#u will all look upon the human ever

[rucow]

just because i have nearly 1k people following me doesn't mean i wont be thirst-posting on main btw

[thefallofruins]

── “Conception” [Ryomen Sukuna]

Requested by anon — Hey, love ur writing. All the smut you've written for the jjk men is soooo hot. Would u be interested in writing feral ritual sex & breeding kink w sukuna? Like he's obsessed w the thought of his precious little queen having his child, but since he's a curse he has to put in some extra effort to make sure it takes & doesn't harm her. I'm just obsessed w the thought of the bid bad king of curses being soft for his little baby (& ofc the babymaking process). Love u and wishing u a good day.

Warnings — breeding, inflation, lactation, dumbification, dacryphilia, pregnancy. MINORS DNI.

Sukuna was a greedy man. Sure, he had his lovely queen, the only one who had ever managed to tame him. He never desired any forms of human companionship till you came in his way with the pretty little face of yours and an ever charming wit.

But he hungered for more, recently.

Sukuna had never even thought of having a family. He held no desire to procreate, but over the time, staying with you, learning about your own desires of a family someday— it grew over him like a disease. To see you with his offspring, his heir. The need to get you pregnant, the desire so primal in him that all he could think of was that. He was utterly obsessed.

So, now that you are in the privacy of your room, who were you to deny the king of his wishes? Sukuna always gets what he wants. And you learnt so when you saw that look of hunger in his eyes. He was so certain he'd knock you up tonight. And you were too, considering his actions.

"Look at you..." he growls, taking the sight of you all in, eyes glassy and desperate, sweat glistening off your pale skin as he pounds into you without a drop of mercy. Your lips tremble as wanton moans of his name escape your throat. "Meant to be a mother..."

All that occupied his mind was to see your belly round with his brood, to see how you'd glow with his child in your womb, to see how much more prettier you would you get with your tits growing heavy, your kimono tightening around them as they fill up with milk. With that thought and the feeling of you tightening around his cock, he releases into your womb, cock nudging against your cervix as he fills you to the brim.

It wasn't enough, of course.

A helpless mewl escapes your lips when you feel him moving again. "S-Sukuna..." a whine escapes your lips. He tuts, a smirk forming on his face as he resumes thrusting into your oversensitive cunt. "Not so fast, my lovely Queen..." he says, a finger reaching to pinch and tug upon your hardened nipple. "Need to make sure I breed you well..." he says, his pace increasing as he speaks, "You'll be carrying our baby soon..."

"N-Ngh—! 'K-Kuna...'s too much!" you complain, your mind almost going blank when you feel him hit your cervix again. And again. And again. But he shows no sign of stopping. "You can take it, my queen....you must give me a child. An heir...." he softly brushes the hair out of your face as he pounds into you in a harsh manner till you feel a knot build in your stomach once again.

"S-Sukuna..Ahh...c-cumming...!" you moan as he increases his pace, making the knot of your stomach snap, squirting over his cock and making him chuckle darkly. "Mmm...pretty..." he says softly, not stopping his movements till he fills you up once again. His seed filling your womb for the second time for the day. You whine at the feeling, there was no way his plan to impregnate you was failing at this rate.

"Sukuna..." you mutter his name softly as he pulls out of you slowly, giving your forehead a soft kiss. Perhaps it was an apology on behalf of the long night he was planning ahead. Giving you a moment to prepare yourself, he watches his cum ooze past your pussy before he rams into your poor cunt again.

"S-Sukuna-ah! p-please...." you whimper, it was too much! but it was also only the beginning. He is a curse after all, he has to take extra efforts to make sure he impregnates you, no? "P-Please...too full!"

"Sssh...." he says, grunting as he feels the gummy walls of your cunt clamp over him. "You need to give me a child, my queen..." he says gruffly, wiping the tears that roll down your cheek. It's too much! "You're gonna make such a beautiful mother...belly round with my child. F-Fuck...gonna breed you so well tonight."

Another thick load, followed by another, soft praises escaping his lips, thumbs brushing your tears away. You were too full with his hot and sticky seed, too overstimulated, your brain mushed to the point you couldn't think about anything except being bred my him. About being pregnant with his heir. About fulfilling his desire. About making him a father.

Your belly appeared to bulge a bit from the amount of cum he's stuffed into you. Your womb overflowing with his seed. And yet— Sukuna wasn't satisfied. He kept going, and the last thing you felt was his cock still buried deep into your cunt, a heavy load released into yet again. He lies next to you, cock slipping out. His seed flowed out of you in large amounts as he brushes the strands of your hair from your face and softly kisses your forehead. "Rest, my Queen..."

Of course his efforts had paid out. And it was just what he imagined. You were glowing with his child in your belly, he simply loved to caress your round belly as he held you, praised you for carrying his heir —so incredibly proud of his queen and his little one that was growing in you.

He loved to see the tightness around your chest, the stains on your kimono as your breasts grew heavy. The blush on your cheeks when he told you he'd relieve you of the overflowing mess— slurping and drinking upon the sweet nectar greedily.

He absolutely fucking adored to see you crochet little clothes to welcome your little one, sitting on the bed with a round belly as you knit together a cute and tiny sweater for the to-be-coming-soon member with your eyebrows scrunched together as you poured your focus into it.

And when the little one was born? Sukuna never knew he could be so soft. He would spend his days with the little one cradled in his arms, his pride growing when he saw him perched upon your hip, walking around — just being the amazing mother he expected you to be. He would make sure no harm ever befell the two of you.

He now sits with the two of his only loved ones, with something on his mind again— maybe in the upcoming years, he could have more of this. A big family with his wonderful queen.

Sukuna was a very greedy man, after all.

taglist: @x-lunawrites-x

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

FOLIE Á DEUX ─── jonathan crane ✧

ೃ⁀➷ “Not all love is gentle. Sometimes it's gritty and dirty and possessive, sometimes it's not supposed to be careful or soft at all. Sometimes it feels like teeth.” - Azra T.

pairing. professor!jonathan crane x stalker!reader

summary. you’ve been stalking your professor for 8 months, keeping track of his movements with your diary. one day, said professor informs that you left something of yours behind in his office…

warnings. swearing, choking, p in v, dacryphilia, oral sex (f), dubcon (if u squint), stalking, breeding, orgasm delay/denial, unprotected sex, hair pulling, student-teacher relationship, SMUT UNDER THE CUT

word count. 4.5k

a/n. this is my first ever smut, so if it sucks i really do apologize. also, im kinda unsure where the plot on this one went, but whatever! lastly, i do try to keep all my fics gender-neutral, but seeing as this is smut, i had to choose, and the reader is afab.

“Miss [Name], please stay behind after class. I need just a moment's worth of your time.” Your professor said absently, not looking at you, when he handed back your essay on the human id.

You hummed, nodding your head carefully. “Yes, Professor Crane.” 

Inwardly, you swooned at his choice of words: “I need just a moment's worth of your time.” He’d highlighted the existence of both you and him in the sentence, as if coexisting together, with one another, was plausible.

Later, when class ended, you’d packed up all your things, and walked into Professor Crane’s office off to the side, where he was tidying up. 

“You asked me to stay behind, sir?” 

“Yes,” Crane acknowledged your presence, looking at you squarely. “You forgot something in my office during our last tutoring session.” 

Your eyes widened slightly, both at the fact you’d left one of your items behind, and that your Professor had seen the item, and knew it belonged to you. He hadn’t mistaken it as his own, or anyone else's - he knew it was yours.

“Oh!” You said, a beat later. “Thank you for telling me. Where is it, exactly?”

“Before we get to that matter - do take a seat - I believe we need to have a, ah, talk.” He gestured to the seat in front of his office desk, the same seat you sat on every Wednesday at 6:30 for the past few months. 

“A talk, sir?” You pried, but sat down anyway, reveling in the one-on-one time you were experiencing with your favorite professor. 

That was the main motivator for getting tutored by the man - you adored going in, having an entire hour of him all to yourself. 

Prior, you pretended not to get some of his lessons, let your grade in his psychology class slip to a pitiful mark so low he couldn’t ignore it. You’d started the semester with a stellar grade, so he took it upon himself to offer tutoring - he knew you could understand his method of teaching, and theorized that you hadn’t been able to pay attention in class because of the sheer size of people attending. 

In actuality, however, you understood everything completely - it was merely your obsessive attraction following him like the sound of thunder trailing behind lightning. 

Crane scrubbed his face when you sat, thinking intently on what he wanted to say. “I need you to understand, Miss [Name], that a student-teacher relationship is completely taboo. Such a thing can never - should never, occur.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and suddenly, you were reminded how you hadn’t seen that book in a while, you hadn’t read it when you woke up, when you went for lunch, you hadn’t even written anything about him for the day—

Your professor slid open one of his desk drawers, and pulled out the familiar pocket notebook you kept with yourself at all times. 

“I’m telling you about rules, Miss [Name], because you forgot this.” He said, voice low. “And, pardon my intrusion, but the stuff you have written here is quite… intriguing.”

Your heart began racing in your chest, a cold sweat trailing down your back. “Professor, I- whatever you read in there—“ You began, but froze when he opened the notebook, thumbing through the pages. 

Crane cleared his throat, looking intently at the words. His expression changed several times as his eyes flitted over your writing, and you felt your body burn with shame. 

“January 26th. Professor's gloves were found in the nook of his podium. I was looking for the green apple he’d forgo from finishing, his teeth tracks fresh on the alabaster flesh, but found his winter wear instead. Gloves were brought home - I imagined he’d come over to mine, undressed his biting winter clothing, and forgot his sweet mittens here.” Your professor read your diary out loud. Crane looked like he enjoyed your shame being laid out bare, but you were too absorbed in a whirlwind of emotion to notice. 

“P—Professor, please, I - I can explain, I didn’t mean anything—“

“April 17th. Professor came down with a flu, like I expected. I saw him walking in last week’s evening downpour and waited for what day this week he’d call in. Later, he bought cough syrup and aspirin at the convenience store. I watched him struggle to care for himself, covered head to toe in blankets, missing meals, barely able to keep upright. I wish professor knew how well I could care for him, how I fulfill his every request and need. I saw how touchy he was, how he fidgeted, that feverish want — I could satiate him like no-one else.” 

His lips enunciated every word, and the longer he went on reading, the dizzier you felt; your professor, your darling, had found out - he had found out - he had found fucking out -

“Be honest with me, Miss [Name]. Do you stalk me?” Your professor said, slipping off his wire-framed glasses. The man leaned in closer now, elbows resting on the wooden desk. 

Your eyes darted away from him, looking anywhere but forwards. You felt like you had been stripped away, so bare your professor could count how many ribs you had, how many minor hairline fractures your tattered bones had collected over the years. You tried to analyze the man’s reaction through your peripheral, but it was to no avail - he was as cold as he had been during class, during your entire time knowing the professor. 

You breathed, in and out, analyzing the situation tenfold, precisely, trying to find a way out of this place alive, dignity intact. Then, you found it. 

This man had ensnared you, entranced you with his delicious charm and carefully spoken words. You repeat inwardly to yourself: Crane knew all the right words, all the right places to touch. If he dared press charges, you would tell the world he hurt you first. 

“Yes, Professor Crane.” You nodded, unabashed after deciding how to deal with everything. He can’t touch me with this. I’ll just go first: please, he took advantage of me! I needed to pass his class… and he offered a solution to me. He’s lying! Lying to you all. He just wants to destroy me… and hide his sin.

“The human body knows when someone’s watching them, but you haven’t noticed, not once in the 8 months I’ve watched you. You didn’t notice, even when I followed you home, even to Arkham. Every obscure outing you’ve had, I’ve been there.”

“I’m quite alarmed by this information, Miss [Name]. Moreso by the absence of your remorse.” Crane said, but mere seconds later a low laugh was drawn out of him, looking more amused than alarmed if anything. 

Crane’s tone was husky, nearing a purr, and he clasped his large, calloused hands together contemplatively. “What were you going to do to me, Miss [Name]? Or were you just going to watch, standby my life?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, unable to respond to his provocations. You didn’t want to alarm him further, tell him you’d been planning to finally have him, once and for all, as soon as you got a hold of his house keys and got the chance to replicate your own pair. You didn’t tell him that you were barely restraining yourself from knocking him out during your tutoring sessions, wanting your darling all for yourself for more than an hour a week. 

“Are you not afraid, Miss [Name]? What I can do to your life with this information? How I can ruin you, paint you mad enough to be admitted to Arkham?” he continued, closer than ever before and whispering in your ear. His plush lips brushed past the shell of your ear, making your heart skip a beat. 

