#to try so hard and still fail...then realize how much time you wasted and all the pointless sacrifices you made

[adore-gregor]

study smart not hard (altough both is best actually) this saying is so true

[ryukatters]

drunk in love — s. gojo ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

⟡ summary: you walk gojo back to his dorm after a night of drinking

⟡ pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

⟡ content/warnings: major fluff, underage alcohol consumption, boyfailure gojo, gojo calls reader pretty, mutual pining, drunken confessions, kiss kiss fall in love

⟡ wc: 1.4k

Satoru’s never been great at holding his alcohol.

The first time he got drunk was in secret inside of Suguru’s dorm room, late at night to ensure that there weren’t any teachers (read: Yaga) lingering in the hallway past curfew. His teacher did always seem to have some sort of divine intuition whenever it came to Satoru’s antics.

He had taken one shot and subsequently spat it all out onto the floor.

Satoru’s gotten better at handling his liquor, but he’s still very much a lightweight. That isn’t enough to deter him from refusing any shots Shoko or Suguru throw his way though, which probably isn't a great idea seeing how wasted your friends were. Which is surprising, because they tend to be a little better at handling their alcohol than Satoru. Chalk it up to wanting to celebrate for making it to the end of the school year.

It’s you who’s left to play damage control, considering how you were the only one still standing as the rest of your friends were all passed out on the cold hardwood floor of Shoko’s dorm, aside from one other person who’s currently gripping your leg, staring up at you, pleading like a kicked puppy.

Satoru was just as annoying if not more so when intoxicated. He couldn’t possibly sleep on the cold, hard, wooden floors…

…which is how you end up walking Gojo back to his dorm room. Though walking would be a very generous term, seeing how he’s using you as a human crutch, leaning most of his weight onto you as you struggle to keep the two of you balanced.

You try to usher Gojo onto his bed gently, but the boy seems to be too out of his wits to even do that properly. He unceremoniously flops onto his bed with a thud, banging his head against the wall in the process.

“Owww,” he clutches his head, pouting.

“That’s what you get,” you laugh.

“You’re mean.”

“Mean? I brought you all the way back here when I could have just let you sleep on the floor. That sounds pretty nice to me.”

His bottom lip juts out even further, much to your amusement. His sunglasses are hanging off the bridge of his nose, lopsided. You reach out to place them on his nightstand. His warm hand envelops your wrist before you can draw back, and brings your hand to cup his cheek. Maybe it’s alcohol and your decreased inhibition, or maybe its your own volition, but you can’t find it in you to pull away. You stroke your thumb against his pale, plush cheek, admiring the dimple that likes to make itself known when he smiles, just like he is right now.

Satoru runs warm. You’d think for someone with such an icy appearance and a reputation for being a cold-blooded sorcerer, his body temperature would follow suit. Maybe it’s because that frigidness is Gojo, the strongest, the honored one, and all the epithets that have burdened his shoulders from the minute he was born. But here, with you, he’s just Satoru— a boy with the brightest smile you’ve ever seen, who can’t shoot whiskey, and loves his friends endlessly.

“My head hurts,” he whines.

“Oh, you poor baby,” you faux coo, rubbing your hand against the sore spot that will definitely have a lump tomorrow. Satoru eats it up though, melting into your touch. He’s even clingier when he’s drunk, you realize. Cute, you might even add. But the thought leaves just as soon as it comes. You’re a lot less sober than you thought you were.

Gojo’s voice pulls you out of your drunken daze. “Can you kiss it better f’me?”

“What?”

“Can you kiss…kiss me instead? So it doesn’t hurt anymore?” He slurs.

“Satoru, you’re too drunk.”

“‘m not!” Whatever defense he has for himself fails as a hiccup escapes past his lips. For a second, you think he might fall asleep like this, leaning into you. But then his eyes snap back open with a determined glint.

“Wan’…wanna kiss youuu,” he closes his eyes and puckers his lips, waiting for you to close the gap.

“Satoru…”

Where do you even start? You thought you’d be okay ignoring the budding feeling in your chest that consumes you most days you’re with the white-haired sorcerer. Deflection is the only way you know how to avoid acknowledging whatever this was. And it’s been working, sort of. “You can’t kiss someone you don’t like.”

He pouts even harder at that. “I like someone! I like you,” he says adamantly. “Like, like-like you.”

“Like-like? What are we, in kindergarten?”

You try your best to redirect the conversation, you don’t think you’re ready to face the implications of the fact that one of your best friends has feelings for you. Mutual feelings, you might add— the same feelings that have been eating away at you for months now, and the same feelings you’ve elected to ignore.

He pouts for the umpteenth time tonight before he lets out a huff, falling back onto the mattress. He props himself up on a pillow, peering at you curiously. It’s almost like you can see the gears turn in his head when he smiles deviously, both of his freakishly long arms reaching out to wrap around your waist and bring you flush against him.

You can feel the hot puffs of his breath, and you will yourself to look at him. Satoru’s eyes have always been so easy to get lost in.

He breathes out your name, sickeningly sweet. “I really do like you. You’re so pretty and strong and smart— it drives me a little crazy.” Your head is spinning, and the innate urge to run like you’ve been doing all this time sparks through you, but the grip that Satoru has on you is too strong. “Want you to like me back, I’ll do anything,” he says honestly.

Gojo’s good at the chase, and you’re something he’s in for the long run. You can run and run until there’s nowhere else to go, until your legs refuse to carry you a step further. He’ll always be there to catch you.

His hand traces delicate patterns along the side of your neck, still a bit too far gone to notice how your breath hitches. “I’ll buy you whatever you want, I’ll get you a big house and we can live together forever. I’ll take care of you, do whatever you want. I’ll be so good to you. For you.”

You’re stunned into silence. Your heart is threatening to leap out of your chest. It melts when you look at Satoru, who’s looking at you with all the hope in the world. The moonlight seeping through the blinds of his window casts the most intricate waves of light, illuminating Satoru’s features perfectly.

Satoru thinks he’s holding the world in his arms right now. He’s preparing himself for rejection, but it’s alright, he thinks— because he’s good at everything he tries and he’s willing to try and try again and again for you, just for the chance to be yours.

“Tell me that again in the morning when you’re sober,” you whisper, as if you’re afraid someone else could hear you within the confines of Satoru’s room. Like the weight of your words were a secret you couldn’t bear to let anyone else in on, except for one person— your one and only.

You take a leap of faith. You plant your hands on his chest to steady yourself, placing a chaste kiss on Satoru’s forehead— a symbol of assurance of your love for him— something that’s been a part of you from the very moment you met him.

Satoru’s heart squeezes in anticipation. He hugs you even tighter, laughing at the yelp of surprise you let out. He has never felt as more of a winner than he does right now. “I’ll tell you everything sober or drunk,” he promises, unable to contain his giddiness as you (finally!) let him pepper kisses all over your face.

“Everything, as long as it’s with you.”

a/n: gojo can not handle hard liquor so he’s drunk off of some (shots of) smirnoff ice 😎

[strvngeweather]

It's All Greek to Me; a one shot.

🕮 PAIRING: collegetutor!jimin x partygirl!reader 🕮 GENRE: College AU, smut 🕮 WORD COUNT: 4.8k 🕮 WARNINGS: Smut, Smut, Smut 🕮 SUMMARY: After failing your college classes, you need a tutor. But if tutor, why so damn hot? 🕮 AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was originally going to be a full-length fanfic, but I decided to make it a short one. I still may expand on it. Let me know what you guys think. Also, my bestie gave me the idea when she said, "Jimin look like he likes ass." LMAO.

Despite your hatred for hangovers, you always ended up with one.

Today was no exception. As the resident party girl at Loren University, there was no way you would ever miss a weekend rager, but as your alarm clock went off for the fifth time that morning, you began cursing at yourself. Maybe going to a party on a Sunday night wasn’t a good idea.

Scheduling a tutoring session at eight in the morning was an even worse idea.

You had many strong suits, but English wasn’t one of them. It was the one subject you had struggled with since you were in high school. Analyzing the words of dead white men from centuries ago was just about as much fun as watching paint dry. Numbers were much more your thing. They were easy and in the words of Cady Heron, ‘Math was the same in every language.’

But you needed to pass. It’s not as if you were here on your parents’ dime like the other kids. You were a scholarship kid and if your grades slipped, so did you. Out the doors and on your ass. So, when you got your last paper back with a big fat ‘D’ written on it, you knew it was time to take action. And that meant getting a tutor.

You just happened to forget that today, on this bright and early morning, with a pounding headache and dry mouth, you were supposed to be meeting him.

Again, you ask, who the fuck schedules a tutoring session at eight in the morning?

With a groan, you grab your phone, hoping to hit the ‘snooze’ button on your alarm one more time before you really had to get up but when your eyes read the time you realize that it’s damn near eight-thirty. How many times have you hit the snooze button? You wonder but realize you’re only wasting more time. Without a second thought, you hop out of bed and into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and running a comb through your curly hair. Your make-up is smudged, and you still have on the shimmering dress from last night but there’s nothing you can do about it now. You grab a hoodie off your desk chair and hightail it to the school’s library.

.

Inside study room 007, you find a very annoyed, albeit very handsome senior waiting at the table. Laid out in front of him are a stack of books, notebooks, and flash cards. Pens and pencils are lined up neatly in a row. He all but glares at you as enter. Before you can speak, he glances at his watch and then looks back at you. “You’re late.”

“I know,” you say, out of breath. “I got caught up …” you scramble, trying to think of a lie instead of admitting you had spent the night throwing ass to Megan thee Stallion and Cardi B but your folder of excuses in the very back of your brain shows up empty. That might be for the best, you realize as you look over your tutor.

“Partying?” He finishes the sentence for you. His eyes rake over you in judgment. “Maybe that’s why you’re failing English.”

Now wait a damn minute. You scoff, crossing your arms. Your brain is foggy, you desperately need a glass of water – and, not to mention, your skin feels beyond icky. The last thing you can do right now is come up with a proper comeback so the only thing you manage to utter is, “Or maybe English is just hard.”

“You speak it every day, how hard could it be?”

“Whatever,” you say, sitting down across from him.  “Can we just … start?”

Jimin checks his watch again. “We might as well. We’ve got thirty minutes left. Let’s make the most of it.”

“I thought I had you for an hour.”

“Yes, and you were late so that hour has turned into thirty minutes. I’ve got things to do, Ms. L/N. I can’t wait around for you all day,” he replies, picking up a black ballpoint pen. “Let’s get started.”

“I’d much prefer it if you called me, Y/N,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “And you’re Jimin, correct?”

He nods curtly. “Alright, Ms. L/N, your form said you have an upcoming paper that focuses on the themes from Nella Larsen’s Passing. What part of the story are you at?”

You roll your eyes but choose not to correct him about your name and instead just answer his question. “I’m not on any part.”

His eyes brighten. “You mean you’ve already finished? Well, great, let’s jump right into discussion –”

“No,” you cut him off. “I’m not on any part because I haven’t started the book.”

Jimin looks at you as if you grew another head. “Your essay for the book is due next week. The book is less than two hundred pages. What do you mean you haven’t started yet?”

You shrug. “I figured since it’s such a short book I could probably finish it and write the essay in the same day.”

“And what day were you planning on doing that since our study session is right now?”

That day was last night but as you both knew you had gotten caught up with … other things. “I guess I figured we’d start the book together and I’d just get the essay done next week.”

Jimin sighs. “Ms. L/N, whatever you manage to vomit onto paper will not bring your grade up in the slightest if you follow your method. I guarantee that.”

You find yourself rolling your eyes – again. “That’s what you’re here for. You’re my tutor so tutor me in the right direction.” Jimin studies you for a moment and then he begins carefully putting his things away into his messenger bag.  “Wait. What are you doing?”

“Ms. L/N, you can reach out to me once you’ve read the book but until then, we have nothing to discuss. I only meet with students who are serious about their education,” he places his bag over his shoulder and nods toward you. “Have a good day.”

“Um, hello! You can’t just leave,” you say, getting out of your chair.

“I can and I am,” Jimin replies, and with that, he walks out of the study room. You begin to follow him but decide against it. What good would that do? He was rude and had judged you from the moment you walked in the door. You didn’t need a tutor like that.

You decided you were going to go to the campus café, buy a large coffee, and then go home to take a much-needed shower.

. . . .

“He was a jerk,” you tell your best friend, Winter, taking a long sip of your mango-pineapple smoothie. “He left right in the middle of our session.”

Every Tuesday was the same. A morning class and then a lunch date with your bestie, Winter, at your favorite smoothie place about twenty minutes away from campus.

She shakes her head but not at him. “Y/N, I love you, but you were late. You didn’t read the material, and you had the nerve to have an attitude. I would have walked out on you too.”

Harsh but it was the truth. You weren’t quite ready to admit that you were somewhat at fault too. “Okay, but I’m saying, he didn’t have to be rude about it though.”

“What’d he look like?”

“He would be fine as hell if he wasn’t so rude,” you answer honestly.

She shakes her head, amused. “What did you end up getting on your essay anyway?”

After the last encounter with Jimin, you decided you’d find another tutor, but in the meantime, you were going to stick with your tried and true. You did exactly what you had told Jimin you would do. You read most of the book in one evening and managed to type up a paper in the same night, confident that you had aced it. But when you looked online, checking your grade, you realized Jimin had been right. Regardless, you weren’t going back to him.

You sigh. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Winter replies. “Because if Jimin is right, then I think you should give him a call.”

“Jimin Parker?”

You and Winter look up to see Jennie Kim hovering above you. Her freshly dyed blonde hair cascaded in waves down her slender face. You may have been the resident party girl, but Jen was the resident party queen.

“Hey Jen,” you say, motioning for her to take a seat. “Yeah, Jimin Parker. You know him?”

She sits between you and Winter. “You mean that gorgeous senior? Ugh, I had him as a tutor last semester.”

“How’d he do?” Winter says, giving you a knowing look.

You lean forward. Jennie was known for many things but having good grades was not one of them. In fact, you wondered how she managed to make it this far without being kicked out. But, if Jimin could manage to get her grades up, then he truly was a miracle worker.

“Amazing,” Jen gushes. “I got an A on my last three papers. I wanted him again this semester but apparently, he’s all booked up.”

You groan as Winter gives you another look. You pull your cell phone out of your pocket and dial Jimin. “Hello?” You reply as he answers. “Hi, yeah, Jimin, it’s Y/N. I was wondering if we could set up a session …”

…

For his sake (and mostly yours) you schedule an afternoon session and this time, you show up prepared. When he arrives, he’s shocked to see you already in the study room.

“Good afternoon,” he says, rounding the table to sit across from you. You get a whiff of his cedarwood cologne. “I see you’re on time.”

“I’m early,” you correct him. “You’re on time.”

“That I am,” he says, taking a seat. You watch him closely as he carefully takes out various pens and pencils, notebooks, and flashcards. He really is handsome, you think, even if he is an ass. “I see we’re studying Oedipus Rex by Sophocles?”

You nod your head. “I read it. I don’t understand it.”

“What exactly don’t you understand?”

“Not a single word in that book. They might as well be speaking Greek.”

He sighs. “Well, it is a Greek book.”

“Clearly,” you reply. “So where do we start?”

“I guess at the beginning.”

. . . .

Things were going smoothly. You found yourself actually understanding the material and surprisingly, enjoying it. But you also found yourself getting lost in Jimin at times. The more time you spent with him, the more you developed a crush. Your mind would wander as your eyes looked over him. You wondered how soft his full lips were. You wondered what his eyes looked like in moments of passion. You wondered how good it would feel to be wrapped up in his strong arms.

Your eyes were on his arms when he called your name. “Huh?”

“I asked did you want to go over the scene between Antigone and Polynices again?”

You shake your head. “No, I think I understand. Antigone wants him to call off the war, but Polynices’ pride won’t let him.”

“Correct,” Jimin replies with a smile.

Fuck, you think. Jimin had a smile that would make anyone melt. “Jimin,” you begin and mentally kick yourself for what you’re about to ask but you’ve started so you might as well finish. You put on your best flirtatious smile. “What do I get if I ace my next paper?”

He seems to know what you’re hinting at. “You get an A and the satisfaction of knowing your hard work paid off.”

Well, if that wasn’t a blaring rejection, you don’t know what is. “Do you have a girlfriend?” You blurt it out before your brain can even process whether the question was appropriate or not.

He blinks, slightly taken aback. “Yes, yes, I do. Why?”

You shrug, trying to be as nonchalant as possible even though you feel as if you’ve just gotten stung by a million honeybees. “No reason. You just seem so into your academics; I didn’t think you had time for that kind of stuff.”

“Well, a human being still needs a social life to thrive,” he replies coolly. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You nod. “Yes, and his name is Jose Cuervo.”

He laughs. “I’m sure you have a line of men knocking on your door.”

“Nobody I want though,” you say, mostly to yourself.

. . . .

If crushing on him wasn’t enough, now you were dreaming about him. A week of erotic dreams plagued you. They felt so real. You could smell his signature cologne as he pushed in and out of you, your legs on his shoulders and his arms wrapped around your thick thighs. Each dream ended the same though, just as he was about to finish, your alarm would wake you up and you would spend a good five minutes finishing yourself off before getting ready for the day.

Instead of a study room at the library, Jimin asked you to meet him at his apartment for the study session. He mentioned something about time constraints, appointments, and being unable to book a study room but your brain had been stuck on, “Wanna meet me at my apartment? We can have a quick recap sesh before I have to run out?” He could barely finish his question before you agreed to it.

So, sue you for being curious.

It’s not like anything will happen, you thought as you parked, he has a girlfriend.  You arrived twenty minutes early. Your excitement had gotten the best of you and you knew how much Jimin liked it when you were on time. When you knocked on the door, a man almost as handsome as Jimin answered.

