#might write a drabble bc GOD

[obsesssedblerd]

can't stop thinking about the idea of being enemies with benefits with curse user suguru

[awrkive]

[TEASER] CATCH YOUR WAVE (m) — JJK.

the last thing you expected when you strolled into your new school is to become the favorite project of the 5’11” tatted-up overly enthusiastic, golden-retriever-in-human-form PE teacher, jeon jungkook. he’s all goofy grins, bad math puns, and relentless charm, while you’re busy pretending you’re immune to his antics... spoiler alert: you’re not. and that infuriates you. 

alternatively, jungkook tries to prove that opposites don’t just attract — they collide. a classic case of one plus one equals: “oh, no. i like him.”

PAIRING jeon jungkook x (female) reader

GENRE r18+ (fuff, slight angst, mature content) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

WORD COUNT ~15k (still working around the final wc)

TEASER WORD COUNT 1.8k words

WARNINGS/MISC teachers!au, pe teacher!jk, math teacher!reader, seven!jungkook, himbo!jk, coworkers!au (works in the same school), oc gets kinda mean sometimes but jungkook likes it lmfao, extremely corny pick up lines.. he tries 💔 2000s romcoms references (sorry) warnings for this teaser: nothing major. just bad math puns delivered by himbo jungkook :')

NOTES inspired by the whole “can she gaf me💔” vibes in the seven mv (by jungkook) and ultimately the click five’s song, catch your wave (hence the title🥸 pls listen to the song for the whole vibes hehe <3). ive been wanting to write himbo jk for awhile bcs all my jks are like … smart so far so i thought wait we need to change that. gahhhh im so so freaking excited ive been thinking about writing this ever ever since i wrote that one himbo jk drabble 💃🏼

[ CYW MOODBOARD ] • [ MAIN MASTERLIST ]

RELEASE DATE 2025, JUNE xx | 01:00 AM KOREAN STANDARD TIME (GMT+9)

They say life is a balance of good and bad days, and you’re not a pessimistic person, but sometimes enough is enough. How is your week already this bad when it’s just barely started? 

Sunday morning, when you picked up your laundry from the shop, you were too late to realize that you mixed not just one but two white underwear with the colored loads. You’d blame it on the fact that they were too tiny, too flimsy for you to notice. But you know you should’ve double-checked before putting them in the machine. And now you have lost two panties. And in this economy? That shit cost a ton. 

When Monday came and the head of the Math Department informed you there was a sudden shift in your schedule for the semester, it meant that instead of teaching three Algebra classes for tenth graders, you’re also teaching pre-Algebra for eighth graders, meaning you’re gonna have to cross the long walk from the high school building to the middle school one, the latter being all the way to the left wing, completely the opposite side of the right wing where the faculty room and your initial classes are. 

Today, you’ve woken up with your WiFi not connected to the internet (something you have to talk to your landlord about when you come back home) and just two minutes ago, you realized you forgot to take your coffee order with you from the cafe across your school building, the sad garlic bread you bought along with it staring right at you without its beloved beverage pair. 

Truthfully, it might be your last straw. How the hell is this happening to you out of all people? The semester is just starting, for god’s sake, and you’re already hanging on by a thread. 

You take a deep breath on your seat before standing up from your cubicle, heading to the coffee machine by the snack bar.

You hate the coffee here. Whatever brand they keep on stocking the pantry with, it’s too naturally sweet – and you don’t like your coffee with sugar. 

But you have no choice but to make do. The cafe’s too far out and your first class starts in about twenty minutes. 

“Good morning, Ms. Math Genius – ready to crunch some numbers today?” 

As if this day couldn’t get any worse, you shut your eyes close for a moment when you hear the familiar voice. 

You stir your coffee with downturned lips.

“Only if you promise to flex those brain muscles—” You say, turning to look to the side. Much to your expectation, it’s Jeon Jungkook, leaning casually against the wall with that usual faux suave he keeps on around you – which you can’t take seriously because his big doe eyes tell you a completely different story. He’s wearing some Nike dri fit shirt, one that’s too tight around his chest and accentuates a comparatively tiny waist that you have to force your eyes upwards. But as they do, they land on the biceps that are straining against the poor material. It wasn’t lost on you though that one second after, they’re suddenly flexing. You arch your brow as you glance a look on his face. “—as much as you flex those biceps.” 

Jungkook’s lips curl into a huge grin, expecting the jab. 

“You know it!” He chuckles, running his fingers through his bangs. “I’m all about solving problems, and I’d say my favorite equation is you plus me equals a perfect start to the day.” 

You fight a loud groan from escaping your lips as soon as he says that, giving him a certain look before shaking your head and going back to your coffee. 

But you should’ve known better by now, because Jungkook – aside from being a PE teacher extraordinaire and every student’s favorite at that, Thee Football Coach, 5’11” tatted brunette with a long, fluffy hair paired with an objectively, annoyingly attractive face – is persistent. 

Most especially when it comes to annoying you. 

A few steps, and then you feel him getting closer to you. 

“Did you know that—” 

You roll your eyes. That’s it. If it’s another one of his corny math pick-up lines again you swear to god— 

“Jungkook, you don’t have to keep doing this everyda—” 

“—we’re like parallel lines?” 

“What.”

“Did you know that we’re like parallel lines?” Jungkook repeats earnestly, just like he always does. When he’s up in your personal space like this, it’s easy to get a waft of his cologne – and your annoyance could’ve been justified if he smelled like shit but somehow, even though he looks like he just got back from a run judging by his running shoes and gym bag, he still smells… okay. 

Just okay. As in, you don’t care how good he smells like or how he smells at all.

You make sure to keep that thought at the back of your head. 

“No.” You say, hoping to dismiss the conversation right there as you pick up the cup of coffee from the machine, ready to turn on your heel, but then Jungkook laughs ever so slightly and gives your arm a barely-there poke.

“Come on, entertain me a little.” 

You squint your eyes at him. He challenges your stare with a growing smile on his face. Scoffing, you roll your eyes again before you put the paper cup back on the table. With a sigh, you cross your arms and look at Jungkook. For a split second, his eyes cast downwards to your chest level but he quickly snaps out of it. 

“Okay… we’re like parallel lines… why? Because we’ll never meet?” You say in response to his little request, keeping your tone impassive. 

Jungkook’s eyes slowly widen at your words, smile slowly dropping – as if the logic of your words have ruined one of his million pick-up lines again. 

“I– no! What? I meant, we’re like, always running to each other! Side by side. Parallel lines.”

“Okay… so still never meeting?” You ask impatiently, brows furrowing. 

Jungkook mirrors your confusion. Then, he raises a hand, one finger up. “One second. I’ll fix this–” he takes his phone out from his pocket, types on it quickly, lip jutting out as he reads whatever he’s looking up, and then, “Ohh, I might have meant asymptote lines. We’re like asymptote lines.” 

Your face contorts into even deeper confusion. Holy shit, you’re not dealing with this very early on in the morning, especially not after the circumstances of the past hours.

“Asymptote lines are more depressing than parallel lines if we’re talking metaphorically.” 

Jungkook squints his eyes at you, suspicious. “Are you sure?”

“I would hope I know my lines, Jungkook. I teach them everyday.” 

He laughs again, eyes crinkling at the corners cutely, and you hate how that tugs something at your heartstrings. 

You catch yourself right at that moment.

Jeon Jungkook is not cute. You keep in mind. He’s not cute. 

Jungkook thinks you’re so cute. Gorgeous, most of all, and unbelievably so. You and your signature furrowed brows and pink pouty lips.

As usual, you have your hair up in a clean bun today, and Jungkook can smell the lace of sweet vanilla from you as he takes a step closer to get a cup for himself. 

He loves the coffee here. Whatever brand they keep stocking the pantry with, it’s sweet as fuck. Just like how Jungkook likes his caffeine dose. Kind of like you, he thinks. 

Jungkook casts a quick glance at you again, can't really help himself when you're so pretty, although he makes sure to be subtle about it.

You’re wearing another one of your pencil skirts, one that he has to avoid staring at for longer than three seconds lest his mind takes him too far – but the upper view is even more of a torture, unfortunaly for him. Because as much as you wear the same outfit every single day and it should mean that Jungkook should get used to it by now, he can never be immune to your silk long sleeves, where you keep the top three buttons open – and as much as Jungkook tries to pry his gaze away from the exposed skin down from your neck, it’s like there’s a strange force in the universe that keeps him on it. Doesn’t really help that you like crossing your arms under your chest, too, making his mind run a mile per minute at the thoughts that form inside his head when a very apparent cleavage shows—

Alright. Damn. It’s like 8 am. 

And you were saying something about lines…

“Yeah? I hope you can teach me too, I need to—” 

“Goodbye, Mr. Jeon.” You cut him off before he can even finish his sentence, taking your coffee with you as you head to the direction of your cubicle. 

The nickname makes Jungkook’s lips curl up. He probably shouldn’t smile, given that you only ever call him that when you want to cut the conversation with him short. But he can’t help it, it sounds sweet coming from your pretty lips. 

In an attempt to not look like a fool, Jungkook bites his lip as he watches your disappearing figure, your heels clicking on the floor as you walk away. Your legs look so long in that grey pencil skirt, and it really should be criminal how you look like that even when you’re just showing your back. 

In his trance, he forgets about the brewing coffee in his cup and absentmindedly takes it out while the machine is still running, the hot liquid pouring from the nozzle quickly burning the skin on his finger. 

“Oh, shit!” He hisses, jumping from the shock, almost knocking his coffee out but thankfully he manages to catch it on time, just as when another member of the faculty walks by the snack bar. 

With an awkward smile, Jungkook raises a thumbs up to Mrs. Lee. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Lee. Looking rad as always.” He cheerfully greets, and Mrs. Lee’s confusion from seeing him fumble with his cup earlier quickly turns into a coo. 