You winced, both from the feeling of him near you and his sweet voice spewing poison in your ear, but quickly composed yourself, for you knew things he didn’t know you knew. 

Then - you weren’t quite sure what possessed you, but - your hand came up to his hair, tugging so he could hear you, “Professor - or, should I say… Scarecrow, what would you do, if I told the police what Gotham University’s psychology professor did in his spare time?” 

“What would you do, if I plastered pictures of the renowned Doctor Jonathan Crane wearing the familiar burlap sack mask all over Gotham - especially in places the Batman frequented?”

“I can destroy you, sir.” Your voice was quiet, but dangerous, a terribly alluring thing, like a melody Crane heard a long time ago and remembered every time he smelt the must of an old piano. “Don’t push me.”

This time, Crane stilled, turning to face you fully. His gaze had darkened, looking at you through his long lashes. “My dear, you should’ve just told me how bad you wanted to find out how this fear-toxin of mine can break you.” He whispered, so quiet you had to strain yourself to hear. 

With your professor's warm breath fanning on the nape of your neck, you couldn’t help how you squirmed, clenched your thighs together - especially when you had been dreaming of something like this for the past eight months. You couldn’t count how many times you found yourself with your hands down your pants at the thought of your darling professor having his way with you… controlling you completely. 

You didn’t answer the man for a moment, gulping down the dryness in your throat. “Would you, sir? Would you let fear dominate me like those tortured souls in the Narrows?”

Crane’s eyes trailed across your face, then he pulled back, leaning in his chair, a grin all teeth and no tongue spreading across his lips. There was something there, you realized, something he noticed in the intone of your voice - had he noticed the neediness, the warble as your thoughts went elsewhere? The arch in your back, your body desperate to be as close to him as possible?

“Can I tell you what I think?” said Crane, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “I think you want me to. I think you want me to see you tremble… shake in fear… you want me to hear you beg. I think you want to be utterly consumed by me.” 

The deep timbre of his voice, the suggestion in his words, how he stared you down with each syllable, sent electric shivers down your spine. You took in a sharp breath, leaning your head back to look at the ceiling, compose yourself, when—

Crane’s rough hand gripped at your throat, thumb caressing the little notch at the center, and your heart fluttered, jumping at his touch. 

“Fear is an addicting, beautiful thing, is it not? You’re afraid of me, but you can’t help how fucking needy you are.” Your professor spoke, pressing down further on your neck. He had noticed. 

His touch made your skin feel like it was on fire, the rough pads of his fingertips digging bruises into your delicate skin. It was the most delicious thing you had ever felt, and you leaned into it, despite the connotations of death by asphyxiation looming over your shoulder. 

Your professor manhandled you, dragging your weak body over to his side of the desk, hand still curved neatly around your throat. You were growing dizzy, a fearful, pleasure-filled fog slowly clouding your mind, and you couldn’t speak. All you could do was let out little squeaks of surprise & pleasure, a moan rumbling out of you as he pressed down further. 

Crane was saying something, but you couldn’t tell under the pressure. His facial expression was all you needed, however; his eyes were bloodshot, lustful, so laser-focused that, if looks could kill, you’d have been long gone, while a feral grin replaced his emotionless facade. Crane’s usually well-kept appearance had dissolved, and his hair was askew, tie loose, buttons haphazardly undone. 

Suddenly, the man pressed himself flush against you, pressing his face into your hair, your neck - losing himself in you. His tongue flicked out, dragging a long stripe down the side of your neck, and you jumped, a startled whine tearing out of your choked-up throat. 

His grip on you tightened. “What? I’m just having a taste. Is that so wrong?” At your wide eyes, and silent response, he let out a fitful laugh. “You’re coated in shame, darling. You’re sour.”

You squirmed - not because you didn’t enjoy it - you just couldn’t breathe, but Crane didn’t care. His fingernails were sharp, maybe even drawing some of your blood.

“Plea— sir, I can’t breathe,” you stuttered out raspily. His face remained unchanged while listening to your pathetic pleas, before he leaned in close. 

“Beg for it. Beg like you’re terrified for your life. You might as well be,” he said, and he began pressing his thumb into the center of your throat, choking you fully now. 

You nodded - as much as the allowance between his hand and your head allowed, anyway. “Professor, please,” you said breathily, “please let me go. I’ll do any- anything, just puh— please stop.” 

“Ah, there it is,” Your professor cooed, eyes shutting at the sweet intone of your pleaing, distressed voice. He was losing himself in your words. “Keep going… and don’t forget the crying. It's my favorite part.”

“Let - me go! Please,” you whimpered helplessly, mustering thick, heavy tears to form at the corners of your eyes as you saw black spots dotting your vision. 

A lump formed in your throat, choking your words. “Please… stop! Let me - breathe,” You said, leaning delightedly into his touch. His other hand was now digging painfully into your hip, as if the professor were focussing intensely on holding back. 

“Look at you go,” Crane clicked his tongue, eyes opening and gazing deep into you. He pulled you in closer to him, letting go of your abused throat. 

You finally breathed, taking in such large bouts of air you might’ve choked and keeled over right there. But then, Crane’s hands at your side crawed carefully to your rear, while the other hand came up to the crown of your head to pet you. 

He whispered into the top of your head, “Did you mean it?” 

“Mean what?” You said raspily, your face pressed flat against his bandy chest. 

His hand found the swell of your ass, fingers grabbing hold and squeezing so tight you were sure there’d be a bruise later, “About doing anything. For me.”

You nodded, still not looking at him. This answer didn’t please him, however, and the hand that had been petting you tangled through your hair and roughly pulled you away, to look up at him. “In words.”

“Y— yes. I’ll do anything for you.” You rattled off, prickling pain twisting in your scalp. 

“You’ll be a good girl for me?”

“The best.” 

A grin twisted his pink, plush lips, and he promptly pushed you face down flat against his cold, wooden desk. It was rough, and sudden, pain blooming in your side. But there was a tug in your lower stomach at the way he handled you, all selfish and touchy and focused solely on chasing after his own pleasure. 

Crane’s hands roamed all over your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. His touch was insatiable, rubbing and petting and kneading at every part of your body. 

His hands found your thighs, squeezing at the flesh, before hiking up your skirt and inspecting your panties. “Oh, you’re fucking soaked,” Crane rumbled out, voice like gravel. “You liked it, didn’t you? When I said I’d admit you to Arkham.”

Then, you heard him kneel down, and begin to press sloppy, wet kisses on your legs. “Be honest,” he said between kisses, “you want me to admit you, have you all to myself in isolation.”

You didn’t respond, instead whimpering and bucking forward when you could feel Crane’s sharp teeth brush over your sensitive skin. He noticed the effect he had on you, and you felt him smile against you. 

“Please,” you keened out, not dissimilar to how you begged him just moments ago, “stop teasing, Professor.”

You felt Crane’s hot breath fan over your clothed mound, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. “Stop teasing, how?” he said at last, before suddenly pushing your panties to the side and licking a stripe up your cunt. He lapped at your lips, collecting your wetness on his tongue, but he didn’t go further. 

“Pro - Professor,” you whined, grounding out a low moan. It wasn’t enough, and he knew it. He liked playing with you, making you squirm and shake and beg for more.

“What? This not enough for you?” He pulled away, and you hissed at the cold that hit you. Then, he tugged, hard, pulling both your underwear and your skirt down to your knees. 

“You want me to eat you out till you’re a trembling fucking mess, don’t you?” He buried himself between your legs, “I knew you were a horny little slut.”

Finally, his tongue found you once more, and pushed deep into your folds. Crane’s tongue ran across every rivet your pussy had, before darting out to your clit, suckling at the velvet bundle of nerves. His touch drew out a high-pitched keen, your back arching. 

You couldn’t see him, face still pressed against the wooden desk, but you could hear him, the filthy squelching of your pussy and his tongue making your knees buckle. 

“Fuck, Jonathan,” you choked out, when he went deeper into your quivering hole, your body tingling like nothing you’d ever felt before. At your reaction, his name curling around your pretty little lips, he went faster, wet mouth brushing against you, licking you up and down, animalistic, following his instinct to a tee.

“Please, wait -“ You said, feeling the knot in your insides grow tighter, the heat washing over you like a steaming shower, toes curling in your flats. 

“What?” He growled out beneath you, not letting up his assault on your cunt. 

“I don’t - don’t wanna come on your tongue…” You said, shaking your head weakly against the desk. “Wanna - wanna feel you in me.”

Jonathan snorted, and continued to lap up your insides, “D’you think you have a fucking choice? Huh? I know you’re a whore, you could do this all day. I’ll just make you come again on my cock.”

Before you could protest, or even just whine at his words, you shut your eyes, feeling yourself come undone, your legs barely able to keep you upright. His hands had reached away from your thighs, rough fingers toying with your fleshy button, maximizing the climax washing over you tenfold. 

“Jonathan, Jonathan!” You practically screamed out, heat in your stomach pulsing rapidly. 

“Ugh, fuck,” You heard him say, “you’re creaming all over my fucking face.” 

You were a complete mess by the time he pulled away from you, your high washing away as Crane wiped the come and wetness off his face. 

“You came that hard, just on my tongue?” He mocked, fingers spreading your lips and observing your swollen pussy as you laid flat, weakly gripping the edge of the desk so you’d stay standing. 

“Well,” he said, reaching down to his pants and undoing his belt buckle and fly, “M’not done with this sweet little cunt just yet.”

Your eyes widened, “I’m - I’m still sensitive, wait-“

Jonathan didn’t listen, however, letting his pants and boxers pool at his feet, stroking himself in the artificial light of his office, which smelt like sweat and sex. 

He spat on his hand, first coating his cock in it, then your parted lips (which you theorized was just because he wanted to feel you up again), before lining up his thick head at your entrance. “God,” he groaned, “you’re so fucking wet.”

You keened at the intrusion you felt between your legs, “Jonathan, please, jus’ - give me a sec to rest —“ You were interrupted however, by the shock of how big he felt. 

You hadn’t gotten a look at him, but as he let himself slowly enter you, you could tell it was bigger than anything you’d ever taken before. “You’re - you’re too big!” you squeaked out, “You won’t fit.”

He laughed, hands resting on your hips as he held you upright. “I’ll make it fit,” he said, before roughly pounding the rest of himself into you, stretching out your inexperienced cunt. 

You choked, his fat cock pushing you wider than you’d ever been before, the pain biting at you, a burning feeling spreading within your lower body. “Jon- Jonathan,” was all you could say, as he slowly pulled out, pure relief written on your face, until he sank right back into you, somehow deeper than before. 

Tears welled in your eyes, as he gripped harshly on the flesh of your hips, making you pound back and forth on him. His cock was hard, and thick, and he was forcing the thing deep within you at an excruciatingly quick pace. Your sensitivity was the cherry on top to this whole situation - you were trembling, body weak, shallow breaths and teary moans tearing out of you at the overstimulation.

Soon, however, the pain slowly dissolved into a filthy, exquisite pleasure that echoed throughout your entire body. The rhythm your professor had gotten to was downright perfect, filling you completely and making you clench in all the right places. Crane made your brain go foggy, focussing solely on the sound of your skin slapping against each other in the quiet, after-hours office, his taller frame encapsulating you completely.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he cooed, hands moving to splay across your ass and spread you open further. “How many cocks have taken this sweet pussy, huh?”

You gulped. “Just,” you started, but then your eyes rolled to the back of your head, stopping you mid-sentence as his length brushed up to your most sensitive spot.

“How,” he gripped you tighter, “many,” slipped out, “cocks!”  then thrust into you roughly, rougher than before and making the desk screech forward a few inches.

“Just one!” You said at last, words choked up as his long cock pierced you. 

“Just one, huh?” He said and began pounding in and out of you faster, rougher, needier, “I bet you didn’t even fucking come, you’re so tight. This pretty pussy of yours is practically virgin.”

“Uh-huh,” you said incoherently, thoughts blending together. “Jus’ a - a fucking virgin for you,” you babbled out, losing yourself in the fast-paced pleasure he was serving on a silver platter. 

“That you are,” Jonathan growled, “you’re just my horny virgin. Mine.” Every thrust he plunged into you brushed up against that plush spot deep within you, making you drool, body going slack. 

“Oh, jesus, you’re so fucked out,” he murmured, looking down at your limp, trembling form. “Drunk on my thick fucking cock.”

The ecstasy was becoming too much for you now, controlling you completely, like if he stopped fucking you right now you’d be so fucking needy, going slowly insane until he touched you again. You knew you wouldn’t be able to fuck anyone else and feel the same; he made you feel fucking feral, instinctual, your id going into drive and controlling you instead of logic. Your darling was the only one you wanted to offer yourself up completely to. He could do anything he fucking wanted to you, and you’d take it in stride. 