“You must be Y/N?” he asked, sticking out his hand. “I’m Taehyung.”

You nodded, the thought of becoming a Wattpad heroine and having two incredibly attractive men fight over you danced around in your head. You shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

As he let you in, he explained he had somewhere to be, but that Jimin was in his room and to head right in. You gave the door a light knock but didn’t receive an answer. The door was slightly ajar, giving you the smallest view of a very neat bedroom. You spotted Jimin at his desk, looking at something on his large computer monitor. It looked familiar. Your curiosity ate at you, forcing your hand to ever-so-gently open the door further. This time you could see what Jimin was looking at clearly.

It was you. It was your Instagram feed. He was scrolling through your pictures, pausing at every photo that was a bit risqué.

“Fuck, Y/N …”

That was your name. Leaving his lips. In a moan. Your heart fluttered with excitement. But wait, was he …

As you tilt your head to get a better view, you can see the tip of his elbow on the armrest, bobbing up and down. And up and down. And up and down.

Oh, he definitely was.

You slap a hand over your mouth and tiptoe back to the living room. A few minutes later, you hear a shower turn on and ten minutes after that, you see Jimin emerge in a navy blue V-neck and a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Hey,” Jimin looks at you with a face full of guilt. You can’t help but smile. “How long have you been waiting?”

“I just got here a few minutes ago,” you lie, looking up from your phone that you were pretending to be engrossed in. “I haven’t been waiting long.”

“Good, good,” he says. “Let’s go to the kitchen. The lighting is better in there.”

. . . .

After three weeks of hard work and several study sessions, you submit your paper with all the confidence of Scott Disick. Winter, the best friend that she is, decided that this was the best time to reward your good behavior with a couple of jello shots at your favorite bar. You gobble up the first two and then decide to sip on a blue Long Island iced tea. That’s when you spot him. Sitting in a corner, next to his roommate and another man with tattoos up and down his arms. Instead of his usual tweed blazer and grey slacks, his outfit looks more modern, more casual. A white graphic tee hugs his toned body, and you can’t help but eye his biceps. His cheeks are slightly red, his eyes are glossy and he’s laughing harder than you’ve ever seen him laugh. He looks delicious but you turn around and decide to order another shot from the bar.

You spot Winter getting her mack on with a fellow classmate, Karina, and it’s then you realize that you’re probably going to be alone for the rest of the night. Just as you begin to grab your wallet to pay your tab, a familiar figure approaches you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he’s wearing a smile you’ve never seen before, and it makes your insides flutter.

“I could say the same thing,” you reply. “I never thought I’d see Jimin Park in a bar.”

“I don’t spend all my time in the library,” Jimin says.

“Could have fooled me,” you tease, taking a sip of your drink. “What brings you out among people?”

He orders a whiskey sour before turning to you. “I, Y/N L/N, am finally a single man. My girlfriend of two years has decided that she no longer wants me.”

He’s smiling but you can see sadness behind his glossy eyes. “I’m sorry,” you say earnestly. “Her loss.”

“Oh definitely,” he says with a slight slur. “You want to know the real reason she broke up with me?”

You shrug. “Lay it on me.”

He leans in close, so close his body is pressed up against yours. He angles his lips to your ear and whispers, “I was too much for her.”

“Oh …”

“Yeah,” his words spill out in a rush, his eyes darkening as they take you in. They pause at your mini-skirt before crawling up your body slowly. You suddenly feel exposed, as if he just completely undressed you, but it would be a lie to say you didn’t love it. His voice lowers to a sultry whisper, “You don’t seem like that though.”

“Seem like that?”

“Like I’d be too much for you.”

“In what way?” You ask, genuinely curious.

He leans toward you, his lips brushing past your ear, forcing every hair on the back of your neck to stand up. “Sexual. You look like a good girl who knows how to take a pounding.”

A million thoughts ran through your head as Jimin broke out into a sardonic laugh. You were called back to that time you caught him masturbating to your pictures. You began to wonder if the prim and proper Jimin was just a façade to hide the sexual deviant he really was. His eyes look over you in a way they never have, and you swore they were clouded with lust. He licks his full lips, and you want nothing more than to kiss them, but you don’t. Instead, you take a step back and laugh, motioning to his roommate. Jimin was drunk and even though it looked like he wanted to bend you over the bar and give it to you, you knew better than to take advantage of a drunk man.

….

A week later, when you enter the study room, the moment you and Jimin exchange glances, you feel awkward. He looks embarrassed as he gestures for you to sit down.

“We need to talk,” he says. “I want to apologize about the other night at the bar.”

“It’s okay, I barely even gave it a second thought,” you lie. You had thought about that moment ever since it happened.

“No, it was inappropriate, and I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

“Jimin, you were drunk, it’s fine. Besides, it was nice to see a different side to you,” you reassured him with a smile.

“That’s not a side that I would like to be representative of who I am,” Jimin admits. “I don’t want to be known as the guy who makes people uncomfortable.”

You laugh. “Believe me, I was the farthest thing from uncomfortable.”

He locks eyes with you for a moment before clearing his throat and motioning toward your phone. “Have you checked your grades yet?”

You gasp, suddenly remembering the paper you had submitted a week earlier. You quickly bring up your most recent webpage, searching for the most recent grade listing. As your eyes glance over your paper and the notes, you realize that Jimin lived up to his reputation. You get up, shoving the phone in his face, squealing.

His eyes brighten, and he gets up as well. “You got an A!”

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Jimin, to your surprise, doesn’t push away. Instead, he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. You take the moment to breathe in his intoxicating scent. The both of you remain intertwined far longer than you both know is appropriate but for some reason, neither one of you makes the move to let go.

Finally, Jimin relents first. He stares you in the face and says quietly, “I knew you could do it.”

You let out a small laugh. “I couldn’t do it without you. Thank you, Jimin”

“As a reward, we can end the session ten minutes early today,” Jimin replies and sits back down.

You find yourself shaking your head. “Can I request a different reward?”

Jimin looks up at you and nods. You look around the small study space. The room you chose was in the back, the library was relatively empty today and the small window the room provided was on the door and could easily be covered up the shade provided. You mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to say next. Things could go downhill, fast, depending on his reaction. Still, you steady yourself, look Jimin in the eyes and say, “I want a kiss.”

“What?”

“A kiss,” you repeat confidently. “I want you to kiss me as a reward.”

“I can’t kiss you,” he replies back, taking study materials out of his messenger bag. “That would be highly ina –”

“Jimin, if you don’t want to kiss me, just say so but don’t use the tutor-student relationship as a reason.”

He sighs. “I …” You watch as he struggles to find the right words.

“You were right about me,” you say, giving him a flirtatious smirk. “At the bar. I can take a good pounding.”

His face turns a beet-red, but he quickly recovers. He stands, walking to stand in front of you. “Just one kiss?”

“One kiss,” you repeat.

He leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips, lingering for only a few seconds before breaking the kiss. “That good?”

You shake your head. “I hardly think that’s worth all the work I put in.”

He smiles, genuinely amused, and says, “Really?”

You nod. “Maybe if it was longer …”

Jimin sighs. “Y/N, if it’s longer, you know what that will lead to …”

“Then let it lead to that,” you challenge, you push. “I don’t know why you have to act so anal-retentive all the time. Not everything has to be perfect. Just k—”

He cuts you off with a deeper kiss. It’s slow and sensual. His hands wrap around your waist, one of them running down the curve of your ass as he palms it slowly, indulging in the fleshy softness. You can feel his dick hardening on your thigh as he slips a tongue into your mouth.

Jimin is using both hands to palm your ass now, his dick grinding into you and a low, deep, moan leaves his mouth forcing an electric sensation to shoot down your spine and vibrate in your core.

“You sure you want this?” he asks through a searing kiss.

“Yes,” you think you say but you’re not sure. Your head is spinning that this is actually happening.

He responds by lifting your pleated skirt and smacking your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room. Fingertips dance between your ass crack, and he uses a knee to part your legs slightly further. You break the kiss, throwing your head back as you feel Jimin’s fingertips slowly rub your pussy from the back. He slips a finger into your underwear, running it up and down your slit.

“How long have you wanted this?” He asks, nipping at your neck. “You’re already so fucking wet.” You try to answer but all that comes out is a moan as he slips another finger inside. “Shh,” he tells you. “You want the whole library to hear you?”

He gives you a bit of a reprieve when his hands slip away. You watch as he pulls out one of the chairs and sits, beckoning for you to stand in front of him. Your skirt is still at your waist, so he pulls your underwear down before pulling you close. You feel his large hands grope your ass again, peppering kisses up and down your hips. Another smack echoes through the room before he uses a hand to caress clit. You move your hips in response, holding on to the table for balance.

He pauses. “Turn around and bend over.” He doesn’t have to ask you twice. You obey, and not a second later, you feel him placing one of your legs up on the study table. “Arch that back, baby.” Your ass juts out just a little more as you follow his directions. A moment later you feel a cool, wet, sensation going up and down the slit of your core. It’s slow at first, as if he’s taking the time to let the taste of you marinate on his tongue but he quickly picks up his pace. The tip of his tongue flickering over your clit. Meanwhile, you can feel his thumb, massaging your anus.

Jimin was an ass man, and he was making that very clear.

Both hands were gripping your ass now as he guided your pussy over his tongue. You work your hips in tandem, stifling a loud moan as your world begins to go white.

But he wasn’t done with you yet.

He moves his tongue from your pussy up to your anus, and you jerk, having never quite felt something like this before. You can hear an amused laugh leave Jimin’s throat as he begins to massage your ass with his tongue. His fingers working your pussy, begging for another orgasm. You oblige, your wetness dripping all over his fingertips.

“Don’t move,” he demands. You can hear his belt unbuckling, followed by the tips of his dick moving up and down your incredibly wet slit. He slides it in with the patience of a saint, excruciatingly slow, forcing whimpers out of you, begging him to go faster. “You sure you want it faster?”

“Please,” you moan.

“Please, what?”

“Please, Jimin,” you manage to utter out.

He gives you your wish and begins to pound you like he said he would. His pace quickens and you can feel every inch of him inside of you. Your pussy wraps around him which causes him to smack your ass, and a deep moan leaves his lips.

You realize he can’t have all the fun though and you begin to throw it back on him, your ass bouncing against him, and he lets you. You can hear your wetness as you begin to drain his dick. You can hear his low grunts of satisfaction as you pick up your pace and when you look back, you can see his dark eyes looking at you in a way you never wanted to stop. “Good fucking girl,” he whispers in a low voice.

You make eye contact which forces him to grip your hips and pound into you harder, faster (stronger).  “One more time baby,” he says to you, maintaining eye contact. “Cum on this dick.” You had already been close, and his words only sent you over the edge further than you had ever gone. You close your eyes, your body shaking in pleasure as you have your third orgasm on his dick.

He follows suit, his cum shooting deep inside of you. You feel his body on top of yours as you both try to catch your breath.

“Was that worth all your hard work?’ He asks.

“I think I’ll have to get A’s for the rest of the year,” you reply.

“The rest of your life.”

[doumadono]

SO SO SO SO PROUD OF YOU, MARCIANNA 🌹 I'd be delighted to order a cup of mango-vanilla ice-cream with maple syrup. I want my order to be served with post-war Dabi :3

A/N: thank you so much, my sweetie! I hope you'll enjoy this little blurb!

5k FOLLOWERS EVENT MASTERLIST MY HERO ACADEMIA

In the quiet corridors of the hospital, you found yourself standing outside Touya's room once again. The sterile scent of the hospital was now too familiar, but it was the sight of him lying so still, connected to machines and monitors, that never failed to break your heart.

With a heavy sigh, you walked into the room. "Hey, Touya," you whispered as if he could reply, pulling a chair next to his bed. "Today was another tough day, just like all the others since you've been asleep," you said softly, gently touching his still hand.

It had become a habit to share your day with him, updating him on the mundane details of life and the state of the world.

You visited him every day, sitting by his bedside, holding his hand, and whispering words of comfort, even if he couldn't hear them. Some nights, when the nurses were occupied and the world seemed to stand still, you stayed by his side, watching over him as if willing him to wake up with the power of your love alone.

Tears streamed down your face as you traced the lines of his scarred face, yearning for the spark of life to return to his turquoise eyes. The pain of seeing him like this weighed heavily on your heart, but you refused to give up hope.

One evening, as the setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink, something miraculous happened.

As you sat beside him, holding his hand and lost in thought as you frequently did, you noticed a faint movement. Touya was wiggling in the bed, his body trying to adjust, even though he was still intubated.

Your heart raced as you realized what was happening. Without wasting a moment, you sprinted out of the room to find the doctors and nurses, calling for their immediate attention. "He's awake, he's awake!" You screamed like a maniac.

When you returned into the room, medical professionals in tow, Touya's turquoise eyes were open, his gaze slightly unfocused but undeniably awake. As the doctors worked to remove the tube from his throat, your heart leapt in your chest as you looked down at Touya, and his gaze found yours. It was as if the universe had heard your prayers, bringing him back to you.

Once the tube was removed, it took him a moment to focus all of his senses on being awake again. "Y/N?" he rasped, his voice hoarse from the tube.

Your name. His first action was calling out your name.

Tears of relief streamed down your face as you took his hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm here, Touya. I'm here."

A nurse quickly intervened, checking his vitals and ensuring that he was stable. As the room buzzed with activity, you stayed close, unwilling to leave his side.

"Thank you," Touya whispered, his eyes locked onto yours. "For being here, for not giving up on me..."

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "I told you I'd always be here, Touya. Always."

"I know how hard it was for you… I… Remember," he whispered, his words furrowing your brow.

"What do you mean?" you asked, tilting your head slightly.

"I heard your voice the whole time," he whispered, barely moving his lips. "But I couldn't respond. I wanted to say something, but I couldn't move or open my eyes. It felt like hell…"

"Shh, don't think about it now," you whispered, gently stroking his snow-white hair. "You need to rest, love. You've been through so much, your body needs to recover."

Touya tried to turn his head to see his body's condition, but you gently pushed his shoulder, urging him to lie back down. "Take it easy. You've had multiple surgeries, but don't worry. Your body is healing, and that's what matters."

He sighed heavily. "What happened with the war… with Shigaraki… Mom… the others?"

You blinked, surprised by his questions. "The war's over. The heroes won. All For One was defeated for good. Your mom and siblings are okay, they went home weeks ago. Midoriya saved Shigaraki. He's recovering in another hospital."

His lips twitched into a faint smile. "That's… good to hear…"

You gently stroked his shoulder. "This means you get a fresh start. Shoto told me what you said to him… that you didn't want to make it out of the battle alive." Your eyes filled with tears, and you began to cry uncontrollably, your body shaking with sobs. "But God's my witness, I would go through the hell itself for you if it meant saving you! I was so scared!" You let your emotions pour out, unable to hold them back any longer.

Touya watched you cry, his heart heavy. His hand shook slightly as he reached out to touch yours. "I'm sorry, Y/N," he whispered. "I'm genuinely glad to be back. All I thought about in the darkness was you and your beautiful, gentle eyes. I just wanted to see them one last time… And now I can."

You gently rubbed the top of his hand. "And you'll get to see them every day because there's no way you're getting rid of me, Todoroki Touya."

[chrollohearttags]

long winded ass post I contemplated not writing but did it anyways. read if you’d like or ignore lmao.

so I feel as though this kind of goes without saying but a lot has changed on tumblr and the vibe has shifted a lot, sadly, not for the better either :/ I thought about this for a while and although last week, I was not posting any new content due to the strike, I’ve decided to step away from writing in general after this month. I could sit here and go on a tangent about how it’s the ‘algorithm’ and ‘dying fandoms’ but to me, this boils down to the fact that I refuse to exhaust myself to be unappreciated + disrespected. That’s not to say I’m ungrateful to everyone who reblogs and comments on my works all the time because I am incredibly grateful! I love each of you and I look forward to reading your tags/thoughts. However, it’s not lost on me that the anime fandom in general is becoming shrouded in toxicity and many of us are being pushed away. We’re in an age where people are seen as content machines and not humans so others feel entitled to their art and feel no need to be kind, understanding or empathetic to that person’s feelings. I’m not wasting my time trying to teach people manners that they should’ve learned a long time ago. I refuse to share my craft with people like that. And to say the quietest part out loud: y’all don’t want black writers around, PERIOD. One scroll through the dash shows that much. As someone who’s written primarily for AOT (not changing btw) and specifically the black side of the fandom, it’s almost laughable at the extreme lengths that ppl have gone through to see it be erased. And I don’t mean getting fics hit with labels or reporting (that failed so they switched to plan B.) since I began back writing in 2020-21, it was obvious that it was the most popular among black girls and I remember ppl telling me to write for them. Hell, it’s the sole reason I even watched. Needless to say, I fell in love with the show and it holds a special place in my heart. However, I realized I didn’t need any of the original material. Not only that, in all the years I’ve been writing, it’s the first time I’ve seen so many black girls resonating and happy with a group of characters. It was the first and only time I’ve seen stories where I didn’t feel as though them being a black character was a hidden secret or toned down to appeal to others (no shade). It was in my face and proud, even if I didn’t personally resonate with the reader or concept of the story. It still felt good coming from a fandom where I was literally the ONLY black writer in it. Fast forward and I clearly see that now, it’s not welcomed. We could sit here and blame it on non-blk (yt) having the problems but that’s a load of bullshit and the only enemies we have are one another. It’s been other black writers who have littered the tags with discourse abt the same stupid topic to avoid new fics being seen. It’s been other black writers who have switched fandoms when they were no longer the ONLY ones bc coexisting is just too damn hard apparently. It’s been other black authors who have made it blatantly clear that they are only interested in seeing and creating stories that are palatable to other races so they won’t be perceived in a negative light or to be seen as one of the ‘good ones’. Even down to not using black reader tags or avoiding coded language. So much so, they are comfortable laughing at anti-black rhetoric being pushed on other apps so as long as their new favs are not the brunt of the joke.