“Oh, Mr. Jeon, you charming kid. I was just gonna get my cup of coffee.” She says, walking towards his direction. 

Jungkook adjusts the strap of his gym bag to his shoulder and takes a cup for Mrs. Lee with a grin, making her smile. 

She thanks him and with a playful salute, Jungkook goes toward the general direction of his cubicle, and because the PE department and Math department are just across from each other, he walks past you, typing something on your iPad before you look around and catch his gaze.

Jungkook automatically waves, smiling brightly, but you only frown, shutting your iPad close and ignoring him.

Amused, Jungkook tries to fight off a huge grin, taking a few long strides to get to his own cubicle. 

His day is already off to a good start.

© 𝐀𝐖𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐕𝐄 2025. all rights reserved. copying, editing, reposting and/or translating any of my works are not allowed.

[notiddygothgf]

drabble: dante sparda x latina!reader prompt: hey guys! i wanted to write something short to make up for the delay on pretty (i promise, i ain't forget about y'all, i just got sick lol) hot take. i feel like dante would be one of those white boys who will ride for their latina gfs. idk, like he'd be into that crazy feisty toxica shit yfm? (im projecting) cw: cliche hispanic reader bc i fear i am the stereotype, toxica gf, dante is so in love with her lmfaooo, smutty content, reader is hispanic but anyone can/is welcome to read!! muah!

dante is a man of many talents. he can slay devils, he can dance like no one’s watching, and he can eat pussy like a starving dog. in fact, there is nothing that he thinks he can’t handle (with a little practice, of course). he loves a challenge, and you’re certainly no exception.

so, when he (literally) came crashing into your life one day, sent flying in through your living room window after a demon blew up right in his face, it was game over for him. strong women were his fucking weakness, and there you were, only half as tall as him, donning a bonnet and a fuzzy robe with some pink slippers, and... was that a pan in your hand?

before he could even think twice, you were swinging on him, bringing the cookware up into the air and smacking him straight across the face with it -- hard enough to make his head jolt to the side. if he weren't half demon, that probably would have been enough to knock him out. he was, though, so the pan took more damage than he probably did.

still, it hurt like a bitch.

"fucking ow," he hissed, rubbing his head where it had made contact with your pan.

surprised but not the slightest bit unmotivated, you tossed the bent weapon to the side and decided to use your whole body weight (which wasn't much) to shove him towards the door, shouting phrases at him in a language he didn't understand the whole time. he didn't even have a chance to explain himself before he was standing in the hallway outside of your apartment with the door slammed in his face.

confused was an understatement.

dante felt bad, honest. so, when he came back a week later (even though he definitely shouldn't have), he made sure to bring an olive branch (a metaphorical one. it was actually a bouquet of flowers). he made sure to tidy up his appearance before he knocked at your door.

you answered, much to his surprise, though you didn't look too happy to see him. (he couldn't imagine why you would have been).

truthfully, he didn't really know why he felt the need to come back. hell, he didn't even know if you spoke the same language at all, let alone enough for him to convey his apology.

still, he wanted to try.

"I wanted to say that I'm-- uh..." he trailed off, suddenly a whole lot less confident now that you were actually standing here. this time, you were wearing a pretty nightgown, one made of red satin, and it made his brain short circuit. when his eyes fell on your lips, your lashes, he realized something.

he was fucking nervous.

"I'm sorry about the window," He chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. "I wasn't really sure if you spoke english 'cause you were yelling at me in spanish-- least, I think it was spanish-- god, I'm really screwing this up."

you looked at him expectantly, brow quirked, hand on your hip.

"for you. i'm sorry. i want to make it up to you." he cleared his throat, holding the bouquet out to you. "por... uh... tu."

you turned up your nose. "I speak english, dumbass."

you had the prettiest fucking accent, a twang to the words. he'd never heard someone speak the way you did, and he was entranced. snatching the flowers from his hands, you eyed them up precariously, like they might contain a bomb.

"flowers ain't enough to make up for the window you busted through," you added. "dickhead."

"i know, i know," he sighed. then, feeling bold (for some reason), he decided to push his luck. "maybe i can... make it up to you over dinner sometime?"

"tu 'ta loco," you huffed out a humorless laugh, leaning on the door with your hip. "you think i'm gonna go to dinner with you?"

dante glanced behind you. you'd fixed the window already.

"lucky guess?" he tried.

you bit back, "not a chance."

then, you were moving to shut the door on him -- again, only this time, he came prepared. throwing his arm out, he stopped it just in time, reaching for your arm.

"wait," he sighed.

you glanced back at him, but you didn't turn around. she's mad at me again.

he didn't know why he cared, but that was besides the point. he wanted to make things right (you were smoking hot).

so, he added, "i'll make it worth your while, promise. pretty thing like you deserves a meal."

he didn't know what was more shocking, the fact that he'd actually been ballsy enough to say it, or the fact that you actually thought about it, mulling the idea over in your head while you worried your lower lip.

you looked him up and down -- slowly. then, once you decided you were pleased by what you saw, you jerked your head up at him, "I get off work at six tomorrow. swing by at seven and i'll think about it."

then, you closed the door, and he was punching the air, victorious.

he was there at seven that night, then the night after that, and before he knew it, the two of you were going six months strong. the longest he'd ever been with a girl, honestly, but when you'd threatened to kill him if he cheated on you, he figured he liked it too much to even think about leaving.

he was head over heels -- fucking crazy about you. he loved everything about you. your shows, your music, the way you'd wake up extra early on sunday and blast music while you cleaned the apartment. he even loved your cooking, fuck, american food just didn't compare. half a year in, and he'd already met your entire family (including all of your cousins and your great-abuela, who'd insisted upon him kissing her on the cheek).

he was smitten.

you cared for him. deeply. more deeply than he'd ever thought anyone would. he loved it. even when you'd go so far as to blow his phone up with missed calls when he was late to call you -- even if he was in the middle of a mission, he'd make it a point to answer.

no, he knew better than to leave his princess waiting.

"what's up, babe?" he would ask into the receiver, firing off a few rounds at a demon and hoping they hit their target. "i'm kinda busy right now."

"kinda busy? i been waitin' for that ass to call me for three fuckin' hours and you're kinda busy?" you hissed back, the words rushed and quick, "maldito estúpido. llevo esperando toda la noche-- te voy a matar, entiendes?"

**translation: fucking stupid. i've been waiting all night. i'm going to kill you, do you understand me?

god, you sounded so fucking sexy.

"i'm in the middle--" he fired off another shot, narrowly avoiding an airborne object. this time, it hit its target. "i'm kinda fighting for my life right now."

"espera a que llegas a casa-- vas a tener que pelear conmigo! que loco!"

(loose) translation: just you wait until you get home, you're gonna fight me next. how crazy.

he didn't have a fucking clue what you were saying, but he sure as hell loved it when you spoke spanish to him.

"mmm, sounds great, baby," he hummed back. "you talkin' dirty to me?"

"something like that," you huffed back. "you better be home in ten minutes."

hell, he even loved fighting with you. he fuckin' loved your attitude. it would get him all hot and bothered when you'd raise your pretty voice at him, yelling at him for tracking blood on the floor or coming back late.

in fact, he'd be grinning ear to ear while you tore him to shreds. when you reached for your slipper and raised it at him, he didn't bother ducking. no, he knew you loved him.

again, positively smitten.

"hijo de puta!"

it wasn't until you raised your hand to (lightly) hit his chest that he snapped out of his (blah blah blah, place name proper name, backstory stuff) reverie, and caught you by the wrist.

"I have no idea what that means," he commented, eyes dropping down to yours, tongue licking over his lips. hell -- looking at you like this, flushed and fire-eyed, he couldn’t even remember why you two had been fighting in the first place. "but it sounds hot. i'm in."

"means son of a bitch, asshole," you rolled your eyes. "you fail spanish class or what?"

"must've missed that unit, loca" he grinned back. "now, c'mere."

call him corny, but it got you smiling, and that's what mattered.

you barely had time to gasp before he was lifting you up off the ground, like you weighed nothing.

“put me down, you fucking asshole!” you started, smacking at his shoulders, squirming in his arms, but it didn't do much to stop him from kissing you.

hard.

it shut you up immediately -- your fingers dug into him, your legs tightening around his hips without thinking. you melted into him before you could even fucking stop yourself.

"puñeta," you muttered against his lips.

as dante carried you toward the bedroom, still breathing against your mouth between kisses, he murmured low in your ear:

“I know how we can resolve this.”

and you didn’t argue. no, you let him lay you down on that beautiful queen sized bed of yours and get down on his knees, kissing down your chest, your stomach, and inching down south.

see, that was another thing dante loved about you. your taste.

he could eat you for hours (and he planned on it). licking up and down your core, getting his face all wet with your sweet juices. he would die for the pussy, without a doubt.

"papí" you'd call him. papito, if you wanted something. he fucking loved it. it made him feel like the man.

shit, he was addicted to it. he would eat for his pleasure, fingers digging into your hips, wiggling his head side to side, letting you tangle your hands in his hair and steer his head whichever way you pleased. he was your bitch, after all.

and, who knows, after he'd finish making you cum all over his face and his fingers, he might just try and fuck that attitude out of you -- just the way you liked. the way that would have you clawing at the sheets, at his back, screaming muffled words of praise into the pillow, making a mess on the sheets.

but, then again, he knew it would be back the next day.

that's what he loved most about you, after all.

a/n: yk i had to spoil my girls. #sorrynotsorry lmfao!!! i hope yall liked it! pretty part 2 coming soon (i swear this time!) xxx

I obviously do not own dmc or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

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[keferon]

I should be asleep but this is consuming me.

So have this poorly thought out fic drabble idea of mine:

Prowl is in pain, hurt and agony, physically and emotionally. He shouldn't have let Jazz convince him, he should have listened to that tingly uncertain feeling on his spark about this

But dammit was Jazz so...so convincing. It pained him to realise how much he wanted to trust the organic.