“Jonathan,” you keened, feeling your walls clench around him tighter, “m’close.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, voice deep and dangerous, “keep that orgasm in, whore, till I tell you to.”

Your cheeks burned, distraught at the denial of your release, especially when his cock slipped out of you as he flipped you over. Quickly, however, he rammed his cock back into you. You were facing each other now, and you could see how hot and bothered he looked, despite how confident and careless his words had been as he fucked you.

His lips were bitten between his teeth, hair sticking to the sweat on his face, cheeks flushed. He was focussed entirely on getting back that rhythm, and you let him, watching how his gorgeous features contorted as your hot cunt sucked him in. 

Your arms reached around his neck, and he promptly lifted your legs up to hook around his back, making him fill you even further. 

“Fuck me!” You squealed, his shaft reaching places you didn’t know could be reached. It was getting harder to stop your impending orgasm, and your felt fucking sick at how sweetly he was stretching you, how you knew you couldn’t let go no matter what despite the delicious pleasure. 

“Already am, baby,” he grumbled, rutting in and out of you at a dizzying pace. You felt his pace stutter, slightly, and you heard his small, revealing whines of pleasure as his head was nestled in the nook of your neck, and you knew he was close. 

The thought of him coming in you made you tighten and tense, and he felt it, your back lifting off the desk in an arch. 

“Fuck, how’d you get even tighter?” he said shakily, before sliding out of you so far he almost pulled out completely, then let his cock thrust into you so hard you saw stars dancing across your vision.

You merely mewled back at him in response. 

“Come,” he said breathily, “come all over my thick— ugh, fuuuck, just like that, yes,” his sentence was cut off as you let go, letting the waves of pleasure surge through your body like electricity. 

Your body shook, your knees trembled, and an animalistic whine slipped out of your bruise throat as he thrust into you jerkily. Just as quickly as you camez, he did too, and you felt Jonathan’s load shoot straight up into your worn-out cunt, not impeded by a condom of any sorts. Crane’s head cocked back as he did so, jaw clenching as he released his sweet and sticky liquid deep within you, warm and coating your walls completely.

For a moment, he laid atop of you, and you both kept silent, the office filled with nothing but your breathing and the sweet smell of come. Then, he pulled away, both of you wincing as his cock left you, his come dripping out of your weeping hole onto his office floors. 

He pulled his underwear and pants back on, but revelled in your own crumpled form on his desk, your shirt hiked up, your skirt and panties hanging off your ankles, barely there. It was a shame he couldn’t have explored further up your body, groped those tits he loved seeing bounce during tutoring, but his need to fill your pussy up took precedent.

Jonathan swiped a finger into your cunt, collecting some of your combined liquid, and you flinched at the feeling. Then, he licked at his dirty finger. “Oh, baby,” he heaved, “we taste delectable mixed together.” 

You raised a brow, then weakly lifted yourself off the desk, pulling up your panties and skirt (not without adoring the feeling of Jonathan’s fresh, wet come smearing all over your panties and sensitive cunt) before reaching for his hand. He leaned in towards you, and you lapped up the juice on his finger, grinning up at him.

Jonathan looked completely lost in your performance, brows knitted. “Jesus fucking christ,” he whispered under his breath, “where has a perfect little fucktoy like you been hiding from me?”

“Oh,” you said, nonchalant, “just stalking you.” 

[sixosix]

requested by anon!! hope u enjoy, warning for profanity, fluff

As soon as Wanderer’s eyes laid upon the ball of fluff in your palms, he had said with a disdainful glare to “discard of that at once.”

But you aren’t having any of it. The little kitten curled up by your chest is looking up at you so adorably that you simply can’t discard it, no matter what your boyfriend might say. In fact, the shade of the cat reminds you of his eyes—but saying that would provoke him further, and you’re already on thin ice, letting the cute stray run around your shared home while he makes a face at each sight of its fur.

You coo as the kitten licks your nose when you hold him up to your face. “Do I name him after you? Can I name him after you? I’m naming him after you.”

His eyes narrow, glaring at the impossibly tiny space between you and the animal. “You are not naming it after me.”

“Kuni,” you negotiate. Not that he has a choice anyway because you already have your mind set on it. “Kuni, baby, are you hungry? Do you want some food?”

Your Kunikuzushi bristles, hackles rising. “Seriously? You’re doing this?”

The cat, as if beckoned by his voice, paws at him. “Meow,” the little kitten says softly. Wanderer, to the cat’s dismay, doesn’t respond; he simply rises from his seat and leaves.

So it’s established that you’ve long accepted that Wanderer is not fond of your new pet.

A crying shame because the cat adores him. You don’t know if there’s anything deep to his hatred for your new stray or if he’s just jealous that your undivided attention is no longer on him, but you took pity and decided to own the responsibility of taking care of it.

Which makes it a surprise to come home one day and see your boyfriend nestled against your bed with the kitten curled up on his chest, meowing as he smiles faintly and rubs its head with a finger.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re hungry again?” he murmurs. If you had been in another room, you wouldn't have heard it yourself. “Don’t get too greedy.”

Your breath hitches, too afraid to shatter this moment by bursting into the room. Then again, you should’ve realized that the cat has been sticking too long around him too often without something at play. Perhaps the reason why it’s so fond of your boyfriend is because of secret tender moments like this.

“Your owner will get mad at me if I overfeed you,” he says conspiratorially, rubbing his finger against the cat’s chin while it purrs and nuzzles its face further into his palm for more.

Your heart melts, a tiny noise escaping your lips at the sight of the ever-so-haughty Wanderer on the bed, all but cuddling with your pet.

Wanderer’s eyes snap the crack of the door, perfectly meeting yours as if he knew all along that you were there. “Not a word.”

You gasp, enough to startle Wanderer and make him jump but not enough to wake the sleeping kitten on his hat. Lambad’s Tavern is a little empty, with only an adult or two hanging around to drink their sorrows away or loosen up to their heart's content. And you and your boyfriend are tucked in the far corner, where no one would bother to peep.

“Kunikuzushi!” you cry out, hands hovering around his head in panic. “Kuni, careful, what if Kuni falls?”

Kunikuzushi the human(?)’s face twists in confusion. “You should have never named it that.”

“Kuni,” you hiss as his movements have caused the cat to stir, yet miraculously not wake. “Don’t let him fall, ‘kay? God, I can’t bring myself to even leave my seat.”

He sighs, long and heavy. “I’m not going to drop him. Have more faith in me, will you? I have a better sense of balance than any of you in this Tavern combined.”

“But what if he falls and you accidentally attack him by trying to save him?”

“I’m not gonna wind blade the fucking cat.”

You’re staring at the kitten, who is, unfortunately, looking all too much at home on Wanderer’s hat as if it’s more comfortable than his own bed at home. It’s even worse that Wanderer spoils the cat rotten and lets him sleep wherever he wants. Now, wherever he walks, he has a tiny animal asleep on the top of his head.

Wanderer huffs, squeezing your mouth with a hand to prevent you from arguing. “If you love the cat, you will get us food and avoid waking it up with your yapping, got it?”

“Aw,” you smile, “you don’t wanna wake him up?”

He scowls. “Are you going to let us starve?”

The sight of him and the kitten looks too adorable. You can’t resist from agreeing to whatever Kuni the human is ordering you to do. You rise from your seat, leaving but not forgetting to kiss the cat’s head and Wanderer’s cheek, who flushes brightly and grumbles but doesn’t complain.

[rottenomelet]

yandere jjk thoughts

warning:: nsfw! i’m eighteen and you should be too! hints of kidnapping, non-con, and coercion. nothing is ever really explicitly stated but - still.

a/n: there’s no real rhyme or reason behind this - winter is just my favorite time to snuggle up and read about crazy ppl. also i wrote this in lowercase originally so u see a spot i missed, no u didnt. u can leave requests for different characters if u wanna

Gojo Satoru

In no world could I ever imagine Gojo Satoru treating you like a real human being.

He is the strongest. There is no one who could destroy him. He can see all. And the issue isn’t just that he’s the best, it’s that he’s been told that since the day he opened his bright eyes. He has a big ego and it’s justified because there is no one better than him.

And sure he’ll indulge you. He'll laugh at your jokes and console you when you cry. But in the back of his mind, in every kiss to your forehead, in every smile, there will always be a domineering aspect. Because he knows that you are insignificant in the grand scheme of the world. you are only important because he deemed you worth something.

You’re not quite a toy or a pet to him. You’re more like - an indoor plant to him. Something that needs nurturing from his caring hands, watering and sunlight granted to you by him. You adapt and grow according to his needs and his conditions. But at the same time, you are to be cherished. never handled too roughly, case you begin to wilt. You don’t have to do much but sit and be nurtured and be pretty while he gives you whatever he deems necessary for your survival.

It fascinates him, really, how simple your little life is. How much you don’t know and never will know because as a flower, all you need to understand is that water and sunlight and love are given to you before you’ll even realize that you need it.

But you still have a job to be pretty and sometimes that’s sitting on the bed, still, as he observes you or bouncing on his cock. It just depends on the day.

Geto Suguru

Suguru is a calm man, a quiet man. He makes decisions based on logic. He is not exactly one for emotional outbursts, and even at his angriest, he rarely raises his voice.

But you.

A little non-sorcerer that can’t even see curses somehow made him look twice. Little unimportant you constantly runs through his mind. What you’re doing, what you’ve eaten, what places you’ve gone to. Who you’ve talked to, who your friends are. Your hobbies, your interests. Your lips and your eyes and that special something between your legs.

Just thinking about you, even innocently, makes him harden. It’s uncomfortable, it’s infuriating, it’s maddening.

He thought, surely someone in your family was a sorcerer, a powerful one at that. But no, your family is normal. You are, genetically, as average as they come.

He doesn’t treat you softly at first, doesn’t have a mind to. You’re a filthy little nothing, after all. When he fucks, he fucks without care. Suguru treats you like a doll, not made of porcelain but made of cloth, one he can throw around and still be in decent condition. He keeps a hand pressed to your mouth, to keep your voice down. A blindfold around your eyes so he doesn’t have to look into them. Your hands are bound behind your back so you don't touch him even by accident. Flat on your stomach, unable to see or feel or say anything is how you find yourself every time. He doesn’t even come inside of you, the only thing you’re grateful for.

It’s scary, how roughly he treats you. But it’s downright terrifying when he begins to lay softer hands upon you, begins to kiss instead of bite, caress instead of pinch.

Nanami Kento

He is a very traditional and stern man.

You are, silly, to him. stumbling and bumping and in general, unsure of yourself and what to do. But he sees potential. Even when you’ve tripped over thin air or broken something by accident, there’s a certain grace to your movements. A grace he wants to harvest and invest in.

And while he wants to give you direction, he also doesn’t have the patience or time to teach you like he wants. So, it’s best to ‘learn on the job’ when it comes to Kento.

Learn how to cook his favorite meals and bake the sweets he loves just right. When he’s okay with speaking and when he needs quiet. Remembering to kiss him goodbye every morning and remove his coat for him every night.

Learn how to suck his cock right - which vein is most sensitive, when to suckle and gag and slurp, what noises to make, and remember to always always swallow. He hates messes after all.

Learn his favorite positions. The lingerie sets he like best. How loudly he wants you to be. Accept his cum in your tummy with a smile.

It’s not hard - please him and you will be rewarded. Rewarded with pleasure, with time outside, with gentle hands.

And if you stumble or forget, he will easily remind you of your job.

Mahito

You’re his personal entertainment. You’re an experiment.

Mahito is incredibly laid-back, even lazy to an extent. He lets you roam and explore and fall. He doesn’t care what you do as long as you stay within the four walls he’s placed you in.

It's hard to understand him. For a curse, he’s always laughing, finding almost child-like joy in the most odd things. Whether that’s watching an animal documentary or wondering if a human’s neck can extend like the turtles on TV.

One thing you do know is that he likes games and he likes playing with you. The only problem is you don’t when the game starts and ends, the rules or even if you’re playing right. Oftentimes, you find yourself playing a game that you don’t know the rules of and Mahito has named himself the gamekeeper.

He usually starts by asking a question. Something simple like “What time did you wake up?” or “What did you eat today?”. You find out the hard way that no matter what you say, you’re always wrong.

Say you woke up at ten? Then you’ll find yourself pressing into the mattress, drooling on your pillow as he drills you, punishing you for waking so late in the day. You had a slice of cake earlier? Then don’t be surprised when you’re in the kitchen licking icing off his cock as punishment for an unhealthy lunch.

Itadori Yuuji

He's the jock that gave you a chance. That made you feel special and pretty and popular.

