnporsche!)

??? - Tristan Barton

There's no doubt in my mind that the song playing during Dan's painting scene is a Tristan Barton composition, however, I cannot for the life of me figure out which one. It's very similar to 'Fighter' and 'Dawn Raider' - both would be very appropriate titles for this scene - but neither is quiiite right. Tristan Barton does often make custom songs for projects so it's entirely possible this was an original piece that is unlisted.

Finding My Memories - Sivan Talmor, Yehezkel Raz

Now we're into the interesting stuff. This song plays when White is confronting the image of Black and questioning why he's going to such extremes. It's fairly easy to interpret this as White desperately trying to find any key to Black's past, obtain any scrap of Black's memories to make all of this make sense.

'Freedom is the Oxygen of the Soul'

Guys I tried so hard. I spent about an hour scrounging every corner of the internet, demanding answers from Shazam and lyric finder sites, I listened to so, so many shitty songs.

@sparklyeyedhimbo had but one message for me after my hunt:

But you know what happened? @timetoboldlygo came in CLUTCH! (Kissing you forever Claire.)

Discover by Lane King is the song that plays during the motorcycle ride with White and Gram! I've been wanting to find this song for ages, it's so soft and relaxing and beautiful and I think it's a little breath of fresh air. It's the perfect song to accompany White's semi-awakening to what it means to be truly free, to make decisions for yourself and just breathe.

Light's Gone - Nylonia

Another hard hitter. Light's Gone plays as Black flatlines? Goes into cardiac arrest? Whatever the fuck is happening to that little freak (affectionate.) The light is quite literally leaving Black's body at the same time the light in White's life is trying to leave him. Ouch.

Lunar Eclipse - Marc Torch

Ahh, Lunar Eclipse my beloved. This song appears a lot in GMMTV projects particularly. It's in The Eclipse funny enough as well as another show I watched recently and cannot for the life of me remember (Enchante maybe?) Either way, GMMTV loves Lunar Eclipse (probably because it's royalty free and they don't have to pay anything for it) and to be fair so do I. (This plays immediately after Light's Gone as White stands up and begins changing clothes.)

Stronger - Lars Lowe, Jowen

The episode ends on this song as White and Sean have their completely heterosexual little race to the garage. I believe this song is supposed to be something hopeful, almost an encouragement or reflection of White's inner thoughts. He's getting better at this, he's improving and learning to be a better Black everyday, and he's going to be better and stronger at the end of this fight he's chosen.