What didn't help was that bastard in front of him giving him mock grief. Prowl knew he did not care at all about how he feels, he knew there was some sort of sick enjoyment to all of this.

"Sorry, he couldn't come visit again. He actually had to help out with the newest mech, in fact, this prototype had one of your own parts in it!" Prowl wanted to sob, twisted asshole.

Suddenly, something seemed to have caught the organic's attention. Prowl didn't hear it at first, but once the man in front of him turned around in confusion, he heard it, there was some sort of commotion on the other side of the door.

Suddenly, before any of them could question what was going on, the doors burst out open with an explosion, causing many tools to clatter to the ground as the ground shook.

"GET AWAY FROM MY PARTNER!" Prowl, in a weak yet desperate attempt, turned his head to look at the direction of the voice. He recognised it-

"Jazz?" He spoke weakly. That seemed to have crushed the organic's soul, his face crumbling from his previous rage, before, in a blink of an eye, it turned back to fury. Fury so strong it could kill whoever dared look.

"Jazz?!" The twisted man standing in front of Prowl's face looked offended if not straight out annoyed at the other's presence. "What are you-?" He couldn't even finish his sentence before the other dropped whatever it was he had been holding and jumped on top of him. The two fought for a while, Jazz punching the guy a few times on the face before grabbing him by the neck of his shirt and throwing him to the other side of the room.

Jazz huffed, making sure to keep his eyes on his target for a second to see if that was enough to have knocked him out. It was. And once he was sure the guy wouldn't come back at him, he turned to look at Prowl, who so far, has only made move to watch the whole thing go down.

It took a while for the mech to properly process how Jazz looked, how he looked at him. Guilt, pain, sadness, exasperation even. It almost seemed like he was...crying?

"Prowl!" His partner? Ex-partner? (He wasn't sure anymore), ran to grasp his face, and he let him, to weak to fight back like he wanted to. Then he felt it, small droplets of water fall down his faceplates, 'Oh, so he was crying'. "I'm so sorry, i shouldn't have brought you here- we, we need to get you out-" as he moved, Prowl took notice of how dishevelled the other looked, the sudden smell of iron making him realise that he seemed to be covered in blood, if it was his own or not, Prowl wasn't sure, perhaps it was both. Taking a closer look, he started to notice all the small bruises and scratches on Jazz's face, in fact he took notice of a limp on his left leg too.

The other just seemed to be mumbling to himself as he tried to free Prowl, who so far has not spoken all that much, he felt too weak and tired, and he really had nothing to say other than a simple reply to what Jazz said before but he didn’t process it till now

"You really shouldn't have..."

---

Ok that's all i have rn, bc I'm not much of a writer and idk how to write these characters so they might be a bit OOC sorry ^^;;

But feel free to like add and/or fix anything to this.

Just wanna add the note that maybe, the reason Jazz found out is bc he recognised Prowl's plating on the new mech thing they built ;)

OH MY GOD I CANT EVEN

RAAAAHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS. OH FUCK. THI s. SO GOOD AND PAINFUL IM ASCENDING TO SOME NEW UNDISCOVERED DIMENSIONS

ALSO. oh my fucking god you have galaxy brain for this. imagine the horror Jazz feels when he sees this random new robot his boss wants to test. And it’s plating is so freaking familiar. He runs his hands along the panels. And he recognises them, even repainted. Because he spent so much time sitting on them, repairing them, crawling on them with his magnets. Sleeping on them even. He sees the “scar” from the time he helped Prowl to fix his armor and welded some cracks in it.

And now the fucking plates are here but Prowl isn’t.

[paarksunghoon]

hello omg i love love LOVE deep honey, which is rare cus i usually do not touch fluff at all but smth abt the way u wrote got to me. i was wondering that in case u wanted an idea, u could write abt sunghoon rushing over to take care of his sick girlfriend? :3 just a thought or any headcannons u have on that would do fine but if u wanna turn it into a drabble or fic that's good too, especially if it's a continuation of deep honey

anyways, that is all from me, have a good day!!!

thank you so much :’) for all of my nsfw drabbles and content, I really enjoy writing the softer kind of stories. switched up the request just a little. consider this a token of my appreciation for your kindness. xx

ps this is what I’m imaging him wearing

***

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that nothing good could ever happen when you text someone past 2AM.

Both existential and physical dread consume you the second you open your texts and see a plethora of unread messages due to your current state of being. You’ve been bedridden for what feels like years but it’s only been a few of days. It’s technically Sunday morning and technically you should be fast asleep, especially since you’d taken medication to help you rest throughout the night. But seems like your body has other plans for you.

Tossing and turning won’t do either. Your head feels much better than it has for the past two days. You’d taken two days off or classes because of intense migraines paired with what seems like onset sickness due to it being flue season. Guilt over missing classes and groveling to your professors (even if they extended grace and told you to rest up) ate you alive, only ebbing away when you closed your eyes and slept.

Your roommate has been away because of a family event and what was once a promising weekend full of relaxation and the apartment to yourself is now a time for you to wallow in your misery. You’ve gone through countless tissues and have slept more in the past few days than in your entire life. It feels like your head might as well be cut off with how many problems your eyes, nose, and throat are giving you.

To pass the time, social media distracts you for a few minutes and you catch glimpses of what your friends have been up to. Partying. Studying. Eating at the cafeteria. All of these are mundane events you took for granted because you’d love to be anywhere but rotting away in your apartment. You’d rather studying for a midterm over feeling like you can’t move without losing your breath.

You take this time to catch up on texts as well. There are so many what remain unread by you and guilt crawls up your spine as you begin to reply to everything.

hi riki!! sorry I haven’t replied yet. I’ve been sick all weekend :/ I wish I could’ve gone to jake’s game with u bc it looked so fun ☹️

jungwon ur your cat is so cute omg…please send more vids. also sorry for replying late im sick lol

sunoo I swear to god if you watch another episode without me, I’m gonna beat your ass whenever I recover

yes, mom. I’m resting as much as I can! sorry I haven’t responded sooner. I still feel sick

heeseung do u think sunghoon would be weirded out if i text him right now. pls advise 😁

Heeseung immediately reads the message and the text bubble appears straight away. He’s one of your closest friends in university who always happens to be friends with Park Sunghoon, the guy you’ve been talking to for the past month and a half.

heeseung: Nah not weird. He’d probably like hearing from you

heeseung: He was asking about you earlier today and said you haven’t been talking to him as much

you: looking at my phone made me nauseous :/

heeseung: You should probably tell him that bc he’s been staring at his phone all day

you: soooo it wouldn’t be weird if I texted him out of the blue rn?? usually we don’t like…start conversations so late

heeseung: You’re overthinking. Just text him and if he doesn’t reply then he’s asleep and will text you in the morning

you: I’m scared of fucking it up

heeseung: There’s nothing to fuck up. If he gets mad that you took care of yourself (he won’t be) then he’s the one who fucked up

you: ugh when did u become the voice of reason

heeseung: :)

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard after you’ve opened Sunghoon’s text. You can imagine his slight pout when you think about how he’d react when he realizes you haven’t texted him back, which makes you feel even more guilty than you already are.

You’re not really sure how you started talking to him, let alone befriended Heeseung to the point where he started inviting you to hang out with him and his group of friends. Heeseung had originally been a study partner for a shared class back when the two of you were sophomores. It’s been a couple of years since then and now most of your conversations consist of TikTok jokes and Heeseung having to deal with you pining over one of his friends.

Sunghoon is every bit of cool you can imagine. He was so quiet when you first met him, residing in his oversized sweater since it was approaching the beginning of autumn. Heeseung invited you to a local bar on a Friday night after midterms and said your first drink would be on him if you made it before last call, knowing very well you were likely getting ready to slip underneath your blankets and call it a night.

He was right as always. You showed up wearing jeans and an old shirt with a jacket that was too big for your body. You’d made somewhat of an effort to look presentable since you’d be hanging out with his friends near campus and would rather not look like you’d gotten rolled over by a locomotive. It was there you met Sunghoon for the first time. He was so quiet that you barely heard him talk until an hour into hanging out with him, but that’s when you learned that he was someone you needed to get to know before he’d show you his loud, boisterous personality.

The more you hung out with him, the more you started to picture yourself with Sunghoon, away from the group you started to call your friends too. You’d only see him when Heeseung invited you out or if you bumped into someone else while Sunghoon was in tow with them. Neither of you seemed to cross paths otherwise and even then, Sunghoon was a bit too timid to approach you first and start a conversation.

Part of you wondered if you were ever too bold when you’d get drunk with him and your friends. You were loud, full of laughter and affection that none of your friends were surprised every time you shouted compliments across the tables and declared your love for the little group you considered to be your family away from home. Heeseung had gotten used to it pretty quickly and so did the others, albeit it took a while for their ears to stop glowing red every time you’d pull them into a drunken hug.

Maybe you sent a little too far with Sunghoon, who immediately tensed when your arms wrapped around his shoulders the first time you let your inhibitions down fully. A few beers and shots in, and Heeseung was anticipating your drunken rant about how much you love the little life the five of you had created and hoped that it would continue even after you all graduate.

Sunghoon always looked a bit intimidating with his dark, thick eyebrows and shielded his wandering eyes. He always looked like he knew what he wanted and his grace always made you think twice about what you’d say to him. Although, you knew this was the beginning of an onset crush that wouldn’t remain hidden for long, let alone when you weren’t sober.

So you’d thrown your arms around Sunghoon’s shoulder and told him how happy you were that Heeseung introduced the two of you. While you try not to think about that moment too much, you recall telling Sunghoon that he was slowly starting to become one of your favorite people because of how funny he is when people least expect it. You liked that he was so kind to his friends and that he was so confident in himself, and that you wished you could be a little more like him.