He's sweet. He gives you his hoodie when you’re cold. He drives you home after school. Buys you lunch when you can’t afford it. Takes you on nice dates.

He wants you sitting front row at all his games, wearing his varsity jacket so everyone knows you’re his girl. He twirls you and kisses you in front of the whole school when he wins, the whole thing right of a cheesy rom-com.

But, surely, you didn’t think he was doing all that for free? No, he wants compensation. He deserves a reward for treating you so sweetly. It's only fair.

It doesn’t matter if you’re ‘not ready’. No, no, you’re just nervous, sweetheart. But he’ll be gentle with you so calm down. Yeah, calm down when he slides a hand up your skirt on a date to the movies. Be quiet when he asks you for head in the janitor’s closet between classes. And don’t make a fuss when he slips his cock inside of you, raw, even though you begged him to use a condom.

‘Rubbers hurt,’ he says. ‘It feels better raw’,’ he pleads. ‘Don’t worry - I'll pull out.,’ he promises.

And you better be understanding when he comes inside of you. Afterall, he’ll buy you a plan b.

Choso

Whatever you do, do not stress this man.

He’s going through enough as is. The last thing he needs from you is any attitude or ungratefulness. Even an upset face will have you with your knees pushed beside your head and Choso making you scream, all while watching you with that same tired expression.

Choso is the oldest of ten siblings. He is used to dealing with bratty behavior. He handles your tantrums with grace - once you’ve finished throwing things and screaming, he’ll only ask if you're finished. And then he will be upon you.

But, beyond punishment, he is caring and quiet. He prefers it when you speak, likes it when you prattle on about your day or your favorite show. He likes it when you’re happy.

[mingwrites]

Any thoughts on ateez and subspace?? Literally anything I'm just curious

omg DEFINITELY thank u for asking nonnie,,,

ateez & subspace

seonghwa had entered subspace just a few times before. typically, it would happen right after a concert, when the man had just been on top of the world and in full control of thousands when it came to his fans' excitement. you would be lying if you said the switch in him didn't give you whiplash, but it also made sense; after such a high high, there was nothing left for him to do but be put in his place. after looking out for his fans all night, he needed to be looked after. and you took good care of him.

hongjoong got you into subspace on the regular. he loved punishing his naughty little kitten when they acted up-flirting with other men and wearing provocative outfits when he couldn't rip them right off you. he was a born leader in every way, and he loved to, needed to assert his dominance. he stripped you of your humanity in those moments, leaving you a whining, begging mess of a hole.

the first time yunho saw you in your subspace, it freaked him out a little. he wasn't used to having that intimate and profound power over another person and seeing you mindlessly beg for his dick, beg to be punished, beg to be nothing more than a little fuck-thing made him feel...weird. as much as his dick liked it, he worried about you. so he played your game, made you his fuck-thing, before pulling you back up for air with the most gentle and loving aftercare you had ever received.

yeosang entered subspace once. you were experimenting, trying out pegging, and you had him on his hands and knees. "on your elbows," you told him, and he obeyed, laughing a little bit out of discomfort as his ass was left sticking up in the cold, still air. "good boy," you whispered in your deepest, most sultry voice, and the moan that came out of him was something you never thought you'd hear; it was high pitched and breathy, innocent like a child yet filthy like an animal. "thank you, mommy," he said before you had your way with him.

san found it amusing to see you in subspace. it stroked his ego to see you submit your entire being to him, your legs spread wide, cheeks flushed and as a whole, disheveled. his favorite thing in the world was being your daddy-taking care of you the way you needed him to, having your permission to use you the way he needed, and making you all his. his second favorite thing was cuddling you afterwards.

mingi reacted similarly to yunho upon seeing you submit to him completely. he almost didn't know what to do with himself at first. but he grew into his role as your dominate, seizing the opportunity and taking full advantage of you, more specifically your body. abusing every hole, making easy work of your tits and your clit, turning you into a helpless plaything-this man knew how to make the most out of you, and he loved doing it.

wooyoung entered subspace just about every other night. as a switch, he's familiar with both roles and has no problem diving into either head first. this doesn't mean he's a good submissive, however. the brat of all brats, wooyoung managed to make your life hell even when in subspace. "mommy, that's not good enough," "i need more, please, mommy," "i'll be a good boy, just let me cum!"

jongho would never say it out loud, but he loved when you slipped into subspace. it made him feel so big and powerful, while his fragile little darling sobbed for his dick, fingers and mouth. sometimes, he would get rough and manhandle you because the sight and sound of you completely sent him into overdrive, making him forget to be gentle with his baby. he only got shy after you returned to normal, often commenting on his eagerness or his strength, which caused him to blush and giggle.

[giamee]

🌺 ᯓ★୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘!

STARRING. ノ dan heng

request. ノ anon: helloo if it's right up your alley, could you do a danheng x reader hanahaki au? one where the reader thinks he and someone else have something going on given how caring danheng is through that stoic face of his! but really, danheng is just too kind and you're much too caught up with your own feelings

word count. ノ 3.4k

contains. ノ hanahaki!reader, u and dan heng r both kinda dumb, angst pertaining to the hanahaki trope, you can tell how old this fic is because it's set during the jarilo-vi story quest, some unfounded jealousy of march 7th?, mentions of death and injury and some graphic descriptions of blood and illness

gia's notes. ノ this was the very first request that i ever received on this blog. over a year ago. i drafted this fic and wrote out about 70% of it then let it rot at the bottom of my drafts. anon, you have the patience of a saint if you're still here.

THE MOMENT THAT YOU STEPPED FOOT ONTO THE ASTRAL EXPRESS, you had the sneaking suspicion that you were doomed. Your fate was set in stone as soon as you felt the hard encasing of a seed clutch the walls of your heart in a vice grip when you first laid eyes upon him.

Dan Heng was elusive. The others had been warm in their welcome, but it took the combined efforts of yourself and March 7th to find him hidden in the recesses of the train’s records room. His greeting was a mere nod in your direction before Welt required your presence again, but that’s all you needed.

His eyes were cool, practically piercing through your skin as March 7th ushered you pack to the parlour car, and you felt yourself shiver as his intense stare burned itself into the back of your head.

And while he’s intimidating, sure, that’s not why you stayed away from Dan Heng. He had a cold and callous exterior that you had never seen crack, yet all the same you had felt the start of a crush start to take root.

And this may not have been a problem at all if it weren’t for two details that were like a slap to the face for you.

One, you were fairly certain that Dan Heng had his eyes for March 7th.

And two, if your crush didn’t return your feelings, you would die.

It wasn’t a case of exaggeration, either. You had been aware of the fact that to develop feelings for someone was dangerous, as it had been drilled into you from a young age by your parents. They had gripped your hands, steering you away from other children with little more explanation than that, always chastised you for wanting to forge a human connection, keeping you isolated from the world around you, better safe than sorry.

And you had felt so alone.

Being forced to live a life in confinement was not an easy one, and despite your parents’ wishes, you had told them of your plan to to finally go out into the world, to live a life from experience and not watching it unfold as an impassive reader of a book or on your phone screen, danger be damned.

So it wasn’t really your fault that you had been so quick to develop those feelings that had been so often described in the books you read, as an explosion of butterflies erupted within you upon meeting someone else, another person for the first time.

And yet you found yourself in the same predicament- a watcher from afar. The heart wants what it wants was a bitter mantra that seemed to enjoy your misery as you watched March 7th excitedly chatter with Dan Heng, and you could have sworn the man even cracked the smallest of smiles at whatever she was saying. And really, could you blame him for it? March was kind, bubbly, outgoing- a perfect match for the stoic and seeming immovable Dan Heng.

It was more common sense than pessimism that had you concluding that you didn’t really stand a chance for his affections against someone like her. You doubt that Dan Heng even looked at you more than he had to. You, so secretive and elusive that you gave him a run for his money; and two similar poles never attracted each other. It was a funny hand that fate had dealt you, but you had to play with those cards regardless.

As if to mock you, you ducked away from the outskirts of the room, feeling a coughing fit coming. You had barely made it to your room before you doubled over, feeling your insides run ragged by the prickly thorns of the rose bush that grew inside you.

A single bloodstained petal fell into your palm.

Besides the quickly growing issue that you refused to acknowledge, life on the Astral Express wasn’t awful. You hadn’t yet confided in anyone about your condition, so to speak, and not entirely because you didn’t want to. To be completely honest with yourself, there was much that you didn’t know about it.

And so you timed it well- you waited for the subject of your affliction- for Dan Heng to leave his unofficial bedroom before you slipped through the door into the records room, desperate to find any sort of information that might help you find some sort of cure.

There was a small computer in the corner that you quickly typed your symptoms into- flower. unrequited love. coughing fits. You didn’t know if the single digit of entries was a cause for concern or not, but your brows furrowed as you began to scan through them. The number of obituary entries that were listed on this one document alone was making you shiver. You clicked out of it, about to open the next one before the door sliding open had you starting like a frightened animal.

Dan Heng strolled in, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline as he registered that you were in the room, in his room. He spoke your name, softly, as if trying not to scare you further. You would have said something, honestly, if it weren’t for the sudden explosive coughing fit that came on a lot quicker than usual.

You could barely get a word out before you were bent over from the force of your coughs, tears pricking your eyes from the newfound intensity of the pain coming from inside you. Despite your hands clasped over your mouth, a couple of petals escaped and fluttered down to the floor, some distance between you and the horrified Dan Heng.

He was frozen in place, fingers itching to reach out to you and comfort you, but with the way you practically flinched away from him, he wasn’t sure if his presence was wanted. He barely caught a glimpse of your pained face before you darted around him and back to your own room on the train.

Dan Heng scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration at his inability to act, before his attention diverted once again to the bloody petals on the floor, and the files on the record searcher that you hadn’t completely closed. He cast one last guilty glance back in your direction before heading closer to the screen and beginning to read.

The Trailblazers’ journey must progress, and your heart hammered for another reason other than a sighting of the raven-haired male who you still harboured feelings for. You had ultimately left your home to explore the world, and with the Express finally stopping at the planet Belobog- your promise to yourself was a step closer to being fulfilled. You disembarked alongside Stelle and March, doing your best to avoid Dan Heng like the plague ever since that fated day. You didn’t know how much he exactly knew, but you had no intentions of finding out.

Your plans of peaceful exploration, however, were short lived with the arrival of Silvermane guards to greet you. In the chaos of the smoke, it was not lost on you that Dan Heng had instinctively protected March, practically shielding her with his body. As Stelle dragged you along some backway path in pursuit of some mystery saviour, you felt the excruciating addition of a new thorn in your heart.

The adrenaline of the escape had worn off by now, and you could feel your secret threatening to spill over any second now. You could barely warn Stelle to let you move off to the side before you were keeled over, closer to gagging than coughing as a large ball of petals and dark, dark blood forced its way through your throat. You felt faint, barely registering the panicked calls of your name as you felt your world turn sideways, Stelle’s face and voice being quickly replaced by another deeper one, with fear in their eyes and a certain desperate edge as you felt yourself slip into unconsciousness.

It's a dreamless sleep, yet it isn't restful, judging by how you feel like you've been hit by a bus when you sit up. Every fibre of your being aches, and there's a harsh overhead light that dazzles you as you blink awake.

As your eyes grow accustomed to it, there's a surge of panic as you don't recognise your surroundings. It looks like a clinic of some sorts- and there was the cloying smell of chemicals that invaded your nostrils. You struggled to sit up, until you felt a hand place itself gently against your chest.

A dark-haired woman with a doctor's coat smiles down at you warmly, and you eye her warily.

"Who are you?"

"My name's Natasha, I'm a doctor in the Underworld. Try not to move around too much, dear. You've been unconscious for quite some time and your condition is unstable, you still need rest."

"Where's the people that I was with?"

"They've all awoken a few hours before you." She casts a quick glance at the clipboard in her hands, as if to fact check herself, giving herself a quick satisfactory nod. "Don't worry, you haven't been abandoned. They should be just outside. The young man sat by your bedside while you were unconscious only left a few minutes ago- he got whisked away by one of my... colleagues."

Your mind's racing now, wondering who she could be talking about. Hoping that it was who you thought it was. But she reiterates her request to lie back down, and you comply begrudgingly. You start to settle down, until you catch a glimpse of the mess lying atop your blankets. A visceral combination of blood and crumpled petals rest upon the fabric, and you watch the doctor's expression become grave.

"That is the unstable part of your condition that I wanted to discuss." She pulls up a chair besides you, settling neatly, hands folded in her lap. "How long have these symptoms been ailing you?"

You furrow your brows, recalling how they started a mere month or two ago, after you joined the Astral Express. After you met him.