I’m not here to tell anybody how or what to write. I’m not here to say you ONLY have to like one show but what I am saying is that i will NOT be spending hours and days agonizing over a fic for it to be minimized to a joke for a bitch on TikTok. I will not spend the little free time I have trying to crunch and finish a fic for it not do well but watch y’all pile in my mentions to argue over nonsense. And I won’t sit here and watch y’all purposely try to run other black writers away bc they don’t fit ur aesthetic. Fiction is fiction and whether you resonate with it or not, it’s expression. I’m a boring ass country bumpkin from the middle of nowhere, Florida who’s got social anxiety, chronically ill, neurodivergent and is in bed by 10:00. I don’t smoke, never had sex and I literally never leave the house unless I’m grocery shopping. I never have and never will live the life of any of my characters, even the most tame ones. But I write for EVERY black girl and want everyone of them to be seen. The one space where that seems to be allowed is obviously not welcomed anymore. Arguing and trying to defend ourselves against people who are committed to misunderstanding us is pointless. Minimizing us down to ‘baby mama’, ‘hoodrat’ fics, simply bc you no longer like certain characters (many of which you all were writing for not too long ago) is quite frankly clown and coon ass behavior. Watching y’all become enraged by tropes that are used by ever race, every fandom, etc but turning the blind eye bc it suits ur narrative is fucking hypocritical and laughable at best.

I’m not insecure in my writing. Never have been and never will be. I know I pour everything I have into creating the best work I can and it’s for that reason that I won’t allow it to be treated like trash. I have over 250 drafts in my Google docs and best believe, that’s where they’ll stay until I see fit. Although I know it’ll probably mean leaving the last place I have any sense of community and social interaction in general, it’s not worth coming on here angry everyday in defense mode. Its not worth getting out of my character over and I rather just not be around if it means I have to play mean girl. My mind may change and all of this will just have been me getting shit off my chest but as of right now, this account will be archived come February 28th. Thank you to everybody who’s supported me this far and gave me a safe space. I love all of you so very much and hope that we can enjoy the rest of this month together 🫶🏾 🤍

[chalkscene]

can i request fruba’s reaction to the first time they hug you when the curse is broken without you knowing? like it’s a complete surprise and you’re so happy? thank you so much!

IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT HERE IT IS!!! i don’t usually take requests to take the pressure of writing off of me but i just loved this prompt sm i couldn’t say no 😭

ft. kyo sohma, yuki sohma, hatori sohma & shigure sohma (separate)

after witnessing your failed attempts at making one rice ball, KYO suddenly decides to join you in the kitchen, “pay attention. i’ll only teach you once.” you fight back a smile because you know he’ll keep teaching you as long as you keep asking but you don’t point that out lest he change his mind. you expect kyo to grab a handful of rice. instead, he stands right behind you and cages you in his arms, putting his hands over yours to help you mold the clump of rice you already have in your palms. when you’re reminded of his curse, you quickly spin on your heels and push him away, dropping your rice ball in the process. to your surprise, kyo doesn’t seem remotely offended by your action. he’s more focused on the clusters of rice now scattered around your feet. a click of his tongue hits your ears before you hear him say, “you just wasted a good rice ball.” however, the expression on his face is free of disappointment—a small smile slowly curls on his lips as he waits for a realization to dawn on you and eventually, it does. “you’re…” you mutter in disbelief, caressing his face as if to convince yourself you’re not dreaming, “you’re not a cat…” at your reaction, kyo’s chuckles cuts through the momentary silence before he holds you in his arms, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head in wordless confirmation—this is real. and you immediately return his affection, not wanting to wait another second to bask in his touch. you don’t know which higher power to thank but you still find yourself silently expressing your gratitude like a prayer now that kyo’s curse is lifted. when you pull away, he reaches for the bowl of rice behind you. “this isn’t enough for the two of us,” he deadpans as if a life-changing moment didn’t just happen. you’re itching to ask him when he knew but you deem it a conversation for another time when a suggestion suddenly pops in your head. “we can go out and celebrate instead,” you say cheekily, “i’ve always wanted to try this cat café.” kyo rolls his eyes and you can’t help but laugh. “what?” you defensively exclaim in between giggles, “cats won’t cling to you anymore.”

ever since YUKI went away for college, the only time you’ve really had with each other is when he comes home to visit. you usually have an itinerary prepared but this time, yuki decides to ditch all that. “you have a surprise for me?” you teased him once on video call. yuki simply shrugged, laughing. you tried to coax it out of him but he didn’t budge. “if i told you then it wouldn’t be a surprise,” he countered and when you gave him a pout, he added, “i’ll just see you at home, okay? i love you.” so here you are now, sat in your living room while you wait for yuki to arrive. thankfully, it’s not long before you hear a click from the lock of your front door. “yuki!” you beam at the sight of him and he immediately mirrors your expression. you’re about to take his bags when he swings them out of your reach, carelessly dropping his things to the floor before he snakes his arms around your middle. in a panic, you freeze in his touch and soon, you’re attempting to shove him off of you. “yuki, your curse!” you cry but he only snuggles further into your body. and that’s when it hits you. the boy you love hasn’t turned into a rodent which can only mean one thing—there’s no more curse. you don’t know when or how and as hard as you try, you’re unable to form words to ask yuki about it with your emotions beginning to take over you. yuki only chuckles at your lack of response, “surprise.”

snap. HATORI immediately stops in his tracks upon the sudden sensation, “did you feel that?” “huh?” hatori is almost sure what he felt but he decides to brush it off at your confusion. “tori, you okay?” you ask, raising your hands to cradle his face but he involuntarily flinches at the closeness in case it triggers the curse. “sorry,” you quickly add. he shakes his head, declining your apology, “it’s fine.” you don’t talk about it any further on the rest of the way home but you’ve already reached your doorstep and he still seems distracted. you don’t want to part ways like this so you try again, “are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he doesn’t answer. “hatori?” “can i…” he starts before trailing off hesitantly. he doesn’t finish the rest of his sentence. without a word, he steps closer until there’s barely an inch between you then he wraps you in his embrace. “hatori, no!” you try to push him away in panic but you catch yourself in that same instant when you realize he hasn’t turned into a seahorse. holding your breaths, you both wait in silence for the curse to take effect but the next thing you feel is hatori’s arms tightening around you, making it clear he’s not planning on letting you go anytime soon. before your emotions can get the better of you, a chuckle is bubbling past your lips in relief, releasing any tension that has filled the air. “you have a lot of cuddles to make up for,” you tease hatori but your voice comes out weakly as you keep your tears at bay. and with you in his arms, hatori has never felt so grateful, “then let’s stay like this for a little while.”

“hi,” you beam at SHIGURE the moment he enters your home, “how was your day?” he doesn’t answer right away as if to ponder your question. “it was…” he momentarily trails off before adding, “interesting.” your eyebrows knot in confusion and that’s when you notice something’s off about him but before you can pose another question, shigure leans closer until he’s almost just about your eye level. “can i have a kiss?” he asks before he’s pouting his lips, sporting an effective pair of puppy eyes as you would expect from the dog incarnate. but all that effort only earns him a dubious look from you which elicits a dramatic sigh out of his mouth, “you know i’ve had a long day.” you can’t help but snort at his sulking but you eventually grant him his request. you’re careful to maintain a distance to avoid triggering the curse but in a swift and sudden motion, shigure pulls you flush against him as he kisses you with more fervor. your poor attempt to push him away does little to nothing against his strong arms that he can’t help but smirk against your lips. soon, he’s pulling away, his visage looking brazen as ever, “what’s wrong?” completely stunned and stupefied, you struggle to form the words on your tongue but a single thought plays in your mind—the curse is broken. when your eyes begin to well up, shigure’s cocky grin is immediately replaced with a smile so sincere that it’s such a striking contrast to the words that come out of his mouth, “we can do whatever we want.” then he’s kissing you again.

[astravv]

【✰】 ➤ ꜱᴍᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴡᴇᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴅᴏᴛᴛᴏʀᴇ — ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

✰ — 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ▸ i’m a stoner so and i want to make a fanfic for all my genshin stoners out there so if want more characters with this headcanon just request me cuz id be happy to do it :))

✰ — 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 ▸ smoking weed, some cursing, overall some silliness, dottore has never smoked weed before

✰ — 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) ▸ dottore x fem! reader

✰ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ▸ dottore knows you like your weed, but he’s never been bothered to try it with you. until one day, you ask if he’d want to, since he’s been so stressed lately.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

♡ 〙dottore has never smoked before, but he knows you do, but he doesn’t really care. he watches you while you smoke a joint or hit a bong, but he doesn’t participate. he thinks it’s a waste of time.

♡ 〙dottore had been super stressed out recently since all of the experiments he was working on kept failing. he would come to his room and constantly moan and groan about how he feels like he can’t do nothing right with it. which is extremely weird for him, since he’s usually not venting to you about all his troubles.

♡ 〙you pull out your bong from your shared closet and a bag of weed. you fill it up with some of it, giving dottore a small glance.

♡ 〙”smoke with me, maybe it’ll make you feel better.” you tell him. he’s hesitant, but he honestly doesn’t want to be up all night thinking about how he failed all the experiments he was working on, and he will have to start from square one.

♡ 〙”fine.” he groans, pushing himself to sit beside you on your guys shared bed and watching your every move. “is this even safe?”

♡ 〙”what do you care about safety?” you laugh. he gives you an eye roll in response.

♡ 〙”i have to show you how to do it,” you say, turning over so you’re facing the harbinger. he nods and looks you in the eye.

♡ 〙”i’m going to light it, then suck on it so i can pull the smoke up. after that, pull this dish out and suck all of the smoke you just pulled up out.” you explain. he looks a little lost, so you just laugh and shake your head, then proceed to show him a visual example.

♡ 〙once you show him the visual example, you hand it over to him. his breath hitches and gives you a glance then lights the weed and takes a big hit.

♡ 〙”dottore!” you yell out. he proceeds to throw his head to the side and start coughing his brains out. “not that much..”

♡ 〙”oh my god,” tears well up in his eyes from coughing it up so much.

♡ 〙”suck the rest of the smoke in.” you tell him, pointing at the smoke slowly rising out of the bong. he presses his lips back to it and sucks the rest of it out, handing the glassware back to you.

♡ 〙”you okay?” you laugh, giving him some hard pats on his back as he coughs loudly. he nods and gives you a thumbs up, still coughing harshly.

♡ 〙you both take turns taking more hits of it, until you look at dottore and he’s staring at the wall, like he’s in a trance.

♡ 〙you throw the rest of the burnt weed away, putting your bong up on the side table and sit in front of your boyfriend, who’s still completely messed up.

♡ 〙”are you okay?” you ask, staring at dottore who’s currently in another world right now. he gives you a nod that seems like he didn’t even hear what you just said.

♡ 〙you guys talk about random things, then he starts to get the giggles, really, really bad. he says his face is stuck in a permanent grin, and honestly it was hilarious to see.

♡ 〙then later, he tells you that he’s really hungry. so you and him walk out of your room and go downstairs to the harbingers shared kitchen and dig through the cabinets for anything you two can stuff your faces with.

♡ 〙pantalone walks in the kitchen, seeing you both absolutely shredding into a bag of chips, laughing and carrying on about some random shit that pantalone does not want to be apart of.

♡ 〙he shakes his head at you both and grabs a small snack out of the pantry and walks by you guys giving you both a judgy look. you look up and realize that he was looking at you both and you clear your throat.

♡ 〙pantalone mouths the words “is he high?” and points towards dottore who’s staring deeply into the bag of chips. you nod and laugh, which pantalone shakes his head and gives you a wave goodbye.

♡ 〙you’re hoping pantalone doesn’t go around and tell everyone that you got your mad scientist boyfriend high as fuck.

��� 〙you pull dottore back into his room, and he flops onto his bed. you pull him up into bed and under the covers so he can go to bed, since he looked like he was gonna pass out any second. he looks at you and says something completely inaudible and falls asleep.

♡ 〙let’s just say this whole night was filled with lots of munching, the giggles, and some shushing from dottore as falls into your arms every five seconds. in the morning he tells you that he wants to do it again sometime. you nod and kiss his forehead. probably one of your favorite moments with him.

[ladyescapism]

sweetheart - Azriel

summary: Azriel steals you from a date. back at the townhouse, anger turns into passion

a/n: this is a longer one, but i like how it turned out. thanks to the people who keep coming back and reading my little stories when I post. it means a lot to me. feel free to comment!

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving, p in v), swearing

wc: 2,500

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh you BASTARD,” you shouted. 

“If you want an apology, you won’t get one,” Azriel replied coolly, like he was talking about the weather. 

“I can’t believe you would stoop so low.” 

He just gave you a blank stare. 

You had met a perfectly nice male, at a perfectly nice restaurant, for a perfectly nice date when mister happiness-crusher swooped in claiming that there was in urgent matter that needed everyone’s attention and the whole Night Court was in danger. 

But, when you arrived at the townhouse, no one was there. 

“Can I get an explanation at least, you lying asshole?” 

Another blank stare. 

You groaned in frustration and stomped to the door. You yanked on it, but it wouldn’t budge. 

“If you think I am going to let you run out of here and back to him, you are not as smart as I thought you were.” 

“Let me,” you repeated, turning on your heel to face him. “Let me make one thing abundantly clear, Shadow singer. No one lets me do shit. I will do what I want when I want. Understand?” 

You had gotten closer to him with each word. Maybe you had moved, or maybe he did. You couldn’t see anything but his hazel eyes alight with anger and amusement. Or feel anything but hot fury coursing though your body. But you knew that you stood close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him. 

“I will not let you waste yourself on him.” 

“Waste myself,” you questioned. 

It took you a moment to realize what he was saying. 

“You think I’m a virgin,” you laughed. “Trust me, bud, that ship sailed long ago. Even so, if I did want to fuck him, you would be the last person on my mind.” 

All of the amusement left Azriel’s eyes. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he snapped. “I meant you are too,” he paused searching for the word, “much for him.” 

“Much?” 

“Yes. Too loud. Too demanding. Too everything.” 

After years of being called too much from family, friends, teachers, boys, and keeping silent about it. Dimming your light so that you didn’t offend others. And years of biting your tongue and holding back so that other people could take your ideas and pass them off as their own. All of the anger and resentment came boiling over. 

You raised your arm. Before you could bring it down to whip your hand across his face, Azriel caught your wrist. The room spun a bit and then you felt your back slam into the wall, pinning the arm he didn’t have in his hand between your body and his. 

He leaned into your ear, whispering in a deep, husky voice, “You wanna try that again, sweetheart?” 

You just stared into his eyes. You were playing a game of chicken. To see who would move, speak, or struggle first. For whatever reason, you thought of Nesta. More specifically, the story of the first time she and Cassian kissed. You decided to try the same thing. 

His face was still fairly level with yours, so you just leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, keeping your eyes open. 

Azriel froze.

Having decided you failed at your seduction attempt, the next logical thing to do was to start fighting. 

After ripping your lips away from his, you began thrashing your body as hard as you could. Trying to use your hips and shoulders to create distance between your bodies.

Azriel didn’t budge. 

“Stop,” he seethed. “Stop!” 

You stilled at the command in his voice. 

“Let me go,” you demanded. 

“You have no idea what you just started.” 

Before you could retort, he crashed his lips to yours. The breath left your body. His lips were soft but slightly chapped. There was no other sense of softness to the kiss. He was trying to consume you. 

You finally gained the wits to kiss him back. 

You returned his passion. You welcomed his teeth-gnashing, blood-pumping, world-shattering kiss with open arms. Azriel brought a hand to your face, tilting it upwards to get a better angle to push his tongue into your mouth. 

You were finally able to wriggle your hand free and plunge it into his hair, tugging on it and pressing his face into yours more. The hand that was previously cupping your face hand moved down your neck, applying the slightest amount of pressure. 

Your hips began to move of their own volition, thrusting to join with his. 

A groan resounded from the back of his throat. He dropped your other hand to pin your hips back. You took to opportunity to reach down and start rubbing his cock through his pants. 

Azriel detached his lips from yours and hissed into your ear, “Knock it off, sweetheart. Or this will be over before it starts.” 

“The quicker I can get back to my date.” 

You only said that to spur him on. And spur him on it did. 

He slammed you into the wall anew, grinding every delicious inch of his body against yours. 

“I am going to make sure that you are ruined for every other male on this earth. Understand?” 

Without waiting for an answer, he attached his lips to your neck and slipped his hands down your sides, stopping at the back of your thighs. You sucked in a quick breath as he lifted your legs and secured them around his waist, his lips never leaving your neck. He adjusted so that one hand was digging into your ass and the other was at your back, pressing your torso into his. 

You clung to him as he carried you up the stairs. As if he could sense your nervousness, he paused. 

“I’m not going to drop you.” 

“Better not,” your breathed out. 

Azriel kicked open the first bedroom door he happened upon and practically ran to the bed. He tossed you onto it hard enough to make you bounce. He positioned himself between your spread thighs and looked down on you like you were a feast and he a male starved. 

He took one large hand and ran it from the top of your thighs to the V in the neckline of your dress. He gripped the fabric and before you could protest, he ripped the dress away from your body. 

You shot up. 

“Seriously, Az! I liked that dress.” 

“I’ll buy you a new one.” 

He pressed his lips to yours again, making any other protests in your head disappear. He pushed you back, pinning you between his body and the mattress. Finally, you felt his erection press against you. 

You really wanted to see if it was a big as it felt. 