You also said he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. It was a sobering moment because he looked at you like you’d grown two heads and his shoulders felt like they might’ve been pushing you off of his body.

Stumbling with consistent apologies, none of your mutual friends seemed to notice what was happening behind them. You can picture the look on his face when your mind crosses to this moment, how he’d looked at you with bewilderment with his mouth ajar. Sunghoon didn’t say anything and you took that cue to leave him alone and head to the bar, where you hoped distance would make this night seem less tragic than it was.

When morning came around, you were the only person in your shared group chat who declined getting a late morning breakfast due to your embarrassment. Even during the next weekend, when Jake opened up his apartment for a casual hang out, you were the only person who didn’t show up, citing work and study stresses keeping you away from your friends.

Heeseung knew those were merely excuses.

“Cut the shit, Y/N. Are you okay? Did one of the guys do anything to make you uncomfortable?” The worst laced in his tone made you feel guilty for having him think the worse of people he knew before he met you.

“No, nothing like that. I think I’m the one who fucked up and made them uncomfortable.”

“Well clearly not since Jake invited you to his place. What’s going on? Do you want me to come over?”

The last thing you expected from Heeseung was to see him double over in laugher when you explained your predicament, clutching onto your bed like he’d fall to the ground if he didn’t. You’re sure that fit of laugher gave him a new set of abs.

“Sunghoon wasn’t weirded out. He texted me and asked if you were okay.” Heeseung pulled his phone out of his pocket to show you, leaving you in a cloud of confusion. “He probably likes you. Sunghoon’s a natural with girls even if he doesn’t realize they’re flirting with him. I think he likes you too because he’s acting really awkward because he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

That night left you with more question than answers. You considered texting Sunghoon and asking if the two of you could talk, but you didn’t want to make him even more uncomfortable and tell him what Heeseung told you in fear of putting your friend in an awkward position. So you let the discomfort settle and braved seeing him the next time one of your friends invited you out.

Which, to no one’s surprise, was the weekend after Jake’s get together. Seoul’s autumn carnival was in its third weekend by the time the five of you were able to find adequate time to ride every rollercoaster and eat until your stomachs caved in. You loved the fair and were the first person to buy an admission ticket. Poor Jay, who wasn’t the biggest fan of big rides in the first place, tagged along with Jake every time he insisted on it. You tried your best to keep some distance between yourself and Sunghoon, even if Heeseung said you were being ridiculous. You’d chosen to stick by him until Sunghoon volunteered to help you pick up the food trays when you lost a game of rock-paper-scissors.

“I’m sorry that I acted weird that night,” he said, cutting the silence as the two of you waited for your order. He didn’t have to explain. You knew what he was talking about. “Heeseung said you felt bad for making me feel uncomfortable but I need you to know you didn’t make me feel that way.”

That was the longest sentence he’d ever said to you, let alone it being the first time he initiated a conversation with you. He watched as you stood with your eyes wide and mouth parted like you wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it.

“I think you just caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting you to say nice things about me. I didn’t realize we were that close because you’d been affectionate with everyone but me up until that night.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I was, uh, flustered.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He averted your gaze and looked at his shoes momentarily before he looked back at you. “I liked what you said. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

You laughed at the awkwardness dissipating. “I thought I crossed a line, or something. You just sat there and I thought I fucked up by touching you.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t. I…I liked it a lot.” You tried to hide a grin by keeping your bubbling excitement under wraps failed miserably. Sunghoon smiled too, offering to carry most of the trays back to the table where your friends were too hungry to talk for the next ten minutes.

The memory brings you back to the present where your thumbs hover the keyboard. You start to read back the conversation between the two of you and feel those butterflies erupt in your stomach for the umpteenth time. The two of you have talked about anything and everything. Nothing is off limits. So why is texting him to let him know you’ve been sick for the past few days so difficult for you?

you: hi

you: sorry I haven’t texted a lot in the past few days. I’ve been having migraines and now I’ve caught a cold ):

you: im sorry for texting so late too

He texts immediately.

sunghoon: You don’t have to be sorry. Are you feeling better now?

sunghoon: Actually don’t answer that

Your phone rings.

“Hey,” you say with your phone propped against your ear. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me. I’m the only who’s calling you when you’re sick, so I’m technically the one bothering you.” His laugh on the other line makes you smile a little too hard. “I was really worried. None of the guys heard from you so I figured you needed some space.”

“Unfortunately. I had to skip a few classes because it hurt to stand up. I’m pretty sure I’ve slept more this past week than I have in the last month.”

“I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

“I feel bad that I haven’t been able to talk to you.”

As if Sunghoon could sense you pouting, he clicks his tongue and reassures you. “It’s fine, Y/N. I’d probably do the same thing. I can’t imagine how much pain you’ve been in.”

“I would honestly rather study and take a million midterms than go through this again. I feel like someone just took their shoe off of my head.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re doing better. Can I bring you anything? Medicine, maybe?”

You cough a little. “No, but thank you. My friend dropped off a lot of NyQuil and other stuff to help me. It’s working…kind of. Still feel like shit, though.”

“…Can I come over? To help you with your sickness, of course. I can bring you soup.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You frantically rise from your bed amidst his words and realize there are tissues on the ground and dirty clothes strewn everywhere because of your lack of energy. Your living room must be a mess, too, and this would also be the first time Sunghoon would see you without any makeup on.

“I want to. But I mean, only if you’re up for it. I don’t want to stress you out since you’re sick. I just want to help make you feel better. That…and I miss you.”

Sunghoon’s never been so direct before. Even though the two of you have been talking for a while, neither of you have been so forward about it. Conversations are always subtly flirty to the point where the effervescent feeling simmers just underneath the surface. The two of you have hung out without the rest of your friends and have been alone before, but neither one of you has gone so far as you be so bold about the other.

“I miss you too,” you whisper into the phone.

“Give me thirty minutes. I’ll come with soup.”

He hangs up and with a newfound sense of urgency, you make your bed and throw away any stray trash. You put your dirty laundry in the hamper, which is piled high and untouched. It’ll be a problem for when you’re not sick.

The living room isn’t too bad. You straighten furniture and throw away empty takeout containers and wash a few utensils. The tasks don’t feel as draining as they did a few days ago and you’re starting to regain a little bit of your breath.

True to his word, Sunghoon arrives thirty minutes after he said he would. You open the door and look at him. He’s wearing blue hoodie and sweatpants with specs that make him look significantly more attractive than you’re used to.

“Hi,” Sunghoon says with a gentle smile. “I missed you.”

You bite your lip and blurt out your first thought. “You look really good in those glasses.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “Thank you. Can I come in?”

“Right, right.” You step aside and he follows you into your apartment. He takes his shoes off and places them neatly by the shoe rack.

“I might need to reheat this. I got it from that place near my apartment. You know, the one with the yellow banner?”

“I love that place.”

He smiles at you. “I know. Can I heat up some soup for you?”

When you nod, Sunghoon moves to the correct cabinet and pulls out everything he needs. It astounds you because he’s only ever been to your apartment twice before, both times with your other friends in tow. It dawns on you that it’s the first time the two of you are alone in your space. You’re touched that he remembers where your things are.

He beckons you to sit on the counter in front of the steaming bowl and the aroma of spices makes your mouth water. You haven’t been able to eat consistently in the past few days, surviving on bland foods like bread and crackers to sustain your health because anything else made you feel sicker than you were. The steam feels good against your skin and you dig in right away.

Sunghoon pulls your hair back when it gets close to the rim and holds it for you while you lap up the soup. It seems as though you’re hungrier than you thought because you sit there wordlessly, shoveling liquid into your mouth while Sunghoon watches.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I must look like a zoo animal.”

“You’re sick, Y/N. You have nothing to apologize for. The first meal you can stomach is the best one.” It’s like he gets you. Sunghoon continues to hold your hair back until you’re finished. He washes the bowl and spoon, and puts it back where they belong.

Sunghoon turns around and looks at you under the ambient lighting you and your roommate put up in lieu of the overhead lights. It feels like he’s inspecting you and you try really hard not to think about the fact that you don’t feel presentable in this moment.

“Your apartment feels very you,” Sunghoon says. “I like all of the green furniture and the art on the wall.”

“My roommate picked the decor out but I’m starting to understand why she loves art so much.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, looking at you. “Would you want to go to an art museum with me?”

“I’d really like that.”

Sunghoon pulls you by the hand to your couch and you try your best not to feel flustered with his touch. He sits you down on the cushion and immediately you feel like you need to be hyper vigilant because he’s looking around the apartment and you’re wondering if he can see the messes you see.

“Do you have a blanket? We could watch some TV. Or I could go. I don’t know.”

“Don’t go.” You say it too quickly but Sunghoon’s shoulders relax. “The blankets are beside the couch.”

He drapes it over you, leaving himself to fend for the cold. Although you’re sure he’s pretty warm, you open up the blanket and invite him to share it with you.

This is new territory. You two have just been talking. But Sunghoon isn’t deterred. He slots himself next to you and doesn’t shy away when he feels your arm pressed against him.

“Sorry for the mess. And for, well…” He watches you gesture to your face, which is undoubtedly red with dark circles underneath your eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. I still like you.”

You aren’t used to him being so upfront like this. He watches you with easy eyes, the kind of feeling that makes you believe what he says. Sunghoon is pretty reserved when it comes to these types of things and you often find yourself being the one to push him towards his bolder side. But even though you feel flustered by his words and underneath his stare, you like this newer side of him.

“I’m such a mess.”

Sunghoon watches you push your forehead into his shoulder in an attempt to hide yourself from him. He smiles at your antics and loves the feeling of your body on his. He’s been hesitant to do things like hold your hand or kiss your cheek in fear or overstepping a boundary. He doesn’t know what came over him when he held your hair back from falling into the hot soup. He knows very well that he could’ve asked where you kept your hair ties, but helping you when he knows you need it felt like the right thing to do.