"A couple of months." Natasha nods, a frown forming on her face again.

"Considering how quickly it has developed, I imagine that your case is rather severe." You shrug, a humourless smile on your face.

"There's not much that I can do about it, Doc."

"I'm sure that you're aware of the risks that come with a confession, but as a bystander rather than a doctor, I think that you should talk to him."

"Who?"

"The man who refused to leave your side for all of these hours."

You hoped that Natasha was right. Deciding to ignore her advice of continued bed rest, you force yourself up, walking out of the clinic in search of him. Welt was no young man, and there wasn't anyone else that came to mind based off of Natasha's description. It couldn't be anyone else than him, right?

You stumble out onto the streets of the Underworld, garnering a few odd looks from passerbys as you wander around, looking for not just Dan Heng but anyone that you recognised.

You round a corner, seeing the back of a head and clothing that looks an awful lot like him. Who you're planning to confess to. You call his name, out loud, voice a little hoarse.

And he turns, beautiful crystalline eyes meeting yours. Call it a trick of the light, but you could have sworn that they shone a tad lighter when he saw you. But your gaze drifted past him, and all bubbling hope was quelled once again in your heart as you recognised the figure of March 7th stood with him.

Of course he would be with her.

If you looked closer at the pair of them, all signs indicated an intimacy to them that made you feel sick. There was a serious look on her face, one of her hands rested against his arm, but she soon recognised you too, her face instantly perking up as she began to ran towards you, calling your name.

"You're finally awake, you're OK!" she calls out in delight, her arms wrapping around you as she practically barrels into you, threatening to knock you off balance. You stumble, returning the hug, the nausea turning to guilt as you remember how the girl has been nothing but good to you. Of course Dan Heng would harbour feelings for her, not you.

The Doctor's order was wrong.

You sigh to yourself in defeat, unwinding your arms and shooting March 7th the best smile that you could muster in the moment.

"I feel better, but I'm still feeling weak so I might go back to the clinic."

March 7th frowns, eyes scanning your figure in concern.

"Are you OK, Y/N?"

"Do you want me to walk you back?" You twitched, not even realising that Dan Heng had caught up to the pair of you. He was also looking at you with concern, and you could feel an onslaught of petals coming.

"No, it's fine, I'll go back on my own." You don't really give either of them the chance to respond, spinning on your heel and trying not to run back from where you came.

You felt... worse. Before, you had at least been able to function, but now you felt so much limper, and weaker. You cursed at yourself for allowing false hope to be instilled, just as the coughing begins. It wracks through you, so hard that you almost dry heave as you keel over, and you watch in horror as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and see it come back crimson.

At least the clinic was around the corner.

You barely make it inside, unable to stand up straight by this point. Natasha springs to action, helping you back into a bed, helping you through the worst of the coughing. It's so much more draining than before, and you're quick to fall into a fitful sleep.

Even unconscious, you don't get a reprieve. Even in your dreams, he's all you can think of. There's a spitting image of him stood before you, eyes soft and voice like honey as he calls out to you, hands outstretched. And you try to join him, fingers straining to touch his before you watch them turn into branches and flower before your very eyes. You look down, and it hurts, with brambles wrapping themselves around your middle. And just as fast as they grow, your new floral appendages wilt before your very eyes. Branches drooping, flowers losing their hue, and you feel yourself start to fade, his name one last desperate cry from your lips.

You wake up, tears staining your cheeks and you trembling. For a few panicked seconds, you think you're still dreaming because he is here, sat by your bed, and as he stands up to wipe your tears you shrink back in fear of turning back to branches again.

But his warm palm cups your face, solid against your trembling state, deft thumbs wiping away your tears, an uncharacteristically soft hushing and cooing coming from Dan Heng as he promises you that everything is okay now.

It's easy to believe him, with the way he moves even closer to hold you, cradle your form against his warmth, patting your hair and letting you cry until you can't any more amidst the petals on your bedsheets.

You don't know how long the pair of you stay like this, your face pressed into his chest, his heartbeat leading yours back into the range of one at rest rather than its prior pounding against your ribcage. You would stay there for the rest of time, if you had a choice, but you had to admit that the oxidation of blood and its drying against your skin was making you feel ever so slightly uncomfortable.

You clear your throat, as best as you can in your hoarse state, and Dan Heng picks up on your withdrawal as he all but flinches away from you, returning the distance that usually lies between your two bodies. But his eyes still scour your figure, your face, for any and all signs of discomfort. Like a lover would. The thought melds with the already-bitter taste of blood residing against your tongue, and you frown down at your lap. At the petals. At your pathetic form lying beneath the blanket, obscured from view.

“How long has this been happening for?” Dan Heng sounds so timid, as if he were walking on glass sheets around you. Ever since that fateful day in the records room, it felt like he had done nothing but tiptoe and tread around you, a careful dance of avoidance that you were forced to be his partner in. You sigh deeply, a hand gingerly beginning to gather the gorey sight of such beautiful pink marred by the visceral crimson that remained, not yet dried.

“I’ve had it all my life, apparently, but it only started making itself known once I joined the Astral Express.” Once I met you.

“I, um- I looked into it more. In the records.” His admission made you snap your head up to face him, cautious of his next words, whatever they may be. He looked nervous himself, with eyes that refused to meet yours and fingers that twisted into his clothes, toying with the hem of his jacket.

“I read of many such cases where people were able to make a full recovery.” He sounds so hopeful, even daring to meet your eyes, that you almost feel bad for him. It was like looking back at a past version of yourself, so hopeful for a happy ending that once sparkled in your eyes, now a dull flicker you can see when the lighting is just right.

“It’s not that simple, Dan Heng.”

“What do you mean, it said that there weren’t any later cases of symptoms returning-”

“That’s because it’s not an illness from the body.” You’re snappier than you intend to be, you see it in the way his mouth snaps shut and his throat bobs against his collar, as he sits up straighter, waiting for you to continue. “The only cure is to confess to the person that I love.”

“And why haven’t you?” His voice is barely above a murmur, and even from his place in the seat next to our bed, you hear him just fine.

“Because I’m sure that he has eyes for another.” You’ve collected all the petals in your palm by now, observing them with a dry humour as you notice that they’ve begun to wither, much like yourself. You doubt that you could go on much longer after this conversation. Part of you urges to get it over with, to confess now and let yourself bloom with one last glance upon his face.

Dan Heng must have scoured each and every record, because you didn’t need to offer an explanation of what would happen with such unrequited feelings. He’s silent again, an awkward and palpable tension as you can feel his confliction from here.

He finally manages a lame “you never know” that has you laughing, a brief reprieve before you dissolve into another coughing fit. It’s hardly something to worry about, but Dan Heng is by your side again, palm smoothing over your shoulder blades as you are wracked with coughs. You appreciate it nonetheless.

“What would happen if someone else confesses to you?” You shoot him a sideways glance, confusion written all over your features, urging him to elaborate. “What if you held no feelings for them, but they confessed to you all the same. Would that cure you?” He’s earnest now, hands scooping up your dirtied ones, clasping them in his grasp as he looked at you with stars in his eyes.

Your shrivelled heart begins to beat again.

“What- what do you mean?” Play dumb. Don’t mistake curiosity for what you desire most.

“What if I told you right here and now that I love you?” His eyes are searching yours, pleading with you for an answer that you’ve been screaming at him for so long. One that he does not have to search for, because it’s been laid there at his feet this whole time.

“I would tell you, Dan Heng, that such a confession is not unrequited.” You’re grinning now, the smile on your face growing wider and wider as you watch recognition flood his features.

And then he’s smiling too, laughing, holding you ever closer to him before he pulls away again, just to cup your face now. It’s only natural to close the distance between the two of you, lips touching his for a kiss that quickly becomes searing, welcoming a new season of heat into your body.

The thorns in your heart reside. Spring begins to bloom.

➤ IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... enjoy the silence

roommate!dan heng x reader

➤ alternatively, you can find my hsr masterlist here!

[dolicekiss]

Hello there,

If you are still taking in requests, I thought I'd just leave this here. Could you potentially do a Hannibal Lecter x reader one-shot/headcanons (it's up to you) where they used to be lovers. But when the reader caught wind of Hannibal not exactly being a normal, she practically dissappeared from his life entirely. Now, years later, he sees the reader in Baltimore at an art gallery or something (idk maybe the reader is an artist herself or just a guest?) And it just re-sparks some sort of deep longing (yandere vibes???) within Hannibal.

Just a thought.

♡: i love this idea, its fr gonna awaken the poet in me. i hope u like it and it was up to your expectations (fear of disappointing ppl goes hard)

An ache for art

YANDERE HANNIBAL HEADCANON

PAIRING: Yandere!Hannibal x Artist!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: Yandere hannibal, mentions of kidnapping, forced (?) kissing, persistant hannibal, not much, only obsessed hannibal who wants his woman back

SYNOPSIS: When you abandoned Hannibal Lecter, he searched for answers everywhere in his desperation for you. Oblivious to the fact that you'd caught onto the abnormalities of the man. Years later at an art gallery, Hannibal finds solace in the painings presented before you and when he finds out you're the creator, a spark is once again lightened.

An art gallery in Baltimore was the last destination of all places in the world where Hannibal expected to find you.

When he'd asked to see the artist that had performed such a spectacular job at capturing human longing — akin to his, under the stroke of a brush, he didn't expect it to be you.

And you surely didn't expect to meet him. Yet here you were, nervousness heaving on you like cemented blocks.

You'd abandoned him under the fear that you might become his next victim. A voice inside you prevented you from informing the authorities but your morals could not allow you to stay with a man like him.

Especially after realizing he must've fed you human remains, on one of his special dinner nights. Torn between your love for him and the need to escape, you never looked back.

Hannibal tried searching for you, everywhere. He thought you two were soulmates, meant to be forever. You'd climbed the walls that he had always kept higher and higher.

Just why did you leave then? Had he done something so severe that you had to disappear from his life? Leaving your job behind, your life behind in Florence and never appearing in front of him ever again.

“Hannibal.” Your voice a whisper. He could taste the way his name unfurled on your tongue.

For a man that in complete control of his emotions and what he felt, he couldn't contain his excitement and happiness upon at the sight of you.

Hannibal stepped closer to you, a smile causing the wrinkles to appear. The same wrinkles you once used to adore.

“Beautiful art, I must say.”

You nodded, accepting his compliment, a small smile on your lips. You felt no discomfort or resentment in his presence. Only thing left were the beautiful memories of a healthy relationship.

The rest of the evening was spent together. You showed him around the gallery, explaining subtle details of your art to him albeit that wasn't necessary as Hannibal read right through your gentle brush strokes.

Though he was more interested in the art that strolled alongside him. A beautiful sight in her glory, flourishing once more like the petals of a sunflower.

Hannibal had an ache. An ache to consume art but you were the type of art he felt full just by catching sight of. He couldn't satiate these cravings you'd left him with.

After your departure, Hannibal killed and he killed. Yet no one could even compare to what you made him feel.

You were responsible for the deaths of multiple innocents, because you chose to leave him with an ache. Hannibal wondered how you'd feel if you were to find out.

He wished for the time to stop. That everything would come to a halt and you'd stay frozen right before his gaze.

Nowhere to go, nowhere to run to. Only available to him, only before his very eyes.

If it came down to it, Hannibal would not shy away from denying you of your freedom.

As you both reached a secluded corner in the gallery, the tension like a pendulum hung in the air above your heads.

Unanswered questions probed at Hannibal from within. He needed to know why you'd left — just what had scared you away to the point of no return?

Somewhere he knew. Deep in his heart, he was aware that this abrupt abandonment had everything to do with his own sickly desires.

“Why?”

You knew it was coming and it did. You couldn't tell him you knew about his little murder sprees or how he fed you human flesh.

You tried to walk away from the suffocating conversation but Hannibal couldn't allow that. Hand grasping around your arm, his tight prevention scaring you.

“Hannib—”

“I won't let you leave this time.” He longed for you, he never stopped to begin with. Everyday he'd come to his house and find it empty, it felt like needles prickled his chest.

He missed you roaming the premises of his humble abode, dressed in one of his button downs. Casting a meaningful light over the painted walls and furniture.

His grip was tight. You saw the sheer determination so instead of causing a scene, it was best to continue the conversation someplace better.

Like a coffee shop.

Sitting before him with a cup of coffee in your hand, you stared at him. Hannibal was never fond of such small cafes on the roadside — he preferred lavish and rich restaurants.

“I know, Hannibal.”

That was all he needed to know that you were well aware. His face falling but there was no expression on his face at all. Like he'd expected this.

“Was it that easy to abandon me?”