But Azriel was too busy playing with your boobs to show off his package. He was leaving a love bite on the swell of your breast while massaging the other. The roughness of his callouses against your nipple making you moan even more. 

He started working his way down your exposed body, trailing kisses and leaving love bites along the path to your pussy. Kneeling once he reached his destination, Azriel stopped and looked up at you. His breaths were fast, like he just finished a workout, and you could feel the warmth of those breaths through your soaked undergarments. 

“This stops when you want it to,” he said, maintaining eye contact. 

Why was that so hot? 

“I don’t- I don’t want you to stop,” you rushed out. You hoped the heat flooding to your cheeks at the admission wasn’t visible to him from this angle.

“Good,” he hummed. “I have been waiting for this for a long time.” 

He moved his hands to where your underwear sat on your hips and gently hooked his fingers under the waist band. You thought he was going to take care with your underwear after what he did to your dress, but alas the sound of ripping fabric echoed throughout the room. 

“I’ll just add my fancy underwear to your tab, Shadow singer,” you laughed. 

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” 

You didn’t have time to think about his response before he began feasting. 

His tongue dove into you and began lapping at the juices that had pooled there. Azriel let out a moan from the back of his throat that sent goosebumps up your exposed body. 

“So wet for me. And so sweet.” 

Moving from your entrance, he turned his attentions to your clit. He twirled the bud in circles, teasing it till it was swollen and throbbing. When he pulled it into his mouth and sucked, just a little, your back arched off the bed and you made a noise somewhere between a moan and a scream. The pressure in your core was building with every move his mouth took. 

“You like that, hunh. I should have known you would like a male on his knees before you. Worshipping you.” 

Azriel began ravishing your pussy. He gave it licks, kisses, and even some gentle bites. Just when you thought that this couldn’t get any better, he pushed two fingers inside you. The intrusion had your clenching your walls around him and your hips lifting off the bed. 

With the free hand, he pinned your hips to the bed and began moving his mouth and fingers in tandem. 

Halting his assault on your clit, but keeping his fingers curling at a punishing pace, he looked up at you again. 

“I can feel you about to cum, sweetheart. Do you want to cum?” 

You whimpered and nodded your head. 

“Use your words,” he demanded. 

“Please, Azriel. Let me cum. Let me cum for you. Please.” 

You didn’t have the sense to be embarrassed about begging when you were this close to release. 

“Good girl. You beg so nicely. If only you were this nice when you didn’t want something from me.” 

“If you were nicer to me, I’d be nicer to you,” you managed.

“Well, let me be really nice to you then.” 

With that, he curled his fingers and hit just the right spot that had you cumming. 

Cumming felt like and understatement. 

Your back arched and your nails dug into his scalp. Your hips pressed forward, seeking more contact and even your toes curled in the pure pleasure of the moment. And Azriel kept going. Drawing out your pleasure till you were left a panting, twitching mess. 

“Holy goddess on earth,” you mused to the ceiling. 

“I agree,” Azriel said. “And that wasn’t even the best part.”

You braved a glance to him; his clothes having been shed already. “Someone is full of themselves.” 

Azriel lifted both of your thighs onto his shoulders. And with ease, flipped you onto your belly. “You’re about to be full of me too.” 

You laughed at the cheesiness of the statement but were quickly silenced as you felt the tip of his cock at your slit. You were hoping that he couldn’t feel you trembling in anticipation. 

“Ready,” he questioned, looking for permission to push into you. 

“Yes, Az. Fuck me.” 

His answer was him taking a deep, full-chested breath and when he exhaled, he breached your entrance.

You stretched to just accommodate the first inch or two of him. With every exhale, he pushed in just a little more, till finally he was fully seated inside you. 

He hadn’t even started moving and your hands were gripping the sheets underneath you. Using what little leverage you had, you pressed back into him, eager to make friction between your bodies, to get him moving inside you already. 

“Patience, sweetheart. Let me get adjusted before you make me cum too soon.” 

You groaned in frustration. 

“Is this what you want?” He pulled out and thrust back in. “To be rode hard? To be mounted like a whore?” 

“Yes,” you moaned. 

“Let me oblige you, then.” 

Azriel set a punishing pace. He was driving himself into you so hard, you could feel his balls slapping you. The headboard was slamming into the wall so hard that you were afraid it would punch a hole through it. 

You were lost to the pleasure. It was completely and utterly consuming. The rest of the world faded away. It was only him. Only him thrusting into you. Only him drawing moans and pants and screams from you. It was only his hands, one gripping your hip, pulling you back into him as his hips snapped forward. The other was in your hair, lifting your face into the air as he fucked you. 

The orgasm came over you like a tsunami crashing over a shore. It was all-consuming never-ending pleasure that he drew from you. It was all you could do to stay tethered to this world as he finished riding you. 

Azriel came with a roar, alerting the whole of Velaris that he had found his pleasure. You felt his warm cum fill you up and you hand never felt more complete in your life.

Azriel just stayed seated inside you. He released your hair, letting your head drop to the mattress. The only noise was heavy panting coming from the both of you. 

The hand that previously gripped your hair now moved down your spine, tracing the tattoo you had there. It was a bouquet of flowers, all native to the Night Court, and if someone looked close enough, they could find the moon cycle hidden amongst the blooms. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

“My mother cries every time I show her a new tattoo,” you said with a light chuckle.  

“I wasn’t talking about the tattoo.” 

He pulled out of you and a gush of your mixed juices flowed out of you. You felt a cool cloth start to clean you. Azriel must have made it appear with whatever magic he had on stand-by.  

He finished cleaning you and you flipped yourself over to look at him. His eyes were the most unguarded you had even seen them. 

“Was that the reason you took me from my date? So you could bring me here to fuck me?” 

“No,” he said. “I took you from your date because – because I was jealous. And I didn’t intend on having sex with you.” 

“Why would you be jealous? You don’t like me.” 

“I like you just fine,” he said as he pinched his eyebrows in confusion. 

“You have a funny way of showing it.” 

“I’ll have to get better at that.” 

You just met his eyes in silent challenge. 

“Well, I better get going. Can I borrow some clothes for the winnow home?” 

“I’ll take you home if that’s what you really want. But I’d rather you stay here.” 

He turned his back to you as he said that, like he didn’t want to look at you as you rejected him. 

“Left or right?” 

He turned to look at you, wariness in his eyes. 

“Which side of the bed do you sleep on? Left or right?” 

The grin that broke out across his face could have lit up Velaris for centuries. “In the middle, so chose wherever you want.” 

You feel asleep curled into Azriel’s side, fully prepared to give him more hell tomorrow for interrupting your date. 

[ghostlychief]

Don’t Blame Me

Pairing: MW2 Ghost x f!reader

Summary: They say love makes you crazy, so can they really blame you?

Warnings: mentions of blood, knife usage (stabbing, stabbing people’s eyes, eyes being ripped out of socket); mentions of combat fighting; hints of torture and injuries from torture; typical MW2 lore

NSFW, MINORS DNI: blowjob, fingering, eating pussy; missionary; creampie; aftercare

WC: 7k+ (IK IT’S LONG)

A/N: hello hello! here is the long awaited ghost fic that’s been in development for quite awhile. Thank you so much for participating in my pole, and i hope you enjoy!!! I really let myself indulge in more of the gore this time around, so please read with caution if that kind of content bothers you.

ENJOY🫶🏻🖤

--

You didn’t know blood could be this thick.

But, as you cut through the swarm of your opponents, you really don’t care how much of it gets on your clothes, seeps into your crevasses, and splashes on your face. No, you really don’t give a shit. Your only objective is to get to Ghost, and quickly.

All you see is red, literally.

Before you even fully process what you’re doing, the knife in your hand has already sunk into a neck, blood spurting everywhere, drenching you further.  You carry on, the one person you’re trying to reach at the forefront of your mind.

Should you have felt some remorse for the lives you ended? Probably, but it was like you brain was turned off. Actually, no, that’s incorrect. It was like your brain was wired differently, like it was wired to focus on one thing and one thing only: retrieve Ghost.

You can’t recall when you two got separated, or when he got captured in your last mission. All you remember is the pain you felt when you noticed he’d been taken.

You could blame yourself for his capture, but you decided to turn your fury towards someone else rather than yourself. You realized over the years that self-loathing wasn’t very efficient. It tends to waste time.

It was easy after all; it’s not hard to hold contempt towards the people that stole your lover away from you.

This was their doing. I’m only showing them the consequences of their actions.

It’s what you had to tell yourself. Otherwise, you didn’t see how you were going to come out of this alive. You had to redirect your rage, your frenzy. You had to channel it through your veins, making sure it heated you, and coursed through in a way that burned.

It had to be this way. It was the only way to help you be relentless against your opponents.

You were pretty proud of your knife skills; it was your favorite weapon after all. You always made sure to carry at least two with you at all times.

Today, you strapped on four and you were lucky, since you lost your first two about ten minutes ago. They were no doubt lodged into someone lying on the ground, pierced through their eye. That was your sweet spot, never failing you to effectively take down your opposition.

By this point, it felt like you had sliced your way through a hundred men and yet you still haven’t reached the door of the facility Ghost was being held in. Hope was on the horizon though because you could faintly make out the top of the door frame, which egged you on further. Your muscles worked tirelessly as your arms continued to swing at the men attacking you.

Occasionally, you would move your arms in a quick jabbing motion, repeatedly stabbing the opponent in the stomach and then you would land one last finally blow to their eye, your signature move some would say.

One of the downsides of this move was that sometimes, it took a lot of strength to pull your knife back out of the eye (hence your missing knives), which resulted in pulling their eyeball clear and out of its socket.

Not the best outcome of this tactic, but it is what it is.

Unfortunately, for your last victim, this very thing happened. You were thankful when his screams died down quickly.

You had a moment to catch your breath, hanging your head, quivering hands resting on your upper thighs. You looked up just in time to see someone charging at you, yelling, and with their own knives in their hands.

You noticed that they were the only one alive left outside.

One more. I can take care of him.

You swiftly moved to the side, but could hear the whisp of his blade cutting through the air. That was no good- he got too close.

Time to fix that.

Since you were so deft in your knife wielding ability, you also had a knack of being light on your feet and quick. Something that certainly benefited you.

While the man was no doubt taller and heavier than you, you were faster and anticipated his movements with ease. Sooner than later he too was on the ground, finished, with a sliver blade in his left eye, your red hand-grip the only thing you could see sticking out of his head.

You decided to leave it there, as a parting gift of course.

That’s where you got your nickname, Red Eye, seeing that your weapon of choice was wrapped in a blood-red grip that blended in with the blood that seeped out of your victims’ eye sockets. You thought the nickname was silly at first, but you just grew to accept it over the years. What can you say, you like the fancifulness of it every once in a while.

While you always had reputation, this name made your reputation grow into something almost bigger. While your peers and opponents knew you as the women with the red soaked blades, this name gave you a more, how should you put it?

Eerie reputation.

After stepping over your last remaining victim, you finally reach the double doors, leading into the building Ghost is being held captured in.

Before you entered though, you heard a voice through your comms. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Red Eye.”

Fuck me.

You hear Soap over the comms, “Wait for backup. We’re detecting three bodies via heat signatures”

You let out a groan, but made sure that your comms didn’t pick up on that.

“We don’t have time for that. I need to engage now.”

“You will do no such thing.” You hear Price’s voice cut through, stopping you from opening the doors.

“It’s a miracle you made it this far without any back up. Don’t test my patience.”

Ok, so you may have left without anyone knowing and got a two-hour head start before the rest of your team caught up to your location.

It’s just- they were taking, what it seemed like, forever to develop a plan to get your boyfriend out of captivity. You get it, logistics need to be air tight. But this was Ghost, Simon. Your Simon out there.

You knew he could handle what was given to him, but that didn’t ease any worry or hurt left in your heart, and it made you see red with anger.

That’s how your more or less ended up here, alone, slicing through about 30 men all by yourself. Not the smartest move you admit, but you had to get to Simon. You knew his time was running down, like a sand timer, each minute gone left him more perilous than before.

You were definitely going to get your ass kicked tomorrow at debrief.

You were just about to go in, thinking to hell with listening to orders, when you hear at least two sets of feet jogging across the gravel.

“Jesus, Red Eye. Leave any for the rest of us?”

You just roll your eyes at Soap, ignoring his comment. “C’mon guys, we need to hurry. Let’s take the last of the fuckers out and get Ghost back home.”

“Roger that.”

You go in first taking point, Soap and Kӧnig flanking you.

This time around, you have your handgun out, but your knife is safely held with your left hand, resting on the underside of the muzzle.

The hallway is dark, but it’s to your advantage. You think you see a light source coming from the hallway on the left that you’re coming up to, so you raise your left hand and point in that direction, signaling to Soap and Kӧnig.

This is where you come across the first person.

We must be close.

You let Kӧnig take him out. He comes up swiftly behind him and locks an arm around the man’s throat. First knocking him out, but then ultimately, finishing the job.

You three continue down the long corridor. They seem to go on forever. Sweat drips down your temple, and you hastily swipe it away, not wanting anything to obstruct your vision.

As you come closer to the end of the hallway, you start to hear something.

You raise your hand to signal Soap and Kӧnig to stop, and turn around so they can see you raise your pointer finger up to your lips.

You listen for the sound again, and you realize what it is this time.

Your blood runs cold, and goosebumps form on your arms, freezing you in place as you listen to the deafening sound that doesn’t seem to stop.

Ghost is screaming.

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him be this loud, let alone sound so full of pain. You have to pull it together though, you’re almost to him.

You continue on, making a right this time, and Ghost’s screams become louder. It’s good and bad of course. Good because he’s near you and you’re close, bad because he hasn’t stopped screaming.

You wonder how long this has been going on for.

You feel a heavy weight float down your chest, that takes its resting place in your heart. You find it hard to breath, and it takes every fiber in your being not to go into full panic mode.

You get closer and closer to the room Ghost is in, but you don’t hear him anymore. There is no one outside guarding, so the remaining two people must be inside with him.

Your stomach churns over.

You hadn’t realized it, but you fell behind both Soap and Kӧnig, but without a beat, they took your spot at point, leading you to the door.

They bust in first and immediately go after the two men that were standing by Ghost, who is strapped to a chair. It’s your job to get Ghost free of his confines.

But when you look at him, you freeze all over again.

He’s slumped in the chair, hands and feet bound by thick ropes that are no doubt leaving crude burns in his skin.

His pants have rips and holes in them and from further examination, you realize it’s from cigarette burns and cuts from blades.

You can’t see any damage on his arms but you’re worried what his shirt is hiding on his torso. You realize he’s slumped because he’s knocked out cold, probably from a concussion. But you know he’s alive because you see the slight rise and fall of his chest. It’s ever so faint, but it’s there.

You look around the room and notice a medium size table with different kinds of weapons and tools splayed out along the length of the table. You notice some have dried blood on them, while other tools are still dripping red. Rags litter the table as well. They’re dirty and also have traces of lingering blood.

Once again, you feel the embers burning through you, and you feel like you’re about to explode into a fury of rage.

You turn towards the two men that Soap and Kӧnig took down.

The two bodies lie on the floor and before you realize what you’re doing, you crouching over the first man, and with your blade, you start stabbing both of his eyes, switching on and off between the left and right. While you do this, a blood curdling scream leaves your lips.

It’s both terrifying and heartbreaking; a fine line dances between the two.

You snarl at the now eyeless man before you crawl your way over to his counterpart and release the same anger and revenge onto him. Your screech never faltering.

You don’t realize what you’re doing until you feel strong arms come up behind you and lift you off the dead man.

You start fighting their hold and it’s then when you start crying, your scream turning into a sob. The exhaustion finally getting to you.

“We got him. He’s going to be ok; it’s going to be ok.”

That’s the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

--

When you wake, you notice you’re lying on something soft. When you come to, you realize you’re on a bed, under a thin layer of covers and your head rests on a firm pillow.

You squint because the lights are overly bright but when they adjust, you notice the infamous florescent glow, meaning, you’re in the medical ward of the base.

You sit up, and you notice no aches or pains outside of your regular soreness you felt after fighting for an extended period of time. Your head also hurts, but you don’t really care.

You want to know where Simon is.

You notice a nurse a few feet away and you wave her over.

“Excuse me, but why am I in here?”

She gives you a tight-lipped smile. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that she’s nervous. She fidgets with her hands before answering you.

“Well miss, you fainted on your last mission. They brought you here to be examined.”

She moves over to the end of your bed and takes out the clipboard that resided in the pocket.

“Here, let’s see.” She looks over your paper before looking back at you, still with a trace of uneasiness.

“Seems like everything is OK. Your vitals are normal, and you have no major injuries, just some light bruising on your arms and hands. You are welcome to leave when you want.”

You glance down and notice the light purple that spans across your knuckles.

Before she can scurry away, you ask, “Wait, where are they keeping Ghost?” You shake your head, “I mean, Simon Riley.”

A look of pity crosses her face before she answers, “He’s in Ward C miss; the intensive care unit.”

She leaves before you can ask her anything else.

What the fuck was her problem?

You jump out of your bed, but immediately regret that decision when your head starts to throb right above your left eye.

Now is not the time for a migraine.

You make sure you have all of your belongings before you rush over to Ward C. Right before you are about to enter through the doorway, Price comes through and stops you with a hand placed on your shoulder.

He looks down at you – you’re really getting tired of being the shortest on the team- and squeezes your shoulder gently.

“Before you go in there, guns-a-blazing, he’s doing ok, alright?”

You just stare up at him and nod. Although it was good to hear Simon was doing ok, whatever the hell that meant, you still had so much anger left in you. So much you were hoping that just the sight of Simon healing would help quell you.