Now, he wonders if you’re growing bolder with him too. You let your forehead rest against his hoodie as you take deep breaths. He hears you sniffle a few times and nearly coos at the mere thought of you suffering from your sickness. When you pull yourself away from him, the tip of your nose is slightly runny and your eyes look a bit more red than usual.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

He bites his lip. “You could look worse.” You try not to let your cheeks rise in heat.

“You’re just being nice.”

Sunghoon laughs and shakes his head. He could never lie about how he feels towards you. “Nope. You still look really cute.” He watches the gears work inside your head and locates the TV remote when you don’t say anything. “What do you want to watch?”

“I dunno.”

“C’mon, you must’ve been watching TV while you were cooped up here.”

You shake your head. “Migraine, remember? Felt like my eyes were gonna burst.”

This time, he coos out loud. Sunghoon puts on a show you’ve mentioned enjoying in the past and hopes he chose correctly. You seem to be mellowing out and paying attention to the screen in front of you until you start breathing heavily. It’s not until he hears you try to silence a small coughing fit that he shoots up from his seat and pours you a glass of water.

“Here.” Sunghoon doesn’t let you hold the glass. Instead, he beckons your mouth open by placing the rim between your lips and lets you swallow the water, tilting it up until you’ve consumed all of it. He wipes the excess water from the corners of your mouth with his thumb and looks down at you with concern. “Do you have any tea? I can make you some. Hopefully that’ll soothe your throat.”

“Stupid medicine isn’t working,” you grumble. “I might as well perish.”

“Tea, baby,” Sunghoon says, the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. You almost don’t notice it. “Where do you keep your tea and honey?”

“Cabinet beside the fridge.”

Sunghoon comes back a few minutes later with piping hot chamomile tea with honey. You don’t know how he does it, anticipating your every need and putting just enough honey where it doesn’t feel like you’re stuffing your throat with the sweet nectar. You sip on it slowly as he situates himself back underneath the blanket and keeps his eyes on the television while you try to calm your erratic heartbeat.

Eventually, the episode finished and it’s almost four in the morning when you start to get sleepy. Sunghoon hears you yawning beside him and does his best not to grin like a lovesick idiot when you push your body against his in an attempt to get comfortable. You’re holding the empty cup loosely in your hands when your eyes start to droop and as much as Sunghoon would love to stay like this, he knows it’ll be better for you to sleep in your own bed with your back against the mattress.

“Baby,” Sunghoon whispers. He grabs the mug from your hands and sets it on the coffee table. “I think you should sleep in your bed. You’ll feel a lot better when you wake up.”

“But you’re so warm.”

He bites back a smile. “Thank you, but you’re gonna wake up with back pain and I know you’ll be mad that you didn’t sleep with pillows.”

He’s right and you know it but that doesn’t stop you from letting a whine slip past. Sunghoon doesn’t complain when you lean on him for support (or rather, you push your full weight onto him because you cannot be bothered with physical tasks at this late hour). Instead, he holds your waist with his arm and guides you into your bedroom from his memory of coming here a couple times before now.

Despite this, he’s never been inside your room. You’ve always kept the door closed but as he opens it, Sunghoon completely melts at how your bedroom is so utterly you. The dark green comforter hugs your queen-sized bed and a mountain of pillows cover the top near the bed frame. Your desk is an organized mess of notebooks, pens, and highlighters you carry with you during study sessions. Photographs in pretty frames decorate your walls along with posters of your favorite music and films.

He spots a picture of the two of you from that day at the amusement park when Heeseung insisted on taking a photo since the lighting was “perfect.” Sunghoon suspected that wasn’t the case but let him take it anyhow. He always considered that to be his first official memory with you. Knowing you might feel the same makes Sunghoon’s heart flutter.

“Let’s get you into bed, yeah?”

His soft touches make you fall much deeper into your tiredness. The mattress below you feels too good to be true as Sunghoon opens the blankets for you to crawl underneath. He watches you carefully as you scoot to one side and make yourself comfortable, wondering if you’re enjoying the side of him that wants to pamper you.

When you’re all tucked in with the blankets underneath your chin, Sunghoon can’t help but lean down and brush a few stray hair strands from your face. He caresses your cheek and holds himself back despite your lips being right in front of him. Instead, he settles for rubbing your soft cheek with his thumb before leaving.

Except, you reach out and grab onto his wrist. “Where are you going?”

His looks back at you in the dim light. “Home, baby. I’ll let you sleep.”

The pout you’re wearing is tearing him limb from limb. “I don’t want you to go home.”

“No?”

You shake your head. “Please…I haven’t seen you at all this week.” Sunghoon hears the strain in your voice and he isn’t sure if you’re awake enough to know what you’re saying. “I-I just want you here with me.”

How could he say no to that?

Sunghoon sits on the empty side of the bed and lets you guide your hand in his bigger one. He watches as you shake your head and he’s about to ask what you mean when you open the blanket.

He feels momentarily guilty when he pulls his hand away from you because he hears you whine again, but he slips off his hoodie to avoid overheating. He’s left in his sweatpants and a loose shirt when sliding into your bed right next to you.

You waste no time and attach yourself to Sunghoon, pushing your body until you’re resting on his chest. He does his best not to let his heartbeat give him away. This is the most he’s ever touched you. At best, he’d brush his hand against yours and waited for the right time to hold it. Today feels like he’s thrown caution into the wind.

Sunghoon puts his glasses on your night table and pulls you close to him, encircling his arms until he finds a comfortable position. Your warm breaths litter his skin and he feels like he could run laps with how happy he is in this moment. You look so cute with your body limp against his. He loves that you’re not hesitant around him anymore and hopes you know just how much he wants you close to him.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Sunghoon says in the dark, unsure if you’re still awake or not.

“What’s your secret?”

Your eyes remain closed, eyelashes covering your beautiful eyes and your cheeks are squished into a pout against his chest. He looks down at you like you’re precious cargo and a rare gem he never wants to let go of.

“I really want to kiss you.”

You don’t say anything. Instead, Sunghoon feels you move your head until you press a kiss against his chest, allowing your lips to linger for a few seconds before reverting back to your original position.

“Kiss me tomorrow.”

Sunghoon hears you snoring soon after.

“Yeah,” he whispers to himself. “I can do that.”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

NO MORE PRAYING, BABY, I'MA BE YOUR PREACHER!

I KNOW IT'S WEIGHING ON YOUR CONSCIENCE.

synopsis// choso isn't as holy as he seems—no thanks to you.

➚ pairing// priest!choso x gn!reader ➚ word count// .430

contents// 16+ EXPLICIT—NO ACTUAL SMUT BUT MENTIONS OF EXPLICIT ACTIONS (bj n hj), like lowkey corrupting choso...? priest!choso au, not really a full oneshot just a drabble/headcanon?

notes// MY FUCKING MAN DEAR LORD IM ON MY KNEES. anyway we know priest!choso came to me in a dream so thats what inspired this. and church by chase atlantic just fit so. this might b cringe n rlly bad bc i dont write suggestive stuff okay baiii :*

priest!choso, who can clearly see the way you act around him, yet at first does nothing about it.

priest!choso, who isn't blind, yet fears that sooner or later he’ll have to pluck out his eyes with the way he’s unable to stop staring at you.

priest!choso, who realizes it’s not really his fault he looks at you like that—not when you purposely wear the tightest jeans you own, looking like they're about to burst at the seams as you bend over, picking up the donation you oh so conveniently dropped in front of him.

priest!choso, who says he isn't stupid, yet will lean into your lingering touches that he knows are nothing more than a spider’s web for him to get caught in.

priest!choso, who will answer your questions knowing you don't actually care to hear the answer because he loves the way you look at him like he’s something to eat, sends shivers down his spine.

priest!choso, who will only let himself think about you and consider indulging in your actions in the seclusion and comfort of his room, where crosses and depictions of his god won't find him.

priest!choso, who will stop and pray when his hand snakes down into his pants, recalling the way you licked your lips and batted your eyelashes at him as you nodded innocently, pretending like you actually gave a fuck about anything he was saying—apologizing to his god for the fact that he was about to sin and asking for forgiveness.

priest!choso, who, after that night, tries to keep his distance. attempting to ignore you at every turn, which quickly becomes impossible when you just won't let up—cornering him every chance you get.

priest!choso, who has no idea how you do it. he doesn’t know how you get to him like this or how just one sway of your hips has any thought of ignoring you disappearing into thin air.

priest!choso, who thinks you’re here to test his devotion to his god.

priest!choso, who thinks fuck his devotion when you find him in the confessionals after mass one night.

priest!choso, who will let you coax him into just one kiss, because that's not so bad, right?

priest!choso, who lets you talk him into a hand job and even a blow job because technically he’s not breaking celibacy if there's no penetration. 

priest!choso, who lets you do whatever you want to him because he’s already this far gone, what’s a little more?

priest!choso, who doesn't know how he was devoted to a god for so long when you were right there.

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[goodtobeswift]

So glad I’m not the only one getting obsessed over Descendants all over again haha 😅

Sooo how about a Harry Hook reuniting with a crush!Reader who’s picked with the og VK’s to go to Auradon in the first film? I’d imagine one of the parents to be either Madam Mim or Mother Gothel (maybe she went cuckoo and snatched someone else’s kid), but of course it could just be left ambiguous since the entire point of a reader insert is for it to be the reader.

If Harry were close enough to someone to get a crush on them/fall in love I feel like they wouldn’t be friends with Mal and co, so Reader would probably get left out of going to the Isle in the second movie and probably wouldn’t see Harry until the barrier is brought down (and knowing Auradon, Reader probably wouldn’t be able to send letters (if it were me Id probably use interviews/events that broadcast to the Isle to say hi real quick so the Sea Three know they haven’t been forgotten)).