A stinging sensation spread in your chest at his sorrow filled question. Of course it wasn't easy. You'd spent a whole year in complete isolation after parting from him.

Hannibal caught onto the painful expression, akin to his. He wished that he was different too, more like you and not the cannibalistic murderer he was.

But some instincts could not be controlled.

“Come back to me.”

You could not. To step all over your moral conscience required strong will which you did not possess.

“I can't. It will never work, Hannibal.”

Hannibal noticed the reluctance in your gaze, his own darkening. Plans to keep you by his side already forming in his cunning mind.

There was no limit he wouldn't cross for you. Whether it was manipulating you back into his life or kidnapping you, he didn't want to back out.

You picked up your bag and after sparing him one last glance, left the cafe. Bells ringing against his ears, notifying him of your exit.

Hannibal was in disarray. He needed to have you, he had to have you. There was no way he could sit idle and watch you leave him.

So he followed you, pressing you up against your car. Lips working hastily to captivate yours, as he fought the string of dark emotions inside him.

You almost melted.

Him being the only man that could make you feel like this. A bittersweet kiss which acted as the closure you never received from him.

Hannibal’s frame locked you in, his hands roaming down to your waist. He kissed you with vigor, with profound strength like you could disappear at any given moment.

Your hands stayed by your sides, lacking the courage to slither them across his nape.

The kiss heated – his lips sucking yours and then he attempted to enter your mouth. You didn't let him. Persistent you were.

Hannibal pulled back from the kiss and breathed against your lips.

You soon realized what you were doing, in who you were investing and you pushed him off you.

Hannibal loved the feeling of your small hands over his chest. The way you still tasted the same even after years had passed.

“Don't ever come in front of me again.”

He didn't like the venom in your tone and he sure as hell wasn't going to let you go like before.

Hannibal watched you leave in your car and sighed, his fingertips running along his own lips. Remnants of your saliva bringing him to the brink of insanity.

He would do anything to have you.

And if that meant going against your will, so be it.

[sqtorux]

7 minutes, not in heaven just yet but still heavenly

“after death the human brain lives on for seven minutes to replay its best memories”. nanami can't help but think about what his last seven minutes would look like.

nanami had recalled you telling him about a silly trend going around about people making videos of what their presumed 7 minutes just before their complete death would be like.

as reluctant as nanami was to think of either of you dying, he finds himself pondering upon two questions: what would your and his last seven minutes look like?

one of the question was answered by you a few seconds later. “hm mine would probably be all with you, and some with my family… maybe our colleagues as well.”

at that time, it warmed his heart immensely even after knowing full well his best memories were with you too.

the other question however, wasn't answered. it was in the form of a revelation.

nanami was tired. his body and mind just barely holding onto the thin string of his duties he told himself to finish before succumbing into the lure of resting.

he was sure he was in an underground train station fighting and slashing disfigured humans with the little strength he has left but why did it also feel like dancing?

dancing? ah yes gliding through the air under the warm sunshine in … a beach? a beach in malaysia yes you had always wanted to go there with him.

the grainy sand beneath his feet and the cool air blowing through his clothes and into his skin made nanami feel like he was in paradise, just not yet though because you weren't here.

you weren't here.

suddenly he wasn't in a beach anymore. the grainy sand turned into hard concrete and the warm sunshine was replaced by luminescent artificial lights. he was no longer dancing but grasping into his cursed tool, the blood of hundreds dripping down from it.

and yet you were here. the distress and horrified expression on your face made his heart ache. nanami observed you panting in exhaustion, you must have ran.

and finally there were tears flowing from your eyes, all the way down your cheeks and onto the hard concrete floor. he wishes he could wipe them away and hold you tighter than he ever did before.

but he couldn't bring himself to move. a hand was on his shoulder, the hand of the cursed spirit who was responsible for the numerous disfigured humans he had forced himself to kill.

he called out to you meekly observing how your body forces itself to look into his eyes despite freezing in place.

“i’d always save the last dance for you.” he hears himself say. he wanted to make things right and apologize profusely for ever letting you cry so painfully like this, especially over him.

“i don't think i have 7 minutes.”

mahito’s idle transfiguration would've allowed some level of consciousness to the humans he disfigured but nanami wasn't just a human. he was a sorcerer and neither was he disfigured.

“... 7 seconds.” and then he was gone.

the world was never fair. it was always ruthless and ugly but amidst that, it was also kind. kind enough to let you meet nanami.

but in a moment like this it felt like the world was purposely allowing you to feel this way, just so it could chew you up and spit you out only to step on you and laugh at your misery.

nanami’s last 7 seconds were with you, his beloved. perhaps returning to the sandy beach with warm sunshine, playing blissfully in the sea water, its currents pushing you both a little more closer, falling in love a little more deeper.

wrote this in a haze i need u all to suffer with me. i miss kento sm i will curse gege to no end </3

[falling-heights]

Yandere Geto x Non-sorcerer

" A r e y o u p r a y i n g a g a i n ?

H o w r a w a r e y o u r k n e e s ?

H o w o f t e n w i l l y o u r e p e n t ? "

Part 1 ▪︎ Part 2

Shackles jingled like bells on the cold stone.

Muscles trembling, the dampness of the strange, dark room clung to your skin, sticking to your hair like freshly formed dew. The rocky surface tore into your knees, ripping open the thin layers of skin. You would expect soon, if not now, the gravel floor beneath your knees would soon find itself grinding bone.

How long must it take for your body to reach that state? Months surely, maybe more. This new life, this awful life. Played upon the whims of a cruel, beautiful man.

This was absolution he said, but not your salvation. A necessity for the fact of your existence-- for your vile existence. For the sin of having been born on the wrong side of his war.

He paced around you in circles, slowly closing in on his prey. A belt slung in his hands. Occasionally the metal buckle would graze the floor, emitting an awful grating sound, more or less reminding you of what was eminent.

Hours at a time, a glorious part every day, he would come to visit, and he would force you to commit exhausting acts. The kind meant to wear at more than a person's body. In the end, he was never satisfied until you were like a weak, wounded animal.

You deserved death as much any other human, perhaps more than most. Yet for the strangest reasons, he kept you breathing, fed, alive.

If not for this man's bitter entertainment, then certainly to act as penance for you and your pathetic race.

You had been kneeling in the grit and gravel for hours now. Praying, god knows what for anymore. Your deliverance; your demise. Every muscle in your legs trembled involuntarily. They felt like nothing, like weightless twigs that burned like white-hot rods.

Your body gave out quicker tonight than most, and his hand was as swift as you had come to know. The belt swung down upon your bent back, and you cried out as the metal clasp bit into your skin, slitting it open into shallow gashes. A seething hiss escaped your grit teeth as handfuls of gravel and dirt dug into your palms. The new blood seeped into seven more fresh lashes, coating trails of coagulated blood.

It was righteous.

It was befitting.

And you deserved it just as much as any other human, but perhaps more than most. His eyes said so much more cruelty than his actions, as though it were you he hated so dearly, as though it could have only ever been you. His punishments felt personal, and in his eyes, deserved.

You were temptation incarnate, a foul reminder of his noble efforts. Kept like a token, something hated and yet sought. Something evil and yet beautiful.

He wanted done to you what he had seen done to his kind. And how little it mattered that you knew nothing of your crimes. Your ignorance could not help you.

"My, my," His voice was elevated, a gentle chord that echoed in the dim room. It mocked you with sugary sweetness. "Has the camel's back finally broken? Is this all the strength you can muster?"

He stooped down in front of your collapsed figure. A curled finger lifted your chin up gently. He tilted his head to the side as you grimaced under his scrutiny. He sighed, finally, releasing your chin and standing.

"I've grown tired of this, lately." The belt dropped to the ground with a loud thud. You tried to steady yourself and sit up, but any direction that you moved had you reeling in pain. It was like the skin your was being ripped from flesh and bone.

Confusion surfaced when he stooped to unlock your shackles. They were discarded to the side loudly, rattling your concrete cage. Visible lesions were present on both wrists, cutting deep into the raw tissue.

He paused for a moment, looking off at the wall in thought. For those

long winded seconds, as your vision wavered between black and white, it seemed as though he was miles away from that horrid, festering room.

"Do you have any idea why I do this to you, come dusk until dawn?" His voice was distant, quiet even. Though he was always quiet, this was distinctively different from what, you had come to know. No snide remarks, no slightly patronizing tone in the way he lectured you.

He looked to you then for a moment, dark eyes connecting with yours. They seemed tired, exhausted even. "I can imagine a singular question that must be racing through your mind at every waking moment."

Geto, as you had come to know him, stepped towards you, seemingly breaking out of his stupor. His eyes gleamed with sadistic amusement. His foot came in contact with your shoulder, shoving you onto your back.

You cried out as stones cut into your raw flesh. His foot pressed down more harsh, to the point you thought your shoulder might pop out of it's socket. He smiled down at you, at your helplessness.

Somehow, there were always moments that seemed innocent in the wake of everything else. Nights in which he would stumble into your dark, damp dungeon unbelievably drunk. Mind too far gone to remember what you really were. He would stumble, he would crawl, he would worship you like a goddess.

In a strange way, it almost felt like he cared for you in a desperate sort of way. Nights like this were like an open view into an entirely new person. This man, in a drunken, sickly state, would almost coddle you. There were night he would come and act as though the two of you were a married couple. Other times, he might be possessive, babbling somewhat incoherently. About things you never understood but knew had everything to do with you.

He was sweet then. And you felt a fool for almost hoping for it. Hoping for a sense of something familiar, something comforting. Something that didn't break your skin or bones and leave you marred with scars.

This was not one of those nights.

A sigh of relief passed your cracked lips when he finally lifted his foot. However, the weight was multiplied tenfold when he straddled your waist.

Your breath caught in your throat, panic overweighing any sort of pain as adrenaline began surging in your veins. He quickly put an end to your struggles, pinning your arms down.

"Why don't you enlighten us both with that question?" His eyes fixed on your other features, wrapping a loose strand of hair around his fingers, almost absentmindedly. It took you longer to process his question than he liked because he ceased his toying with your hair to grab your face firmly, scrunching your cheeks together. "Do you need a hint, dearest? Let me start it for you: 'Why...?'"

"Why me?" You whispered. He smiled proudly, releasing your face to caress your jaw with his thumb. It took what little of what was left of your will to keep a steady voice. But you could not stop the tears from collecting in your eyes. You asked him again through blurry vision. "Why did you choose me?"

Your body froze when you looked into his eyes. Dark and calm, like two black stones in dead, unmoving water. And yet, within their vacant depths sparked a tidal wave of emotion. Hatred was the most obvious.

But beneath it, there was something more volatile. If you had been any more of a fool, you would have thought it to be an innate, almost wild passion, a kind that you were not familiar with.

As his face inched closer to yours, it seemed as though his intentions

transformed from violent to something you feared far more.

He suddenly stopped. Something shifted in his eyes, as though remembering something. His face soured in response, nose wrinkling slightly as he pulled away slowly.

"Perhaps it would be a kind mercy to just kill you." He lifted himself off of you, silently brushing himself off and readjusting his clothes.

Your heart left in your chest like a caged bird crying for freedom.

"But I have not made progress by being merciful," He said in a curt manner. Geto's eyes studied you like a dissected specimen. His eyes trailed off briefly, a sense of determination hardening his gaze. "And I believe I am close to a solution."

Solution? What the hell is he talking about?

"Forgive me for getting ahead of myself." His voice was distant, almost rehearsed. There was air of false sweetness about it, in his words and his smile. He was back to his expected self it seemed. "You haven't any idea to the truth of your situation, not at all..."

He was staring at you vacantly, more as though he were staring through you. A small chuckle left his throat and he sighed. "Well, no matter. You will know soon enough."

All he offered your pain was a smile, perfectly still and anything but comforting. There was purpose behind everything he did, and you never had so much as a hint as to what was festering within his mind.