You walk past Price, a determined spring in your step, ready to be reunited with Simon. It’s been so long since you’ve last seen him.

Three weeks.

Three weeks he was gone, and you thought he was never coming back.

The intensive care unit is unusually empty so it’s not hard to find which bed Simon is occupying.

You quietly walk up to the side of the bed, and you are finally by his side.  

“You don’t have to tiptoe around me bug, I’m awake.”

Simon’s voice startles you and your head turns towards his. You notice his left arm is in a sling but a lazy smile graces his lips.

If you weren’t in a medical facility on base, out in the open to the prying eyes of the public, you would have immediately burst out crying just at the sound of his voice.

Instead, you let out a breathy, “I thought I lost you.”

Unlike Simon, your face has no hint of happiness. Your lips are slightly turned down, quivering and your eyes start to well up with tears, but you will them not to drop.

Your hands are balled up in fists but you bring yourself back down. You are here for him after all; it’s not the other way around.

You slowly unclench your fists and then gingerly sit down on the side of Simon’s bed, right at his hip.

That’s when you bring your hand up to trace down the side of his face, feeling the familiar stubble that never fails to tickle you when he kisses you.

Your hand comes back up to rub his cheek and you say again, “I thought I lost you, Simon.”

He brings his hand up to cup yours that still rests on his face. “I know, I know. But I’m here, and I��m ok.”

“Are you though?” You can’t fight it anymore, the tears stream down your face, their streaks burning your skin.

His hand that was resting on yours comes up to rub your head. “Promise.”

After that, you and Simon laid in his hospital bed for the remainder of the day. He fell in and out of sleep, but you were just thankful he was alive and breathing next to you.

--

It’s been about three weeks since Simon’s been back. He’s out of his sling and most of his bruises and wounds have healed. Expect for the deeper lacerations on his thighs. He also has some scarring from the cigarette butts. But over all, you would say he’s doing pretty alright, all things considered.

You’re both currently on base, since you needed to attend multiple meetings today, and you’re eating lunch in the cafeteria.

“So, I heard you went kind of, feral, when you came to rescue me.” Simon has an innocent look on his face, but you see him trying to hid his shit eating grin.

You narrow your eyes at him, “And who did you hear that from?”

He just shrugs nonchalantly, “No one in particular.”

You scoff. Fucking Soap.

You knew he must have told someone, if not Simon himself. He was quite the gossiper.

What a fucker.

“Well, did you want me to ask them to be friends?”

Simon lets out a low laugh. “That would have been funny.” You look up at him and see his eyes are lit with amusement.

You let out a sigh, but a ghost of a smile dances across your lips. You know he’s feeling better since he’s joking around.

--

Another three weeks has passed and you find yourself in the typical meeting room. The one you all use before a mission. That means this will be your last debrief before you jet off to where ever the location is in a few days.

The meeting goes well up until the part where Price says “And Ghost, you will wait here at the rendezvous point.”

You interrupt him, “Wait what?”

The room goes silent as you stare down Price.

“There’s no way Simon is going on this mission. Nope. Not happening.”

“Well, y/n, you don’t really have a say in this. Do you?”

The trace of condescendence has you short circuiting but you keep your cool. You glare at Price, “If Simon’s going on this mission, then count me out.” You don’t notice the slip of his name. Usually at work you call Simon Ghost or LT, but never Simon.

You storm out of the room and head back to your desk to gather your things to leave.

You hear someone lightly jogging behind you, and you have a hunch about who it is that followed you out.

You feel a hand softly grab your elbow and you hear Simon plead, “Wait.”

You sigh and turn around. Looking up at him you confess, “Look, I need to cool off for a bit. We can talk at home, ok?”

You see Simon contemplate whether to let you go or not, but he just gives you a curt nod. He gives your arm a gentle squeeze where his hand still rests, “Ok, see you at home.” --

You basically scowl your whole way home. Listen, you know you have some slight anger issues, but you’re working on it.

You get home after the long day and quickly make way to the shower, needing to feel the hot water run down your head and back. That will calm me, you think.

Once you step out of the shower, you already feel better. You’re clean, and you smell like your favorite soap. You change and do your normal routine after a shower then head to the kitchen to make yourself a warm cup of tea.

Evening tea is one of your favorite treats and it always seems to quell your nerves. Because that’s what you are right now, nervous.

You don’t want to fight with Simon, no, not at all. But you can’t help but feel frustrated at Price, and subsequently him, for deciding that he’s ready to go back in the field. Because from your perspective he’s not. Hell, it’s barley been a month and a half, and you think he needs more time to cope with what happened to him.

Sure, he’s seeing the base’s therapist, and he’s doing everything he can to keep his physical body healthy, yet you can’t help but the ball of worry that has formed in the pit of your stomach, fester. Something keeps nagging at you, and you don’t know what it is.

You just don’t understand how Simon can bounce back so quickly.

Luckily you didn’t have to wait too long for Simon to get home. And when he does, you find yourself perking up on the couch when you hear him come through the door.

He lets out a soft “Hey,” in which you respond just as softly back.

“I’m going to go shower and wash up, but then we can talk, yeah?”

You give him a nod, but also confirm, “Sure, that sounds good.”

His shower felt like eternity, but you know you only feel this way because you’re on edge. Again, you don’t want to fight with him. You just, you love him so much, you can’t stand to lose him again. No, it can’t happen again.

You hear soft footsteps on the tile as Simon makes his way through the kitchen to the living room where you’re still seated on the couch.

You look up at him before he sits down and grant him a quiet smile, and reach out your hand to his. His large hand grasps yours in his, and his thumb traces your knuckles. He then sits down next to you, and now his fingers are tracing over yours, relaxing you just a smidge.

You can feel his warmth radiating off of you instantly, and it takes ever thing in you to not glue yourself to his side.

You both slightly turn to each other, and funnily enough you each say “So,” at the same time.

You giggle and he lets out a low chuckle that makes your insides swarm. You miss him.

“You go first, bug.” The hand that has been tracing yours pulls you closer to him, and he embraces you in a warm hug as you both sit on the couch.

Before you start, you simply just bask in Simon’s embrace, not wanting to let go just yet. You begrudgingly pull away, but still keep your fingers connected in their little dance.

“I’m sorry for storming out today at our meeting. That was unprofessional, and uncalled for, but I just don’t see why you have to go on our next mission.”

“Aren’t you still hurting from what happened to you on the last one? I guess I just don’t understand why you want to go back in the field so soon.”

There’s a pause before you add, “How do you know you’re ready to go back?”

One thing you appreciate about Simon is that he never interrupts you, and he always lets you finish your complete thought before adding his.

When he can tell you’re done, he sighs and says, “Because, y/n, that’s what we’re trained for.”

“I wouldn’t have this job if I couldn’t put the pieces back together after every mission.”

You guess that makes sense, but you’re still concerned about him.

“Listen, I get that, I really do. I guess what I want to make sure of is that you’re actually doing ok and that you’re working through whatever happened to you.”

He’s told you the gist of what happened, and he confides in you whenever he feels like he needs the extra support, but you know that there are some things he’s still hiding. Which, you’re not going to push him to tell you, but you hope at some point he does.

He gives you a slight smile, “That’s why I love you. You’re always looking out for me, and I appreciate it so much, but I’m really doing fine, ok?”

He shifts so he’s leaning in closer to you, and now it’s his turn to cup your jaw with his hand. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and you nod at his answer. “I love you too.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

You grant him a smile in return and then he pulls you in for a kiss.

--

The kiss deepens and before you know it, you’re straddling his lap, one leg on either side of his thick torso. You’re a mess as you straddle him, and you wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to be closer to him, if even possible.

He wraps his arms around you and subconsciously pulls you closer to him. His large hands span across your back as he holds you close to him. Your center brushes against his you let out a moan when you feel this contact. You run your hands down his neck and shoulders, feeling the taught muscles underneath his black t-shirt. As you rock your hips against his, you hear him let out a moan, which only eggs you on further.

“Fuck, y/n. Keep doing that again.” His hands travel down to hold you hips, almost as if he’s trying to help you move against him.

Your hands move in tandem and they come to rest at the base of his t-shirt, your fingers playing with the hem. You’re itching to take it off of him, and he seems to understand what you want, because he pauses kissing you to help you take off his shirt.

Now shirtless, you bring your hands up to his shoulders and then trail them slowly down his torso, nails ever so slightly scraping against his skin. You can feel each ridge and bump from his abs before your reach the hem of his sweatpants. Your fingers graze over his happy trail before you start toying with his sweats.

You run one finger along the hem of his grey sweats, then ever so slightly, your finger enters his pants, you run your finger under his sweatpants. You’re teasing him, and you can tell he’s getting antsy by the way he shifts as your finger runs along the band of his briefs.

As you continue to tease him, you trail or lips over his chest. Your lips wrap around one of his nipples, the unpierced one, and you softly bite him before you run your tongue over his nipple, suckling.

He moans out a gentle “Fuck,” and one of his hands comes up to grasp your hair.

You move over to his other nipple, the pierced one to be exact, and you once again softly bite him then suck. You make sure to spend your time here because you know this is one of Simon’s favorite thing during foreplay. Once he’s taken care of there, you continue to trail your lips down his abdomen, and now you’re finally at his center.

You get off his lap and sit on the floor in-between his spread legs. You place your hands right above his knees, and you look up at him with your swollen lips.

“You’re going to be good for me tonight, right?” You rub your thumbs in soft circles on his legs, waiting for his answer.

You see him gulp as he looks down at you, and then his lips quirk, in a smirk.

“What do you say?” Your hands stop their ministrations and you tilt your head, understanding what he wanted.

“Please.”

His smirk deepens, “Good girl.”

At his greenlight, you come up on your knees so that you can reach him better. Your trail the hem on his sweatpants one last time before you start pulling them down off his hips, making sure that his briefs come off too. He lifts his butt to help you, and now you’ve successfully taken his pants and underwear off.

You greedily take in the size of him. His dick is hard and slightly curved as it lays against his stomach. You wrap your hand around him, he’s so thick that your hand doesn’t close around it the whole way. You pump him slowly, as you look at him. His eyes are blown out and he leans his head back against the couch. You smile at him before you lower yourself. You link one strip up his dick, making him squirm underneath you. You then you bring up your hand to start pumping him. As your hand moves up and down, your lips come up to kiss the to crown of his dick.

You look up at him again, locking eyes and then wrap your lips around him. Once your lips make contact, he lets out a low moan. You continue to sink down on him. You move your head up and down, trying to adjust to his size. The part of his dick that you can’t fit into your mouth, you cover with your hand, pumping him up and down.

Your hair falls around you, and at this, Simon carefully takes your hair into one hand, putting it into a makeshift ponytail.

“Fuck, baby that feels so good.”

You continue to suck on him, hollowing out your cheeks. You know he’s close when you see his abs start to clench and his legs start to stiffen.

The moans he lets out has your getting wetter and wetter by the minute, and you squirm, trying to ease some of the pent-up tension you’re feeling.

Your unoccupied hand comes down to play with his balls, gently squeezing them and that is what does him in. He lets out a louder groan and you feel his warm come shoot down your throat.

You keep your mouth on him, cleaning him up before you slowly take yourself off him. You wipe your lips with the back of your hand and you sit back on your heels, smiling at him.

He runs a hand through his hair, and lets out a low chuckle.

“Damn, you really did a number on me there.” You laugh yourself and you come up to the couch, sitting beside him so you can turn his head to give him a lingering kiss.

You give him a few pecks, “What can I say, I’m good at what I do.” Your eyes are bright as you look at him, and his hold the same amount of affection and adoration.

His low voice cuts through you, “Now it’s my turn to make you feel good, alright?”

You give him a brief nod, “Please.”

He pulls you back into him, and then starts to push you back so you’re lying on the couch under him. He’s kissing you frantically now, his tongue entering your mouth.

“Take your pants off for me, would you?” His hands make their way to take your shirt off, and while he does that, you slip out of your shorts, underwear gone with them.

“Thank you, baby.”

He keeps kissing you as his hand comes down to your center. He first cups you, and then brings his pointer finger to rub against your clit. As his pointer is stimulating your clit, his middle and ring finger run along your slit, gathering up all the wetness that formed over the course of the last half hour.

You see him bring his coated fingers up to you. “Taste for me,” he breathes. And without any hesitation, you suck on his fingers, tasting yourself, making sure to look at Simon while you lick his fingers. He watches you with fire in his eyes.

“Good girl.”

You’ll never get tired of hearing him call you that.

He brings his hand back down to your pussy and then enters two fingers in you, stretching you out deliciously. You whine as his fingers enter you; they feel so good inside you.

Luckily for you, your boyfriend has quite large hands, which equated to long, thick fingers, and he always knew what to do with them.

He starts picking up the pace, and the squelching sound his fingers make is deafening, and the only thing you can focus on as they move in and out of you.

You didn’t even have to ask before he’s adding in a third. You feel yourself clench around him, and you’re already losing your mind and he hasn’t even properly fucked you yet.

He’s hitting you right in your sweet spot, and your hands come up to hold him by the shoulders. He moves down ever just a hair, and you’re not sure why until he lowers his head. He spits, and then connects his lips with your clit, moving his tongue around your sensitive bud.

The addition to his lips on your clit has you seeing stars and you start to feel that familiar build up. You tumble over the edge, a bright warmness spreading through you.

Simon removes his lips and fingers from you and you’re both panting heavily. He’s bracing himself with one arm as he looks down at you.

Your hair is messily strewn across the couch behind you, and your eyes are bright. Your chest moves up and down as you try and catch your breath. You smile up at him, this time your teeth showing.

He gives you a peck on your lips. “How was that?”

You sigh, “Amazing.”

Another kiss is pressed on your lips and you can faintly taste yourself on him.

“I want to properly fuck you, and that can’t be done on the couch. Bedroom, yeah?”

You nod up at Simon acquiescing to his suggestion.

“Alright, up you go then.”

He swiftly pulls you up and off the couch into his arms. You squeal at the sudden movement but it turns into giggles as Simon carries you bridal style to the bedroom.

“Wow, my night in shining armor.” You lazily loop your hands around his neck as he leads you both to the room. He just laughs at your statement.

Once there, he gently deposits you on the bed, and wastes no time picking up where you left off.

He crawls on top of you and starts to kiss you up your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth. His kiss leaves you burning, and your hands eagerly reach for him, pulling him down further into you.

You wrap your legs around his torso, and feel his dick brush up against your center, hard once again.

He pulls away to look at you, eyes connecting. “Do you need any more prep?” He brings a hand up to brush away some of the flyway hairs that covered your face. His hand lingers, cupping your head, and his thumb brushes your cheek in a soothing back and forth motion.

Smiling you answer, “No, I’m good.”

“Ok.”

Bracing himself above you, his hand trails down to grasp his dick. He gives it a few pumps before running it along your slits, and lightly taps it on your overly sensitive clit.

He then slowly guides it into you, the stretch much bigger than what his fingers could offer. You both let out a sigh as he fully sinks into you, eyes connecting at this very moment. Once he’s fully inside, he gives you some time to adjust, his hand moving to hold your hips, thumb moving in circles.

“You okay?” He asks, looking down at you. You look up at him, “Yeah, I’m good, you can start moving.”

At your consent for him to move, he does just that. He pulls his hips back before he pushes them back into you. He starts off with a steady pace, not too fast, not too slow. You’re surprised he’s not pounding into you relentlessly like he usually does. This time his thrusts are much more calculated, calm, like he’s got all the time in the world. The slower drag of him against your walls makes you roll your eyes back, reveling in the feeling of him.

It’s only him, that’s all you can think about, all you can feel. You let go of the heaviness you’ve been feeling to focus on being with him now. It’s not hard, he makes you feel like you’re floating anyways.

Your fingers run down his face, down his shoulders, taking in as much as you can of him. Then you run your hand down his tattooed arm, mapping the intricate details of his tattoos and running over the protruding veins due to him propping himself up. Simon watches you as you run your hand across him.

He gives you a particular harsher thrust, eyes trained on you when you moan and clutch his arm a harder. He picks up the pace just a little, loving the way you look beneath him, taking his cock so well.  

“Fuck. Right there, baby,” you breathe. He hits that same spot again, but this time you move up the bed a little from the force of his hips. Your breasts jiggle as you shift up the bed and Simon’s eyes are travel to your chest. He brings his hand up to up one of them, rolling his thumb over your nipple. Simon keeps this faster rhythm with his hips, slamming into your now quivering pussy, showing you no mercy as he pounds into you with force.

His thrusts are powerful that leave the breath knocked out of you.

He removes his hand from your breast to wrap it around your leg. He positions your leg so it’s resting on his shoulder, now giving him a new angle into you. This position allows you to feel him move even deeper inside you, now feeling the tip of his dick hit your cervix, which makes you whine. His thrusts continue their hard motions, but his pace starts to slow down.

Simon’s hips start to falter a little bit in their smooth rhythm, a telltale sign he’s close. At his praising, you unconsciously clench around him, making him breathe out a silent curse as his hand tightens on your leg that is propped up on his shoulder.

“Si, I’m close,” you whine. You feel so full, so consumed by all things Simon, the only thing you can focus on is him and the building orgasm that threatens to spill over.

“Me too.” Simon removes his hand that’s been propping your leg up and moves it down to your clit, and starts to rub slow circles on the bud, making you squirm. You bring your leg down from his shoulder to wrap it around his torso once again pulling him closer to you. You drag your hands down and up his back as his thumb continues to abuse your clit. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

With a few more thrusts from Simon and the quick movements of his finger on your clit, you feel the coil in you snap, and it snaps hard. Your orgasm washes over you, a blinding white light that makes you feel like you’re going to pass out, and you call out his name one last time.