These are just suggestions of course so feel free to write the scenario/oneshot/drabble/etc however you see fit, I’m just a sucker for mutual pining and reunions haha-

If you don’t want to write this request for whatever reason please feel free to just delete it, thank you for taking time out of your day to write this if you do and have a good day ^-^

LOVED THIS IDEA!! i want to think this through a little more bc i want them to meet during the events of the second movie and god is harry pissed when he sees her after six months. she might said she misses her friends back in the isle but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t feel betrayed.

i think he’d be super snappy, not letting reader explain herself OH ANDi can picture him losing his mind and yapping to uma and gil right after he got the news😭😭 like very much to his dismay he can’t believe he’s still in love

also, if you want to keep requesting or keep expanding this idea i’m super down and i’d like you (or anyone) to claim anon emojis so i can keep up with the asks! bc i got more than i thought (IM WORKING ON THEM DW🫡)

[starry-sophrosyne]

Just.

a WOTC spinoff au where Sophist doesn't get banished but Bertrand still joins the rebellion (as/becomes the leader now, maybe for a diff reason like he got suspected instead of sophist for killing his father or something idk-) and Brent is forced to marry Cherie anyways, while he can only watch/help him prepare for his wedding as his best man (around the same time as WOTC, maybe Brent delayed marrying anyone for a few years due to the unstability of the kingdom after Bertrand left and his dad died)

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

i might write somewhat of a full version of this as a drabble but i would need to read up on versions of this writing prompt (i need ideas bc motivation for this drabble idea is lowkey low) but GOD the amount of things that would go UNSAID. In this universe, he gently pushes his friend towards the ballroom again, only without a lingering feeling on both of their lips. Because how could he? Right before he was about to get married, and unaware of his true feelings for him too? No, instead, without realizing it, he tears up:

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

"Never thought you'd cry at my wedding." — Brent's eyes widened in shock, a look comprised of genuine surprise and concern on his face just as Sophist realized the tears trembling in his waterline. Trying to play it off, he hoped his dear friend would take it as a moment of emotional vulnerability in opposition of what he currently felt.

"Oh, shut up! Am I not allowed to care about you for once? God, you asshole, of course I do! Why wouldn't I? I'm just.. really glad to see you so happy." — He rambled, ripping his glasses off his face with more emotion than he would've liked. Swiping the glassiness of his eyes onto his cheeks, he tried to force a painful smile, but still. He stiffened as Brent gave him something of a somber smile, heart cracking with every second that ticked by. Reasoning and rationality threatened to be swallowed up by his turbulent emotions, even as he gripped his hands together so hard they shook, because why? Why were they put through this? Was it unlucky fate that disdained them, or maybe.. Maybe it was just him. If that was all, then how could he ever be mad or guilty? He didn't deserve this, but he didn't deserve him either, and if Brent truly didn't feel anything for him at all, then he could never ruin his happiest moment. But even still.

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

Please, he thought, as he bit his lip so hard he thought it'd bleed, don't walk back to me. Don't give me a reason to make a bad decision.

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

"Yeah.." — The room went silent, replaced with wavering smiles and palpable tension. What would he even say at this moment? This was his finality, his never-turning-back.

"Go get em buddy, knock her dead with your dressed up looks!."

"Oh shut up the fuck up." — He laughed once more, but even as he turned around and gripped the door knob, he wanted to stop. Ever fiber of him wanted to turn around, run towards him. Embrace him, kiss him, run away with him; but he couldn't. Not because he didn't want to, but because he simply, couldn't. Too much depended on this marriage. His mother was relying on him, his kingdom was relying on him, Cherie was relying on him. His mother had lost too much, his kingdom had too much to loose, and Cherie was a woman that could bring them the power to end it all; But even still.

Taking a deep breath, he grit and ground his teeth so hard he thought they'd crack. And then, he turned to look back at him once more. And oh, he looked wonderful. His purple brocade vest was embroidered with violet, donning a lacy ruffled cravat as were the cuffs of his sleeves. His pants slim fit and tailored, he looked just like a regular noble, except for his signature mask, which was similarly styled to match his clothing; though his traditional jacket and hat were absconded for the event. Even still, he was perfect, and he wasn't his.

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

His eyes lingered just a bit too long, just enough for his hardened heart to crack as his eyes revealed everything he'd wished to hide, unsafe from his best friend's astute observations.

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

He swore he saw Sophist's expression change, eyes breaking open into a pool of glassy sorrow, but instead, they closed as he offered Brent an encouraging smile. They squinted back open just slightly but teasingly; a playful gaze that taunted him: "Cold feet, gonna chicken out?" He could practically hear his irritating voice, nagging him in an oh so familiar and lovely way. It helped, as he chuckled and his heart settled just a bit, but even still, he takes a deep breath. He's walking away from what, no, who he loves, but.. as long as he can remain by his side..

It's just enough for him to take the leap forward, as he twists the door knob with a conviction; but even as the light shines on his face and the ballroom explodes with noise, his heart cant help but sink.

[pinkpastels113]

Hi hey for the love of God hello, I am here to ask fic recs but specifically the ones that YOU wrote. What are some fics you're proud of?? I'm giving the grabby hands

oh adsgdkh uhhh im really bad at rec'ing my own fics (esp bc i never got to finish some of them and feel bad about it or bc i would just forget about them lmfao) but here goes:

darlin' can i be your favorite?

my most recent bechloe fic featuring stripper!chloe where beca is still an awkward lil bean who got a Spicy lap dance in chapter 2 :) it's actually loosely based on a true life experience HAHA but i never got the Ending that beca will, let's say

why am i still writing pages?

a collection of most of my drabble works and one-shots from tumblr that came from prompts, the ethers of the universe, and ask memes. it's mostly au with a lot of the chapters centered around one particular line of dialogue

i can feel the flames on my skin (crimson red paint on my lips)

vamp!chloe fic that i started bc of pp spookfest!! i really do hope i will get to continue this (in a way that i and everyone else will like) sigh

i think (s)he knows

starbucks barista!chloe meets mechanic!beca who is there to fix the broken espresso machine that i kinda want to continue/update if yall are up for it? for bechloe week 2022 "ma'am this is starbucks"

but i think you're pretty too

cute lil high school au where beca asks popular girl chloe to prom

3am (i might be looking for a late night friend) 

the one angst fic that everyone yelled at me for adgask based on “I want to sit on a kitchen counter in my underwear at 3am with you and kiss the hell out of you.” also might continue?? if people want?

i threw a wish in the well (i looked to you as it fell)

meet-cute in a mall bc beca's being silly <33

Talk Numbers To Me

math genius!beca helps a struggling chloe with her homework

Give Me a Shot

covid au featuring doctor!chloe. another meet-cute with background staubrey

edit, i just went through my pp works again and am also proud of this one:

now i’m wide awake (i only see daylight)

another drabble collection from a “sleeping and waking up” dialogue writing prompt list that i reblogged on tumblr a couple years ago!! it’s all v fluffy trust 🤚

[eliteseven]

This isn’t really Shadowheart or Tav related but I was wondering if you had any tips on writing? I have ideas for things I wanna write but when I start to type it out I never know where to really begin

Sure, I can share what I do! I don’t think I’m qualified to give writing advice tho lol so maybe take what works for you? This is just what works for me!

My whole process:

1. Brainstorming/Ideas

(sounds like you’ve got this part down)

In this example, let’s say it’s a Consonance Date Night Oneshot.

2. Outlining:

nothing fancy. I make a clean and separate doc, title the work if I already know what I want to call it, and then lay out bullet points detailing the key events. I’ll do sub lists under each bullet point with extra details if I have extra details I want to include. You can be as descriptive or vague as you wish- it's about how much you like to plan beforehand.

So my bullets might look like this (I took a screenshot bc Tumblr fucks up bullet points so atrociously, good god)

Now, you don't always have to have a set beginning, middle, and end- but I like to. I struggle to write short drabbles (less than 3k) bc I can't really organize them in this way, they're too brief for my tastes. All personal opinion, tho!

3. Writing

I take the aforementioned outline and just start at the very first point. If you're unsure where to start, maybe try a simple statement of feeling from the characters that's attention grabbing. For instance,

" Jenevelle Hallowleaf doesn't suffer pre-date jitters. She never has."

It's simple, but interesting enough to entice readers to want to know more. It works for me whenever I'm unsure of where to begin.

Let it flow from there, but keep an eye on your outline to guide you. You can even paste it into your working document and then delete the notes as you check them off your to-do list.

4. Proofreading

Once it's all on the page, you'll want to go do something else for a bit. Unless you're just sharp like that, your eyes are going to miss the little mistakes. And no matter what you try, there will probably be typos or instances of the incorrect spelling, awkward wording in places, etc. A simple read-through will usually help you catch any errors. I have been known to half-ass this step bc I just don't have the will anymore and then I get a sentence like

"Shadowheart likes likes animals more than she can fathom"

where I repeat words and completely miss it bc my brain clocked out like hours ago.

....That's all I got! Is this correct? Incorrect? Idk, but it's comfortable! And I quite enjoy the process (except step 4, fuck you step 4) so maybe you will too!

[lady-phasma]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sunlightandsuffering]

The crazy Sacrilege fan here ! I LOVE THAT DRABBLE MIKASA IS SUCH AN UNHINGED FREAK I ADORE HER THANK YOU LYS THANK YOU !!! And Eren cares about her , « might even love her, just a little » LMFAO MR COP IS SO BUSTED !! If I may ask, how do you think they would react to a pregnancy scare ? I think crazy ass Mika might even like it, think it’s the Lord’s Will for them to be with child . Eren is head over heels for his little gf so he woudn’t mind giving her a child but he doesn’t want her to regret it later, she needs to go to college and start a career first!