He left you to agonize in your torment, though knowing that he would be seeing you again soon enough.

didn't really proof this, pls let me know if you see any issues! there may be a part two for this if you guys like it <3

[lovelookspretty]

not so bad

college!rafe cameron x reader au

— in which rafe and y/n absolutely despise each other in public but crush in secret. rafe is failing his humanities class & is assigned y/n as his tutor . . . maybe all it took for this relationship to form was just a bit of forced proximity and some time.

warning(s): nothing much, just rafe and y/n being cuteness, but there is a little bit of a serious talk !! omg rafe being kind ?? this is insane

authors note: this is NOT the end of the series of course. theyre just starting to become friends but obvi theyre gna become lovers with time. am i rushing this ?? idk cs theyve been frenemies since kids n now theyre js officially friends in part 4 like okay u guys move fast. mayb its my fault

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

you knock upon his door, your heartbeat thudding with each pulse as you anxiously wait outside his dorm. rafe had gotten back to you just hours after you sent him the message about the second tutor session, seeming to be just fine with having to spend more time with you after ignoring each other all week.

it just worries you a little about how this is going to go.

the door opens, revealing the blond boy himself. his tongue is pressed against the side of his mouth as he leans out between the crack in the door. his eyes are right on you, and he strands up straight, pulling the door open completely to let you in.

he’s standing there in some forest green crewneck with a white shirt underneath and some pants. in his hand is a small glass container full of what looks like mac and cheese and what you guess are steak bites with a spoon sticking out of it. he eats so much actual food instead of cafeteria food that you know that he’s gonna get his own place after freshman year and invest mostly in his kitchen for some gourmet shit that reminds him of home and some gym preps. that’s just so rafe.

you’re not surprised though that he doesn’t share any of his food with those in the dorm building with you guys, even just to sell them and make money. even though you know a ton of students would pay and kill to get away from the same rotation of food they’re usually served here. ‘cause it’s not like he needs the extra money anyway. his family’s loaded. so that is so not rafe.

there’s also a small smile on his face when he lets you in, but also like there’s just absolutely no thought behind his eyes. he looks stupid. but you think he looks stupid every time you see him.

you hesitantly step inside, still not completely comfortable in his space. or comfortable at all. it almost feels like your first time inside his dorm again, only with more tension than before everything. a month ago, you didn’t even think that was possible.

“so you’re failing english,” you’re the first to say something. you walk over to his desk like last time and carefully set your ipad on its surface.

“english isn’t for everyone.”

“surprised it isn’t for you after that little showdown in class,” you point out, turning to him.

he shuts the door behind him and locks it, then walks to his bed to sit on the edge, facing you. digging into his mac, he nods, “that was fun by the way.”

you raise an eyebrow at him. what is going on? one moment he’s not even paying you any mind but now he’s able to have a normal conversation with you. even say something kind of nice.

but then, you’ve been the same way in the switch from neglect to willingness.

“show me your notes,” you tell him, and he pushes himself off the edge of the bed to stand and walk to you. you watch him as he approaches his desk, controlling his laptop through his track pad.

he navigates through chrome and opens his documents like last time. he pulls up his most recent notes, which are in a folder with the title being the dates of this past week.

“since our first ever session, i started organizing my notes for class for every lecture per week,” he says, stepping away from the laptop to let you take a look at it. you go to sit in his chair to inspect his new notes, noticing the huge difference in how he takes notes now. “these five have been from this week for this class. so . . .”

as he trails off you can hear him eat spoonfuls and spoonfuls of his food, in which you glance back at him at the sounds of. but your focus is still on the notes, to tutor him.

you’re surprised that he’s gone to no notes to notes at all, let alone organized ones with folders, headings, dates, actual information, the whole shabang. has he been doing this for all of his classes too?

“that’s . . . impressive,” you say honestly, looking back at him. “but i don’t get it. if you’ve been writing down the lecture material then why are you almost failing the class?”

he shrugs, finishing his bite before swallowing it down to speak. “english isn’t for everyone,” he repeats himself, and you raise an eyebrow at his words.

you’re a little lost because literally none of this makes sense. “w— wait, so you . . . you take your english notes for about three weeks and whether or not you absorb the material, you boil it down to: at the end of the day you’ll fail because ‘english isn’t for everyone’? rafe.”

“y/n,” he says.

“why are you even in university?” you ask him, and you see his expression falter when he realizes you’re serious. “i mean like actually. we both left the outer banks to attend here but you’re failing your classes whether you do the work for them or not. it seems like you aren’t even trying. what’s the point?”

“you know, college isn't just about classes,” he tells you, and you cock your head in question. “it’s about the whole experience—making connections, networking, discovering yourself. it’s what i wanted to do from the start. plus, there are plenty of other ways to learn besides sitting in a lecture hall.”

you stare at him in silence. that doesn’t answer your question at all. “okay, but you aren’t learning, period. like lectures apparently go in one ear and out the other,” you say, and rafe only smiles as he looks down at his food, picking at it as he makes his way over to the edge of his bed again.

“i mean isn’t the whole point of college to get an education?” you ask him, your tone skeptical. “seems like a waste of time and money if you're not even going to try to pass all your classes.”

he gives you a knowing look when you mention money, but it’s almost like he doesn’t want to talk about about that. or need to. “to each their own, y/n,” he replies cryptically, and his expression is unreadable. “we all have our reasons for being here.”

a part of you understands where he’s coming from completely, yet another part insists that there’s still a way to balance both. you know he’s capable. he just needs some motivation.

“i think . . . you should have no reason to be failing right now, especially because of your improvement from last time,” you tell him honestly. “you should be making the most out of your already-paid-for classes anyway! you’ve written the work, you’ve been able to pass your exams, you said you needed to study last time i was here, you read a book assigned to the class and were able to debate with me on it. you’re fully capable. you just need a little push maybe.”

he grimaces. “are you gonna spend your time here to teach me how to learn?”

“no.” you shake your head at him, “i’m gonna spend my time here to just motivate you. you’ve spent all your time investing a great amount of energy and effort into your other classes. why not this one? thompson doesn’t need me to tutor you; he just wants me to help you in any way that i can.”

rafe is silent as you spin around in his chair to face him fully.

“we can work on our assignment together if you want,” you offer, but your voice comes out in a mumble, unsure if he’ll take it or feel off about the idea. “i haven’t finished it yet. this way, we can be in each others presence here, but not with me teaching you, but us working together at the same level.”

for once you can see in his face that there’s a little glint in his eyes. and he looks . . . hopeful. he nods. and you feel good about this, in some weird way—just working out things between you and him when for years it’s been nothing but tension. it’s almost like a weight off your back to know that you both are okay with each other enough to be friends. or kind of friends. or tolerate each other.

you twist your body and take his laptop into your hands, then stand from the chair to hand rafe his laptop while simultaneously taking his container from him. you set it down on his desk and cover it up for him.

“prepare for the worst few hours of your life,” you tell him as you pull up your class assignment, and you don’t need to look up to see the smile on rafe’s face. you can tell he’s holding back from it but it’s there. and there’s one on yours too.

after just an hour and a half of discussing, writing, deleting, a lot of questions, yelling, and finally completing all of your english work for the week, you get ready to head back to your dorm. it’s definitely late and rafe mentioned that lorenzo should be coming back soon and will wanna go to sleep right away.

with your ipad tucked underneath your armpit you push rafe’s chair in under his desk, then head for the door. rafe has once again offered you more water like before but this time the offer came with snacks from the whole drawer that rafe had organized in his bedspace. that guy has great taste in snacks.

“thanks for helping me out by the way,” rafe mumbles under his breath as he treads behind you, walking you out. you open the door and look back at him, in which his hand finds the door above your head. “you didn’t have to do it a second time but you did. i really, uh . . . i really appreciate it.”

“literally no problem at all,” you say as he pulls out some cash from his back pocket like he prepared it for you. you raise your eyebrows. “no it’s fine. i didn’t even tutor you today. you can keep it.”

“you still took time out of your day and helped me out so unfortunately it does,” he insists, then slaps the money in your palm.

you roll your eyes, stuffing it in your pocket as you turn around to leave.

“hey wait,” he says, reaching out to stop you but pulling away before he could make contact. he’s a little anxious as he goes to scratch his temple, closing one of his eyes as he thinks about it for a second. you stop and wait patiently, curious. “sorry for being so weird the other day,” he starts to say, but you’re already waving your hand to tell him it’s okay.

“rafe really, it’s oka—”

“it’s not,” he cuts you off, and you’re silenced from the look on his face. he looks almost defeated, or rather disappointed in himself. he can’t even look at you like he’s embarrassed of what he’s said and done.

he takes a moment to build the courage to communicate his thoughts, and eventually he knows exactly what to say.

“i was just having a rough day ‘cause i was just overwhelmed,” he says. you furrow your eyebrows, wondering what he means. it seems personal that you step back inside his room and shut the door behind you.

“then when i saw you here with enzo, it didn’t even cross my mind to think that you were actually here for me. since i wasn’t even in the room, i thought ‘why would she just be here?’ . . . it was just a lot of fresh feelings and everything was setting me off, including that. and i’m . . . i’m sorry, it shouldn’t have happened,”

“and i’m sorry for ignoring you for a week too. i thought we were just back to how things have always been, and to be honest, that made me upset too. ‘cause you’re really cool to be around. i guess.”

you frown at him. “i think you’re pretty cool too,” you tell him. “even though you piss me off. it feels kind of nice being able to talk to you like we’re . . .”

“friends,” he finishes for you, and you nod. he’s smiling. “that whole feud just to become friends after two hours of tutoring huh?”

your smile turns into a laugh as you nod. you had the same thought. “maybe it just means that since we became friends so easily, we were meant to become that in the first place instead of whatever we were,” you suggest, and rafe grins at you. your smile fades slowly as you stare up at him, “so friends?”

“whatever,” he says with his grin still, and he goes to shake your hand on it. you chuckle, pulling away from the handshake to push his chest, and you head for the door again. “i’ll see you?” he asks, following you again.

“i’ll see you,” you say as you walk down toward your dorm. when you take out your key, you look to the side and see rafe’s head peeking out from his door. he’s beaming, his smile open with his tongue pressed to the side. “goodnight,” you say, unlocking your door as you head inside.

“goodnight,” you can hear him respond as you shut the door behind you, and you spot aria sleeping in her bed already.

you place your ipad on your desk and approach your dresser to retrieve some new clothes. you plan on heading to the showers really quick to get ready for bed.

as you collect your clothes, towels, and shower caddy, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. you slip out of your room to head for the showers, swiping up on your screen to see what’s going on. it’s a message from rafe.

‘ ik u just left like 15 minutes ago but my friends and i wanna go see this new coffee shop tmw and they play live music. just wanted to know if u would wanna come? ’

before you can reply, he sends another message:

‘ totally fine if not idk what our boundaries are ’

‘ u would like elara and lorenzo. they’re really cool ’

‘ i’ll pay for your coffee ’

you jump at the opportunity to reply back instantly.

‘ i’ll see u there !! ’

@svnsetcrve @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @lalalalala33 @darkcolorexpert @babyflockaaaa @lifeofleasaasa @ilyrafe @mkiverd @wxn-drlst

[shookuna]

m. fushiguro x gn!reader - "would you still love me if i was a worm?"

a/n: another lil piece for a moot!! the loveliest ever @meguemii !! emiiiiiii i know u have been feeling a lil down recently so i thot a lil fic might cheer u up !!!! take this silly drabble w/ ur husband, pls enjoy him !!

just some dumb bf megumi, established relationship, megumi is a little mean in this but he doesn't mean it <3 cw: slight angst :(( bc megumi does not know how to Emote. but ends happily :))

wc: ~1.4k

"would you still love me if i was a worm?"

you ask out of the blue, rousing your boyfriend from whatever he was looking at on his phone. it's a typical night in for the two of you - take-out from your all-time favorite restaurant, cuddles, and a movie. it was his turn to pick tonight, and with no better ideas, he settled on some high-budget action flick that gojo-sensei had recommended.

"...pardon?" megumi asks slowly, his voice barely audible over the sound of swords clashing on the tv. he's facing you now with the most dumbfounded stare on his pretty face. surely, he must have misheard you. over the course of your relationship, you've asked him some pretty fucking stupid things ("if you were starving, would you eat me? like, what if i said it was okay.") but this might take the cake.

"you heard me. would you still love me if i was a worm?" you repeat, undeterred by the way he balks at the question. you could have just as well told him you thought the sky was green with the way he's looking at you like you have three heads.

"is this some sort of test?" megumi asks, furrowing his brows at you in mild frustration. he was still reeling from the time you asked him if he thought water was wet, which sparked an hours long debate. the sensible answer of "yes? it's water?" was not satisfactory for you, apparently, as you took it upon yourself to consult yuuji and nobara for their opinions. by the end of the night, all four of you were embroiled in a heated argument, with no one showing any signs of backing down. it was only when megumi suggested a truce that you all begrudgingly agreed, and the discussion finally ceased. having witnessed the extent of your stubbornness firsthand, megumi was in no hurry to see it again.

"no," you respond, stretching out the last syllable. "it's just a question. one i expect you to answer. would you still love me if i were a worm?"

megumi stares at you for a bit longer, his mouth opening and closing as he processes your inquiry. he'd gotten used to your weird antics, for the most part, but there were still times where you left him speechless, for better and for worse. he eventually settles on asking you "are you a worm?" in an attempt to assess your sanity.