Your eyes squeeze shut and you see stars, as your pussy clamps down hard on Simon’s dick. He’s a moaning mess above you as he feels your orgasm that’s traveling through your body, your walls contracting around him.

He curses out a soft “fuck baby” and then he’s following just a hair behind you, traveling over his precipice as well, emptying inside of you. You feel his come paint your walls as your pussy continues to clench around him, as you ride out your second orgasm of the night.

He collapses on top of you but is careful not to crush you completely. You’re breathing heavy as you both come down from your highs, both sweaty messes.

He lifts his head to look at you. There’s a soft smile on his face and you smile back.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, bug.”

Your smile falters, “I never want you to leave me like that ever again. Got it?” Your voice is firm, but there’s an underlying trace of tenderness. Your hand comes up to push his hair back, waiting for his answer.

“Never.”

“Good.” You pull him back down to you for a kiss.

He slowly peels himself off of you and whispers out, “Wait here.”

You lay on your back, legs bent as you wait for Simon’s return. When you hear him entering the bedroom, you slightly sit up and you notice a washcloth in one of his hands.

He kneels back on the bed and gingerly pries your legs open so he can clean you up. He delicately starts wiping your center, his first few strokes making you writhe due to oversensitivity. His hand rests tenderly on your knee, thumb stroking back and forth as he wipes you clean. He must have run the washcloth under hot water because it’s wet and feels warm against your skin.

When he’s done, he pecks the inside of your knee and gets up off the bed to go throw the washcloth in the hamper. When he returns to you, he’s in his boxers, and he has a t-shirt in his hand.

“For you, my lady.” You laugh at him and take his shirt, pulling the soft material over your body.

You both clamber under the covers, and are now wrapped up in Simon’s arms.

There’s no place you’d rather be right now, and you’re so thankful the universe allowed you another chance to be with him like this.

If he didn’t make his way back to you, you don’t even know what you would have done. Probably would have gone mental, but who could really blame you?

[thmles]

| Betty.

- i don't know anything but i know i miss you.

[warnings: a bit sad, a little angsty, just teenage love that i will never have, not proofread]

[a/n: i tried to do it in a sort of 2nd pov? i think it ended up pretty good? so... i might also try to write another miguel story? but i'm trying to figure out if it should be smut or angsty ]

All your life, you and Miles have been the best of friends. You were neighbors, classmates, play pals. You guys were never not together, whether it be skating or even going to his Uncle Aaron’s. When you got accepted into Visions Academy, Miles strived to get accepted just so the two of you can be together. His parents supported him in his decision thinking that it would be a great opportunity for him to learn more.

“‘I love you, dad.’” You mimicked Miles’ voice before laughing loudly. You guys were sitting in the cafeteria, surrounded by other students eating lunch. You could barely eat anything since you’ve been laughing at Miles the whole time.

“Yeah, yeah. Tease me all you want.” He groaned and slammed his head on the table. A few looks of concern came your way at the commotion. You stifle a laugh and rub Miles’ back.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Morales. It’s the first day of classes! Everything’s hectic, everything’s hard!” You told him with a smile. Miles groaned at the statement and propped his arm up and resting his head on it. He attempted to grab a fry from your plate before you smacked his hand. “Hey, I bought you your lunch. Don’t waste it.” You were quick to scold him and gave his tray a light shove. You took a sip of your Diet Coke Zero before continuing to eat your fries and bacon cheeseburger. “But your fries look way tastier!” He protested and made another move for your tray.

“Miles, I bought the exact same thing for you.”

“Well, stolen food is still better.”

You rolled your eyes. “How’s your first day? Hopefully not as eventful as mine.” Miles asked before popping more fries in his mouth.

“Well, I was late for the first class, then I went to grab some stuff from my locker but clearly underestimated how much time I need to go to the Physics Classroom which was on the other side of the building,” You sighed and grabbed fries from his tray and munched on them.

“Then I tripped going up the stairs, but some guy named Harry helped me up.” You finished and drank from your cup. Miles laughed at your story and his eyes lit up.

“Oh yeah, Uncle Aaron’s been asking about you! He told us to drop by sometime.”

You let out a laugh and shook your head. “I can’t make time this week, Miles. It’s only the first day and I have a lot of things to finish.”

He groaned and realized he had to finish things as well, especially the essay assigned by their physics teacher.

-

“Hey, Miles. Did you meet your Uncle Aaron last night? You didn’t text after you said you left your dorm.” You were quick to approach him in the hallway. “Wait, did you just grow a couple of inches? We were at about the same height yesterday? Or am I hallucinating?” You fired question after question and you failed to notice how each question agitated Miles.

“Look, I-I don’t know either, okay? Stop asking so many questions!” He stopped and yelled. The whole hallway became quiet as they gawked at the pair of you. You were stunned and hurt. “I-I was just worried, Miles. I didn’t mean to-” Before you could even finish your sentence, he bolted out the hallway and left you there. Other students stared at you before resuming whatever they were doing. You sighed and went back to class before you could overthink what was happening.

-

In the past days, it was revealed that Peter Parker was the man behind the mask of Spider-Man. Unfortunately, he passed due to the earthquake that day Miles stopped talking to you. For the past few days, you haven’t heard much from him, only knowing that he hung around a blond girl named, ‘Gwanda.’ His parents reached out to you hoping you knew what was going on with Miles since he hasn’t been talking to them either. They told you that his Uncle Aaron passed and the new Spider-Man was probably the one that killed him.

You figured you’d reach out to him by going to his dorm. You knew his roommate, Ganke, from your chemistry class and asked him where their dorm was. Later on that day, you knocked on the door, seeing a shadow moving around the room. You knocked gently and called out. With no response, you just talked. “Hey, Miles. It’s me. I-I know you’re probably busy there but I hope you can hear me. Something-Something happened to your Uncle Aaron,” You choked back a sob as tears began to form in your eyes. “I think it’d be best if your family told you about that.” You took a shaky breath.

“Miles, I don’t know anything but I know I miss you. I miss how we hang out and laugh at each other’s jokes. How we listen to each other’s music,” You heard a faint shuffle before you continued, “and how you make me the happiest person when we’re together. This is probably going to be the shittiest way I confess but I like you, Miles. I always have. You’re my best friend and I was always afraid I’d lose you if I said anything.” You leaned your head against the door.

“I know you feel pressured from your family and maybe even from me. But your family and I push you to do your best because we know you can do it. You are special, Miles. You have this spark inside of you and it is amazing. Just keep doing you and we’ll support you. We’re here for you, Miles.” A tear ran down your face and you were quick to wipe it away. You sniffed as you tried to hold back your tears. “We don’t have to talk soon. Take your time, okay? I’ll wait for you.”

-

Later on, you found yourself walking around Brooklyn to clear your head. The earthquake caused by the Fisk Tower got you shaken and felt the need to take a breather. You still haven’t heard from Miles. You looked at your phone for any new notifications and the picture of you and Miles on your middle school graduation looked back at you.

“It isn’t safe for young people to be out at night.” A voice pretending to be gruff and deep informing you. You looked up with a gasp. “Y-You’re that new Spider-Man! The one that just took down Fisk right?”

He let out a nervous laugh before continuing his deep voice. “T-That’s me!” You raised an eyebrow and observed his figure. You circled around him as he stood still. “Look, you have to get home before you-”

“Miles?” The lens of his mask grew wide.

“W-What?”

“You remind me of my friend, Miles. He does this stupid deep voice thing when he makes fun of some older guys that annoy us.”

“O-Oh…”

“Unless…” You put a hand on your chin as you began to think.

“How about I just get you home before something bad happens to you?”

-

The new Spider-Man swung you back at the Visions Academy. To say the experience was terrifying was an understatement. You were clinging to him like a baby koala. He made sure to gently land on the rooftop of the building and set you down just as gentle. He stood on the ledge, ready to leave and bid you a farewell, you cut him off.

“I know it’s you, Miles. I can smell your ‘unique’ cologne that I gifted you last Christmas.” You told him. You slowly approached him until you were on the ledge. You leaned against it as he sat down.

“Is that why you were avoiding us?” You asked him softly and looked at him. He took his mask off and looked down at the busy street below.

“Yeah. I was…trying to figure things out. I didn’t know who to talk to…” You let out a sigh and looked out at the city. The bright lights lit the city up like stars in the night sky. The wind was cold and you shivered through your thin sweater.

“I-I heard everything from earlier…about how you miss me and that you’ll support me and all of that..” You were thankful that it was dark as your face heated up. “And how you like me.” Miles finished and looked at you. “I-I meant what I said, Miles. It’s up to you but I understand if you don’t want to talk or be friends anymore after that-” You rambled nervously. Miles chuckled and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “Don’t worry. I like you too.” Your face flushed red again as you hid your face in your hands. Miles laughed and gently tugged your hands out of your face. He got down the ledge and stood beside you, leaning against the ledge.

“How about a movie date at my place?” He suggested.

“How about we go to the Arts Museum then we watch a movie? Like Back to the Future?”

“Only if you buy pizza.”

“As long as you buy some ice cream.”

“Deal.”

[hiorisgf]

##I'LL MAKE YOU MORE FLOWERS, SO PLEASE SMILE MORE

↪Paper flowers are difficult to make. But for you, he'll do it a hundred times.

↪ft. Mikage Reo

↪What's on your mind?: I don't know how to draw flowers please forgive me guys

Mikage Reo was a prodigy. A jack of all trades master of none type of guy. The genius that could copy up to 99% of any techniques available—a well-known football player in the world of football. But why. Why can't he emulate what the video taught him just 3 hours ago?

Reo holds up the flower origami he made, sighing at the pathetic imitation of the flower origami you'd see in the video. Without caring where it'll land, Reo mindlessly throws it at wherever—not bothered enough to care about messing up his already messed up room. A pile of crumpled papers surrounded him, taking up the space of his room;but that was the least of his problems. 

He tries again, trying to do exactly just what the video told him to. Only to still somehow mess up; he winces at the depressed looking flower, swearing it didn't look like this before. He groans as he yet again throws another paper away and take another coloured paper to repeat the steps. This was harder than he expected it to be. Honestly, why couldn't he be talented at the things that mattered most? Why is it that when he decides to make really good use of his talent it suddenly doesn't work?

"Gah! I can't do it, it's too difficult!" 

Reo ruffles his hair, grumbling as he fails to yet again make a decent looking flower origami. 

For a moment, Reo considers giving up. Why did he even do somethings as troublesome as this? He could just buy some—

"I like handmade gifts. I mean—aren't they just so romantic?! And cute to boot! I wish I could recieve one someday too.."

Your words stops him from his thoughts and made him remember just why exactly he decided to do such a troublesome task like, make a bouqet of paper flowers made by him to be sent to yours truly. The reason was honestly simple, because he wanted to impress you. To prove to you that he could be the guy you'd like—the guy you'd come to love. He wanted to see you smile, to see your eyes sparkle like the stars in the night sky as he hands you the gift he's worked hard on. To see you fall more inlove with him. Reo remembers his motivations, and he comes back with twice as much motivation than before. For your smile! He'd tell himself, taking another sheet of paper and folding it. 

Hours pass and he may never get to sleep at this rate, but if it's for you then he wouldn't mind. He hums a song, one from the playlist he's made as he thought of you before. A determined grin etches its way onto his face, determined to finish the present if only for the sake of your smile.

"Ah! I finally did it!"

Reo proudly raises his paper art. It was considerably better—now atleast somewhat decent rather than being downight horrendous. Arranging the paper flowers into a bouqet, he spun it around and nodded his head in agreement. This should suffice. Now all he needed to do is sleep and—it was already 7:40 am. He was already ten minutes late to school. 

With haste, he quickly grabs his phone and check the time. And sure enough, it said in bold numbers: 7:42 am.

Shoot. He was late.

Without wasting any seconds, Reo immediately stood up and ran to the bathroom. Almost tripping over a paper he crumpled and threw away, he curses as he barely managed to fall all the way down. 

By the time he arrived, he was 34 minutes late to class.

Oh. This was more nerve-wracking than he thought. 

He only realizes that when he's standing right infront of you. Paper flowers hidden behind his back. He feels his hand sweat and shake—voice growing shaky as he starts to say the lines he's been preparing since this early morning. It's bothering—how tounge tied he gets around you. He's stuttering and spluttering, barely managing to say the words he's been wanting to tell you.

With trembling hands, he nervously hands you the bouqet. "Here." 

When you take the gift from his hands, he grows worried. Eyeing the paper flower with disdain as he only now realizes the dozens of flaws it had. His work could be compared to that of a kinder gartener—it was seriously bad. A part of him wants to take it back, to grab it from your hand and stomp on it then run away. It's bad—undeserving of your attention and your touch. He wants to go and crawl into a 10 ft hole he digged and hide himself for the rest of eternity. Where did he get the idea that it'd be enough to even consider giving to you?

"Ah. Reo, did you make this?" you ask—and there's the certain tone in your voice that gets his heart to pick up the pace.

"Y—yeah. Although it isn't the best. Sorry."

"..Oh."

A second—and a smile blooms on your face. It looks different, he'd notice. It wasn't like the smiles you'd give when he bought you store bought gifts—a tinge of uncomfortability always tainted the expression and bothered him. It wasn't like the comforting smiles you'd give whenever he was in trouble. Nor did it look like the ones you'd have throughout the day. This one was different—different in the way the thousands of constellations in your eyes would light up and dance around as you take the time to admire the bouqet, ignoring the one hundred mistakes you could see from there. It's different in the way time seemed to slow to a stop just to look at you. Different in the way you looked etheral with the smile—and the light casted over by the windows and the sun up above; as though you were an angel on earth.

Pure, unbridled joy rests on your face. It seeps from you and heads over to him, and it leaves him smiling idiotically. As uncharacteristic that is. It's unbelievable, how it wasn't brand gifts you wanted. How such a lousy gifts full of mistakes was enough to get you smiling like this. It's unbelievable, how it took him so long to know about this. Why had he deprived himself of such a smile so long? He must've been a fool. 

"Thank you Reo!! I really, really, really love it!" 

Ah. The smile you've directed at the bouqet alone— is now being directed at him, and he feels like dying. 

"Next time" he starts, bringing you back from your reverie. "Next time, I'll make you a better one than that. So wait for it until then" 

If only for your smile, then he'll do the hellish procedure of making paper flowers again. A million—or a billion times if he has to. Until he can make a flower perfect for you, then he won't stop. But even after he's already made a paper flower worthy of you—he doesn't think he'll stop.

[fozmeadows]

hey. i think i'm going through a phase of self-hatred and… I don't know, of believing I'm not capable of anything. would you have any tips or books that approach this from an AFAB/trans perspective so I can cope? (it's not that I hate myself for being trans. I just have insecurities, anxieties and I don't know what to do to stop most things from seeming so discouraging, for lack of a better word.)

I'm sorry you're having a hard time! I don't have any book recommendations, and I'm not exactly an expert, but:

Where possible, try to focus on what you enjoy about the process of an action instead of worrying about the end result. A lot of anxiety comes from privileging a hypothetical future version of yourself ahead of the person you are in the moment, and while it's still good to have goals and aspirations for the future, that doesn't render your present self irrelevant, because that's who you have to be to achieve them.

To give a personal example: late last year, I was really disappointed with how little reading I'd managed to get done in 2023 particularly, but also over the pandemic. I'd bought all these awesome books that I really wanted to read, but I never seemed to get around to starting most of them, and meanwhile, I was spending hours of my life mindlessly doomscrolling Twitter and TikTok, which regardless of anything else is a really good way to depress yourself about the state of the world. So I sat down and thought about it, and I realized that the problem was how much pressure I was putting on myself about reading. I wanted so badly to finish books that I was psyching myself out of starting them in the first place, because each choice had to be Perfect, lest I pick the wrong book at the wrong time and waste twenty minutes or an hour or three reading something I might later set aside. And because I'd subconsciously set the stakes for starting a book so much higher than they needed to be, I'd end up dithering and scrolling social media to delay having to make a high-pressure choice at all.

In other words: I'd become so concerned about Future Foz's hypothetical dislike of a book I was yet to start reading that Present Foz would be scared to start it in the first place. I was forever privileging a version of myself that didn't exist and likely never would over the person I was now, and it was making me wildly unhappy, because it felt like I was failing at something I loved.

So my single New Years' Resolution became: to value myself and my time in the moment. If I catch myself scrolling for too long, I ask myself: is there literally anything else I'd rather be doing right now? Could I start a TV show, or a book, or a game, or write something, or message a friend, or have a bath? It doesn't matter if the activity goes anywhere long term; what matters is that I inevitably get more pleasure out of doing something than not. My time now matters, because I matter.

And suddenly, just from that one change? For the first time in I couldn't even say how long, I've read something every single day this year. In the whole of 2023, I read just 67 books; it's now the 30th of March 2024, and I've already finished 33. By giving myself permission to start things without the pressure to finish them, I'm suddenly finishing way more than when I was telling myself I had to finish everything, and I am vastly happier for it.

Is the world still a burning hellscape that daily makes me want to yeet a solid 80% of elected politicians globally into the sun? Yes. Am I still working on self-improvement in other areas of my life? Yes. Is it magically any easier being trans and queer in the current moment? No. But it helps to focus on who I am now, in this hour, in this minute, instead of worrying so much about whether some future version of me will think I spent this time badly that I don't use it for anything at all.

I don't know if this is helpful to your situation, and if it's not, I apologize for rambling. But it's a little change I've made lately that's helped me a lot, and I hope it might help you, too.

[tobiasdrake]

love your db analysis posts! i'd love to hear your thoughts on ultimate gohan, if you have any. between him having little to no reaction to finding out everyone on earth is dead, and randomly letting gotenks fight buu instead of himself, he did not seem to be the same character at all to me, and iirc even piccolo says so, i just... find it hard to believe a non-rage-triggered power-up would do that to him.