AHAHAHA OMG ILY !!!! 💗💗 ur so funny lol!!! THEY'RE BOTH UNHINGED THO AND THAT'S WHAT WE LOVE THEM FOR, THE ABSOLUTE FUCKING CHAOS !!!!

omg okay, i can totally see this going like both ways, mostly bc I'm so anti religion bc of how much fucking shit it can create. So me, being a little shit, i'd love to go against the grain here and have Mikasa just be pRO CHOICE GIRLY !! Altho I do think she'd be like a little thrilled to have a child with Eren lol. LETS WRITE IT AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS!! bro tell me why they're so cute tho i like this drabble lol

Mikasa stares at the pregnancy test blankly, head knocked back against the bathroom cabinet of Eren’s apartment. Two little red lines to seal her fate, she should be thrilled.  

She isn’t. 

Contrary to her mother and every other girl in her church, Mikasa feels nothing but dread, cold, inescapable dread and suffocation. Because yes, a baby is cute, a baby is sweet, a baby would be the perfect embodiment of her and Eren’s love. They’d be the picture perfect happy family, the one people see on instagram, and she could be a stay at home mom and do all that ridiculous mom-fluencer stuff she sees.

The entire idea makes Mikasa want to throw up, and she’s not so sure it’s the pregnancy, because she isn’t that far along at all yet. 

She slumps, dropping the test to the floor beside her and blinking back stubborn tears, she wonders if this is God’s plan. Because surely, it must be? She wouldn’t be pregnant if it wasn’t His will. Hell, she’s already gone against the church by using birth control, condoms and the pill. 

So there’s really no other way she could have possibly gotten pregnant, right? Nothing else other than pure divine intervention would have allowed this. 

Mikasa sniffles meekly, a tear sleeping down her cheek despite her attempts not to cry and she wipes it away with her sleeve. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she crumples in on herself because what the fuck is she going to do? She’s not married, not yet at least, not in school yet –will probably have to drop out now actually– and her parents will most certainly withdraw what little support they were willing to provide her. She can hear it now, they’re going to call her sweet little baby a bastard, the church will gossip, her youth group will turn on her, and the pastor will look at her with eyes full of disgust at every turn. The tears flow faster now, slipping down her cheeks freely, and before she realizes it, she’s sobbing alone in Eren’s apartment bathroom, utterly alone. 

And there’s that too, isn’t there, how Eren will react. She doesn’t know, doesn’t want to lose him, but what if it’s too soon? Eren isn’t that old, only 24 and still working his way up in the force, he probably doesn’t want a baby yet either. 

He’s certainly never talked about it, and it has Mikasa tearing up all over again, because she’s going to lose him, and her parents again all at once. And she can’t lose him, she just can’t, she loves him. What had started as pure angsty rebellion had turned into love so quickly she doesn’t even know when it started. But he’s so supportive, hot, and so fucking good for her if she thinks about it, had told her just to fucking move in when her parents had gotten fussy over their break-up. He’d shrugged like it was no big deal, “Don’t worry about rent, Mika, just as long as you sleep in my bed.” Then, he’d left for work with a wink, and Mikasa for the first time in her life had real fucking independence, the very thing she’d been yearning for, begging for when he’d fucked her on that alter. 

And now here she is, about to lose it all again, her shackles renewed by the responsibility of a child and all the pressures that come with being a mom before she’s financially ready or responsible in the slightest. 

There is a click outside and Mikasa inhales sharply, glancing at her watch, because how long has she been in this bathroom moping? It’s 9:00 am on the dot, Eren is home, having just gotten off an overnight shift, and she can already hear him stomping around, seeking her out. “Mikasa,” He calls, and she slaps a hand over her mouth to keep quiet, for what she doesn’t know, he’ll find her eventually. “Baby where are you, I can see your shoes by the door, come out.” She doesn’t, fear paralyzes her, this agony of what to do, to tell him, not to tell him, to just run away and give it up for adoption, show up again in nine months and hope he doesn’t hate her. But Eren is a cop, surely he’d find her no matter where she went? And he does, just like he’d find her if she ran away, sweeping the apartment methodically before coming to the bathroom door, just off his bedroom. 

He knocks, “Miki, what are you doing?” She doesn’t answer, just grabs the pregnancy test, holds it closer as the two positive red lines blur together, tears flowing freely again. It takes Eren one attempt, one fucking shot to jimmy the lock open, and he’s leaning against the door frame like an avenging angel as he looks her over. He’s terrifying, clad in his police uniform, black cargo pants with so many pockets and that tight long sleeve shirt that goes under his body armour. 

He quirks a brow up at her as he notices her tears, eyes scanning her over, and she can pinpoint the exact moment he notices the pregnancy test, his teeth coming down to bite into his lip, his only nervous tic. “So,” He asks casually, “Pregnant?” She nods meekly, a sob working its way up her throat, all she can think to do is apologize, because obviously it’s her fault, “I’m so sorry Eren.” 

She should have never slept with him, never disobeyed God like this, it’s her punishment, and she just spirals, ugly crying in her boyfriend’s bathroom at 8 am on a wednesday. “Oh Miki no, it takes two, okay,” Eren half laughs as he kneels down next to her, tucking a strand of hair out of her eyes. He wipes the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, cupping her face with more love and affection than she’s ever known in her life, “It was definitely more me if I recall correctly, in the back of my squad car, in the kitchen,” He smirks, looking down at her, “Yesterday morning in the shower.” Mikasa smacks him for that, choking out a laugh, “Stop it, I’m sad right now.” Eren chuckles, sitting down next to her and grabbing her hand with the pregnancy test to look at it himself. “You don’t have to be sad Miki, it doesn’t have to be a big thing you know.” 

She leans into him, her head on his shoulder as she thinks about it, “Eren I’m gonna get huge and fat, it’s definitely gonna be a thing and people are definitely going to notice.” He bumps her with his shoulder lightly, “Nah you’d be cute pregnant, and fuck,” He groans as if he’s thinking about it, “Your tits would definitely get even better.” Mikasa gasps, smacking his arm again, and before she can stop him he’s going in for a squeeze that has her yelping because yeah, she’s already a little more sensitive. He smirks, more smug than he has any right to be in this situation, ten minutes ago she was crying her eyes out. 

“So does this mean you want it, then, that you’ll support me?” Mikasa asks hopefully and Eren squeezes her thigh, looking down at her with more intensity than she knew him capable of, “Mikasa of course I’ll support you in whatever you decide to do, this would be my kid too.” He pauses and Mikasa waits, looking up at him earnestly, ready to accept whatever else he has to say, because he’s Eren and he so obviously loves her. “I know it’s a little taboo in the church community, but have you thought about getting an abortion?” Mikasa cracks, heaving out a great sob, and before she knows it she’s in Eren’s lap with him shushing her as she whispers all her fears into his neck, “You don’t want it, you’re lying you just- you just want to appease me and –” “Mikasa,” Eren kisses his way up her neck, voice right at her ear, “I’m not lying, but look at me.” He cups her chin roughly, tilting her head up so she’s forced to look into those pretty green eyes, “Baby you’re in school, you haven’t even started yet, and I’ve heard you, fuck baby I’ve heard you talk about school so many times and how much you want to be a nurse.” He leans down, so their foreheads touch, and he leans into her, “And as much as I’d love to see you pregnant, how fucking pretty you’d be, cute as hell waddling around my house knocked up with my fucking kid, it would also suck a lot because I know Mikasa that you’d be miserable, would be delaying your dreams for several years at the very fucking least and I could never ask you to do that.” Mikasa inhales shakily, relaxing into him now, the hand on her thigh, the other at the nape of her neck, how warm and solid he is against her, Eren. 

She tilts her head up for a kiss, something soft, chaste, comfort. 

He kisses her softly, all gentle affection, his hand rubbing over her thigh to keep her calm and when she pulls back she’s calmer, more stable in his arms. 

“Is it allowed?” She whispers, almost nervously, afraid she’ll be shot down by the universe at the mere suggestion. Eren laughs, his hand drifting up to her hip to tug her closer in his lap, “Of course it’s allowed Mikasa, no one has to know we have free health care you know, we’ll just you know, schedule you an appointment, I don’t think it’s that hard.” “Really?” she mumbles, “Just like that?” “I think so, I mean obviously I haven’t had one, but I don’t think it’ll be that difficult, we can call in a minute.”

“Okay,” she mumbles and Eren kisses her again, nipping her cheek as he demands her attention, “But I want to know you’re doing it for you, not because of me or anything else, this has to be your decision Mikasa and I’m just along for the ride.” She sighs, “I think you’re right, I just didn’t want to be the one to say it, but before you got here all I could think about was how much it was going to fuck up my life.” Eren gasps, and she looks up, suddenly afraid, does he think she’s disgusting, a worthless human being because of it? His eyes are alight with amusement, “You swore, what a naughty little church girl you are.” 

She smacks him and violently, which has him cackling, and he uses his leverage to go in for another kiss, which she accepts gratefully. “As long as it’s your decision Mikasa, I don’t care, hell I kind of agree, I’m not sure if I’d be a great dad right now, I’m too selfish. I wanna keep you to myself for as long as I can.” Mikasa laughs, “Then maybe we’d better start using better protection.” “Yeah, we’re also scheduling you for an IUD appointment, because fuck are you bad at taking those pills.” She winces, “I took it this morning.” Eren looks at her in disbelief, “Miki you’re already pregnant.” “Well, I tried not to be,” She tells him poutily and Eren pinches her waist, “You did a shit job.” “We just agreed it was your fault!” 

Eren smiles deviously, “Yeah it is, and it’s about to be my fault again.” 

He yanks her down against him, a devilish gleam in his eyes, and she can feel his very obvious erection right against the soft of her cunt, separated only by the thin layer of her pyjama pants. 

“Have you been hard the entire time?” “I’m not a monster, just since you swore, it just does things to me, it’s not my fault, really it’s yours.” “Oh my God,” Mikasa groans, and she can feel Eren below her, grinding her down against his cock, that guilty look on his face, “Holy fuck does it turn you on when I’m like bad?” “Is that blasphemous of me?” 