Much like Android 16, I do wonder if there were more plans for Ultimate Gohan that wound up being scrapped by the shift in narrative direction.

We're first introduced to the concept of Ultimate Gohan as the Elder Kaioshin is explaining his abilities.

Gohan's dormant power has long been a recurring attribute of his character. In fact, this isn't the first time he's had an elderly sage draw out his dormant power.

Teaching him to draw out and control his dormant abilities was (stealthily) part of Goku's training with him. That Gohan was finally starting to make it his own and tap into his true ki is the reason for why he was repeatedly unimpressed by Goku's abilities.

Gohan didn't even realize it, but through his mastery of the Super Saiyan, he'd also begun to take control of and internalize the tremendous ki he'd always had stored away in him. And as he came into his own ki, what he could sense of Goku's ki proportional to his own didn't make sense to him.

Super Saiyan 2 was, then, the culmination of Gohan's development. His full power, channeled through the Super Saiyan and its amplifying effects - both for better and, uh, for worse.

But it's been seven years and Gohan's been indulging in his true love of academia, in accordance with the agreement Goku and Chi-Chi made about his future.

Goku may have successfully escaped having to get a job by conveniently dying at the last possible second, but Gohan's future is set on a course. He's going to be an academic. It's what Chi-Chi wants for him, and it's what Gohan wants for himself; Even Goku acknowledges that.

Seven years of rigorous study and zero martial arts practice later, Gohan isn't the guy anymore. In fact, examining just how much Gohan isn't the guy anymore is the whole point of his fight with Dabra.

Goku eyeballs Dabra as being roughly around Cell's power. This allows Dabra to serve as a yardstick for Gohan, so we understand what it means for him when he fails to measure up.

Gohan that was a Zanzoken/Afterimage. Nobody even does those anymore. They became obsolete after ki-sensing was normalized, because everyone can now easily sense which "image" is the real one. The one other time we saw a Zanzoken return post-23rd Tenkaichi Budokai, it was against Frieza, who can't sense ki.

Dabra is mocking you right now. He legit thinks you're so shitty at martial arts that you'll fall for this amateur-hour guff. And he's right.

I kinda feel Geets here. If I had to watch my last chance to ever fight my rival get wasted on this, I'd be losing my mind too. He fucking fell for a Zanzoken; Can I just take over already?

So. Yeah. Full Power Gohan isn't a thing anymore. He can still tap into the form - and for some inexplicable reason so can Goku and Vegeta - but this is no longer Peak Potential. Which is where the Elder Kaioshin comes in.

This is a classic formula of Dragon Ball. We've seen it in the RRA, Piccolo, Saiyan, Namek (twice!), and Android arcs. First, Goku gets the shit kicked out of him - sometimes even to the point of being presumed dead.

While the surviving cast members scurry about trying to find a way to face the bad guy, Goku - sometimes unbeknownst to them, sometimes not - is recovering and preparing to come back stronger than ever. This typically takes the form of some sort of godly trial or ordeal guaranteed to make him stronger than ever.

Then, at the 11th hour when all else has failed and all hope is lost, Goku makes his return to have one last epic battle for the fate of the world/universe/cosmos.

This is the Dragon Ball formula. Has been since the day the Four-Star Dragon Ball saved Goku's life from a lethal Dodonpa. Of course, getting Gohan back up to speed isn't going to be enough, since Majin Buu in his weakest form was able to do this to our Cell-adjacent yardstick.

I wonder what Dabra Cookie tastes like? I imagine it's like the wafer part of a Keebler cookie. Sugary and nice on its own but better with fudge.

So. Yeah. If Gohan's going to throw hands with Buu, he's going to need more than the power he fought Cell with. Fortunately, that's the Elder's specialty, and what makes this different than that other time Gohan had his dormant power drawn out.

That's right, we're limit-breaking again. Not the limits of human ability, the limits of Saiyan ability, or even the limits of Super Saiyan ability; We're limit-breaking Gohan specifically. Elder Kaioshin's abilities can not only draw out Gohan's full dormant ability but push it beyond Gohan's natural limits.

Full Power Gohan? Nah. This is Limit-Breaker Gohan. Not his full potential; Beyond his potential. Something entirely different from the Super Saiyan, but similar enough that he doesn't require much alternative instruction.

Kinda feels like a thing that shouldn't be able to exist, to be honest. After all the time that's been put into things like the strain of the Kaio-ken on a body, the effects of Frieza having power beyond his limits, or even what trying to use Super Saiyan 3 in a mortal body does to Goku in this very arc.

The idea of Gohan channeling ki beyond his limits seems like it should have some drawbacks, doesn't it? We do get some hints that something's weird about Gohan's new power. Piccolo can't even recognize his ki signature in this state.

This form is doing some weird shit to his ki. And, as Piccolo notes, Gohan's harder now. Gohan is here to take care of business, and nothing is going to get in his way.

But. Then. The switch happens. Suddenly, Gohan is no longer the protagonist and we need a way for Majin Buu to suddenly be too much for Gohan to handle. So we go from this:

To this:

In the span of two chapters. All so that Buu can ass-pull a brand new ability that's never once been mentioned before even though Kaioshin will later cop to having seen him do it twice, that will instantly make Ultimate Gohan stop being a solution to this problem two chapters after his debut.

A plan that, in fact, he began putting into place one chapter after Ultimate Gohan's debut. Never in the history of Dragon Ball has a brand new form or ability been obsoleted this quickly.

And then Gohan was basically thrown in the dumpster and this was never spoken of again, with Ultimate Gohan just becoming his new Strongest Transformation in follow-up products. You can feel the climactic final act being aggressively aborted around him, in favor of Goku and Vegeta's third act.

Hell, at one point, Goku even suggests bringing in Gohan to fight Pure Buu. Y'know. Since Ultimate Gohan is the strongest in the universe and all that. But Vegeta nopes it.

No explanation offered. He's just like, "That's not the plot anymore; Try to keep up, Kakarot." To be fair, Goku had a chance to bring Gohan into this too. They're both aggressively elbowing Gohan out of the spotlight here.

Mad disrespect.

[brucewaynehater101]

I've been reading your blog since I stumbled upon it and gotta say I love your ideas and the way you expand on asks.

I've been having some thoughts on Brightest vs Darkest future Batfam. For the Brightest future we are looking at a timeline where Bruce got some therapy and he's actually a decent dad by the time we reach current day. This doesn't completely erase the arcs where characters suffer, but he handles things a little bit better. The kids still have issues with him but they understand that he's trying now and they want to give him a second chance.

Now some time of magic bullshit conjures to this version of Gotham the worst versions of each of them. All coming from different dimensions where Bruce is the worst to them specifically. Some may have even killed their version of the Bat and won't waste the opportunity to do so again. Suddenly, they are forced to fight against

Talon Dick Grayson, who is not only an extremely skilled killer, he's cult leader levels of manipulative. He may even pretend to ally himself to the bats at first just so he can actually get his claws in and make it hurt later on.

Catatonic/Pit mad Jason who never got his own mind back. A league level ninja with only the flashes of his worst memories. We are talking "might nuke Gotham if he had the cognitive function to plan it out". His Bruce is not that much different than canon Bruce, the main difference being he refuses to accept RH is Jason, making him regress more and more into pit madness to the point of fully losing it.

Evil Jane Doe Tim that absolutely (and deservedly) snapped at B after everything he put Tim through while never asking his siblings for the same sacrifice. Maybe he was also JJed in his timeline and is the single most unsettling, cunning, motherfucker. He just keeps fucking with the Batfam from the shadows and they can't find the source.

Silent assassin Cass that simply can't be reasoned with because she has no way to communicate outside body language. Not only is she capable of beating Batman's ass without breaking a sweat she's also very hard to catch even with all the Batfam going after her (very much you can kill me or you can let me go, but you're not catching me)

Usurper Damián, similar to canon Damian but completely cut off from any external support (including Dick) due to Batman's paranoia. Bruce punishes him without explaining where he went wrong. No positive reinforcement at all, no encouraging of proper socializing. He doesn't get out of his brain washed mentality and comes to the conclusion that his father is weak. So he kills Tim Drake, frames Red Hood and takes over Robin. He feeds his father paranoia and eventually takes over Batman too because his father doesn't deserve it. He might take over the league afterwards too, because if Ra's respected someone as weak as the Bat maybe he shouldn't have his cult.

I just think it would be just so deliciously angsty for the happiest version of the Batfam being forced to confront these awful possibilities. I can also see Talon/Jane Doe/Usurper trying to convince their other selves of joining them, explaining just how awful Bruce is, even if this version is not as bad as theirs. How Dick/Tim/Damian might struggle to disagree or defend Bruce's past actions. How devastating it would be for Jason and Cass to face a very real possibility. Someone they can't even reason with, reduced to an almost animal state by forces outside their power.

And of course Bruce. A version of Bruce that had actually realized he'd been failing his kids and started working on making things up to them being forced by the ghosts of his failure. Would he completely close off and give into paranoia? (If these versions of his kids are evil, what's stopping his own kids?). Going into denial mode and erasing his progress? ("See? I've done nothing wrong, you guys turned out fine compared to them). Does he give in to grief and his martyr complex, more focused on his failings than trying to fix things? I imagine in a good ending version this event would solidify his resolve, understanding the weight of his failings as a father and as Batman. After fixing the timeline issue he would have to work not only on being better, but acknowledging his past mistakes and giving his kids the space to stay mad/express why that hurt them.

But outside that one good ending? The Bat is fucked. Especially with greatest manipulator Talon, master of puppets Jane Doe and (possibly) literal cult leader Damian getting into their heads. Hell Jason doesn't need to be told twice to turn on his father again after being reminded of how he screwed not only him but his siblings up. Cass might be loyal to Bruce but if Oracle switches sides she might start reconsidering.

Just fucked up Batfam haunting their canon selves and forcing them to admit even "nice" canon Bruce has traumatized them severely.

Hello!!!! Glad you enjoy my blog! I particularly love how people share their ideas, and it inspires others to add on or share other ideas.

So! Let's develop this AU a bit more.

We've got Dick, Cass, Jason, Tim, Damian, and their counterparts. If you wanted, we could add Barbara and Steph counterparts as well. Bruce's "evil" self never appears in this dimension, but his evil selves are part of what created the "villians" that do appear.

As far as timeline, this is after Damian appears. For Damian's angst, I think he should be Robin. Tim and him have worked past their issues regarding the change in mantle, and the older one has even said he was proud that Damian was the one to wear his mantle (which makes what F!Damian did even worse).

Imma use F!Batfam for the counterparts to indicate the fucked up ones.

No matter what the others say about Bruce, F!Bats will not believe that he is a decent father and man. There's several reasons for this. One, all F!Bats come from separate universes where Bruce was a horrible person. Two, the man is exceptional at mind games and deception. Three, if Bruce was capable of change with just some therapy, what does that say about their lives with their Bruce?

I wanted to add on to Talon Dick's lore. I hc that, after he becomes a talon, he slowly manipulates and murders his way up to the top of the Court of Owls. From there, he kills off weaklings and creates his own cult/rule. He is a very fucked up person, morally and mentally, but he believes that he's enacting some sort of good with his power. Through his cult that preaches acceptance and love, people flock to his "goodwill" and "grace." His Bruce, which has proven to be a horrible man with the way he dehumanized this Dick, kept hurting Dick and getting in his way. Dick had to kill him.

I really wanted F!Damian and F!Dick to be cult-ish leaders, with the parallels of them revamping an ancient order for their own desires.

For F!Jason, he can communicate and plan. He's stealthy, deadly, and tactful. His Pit Madness and rage, however, make it impossible to communicate or convince him from whatever he deems is appropriate. Even if it's impractical, such as making displays out of his enemies' bodies, he will not be deterred from his judgments and wants.

F!Tim could have similar tendencies as F!Dick to manipulate, but he's not as skilled as that man is emotionally. He's ruthless and toys with his enemies, drawing out their pain and misery in creative new ways (some part of him curses Joker and JJ for that). No one was on his side, so he'll never allow for anyone to be. All of the F!Bats hurt the OG family, but Tim was failed repeatedly by the Bats. JJ may have helped, but it was F!Tim's batfam that twisted the kid into an unsettling creature waiting to draw out suffering for his own amusement.

I can add more for the others (or create some for Babs and Steph) if you want.

However, more angst real quick to add would be watching their F!Batfam recommit their faults against OG batfam. By that, I mean OG Jason watching as F!Jason slits Tim's throat.

Stuff like watching the worst version of yourself recommit deeds you've already worked to beg forgiveness for. Yikes.

[whimsical-lullaby]

Hi! So nice to see another person who writes for Shogun on here.

Anyways, I was wondering if I could get a Yoshii Toranaga x fem reader please? I don't know what all you write in the story, but I know it will be good. Thanks! And take all the time you need, I am in no rush.

Shrivelled Blossoms

You were always a strong person who knew what to say and when to say something in the right moment. And when to keep silent and re-evaluate words and tones that needed to be input in a conversation, whether serious or not. So, what happened today? You just... froze. A word you're so sure isn't even in your vocabulary.

Your friends warned that this would be a serious case to handle and you prepared for it every possible way you could. And when it came, you tackled it in every direction.

'It's not cheese and sprinkles, being a lawyer.' Your father would say. This field of work was hard but you weren't about to lie to yourself, that it didn't build you up as a person.

Entering the train, you took a seat and then texted your friends, telling them you were on the subway. Honestly, it was a miracle you even made it this far! What with the many shots of saké you shared with your friends, that you yourself couldn't remember the exact number.

Your childhood friends who still lived in Osaka texted you after work, when you were curled up on your couch and in your Disney pajamas, contemplating whether to do a Disney marathon starting with Pirates of the Caribbean or just continue binging the last episode of Demon Slayer. They invited you to a girls' night out to cheer you up and you were too nice to decline as much as you were anticipating the latter.

Plus, you thought that it would be nice to catch up after some time you three were caught up in your hectic careers.

Now you wanted nothing more than to plop on your bed and let the drowsiness take you to a peaceful slumber. The hangover can be dealt with once you wake up.

But still, thoughts of the court case resurfaced once more. It's to be expected, as you were an over-achiever ever since you could remember.

It wasn't so much as failing the case and bringing failure to your family name... Well, just a tad bit on that part. But the rest, you wanted to fight for someone so passionately and effortlessly. The dejected look your client gave you made you want to shrivel up and find a place to hide and never come out. But time waits for no one and this wasn't the last case you had. However, you viewed it as your big break.

What a waste, you thought as you contemplated appealing. However that thought was soon demolished by the fear of making a fool of your client and yourself so you just let it rest.

You were so caught up in your internal conflict that you didn't hear the intercom announcement. When you lifted your head up, you realized every passenger was gone and the train was moving once more. Shit.

Clicking your phone open, you immediately went to the phone tracker app only to stare dumbfounded at the moving point from your stop. "Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

You stood up hastily and turned your head to the right. Was it even possible to get ahold of the conductor? You didn't know but you would try. As you took your first steps, the lights flickered just for a millisecond and it went on once more.

A part of you furiously fought off the whispers in your ears of the urban legends of riding a train at night. You weren't big on scary stuff but you grew up mostly with your grandparents so you were a tad bit superstitious.

Gulping hard, you beelined for the front door, hoping that no ghosts or spirits will claim your soul. The train is probably old, it might need a few things checked up. That's why the lights are flickering, your voice of reason was there to calm you down as usual. It's nothing!

Those movies are unrealistic! How could the character's brains function properly when they are stuck in unsettling situation while you are struggling to open a damn door? Despite your voice of reason, your mind kept traversing back to those camp stories and deep down, you thought that a spirit of a bear would maul you. Why the fuck would a bear be doing in a subway station? You're not thinking clearly!

At some point, you managed to pry the sliding door open and enter the pilot's compartment. The air was knocked out of your lungs as the train violently shook from side to side but you managed to grab onto something to stable you. What the fuck is going on?

Losing balance, you fell to the floor and a dull thud filled your ears before it was replaced by a white noise that viscously stung.

The last thing your blackening vision saw was red liquid pooling on the metal floors of the subway train.

...

Furrowing your eyebrows, you blinked your disoriented eyes open, trying to adjust to the light seeping through the room. Room?

Examining the room you were in, you spotted no doors. Only three mahogany wooden doors and a traditional screen door.

You shut your eyes, trying not to panic. Trying to remember how you got here. Your head feels foggy, temples throbbing as you sort through vague memories.

The court case. Night out with friends, few shots of saké, maybe more since you didn't remember the number. The subway. Missing your stop. The light's flickering on and off. The earthquake.

And then ... nothing.

You can't remember.

Your eyes fly open and you take comfort in the feeling of being fully clothed. But it's not your clothes. Glancing down at the unfamiliar outfit. A simple teal kosode. It felt comfortable ... but it still unsettled you - the fact that someone could have undressed you. You hoped and prayed it was a woman, at the very least.

As you sat up, shutting your eyes as you listened to the ache in your head. Opening them once more, observing your new surroundings.

It looked to be one of those traditional homes. There were no windows. Light passed through the paper of the shoji screen. It kind of reminded you of that traditional Airbnb you stayed in for a night with your mom. There were no modern appliances like air-conditioning or heaters. It looked plain.

Your eyes found your sneakers, next to your neatly folded clothes. But your handbag was no where to be seen. I've been robbed, was your first thought and then pieced together the puzzle. And you concluded you were kidnapped and they confiscated your handbag.

Your heart leaps into your throat as it becomes clear that you need to get the hell out of here.

Wobbling as you slowly got up, your bare feet brushed along the tatami  mat, taking your clothes and sneakers in your hands, ambling your way towards the shoji screen. You dropped your shoes and pulled the sliding door to the left and you were met with shocked brown eyes staring back at you.

"Miss, you shouldn't be up and about with your injury!" The young woman gasped.

"Who are you and where am I?" Your hoarse voice croaked and felt scorching in your throat due to screaming for dear life in the train.

"I am Lady Toda Mariko," she introduce and from the corner of your eye, you saw two women shuffling in the room. One carried a bowel of water and a towel, the other carried what looked to be a neatly folded kosode. "I am instructed to bring you to My Lord once you regain consciousness."

"Your Lord?" You echoed and your eyes widen. "Jesus Christ? Am .. Am I in heaven?"

Lady Mariko blinked momentarily before laughing softly. "No, I assure you, you are very much alive. And seem to be doing well than yesterday. You are in Ajiro village and I've been instructed to bring you to My Lord, Toranaga-sama."

....

You had been out of place.

Exotic, is one word Toranaga could describe you and quite frankly the only word he could find in his mind after last night's events. His brother had betrayed him, his brash son drove himself to his death trying to avoid an already fixed fate. And just a few feet way from Nagakado's lifeless body was you.

An unconscious young woman, half drowning in a pond filling up with crimson blood. Sustaining an injury to your head that he requested should be treated by a skilled healer.

Hiromatsu thought you were an assassin or a spy who was caught up in the wrong place and time. Why else were you there? You were just so out of place. Upon closer inspection, you were anything but.

They confiscated your bag and searched for any weapon you might be concealing but found.. strange, peculiar things instead. Yet nothing threatening.

Scrutinizing you now in a different light, his thoughts were concluded.

Silence.

That was Toranaga's tactic. He waited to see who would speak first. And judging by how your eyes travelled everywhere in the room, unable to meet his. You were shifty, and you needed to fill the silence quickly.

Very simple, that's what you were. But definitely non-threatening. Unless your true self was hidden well behind a facade. Now that was a different story and he would soon find out.

You did not know how many centimeters your forehead was to the floor, or how many degrees you were bowing. Once you were presentable as so Lady Mariko deemed you to be, you were led to a relatively spacious room by two men in samurai haircuts and made to kneel before this person she had referred to him as her Lord, Yoshii Toranaga.

Behind Toranaga was a Tokoma which displayed an impressive samurai armer and a part of you thought the production crew really had the budget to pull off even the smallest detail.

"Hello-"

"Who are you?" He asked.

"Me? My name is Y/N." You answered. Silence dragged on again and it became unbearable so you filled it. "Is this a movie set?"

"A what?"

"I was just assuming... where are you hiding the cameras?" The two men shared a glance and you were starting to get annoyed that they were beating around the bush.

You desperately wanted an ibuprofen to sooth your headache and call a doctor to check if you didn't sustain any brain injury. Yes, you were grateful for their assistance whilst you were unconscious but you wanted nothing more than to go home.

"Look. There's been a huge misunderstanding here." You say, the tension reverberates in your throat as the words came out in a petty croak.

"Where are you from?" Toranaga asks.

"I am from Tokyo."

The lord hesitated, not knowing of a place by the name of Tokyo but ventured on. "And tell me. What were you doing in the middle of last night's squabble?" You blinked at his question, not knowing what to say.

"You mean the train incident?" You trekked, not sure to what he was alluding. "I was distracted and missed my stop so the train continued on it's journey."

"What are you saying?" It was the man on the other end of the room who spoke. Lady Mariko told you he was Toranaga's right-hand man, Hiromatsu. "Speak plainly."

Breathing out through your nose, you collected yourself. Opening your mouth to speak, you were cut off by the old man. "Are you an assassin sent by Ishidō?" He accuses.

"No."

"A spy?"

Your eyes bulged at the mere thought of doing that. "Jesus Christ. No!"

"Then explain this weapon." Toranaga placed your phone in front of him. "One of my Koshō took it from your bag and it's light burned his eyes."

Mouth agape, you couldn't fandom the craziness of this situation. What hell did I step into? You wondered inwardly.

"That's because he turned it on. Don't you know what a phone is?"

Toranaga and Hiromatsu stared at you as if you had grown two heads. You hated that it made you look stupid, in front of these serious-looking men. It reminded you of your years in college and some classmates never thought you would make it as a lawyer because you were too sensitive.

Seeing this was going no where, you played along with their game. Method actors, you reasoned with yourself. Perhaps you are in a movie set, set in feudal Japan ... based on their clothing and the extraordinary built set.

Surprisingly, they came to a conclusion and believed you. Toranaga allowed a roof over your head as a guest in his Edo castle until he figured out what he should do with you. You felt like a burden to him and you hated that.

Adjusting for you wasn't so much of a problem. You had a great teacher. Lady Mariko was very patient with you and explained everything you needed to know, that coupled with you were a fast learner, took you farther.

However, in some places you felt restricted. Like the many layers you had to carry when you wear your kimono, or the way you had to shuffle your feet all the time when you walked. Sometimes when you made sure no one was around you, you walked the normal way you did. Screw grace and elegance .. at certain times, that is.

Thankfully you would be going home pretty soon. Toranaga and his entourage were marching to Edo, present day Tokyo.

The lord's brows furrowed as he silently watched you raise your arm in different directions, clutching your magic box in your palm. Muttering something about 'no reception' in a groan.

You were a strange thing. But tolerable.

Upon arriving in Edo, you stopped on your tracks, no longer trailing behind the foot soldiers. He wondered what shocked you...

Continuing to observe your body language, you were now keeping to yourself as your eyes scanned the still thriving city of Edo.

A few days went by as Nagakado's funeral arrived all too quickly and he was staying within the walls of his castle, intent on having time to himself to process these emotions on his own. From afar, he gazed at the smoke drawing up to the sky - the fire that would turn his son's remains into ashes. He needed to distract his thoughts before grief took over. Weakness was never an option.

However, he's mind kept coming back to you. The lord noticed he rarely saw you. He began taking note of your routine. On most occasions, you spent your time in the gardens or by the pond. One time he caught you drawing something on the sand, and the gardener fumed at his ruined work.

Upon inquiry, you told him you drew what you explained as a stickman in an aeroplane, flying back to his home. You missed home ... yet you said Edo was your home. That confused him tremendously.

Requesting a maidservant to invite you to dine with him. Toranaga raised his brows upon receiving the response. "My Lord, she declined your invitation."

Nodding, the maid took her departure. Letting out a breath, he humbly sought you out.

The maids were flocking around you with towels in their hands, lecturing your ear off but you heard nothing. You weren't thinking straight as you sat under the rain. Perhaps a part of you was trying to reach God somehow by asking to end this dreadful nightmare. Reality hit you like a bus, the days were moving and you slowly came into realization that you were stuck, in the past.

Thoughts about your parents and family invaded Would they miss you too much? Would they think you were dead if they searched high and low and couldn't find your body? You began to recalling your grandmother's funeral .. all those sorrowful faces looking up at you, voices giving you and your family condolences. Would that be the same for you as well?

You were unable fathom why .. why this happened to you?

Was this to be your reality?

Drowning in your depressive thoughts, you hadn't noticed Lord Toranaga enter the threshold of your room, requesting the maids to leave you both.

Advancing towards you, he stood in front of you with furrowed brows confusion. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not going home, am I?" My bottom lip trembled as your heart swelled, feeling tears fill up your eyes.

Feeling a warm finger under your chin, he brought your eyes to meet his. A warm smile settled on his lips. "I do not know how or what brought you here, Y/N. But everyone has a fate, perhaps being here is your fate."

You blinked away the tears, sniffling lightly. "But..but why?" Hot tears fell down your cheeks. "My life was just beginning, I was starting to make my parents proud of me, I was starting to find my footing in my career... There is nothing for me here."

As much as you wanted to appear strong all the time, you broke down. Everything you've ever worked hard for is gone and now you were forced to start life anew, in a time not of your own, with new people.

When she sobbed, Toranaga's body went froze, not knowing what to do. He wasn't accustomed to a woman crying in front of him, most woman he knew had learned to stiffen their lips and march on with their pain carefully hidden away.

Hesitantly, he brought you in an embrace, shocking himself as well. But was relieved as you didn't pull away, deciding to lay your head on his chest.

Not knowing how to comfort her any further, he decided to just listen. Inviting her to dine with him in his private quarters and just listened to how she grew up in the year 21st century.

Toranaga had found you infuriating at first.

You were a disagreeable woman with a sharp tongue and quick-witted mind. And he almost lost his words around you. Almost, being the key word. Brazen, just like his son and everyone else in his circle, you wanted him to fight.

He didn't know if you were stupid or too bold for your own good. Such matters needed to be handled tactically, that's what he told you one night as you dined together, getting to know you better. In hope of steering your mind away from the conversation.

And then you told him of your position as a lawyer.

Toranaga appreciate your willingness to fight for people you personally did not know, whom you addressed as 'clients'. He liked your spirit of having to give someone else a voice to speak their thoughts aloud, maybe that's what made you so fearless.

Daresay he wanted to believe you. That you came from the distant future. A world so extraordinary with tall buildings that reached for the heavens, flying steel dragons that flew across the sky from one country the other, horseless carriages that cruised through the streets. Such a world was out of his imagination.

That was when you showed him your rectangle magic box that glows brilliantly with a switch of a button, which stored countless moments in time called 'pictures'.

It stored pictures of you and the people closest to you in life. Places you've been to, your achievements. Every picture had a story. Most them were of you goofing around and you giggled at those, showing him a part of your character, a carefree soul. That was when he started believing you. This truth was solidified after he asked and you told him of growing up in a unified Japan. Toranaga gleamed softly. For he too wished to live in that reality with no wars, losses and betrayals.

Your reality seemed like a tranquil heaven he wished to bask and his heart shattered when he saw that look in your eyes when you finish telling him of your home. It was like a tide going out and it went out slowly... how he desperately wanted he could stop it surprised him.

You told him of how Japan was so beautifully broken. Your words were like a melodic poem to his ears. Narrating of the cycles earthquakes and hurricanes that destroy homes, the losses. Yet everytime, there still is that slight strength to keep standing up defiantly, rebuilding what was once broken. "That's what makes Japan unique," you told him.

That was something you both agreed on.

Daresay, he found himself distracted by you at times. Him of all people, distracted by a woman, no less. That was unheard of. Such feelings were hazardous ... but he was audacious enough to act on them one morning he made up his mind.

Toranaga found you standing on the engawa, overlooking the serenely pitter pattering rain.

It was like you sensed his presence because your body never stiffened this time when you both crossed each other. You were relaxed and just like at last night's dinner, you were free to speak your thoughts without hesitation.

"I've given myself time to think about it, what you said." A sigh escaped your slightly parted lips and they settled in a serene thin line which was half a smile. "It's not so bad when you get used to it."

Honestly, you began to think this whole thing was a vacation. A long needed vacation - you would adjust. Maybe you're starting to, maybe it'll take some time.

Peering up at the Lord, you saw what you could make out as a soft smile. It wasn't all the way to his eyes - perhaps one day you would have the pleasure to see that miracle. "I have given myself time to think, as well." He shifted to observe the garden and his brows furrowed in the slightest, as if contemplating his words. "I want you by my side."

"As what?" You quarried. "If you want to know the details of what happens in Japan's history, I don't know Jack shit, I'm sorry."

Toranaga chuckles. "Fate has many things fixed for us as a people. The heavens would have sent you anywhere in Japan but they brought you to my path ... And I'd be honored to have you by my side."

It was a lie. You knew exactly what happens in Japan's history. What kind of person does not know their country's history? You always stood by the law. The laws of physics, the laws of science, the natural law. It wouldn't hurt to break the laws of time travel, would it?

If these feelings were true and they ran deeper than what you ancipated ... you would help him win this war, so that you sustain the head on your shoulders and stay by his side.

Giving him a brilliant smile to his earnest words, you reply. "I'd be honored to be by your side, too."

There were many preparations Toranaga needed to settle for the next days to come, and today he would go to his son's final place. And thank him. Both he and his trusted friend, Hiromatsu.

And then ... Crimson Sky would commence.

But for now, he drank delight in this peaceful reprieve, observing the nostalgic drizzle of the rain with you by his side.

[bubbly-minx]

Idia Shroud x GN Reader (NSFW)

MINORS DNI

CW: Msub Idia, Dom GN reader, cockwarming, slight edging, overstimulation, unprotected diddling ig?, implied established relationship, hand job, slight crying (but from the overstimulation). Slight non-con at the end? idk if it would classify but just in case, and kissing :)

You were playing a game, trying to go up the ranks but to no avail. It seemed the gaming gods were giving you one bad team after another and you were beginning to get frustrated. Idia was watching as well, hoping to cheer you on or help you make some quick decisions but at some point his encouragement turned into nagging.

“Come on how did you miss that?!”

“You’re worse than the lower rank noobs in your team!”

“You shouldn’t have made that move. Now you’ve wasted something you could have used later to help the rest of your team!”

After what had to be your 8th loss in a row, you’d had enough of his irritating complaints. You put your controller down and looked him in his eyes. “I’ve had enough of your whining, come here”

You huffed as you put more force down your hips. “Stop squirming and whining” you said. “It’s hard to focus when you’re distracting me so much”. Meekly, the boy beneath you panted out apologies into your ear, ticking you with his hot breath. “I’m sorrrry I’m sorry pleaseee-” “Shh! I need to focus!” You circled your hips, cutting idia off as a muffled cry emitted from Idia as he bit his bottom lip in an effort to not be reprimanded again for his noise. Your insides were hot, and you were pretty sure half of the fluids that were dripping out all over your thighs and his pants were his. You ignored your body’s screaming desire to move, and instead stayed as still as possible, feeling idia’s cock throbbing inside of you. You smiled with glee when you thought about just how much Idia must be restraining himself from thrusting into you. You pulled your attention back to your screen, ignoring Idia’s quiet moans and whimpers as he grabbed onto your waist tightly. You fingers were moving fast as you were trying your best to break your losing streak. You were already 20 minutes into this round and you sure as hell were not planning to lose again. With your attention so glued to your game, you failed to realize the louder whines emitting from your boyfriend, and how his cock was starting to ease out as you got closer and closer to the screen...

Just as you were about to hit your last enemy, you were roughly pushed as Idia greedily thrust up to meet the hilt of his dick to your plush bottom. You nearly lose balance and instead push back onto him in order to avoid crashing straight into the expensive monitors in front of you. Your mistake earns you a loud moan from the pitiful blue haired boy beneath you as he closes his eyes in bliss. You felt a gush of heat hit inside you and you tense up, folding in on yourself as you felt his cum starting to drip out. you remembered your game, and snapped your head back to see if you had won. Much to your disappointment, you had turned your head back to the screen just in time for defeat to flash in front of your face. You tossed the controller onto the bed at a loss and groaned. You got up, taking yourself off of Idia. “huh?” Idia clung to your arm as he tried to drag you back. “More, more, don’t go please don’t go” he slurred out. Pouting, you pointed at the defeat screen. “You made me lose again!” “I’m sorry I’ll win for you next round, just please i’ll do anything don’t leave” Your boyfriend was pulling harder on your sleeves, stretching it out, desperately trying his best to drag you back to him. It was almost cute to see him like this, knowing full well that he was much stronger than you and could have dragged you right back onto him if he really wanted. You couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt for leaving him on edge for so long when looking down to see that his cock was still hard after coming.

With a sigh, you wordlessly moved back onto the bed and lightly traced your fingers down his shaft. Idia let out a strained sigh of relief with mumbled thank yous running out of his mouth as he leaned back to enjoy your hand. His usual pale face was flushed and his eyes were closed. His blue lips were parted as he panted and let out lewd moans.  You pumped up and down slowly, watching his hips jolt up to meet your hand. “F-faster, go faster it feels so good ungh! Your hand feels so good around my cock please” you complied, moving your hand faster around him and kissing his face. “You’re so cute Idia” you say with a chuckle. His already red face turns impossibly more red as he hears your words and he covers his face with his hands to avoid looking at you out embarrassment. “Don’t- angh, don’t say that” You ignored his words and only picked up your pace. You scooted closer to him, whispering into his ear. “You’re so cute, don’t cover your face I want to see what you look like when you come baby. Come on, cum for me, I know you can do it. Your dick is so hard Idia, don’t try and hide it. I know you wanna cum. Your dick is twitching in my hand right now” Your hand continued to move faster, and idia uncovered his face, instead grabbing onto your arm for support. “Ahn, wait wait ple- I’m gonna come I’m gonna come nnnghh~ coming, coming hgnh

You watched as Idia’s back arched while cum shot out of his cock, staining his pants, shirt, and your hands. He eventually relaxed, panting heavily with a dazed look in his eyes. “Thank you, thank yo-” before he could finish, your hand was moving along his length again, and Idia began to jerk against your hand, trying to avoid contact with it. He whined as he repeatedly told you that he just came, gripping onto your arm harder as he tried to get you to stop. “No wait, I’m still sensitive! haaa, i just came you need to give me a break” His whole body was shaking, trying to cope with the sheer amount of pleasure flooding his systems. His moans were loud, and you were sure someone would be able to hear him from outside the door room if they walked by. With your free hand, you covered his mouth, telling him to shush and you rubbed your thumb against his tip, causing Idia to only get louder. Tears were beginning to form in his eyes and be continued to blabber loudly behind your hand with nonsensical pleas for mercy. Idia didn’t last long before cumming again: his eyes rolled back with his mouth open in a silent orgasm. 

You take your hand off his mouth and his dick, licking the excess cum covering your hand while looking at the mess of your boyfriend beneath you. He glanced over at you licking everything off before quickly looking away. His chest heaved up and down while his body twitched in the afterglow of his orgasms. He eventually turned back to face you before smiling. 

“You were playing on my account by the way”