“God yes,” She tells him and then she’s kissing him, because no one else but Eren Yeager has ever made being bad feel so good.

[dimlylittorch]

18+ drabble MDNI

so i usually only write soft smut stuff- but there is one trope that i cannot stop thinking about (TW for homophobia) (but the call is coming from inside the house so-)

being with a guy who is homophobic just because he’s closeted and can’t admit he’s anything but straight. i mean like full on you two fucking, him saying shit like ‘god- you fag’s are all the same. fucking thirsty for it’ and ‘yeah? fuckin’ like that queer?’ meanwhile he is arguably enjoying it more than you, hard as a rock, and cannot stop fucking you. DO WE SEE THE VISION-

afterwards he’s like ‘tell anyone and you’re dead’, but you know he doesn’t mean it. his threats are emptier than his balls after 3 rounds with you. he’s pissed that he’s so obsessed with you, mad that you’ve ruined anyone else for him. rough sex, degrading you for being gay, all just as a way to enjoy himself without feeling guilty for it. you take it in stride because goddamn he could fuck, and you knew the slurs were meaningless. you knew that he was just like you, and you were willing to wait for him to accept it.

he slowly starts to come into himself, the sex starts to get slower, his words start to get slower. ‘f-fuck- you’re such- such a queer’ he chokes out as you suck his cock, and it’s clear to see the hearts in his eyes. this man is in love with you at this point- and for the first time? he stays after you sleep together. he lays in your bed, not yet willing to face you- but he lets you spoon him while he huffs about it, having to act like he doesn’t love it.

maybe the next time he sees you in public, he sees some asshole call you a fag. he ends up beating the guys ass, punching him until he stops moving. walks over to you and ever so subtly brushes his hand against your own, his eyes downcast. ‘I’m the only one that can call you that’ he murmurs before walking you home.

your situationship continues to bloom over the next few weeks, until eventually the two of you are sitting in your room, watching a movie on your bed. ‘I.. I think I might..’ he starts to whisper, his head against your shoulder. ‘i mean- you know what i mean.’ he grumbles, the words hard to get out. ‘maybe acting queer isn’t.. all that bad.’ meanwhile a knowing smile grows on your lips, and you can’t help but kiss his head with a contented sigh.

y’all DON’T COME FOR ME OKAY- I’m just literally so obsessed with this concept. I think part of the reason i love it so much is as a trans guy, it would low key be gender affirming to constantly be called gay for liking men (bc obviously transphobic people say a cis guy being with a trans guy still means he’s straight bc trans men aren’t men) but idk I swear I don’t have internalized homophobia or anything😭 this is the one kind of degradation I can really get behind/be turned on by. I think bc it ties in with humiliation and I loooove humiliation omg like yes do embarrass me for liking you so much

[extinct-fish]

MUTUAL RYOMINA DRABBLE

ooo I have such a cool scene for p3r, not canon in the slightest, but more or less ryomina lmfao- super simple, but I might write it bc it sounds so neat to me- A final battle against Takaya, within the 30 days left before nyx- (future Arca Here, this slowly became a writing thing, I meant to write this idea simply-) Yall im sorry I don’t remember Takaya’s personality and didn’t wanna do the research, this gon be bad

Takaya stands opposite of Makoto. A final battle, and frankly, Makoto couldn’t focus on the monologue that Takaya was going on about. After a session of mind-numbing, in short, boring dialogue, Hypnos, Takaya’s persona, made its presence known. Makoto, finally glad to get some action, pulled out his evoker, immediately whipping it up to his head.

“Persona!” And before he could move to pull the trigger, the surprised, illegible comments from the other SEES members froze him in place. Before he could even realize, a gentle, careful hand moved the evoker away, the hand covering the chamber.

“You know, you don’t have to summon me like that.” And the yellow scarf was clear to see. “Just call my name. I hate to see you doing that.” Ryoji was walking forward without an inkling of fear, now facing up against Hypnos and Takaya “These are the few you want me to reap? I figured it’d at least be a challenge.” A scythe, taller than Ryoji himself seemed to appear out of the air, and he grabbed and waved it around as if the solid metal blade weighed nothing to him.

“Is your brother a challenge enough?” Makoto stated, now putting the evoker safely away.

“As someone who grew up with him? I won the sibling fights, not enough of one.” The scythe thudded against the ground, the scrape of metal against the concrete loud enough to make some party members flinch.

“So dramatic.” Makoto sighed, a faint smile forming. “Do what you have to, Than.”

Takaya, taking absolute offense at his blatant disregard to his threats, scowled at the two. “‘Than’?”

Ryoji chuckled, the sound of metal links echoed through the air, yet there was no chains in sight. “Tell me, Takaya,” he said, a smile growing, “How well do you know Death? Let me guess, you know it ‘close’?” Ryoji began to step forward. one silent, slow step at a time. “Nice to know my brother is helping you. Maybe that’s why you feel Death has been so close, as Sleep is the closest thing to me.” He pondered, the scythe now pointing towards Takaya.

Takaya became cautious. The yellow scarfed man, with no armor and no markings to symbolize any sort of connection to SEES, showed no hesitation to him. (This is where I forget everything about Takayas personality, because I think he’s forgettable and not a clear-cut obvious villain, if not for his memorable design)

“Soon enough, everyone dies. Everyone has their day. Not a moment too late, from when they’re due. And no matter how hard people try… I am Inevitable. I wait for no one.” And the yellow scarfed man began to change. A flash of blue, cyan sparks flying around, and energy melted like putty from the shape of a human, to the shape of a towering creature, coffins circling around it. A metal jaw hung loosely open, chains linking the hovering coffins to the back of the creature. Leather covered the body, with white gloves up to the elbows, looking pristine and clean.

“I am Thanatos, God of Death.” Makoto watched the whole thing, a half-hidden smirk on his face.

God, was he hot when he did that.

Original Arca formatting. Y'all know how I write. I just wanted to show off @constancium's writing skills!

[osachiyo]

hey...what if reader has a threesome with nikolai and fyodor for like 5 hours...and then she is all sore and tired...but they wanna keep going....so nikolai eats her ass while she is on top of fyodor...and fyodor is thrusting the whole time because she cant move from nikolai's grip...then sigma joins the party because he heard the moans...and then he fucks her in the mouth while fyodor sucks his balls....and then dazai shows up and says NO! MY TURN! and then he joins and takes turns w nikolai to eat reader's ass....and then chuuya finds dazai but gets all flustered upon seeing reader in bliss of pleasure...and fucks off fyodor by saying he is too weak to fuck someone as good as her...so they switch places...fyodor somehow slides to eat her pussy (trust me, it's anatomically possible, don't question it)...but then, suddenly, out of nowhere, gojo shows up....and he is like OH MY GOD! and he brings geto and nanami to see the whole thing while jerking off...but gojo gets pissed...because she is his little kitten...and then he opens his domain expansion where he fucks her while they all gotta stay still and watch from the side....but then...geto is like "i could do it better" so gojo lets him join...and then a sudden puffy cloud explodes inside the domain...and yosano slices them all...takes the reader for herself....and then....she straps her for 18 hours...and then ranpo joins as a virgin..to see how to pleasure a lady and brings poe too...so they all learn together...and maybe adding some primal play into this...or some knotting..a bit of omegaverse..yk.. :) but also! once reader is about to cum...gojo steals her away and he is a vampire actually...and he marks her as his...and then he gets into a fight with bram...and they do some twilight bs...but reader is in love with akutagawa the whole time...

this is a thirst btw! not a request!! (could you do this like a lil drabble in maybe 300 words?☺️) love your work! keep it up!!

I RE READ THIS SHIT LIKE 80 TIMES BRO STINKY UR SO GENIUS AND CREATIVE BYE THIS IS ACTUALLY SUVH A WONDERFUL DRABBLE IDEA OGMGGGG I'M GONNA DO IT AS SOON AS I'M DONE WITH MY EVENT THINGIE OMG I MIGHT EVEN ACC DITCH THE EVENT BC I WANNA WRITE THIS SO BAD LIKE OMG

[arminsumi]

I'll be so honest I love whenever people make Satoru absolutely pathetically in love, obviously reciprocated love but because I know Gege said he can't stay with only one woman(damn this man hates his own creation) and he would never stay loyal so I LOVE when people show him as this lovesick, obsessed puppy. I love all your stories and your drabbles and even the little asks you answer talking about him or just about anyone you write about because you're an amazing writer 😭😭. Following you was the best decision, I remember going feral one time because I thought I didn't follow you and had to desperately try to remember your name(my memory isn't good), I went through like 40 different accounts and then the Gods blessed me with remembering that I liked your story so I found it in my likes😭❤️😂 it was definitely a thrill. Anyway I adore you, stay safe love❤️💖🥺

UR SO VERY SWEET idk how to accept such praise 💗🐇 ahhh!! glad u found me after all that searching lol i think a similar thing happened to me with a writer once.

i didn't even know gege said that abt gojo lol. i just enjoy imagining satoru as very lovesick, or even as a playboy that becomes lovesick. just the idea that one person can stop him in his tracks and make him change his mind like "nevermind everyone else, i want this one" 🥺 grabby hands n all. and once he has your heart, he keeps a tight grip on it.

idk that's just a version of him i enjoy of i like other versions too and might write more in the future. tho i have another lovesick gojo but it's an angst fic that's a bit more complicated because the reader rejects him after he says "i love you" and the reader says "I don't believe in i love yous anymore, so please don't say you love me" idk it was based on a mitski lyric. the reader had been through a rough breakup and satoru had never been through a breakup so that was their dynamic. dunno if i'll ever finish writing it bc it's too angsty lol

anyways thank u for enjoying my stuff it means the world to me. u are an absolute kootie pie 💗