"no, 'gumi," you roll your eyes, puffing your cheeks out at him. he could be so difficult when it came to providing reassurance, even in this roundabout way. "in this scenario, i'm asking you whether you'd love me if i was a worm. like, imagine i just got turned into a worm, all of a sudden." you clarify, which only serves to make megumi look even more hopelessly confused.

"i mean..." he starts, before hesitating when he sees the gleam of hope in your eyes. with his next words, he sees it die before his very eyes. "...no? obviously not?"

"obviously?!" you cry out indignantly, making megumi's brow furrows further. "what's so obvious about it?"

"i mean... i'm still a human in this... scenario, yes?" he asks, to which you grumble, "assuming you're human now, yes."

"okay, so i'm human, and you're a worm." he deadpans. when you still look at him expectantly, he adds, "that speaks for itself, really." the casual indifference in his voice wounds you even further.

"well, so what? i get turned into a worm, and that's it? you just stop loving me?" you protest, growing more animated as you speak.

"i don't foresee you turning into a worm anytime soon," megumi mumbles boredly, turning his attention back to his phone. he was prepared to dismiss the discussion entirely, to get on with your night and continue to ignore the laughably bad movie on the screen in front of you. when you actually pause the movie, he realizes that's not happening anytime soon. "what'd you do that for?"

"like you were even watching it," you scoff, before rising from your seat on the couch, "i just, i can't believe you would stop loving me just because i was a worm."

"just because you were a worm?" megumi parrots, raising his brow at you as he sits up straighter. "you can't say it so casually, like you're just getting a new haircut, or something." he attempted to reason with you, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "you'd be a worm. we couldn't even communicate."

"i never said that!" you huff exasperatedly, and megumi just stares blankly at you. "i could, you know, spell messages out for you with leaves, and stuff..." you mumble under your breath, making him roll his eyes. "what?!"

"isn't it enough that i love you now?" he sighs deeply, attempting to appeal to your logical sensibilities. his words make your heart catch in your throat, and you can't help but avert your eyes away from his always piercing gaze. you knew it was stupid, to get genuinely upset at his answer to a question that had started as just a silly hypothetical. but sometimes, even though you knew megumi loved you deep down, you found it hard to reconcile his true feelings with his outward actions towards you. maybe he didn't have to love you if you were a worm, fine. but sometimes it felt like he might not love you now.

when you remain silent before him, megumi's eyes widen. shit. he didn't mean to hurt your feelings. how many times had this exact scenario happened before? where you were left to reassure yourself about megumi's love for you, when the man couldn't do it himself? you didn't deserve that. megumi knew it. "you... you do know i love you, right?"

more silence.

and then, even worse. tears.

your tears, sliding down your pretty face even as you attempt to blink them away. "i-i know, 'gumi," you let out a shaky breath, your voice scarcely above a whisper. "i know you love me. sometimes i just... i don't feel like you do." you say honestly, attempting to convey the depths of your feelings to the at times emotionally constipated man. luckily, your emotions in this moment require no further explanation.

"i... i know." megumi whispers out, in a voice so defeated that you can feel the little piece of your heart as it breaks for him. "it's just... hard, for me, sometimes, to..." he shifts in his seat, searching for the perfect words to put your mind at ease and coming up empty. "...to be honest with you, i guess. or, rather... to be honest with myself. about what i feel for you. about how much.. i love you.

"to admit that i'd... love you no matter what. even... even if you were a worm," megumi pauses and chuckles quietly when your face lights up, before continuing, "...it would force me to confront the fact that... yes, i would always love you. no matter what. and if one day, you woke up and fell out of love, if you realized you can do better than being with me, if you left... when you walk out the door..." he trails off, his eyes getting glassy as he casts his gaze down to the floor. "...you'd be taking a piece of me with you. a piece i don't think i could ever get back."

the air is heavy with the weight of his confession, and now it's your turn to stare at him with wide, dumbfounded eyes. you'd been dating for a while now, and he's told you he loved you before, but you'd never seen him like this. so vulnerable, his emotions spilling out as he threatened to come apart at the seams.

megumi wouldn't blame you if this was the moment that pushed you to walk out. after all, now, you had seen him at his lowest. his most weak. he certainly didn't expect you to fall in love even deeper after witnessing him in such a state.

but that's exactly what you did.

he nearly jumps in surprise when you throw yourself into his lap, draping your arms around his neck. "oh, 'gumi," you mumble, and the tenderness with which you say your little nickname for him has his heart racing in his chest.

"...i knew you'd love me if i was a worm."

© shookuna ! plus megumi header edited by me <33

[the-moonlovesthe-sun]

Never leaving you

Neteyam x female reader

Warning: fluff, angst, sad ending and some very soft s m u t ( in this fic Neteyam and reader are legal)

If you have any requests just submit them, I would be happy to make a fic, one shot and other stuff✨

I’m also working on other fics- some related to this one if u guys are interested! Let me know!

————————————————-

Deep inside the forest lived Jake sully with his mate Neytiri and their children. (Y/N) had always been close to the family since her own family had been killed in a battle with the humans. She grew up with Neteyam by her side, always guiding her in the right direction. She had also become very found of him, but spoke little off it to anyone. When the day came where the sullys had to leave the forest, (Y/N) had flown away on her ikran. Up to a tall mountain where she could be with her own thoughts. Since she was little she had always been on her own two feet, had to help herself sleep at night when she was scared, had to teach herself the ways of the omaticaya. But she always had Neteyam by her side. She was frightened for what she would do without him, who would ask her if she was okay?

Back at the clan Neteyam was preparing for the ceremony that would make it official, that they would leave. He felt somthing was off, but he had been feeling off ever since spider got taken away. So he didn’t make much off it. He felt awful for leaving him, because spider was like a brother to him. And sully’s stick together always. he wondered what the new place would be like, the people, the trees, the food, and he wondered what it would be like without (Y/N). The once annoying girl who he had to babysit from he was little, the girl without her parents, but who he he since had grown to like and care for, he saw (Y/N) as a independent and strong hunter, who fought for herself and others who where not strong enough, who always cared for the poorer, even when she had so little herself. She was a true leader he would think.

The night sky wrapped itself around him, and he begun to worry. He had not seen her, not since the announcement. “Father, have you seen (Y/N)?” He frantic said, his troubled eyes wondering all over the clan. She wasn’t there. He could feel his heartbeat becoming more harder and louder in his chest. He had to find her.

Back at the mountain (Y/N) watched the forest live it’s own life, and she thought for just a second how peaceful they seemed, and how she didn’t effect them what so ever. She prayed to eywa, to not take Neteyam away from her. He was the one good thing that had happened to her since the sully’s welcomed her in with open arms. “Pleace, eywa” she mumbled out and layers down on the grass to look at the now black sky full of stars.

(1.st pov)

I could hear everything, the wind, my own heartbeat and a distant sound of someone calling my name” (Y/N)!” And a rumble.

I jumped, and spun around. Upon the ikran was Neteyam, looking very distressed as he ran his finger trough his hair and jumped from his ikran. I could feel my heartbeat getting faster “what hare you doing here Neteyam?” I asked. “I could ask you the same” he said and I was soon swept into a hug. My eyes widened. I placed my hand on his naked chest, suddenly feeling very sweaty and hot. “ I needed to escape” I mumbled into his chest and closed my eyes.

“I know” his voice rumbled. I closed my eyes for a second, just saving the feeling of being with him, even for just that second. “You scared me (Y/N), I thought something had happen-“ “something did happen” I pushed him away and sat myself on the same spot I sat just a few minutes ago in the grass. Looking down at the forest.

I huffed. “You’re leaving Neteyam” I could feel my voice tremble as I spoke but I had to stay focused. He couldn’t see what effect he had on me, what my true feelings was for the future leader of my clan. He had a responsibility and I never did. I only had myself to worry about.

“I know I’m leaving, but it’s not for good, I will come back to the clan”

I closed my eyes, and clenched my jaw.

“ I’ll come back for you”. I hissed.

I could feel his hand on my shoulder as he sat himself down beside me. His eyes where on me, his big and beautiful yellow eyes. I could feel the tears star to form so I took a sharp breath in and looked back at him.

I was at loss at words. Opening and closing my mouth like a fish. He chuckled and took his hand away from my shoulder and letting it grace my hair.

He looked deep into my eyes

“ I see you (Y/N)” and just like that time stopped. What once was his hand I’m my hair was now pressing my face towards him hesitantly. I nodded yes, words not forming fast enough. It was like a fire had rose from deep inside me.

his lips brushed mine, softly, delicately, like a butterfly, just long enough that I could inhale his breath, feel the warmth of his skin, and the taste of his lips. He felt like the forest, connected together.

He parted ways with my lips and looked up at me. But before he could speak I kissed him again. This time more hot and breathy, seeking union and closeness from him. The heat rose in my cheeks, as his tongue touched mine, quick, electric and soft. His hand caressing my face. I had never felt like this before, like I belonged with someone. But I did. In that moment I knew Neteyam was my past, my present and my future. And I could wait for him.

We broke apart, and looked into each other’s eyes.

“ I see you too Neteyam”

And his lips where back on mine. This time his tail brushed up against mine and his hand tracking down my spine. Touching my hair. He then kisses my shoulder, and runs his lips on my skin towards my ear, but doesn't quite make it that far. I tilt my head and after his deep breath out he bites me gently. It doesnt hurt, it only makes me want more. I look back at his eyes. His eyes exude love, protection, security, safety, patience, and respect. I smile.

He looks for any sign of regret, but I don’t. I want this, I want him. I want to be his mate.

“Be my mate?” I asked breathless. “I’ve decided that along time ago” he says and smiles. I let my hand glide over his chest, and down his abdomen. I pushed lightly and he moaned. His eyes watching my every move. I got on top of him. I’d never done it before. I couldn’t really believe it; I was doing this. I was inventing something. I took out my bond in my hair as did he and we connected. I could everything, every emotion, very thought, I could feel all of him. We where one. I breathed out a hoarse moan. I could feel him. “Fuck” he breathed out.

“Can I touch you?”

“Anywhere.” I responded

He leaned in and licked the rim of my ear. “Anywhere? Really?” “Really.” Twisting my neck, I pulled his mouth to mine for a brief, wet kiss, sucking his tongue until his vision turned white around the edges. I felt him, all of him and what started as a soft and hesitant kiss had turned into something so much bigger.

I could feel a storm gathering in my body, and it grew with every indrawn breath, kiss and buck.

“Neteyam” my eyes widened. And I let out a hoarsely scream of his name. The storm had broken loose, crackling to my body and his like summer lighting and we were flung to the dark sky full of stars.

We were one.

I smiled

————————-

Months had pasted since my mate, Neteyam had gone. What once was a happy place felt gloomy. But I filled my days up and I kept waiting for him to come back. Deep down I knew somthing had happened or where to happen. The forest just didn’t feel the same without him there. And the humans had kept their distance from our clan. I rubbed my stomach and smiled.

————

One day, when I was gathering stuff my clan saw an ikran flew toward us, and it was jake. Soon more ikrans followed

I quickly gathered the strength to sprint towards the ikran, in hope my mate would be back.

“JAKE! Jake! Where is your son? Where is Neteyam?”

The village had begun to gather around him, and Jake, neytiri, lo’ak, spider, kiri and Tuk, jumped from the ikrans. But no Neteyam.

Jake walked towards me, his face stone hard. Neytiri following gloomy behind him. She looked sad.

“Where is Neteyam?” I asked, my voice whimpering.

“He is with eywa now”

I let out a loud scream. And everyone around us fell into silence. Somewhere from behind me I could hear Neytiri crying. I clutched my stomach and I could feel my breath shivering. He was gone.

“He said he would come back”

He is gone.

I looked down on my stomach, what once was a flat stomach had since that night grown with love and passion. I had found my mate, had a family. But it was soon over.

“He said he wouldn’t leave me”

He is gone.

Jake embraced me, and touched my stomach. Smiling carefully down at my smal frame and big stomach. The baby gave Jake a kick. And Jake gave out a sad chuckle. I could see a tear form in his eye.

“You have a piece of him in you, he will always be there with you, every step of the way. He saw you, and we see you” and then sully’s all embraced me and my soon to be baby. I let out a last cry and closed my eyes. Imagining Neteyam was the one embracing me, telling me everything was okay. And somehow it was him doing all of that. Because he was a piece of everyone, a memory, a son, a friend, a mate and a soon to be father.

So along the line I learned that the forest was connected somehow and that I had had an effect on it; on someone. Eywa had given me a family and Neteyam would always find his way back, even from the beyond. And I knew I was not alone anymore.

[themindofachronicdaydreamer]

Daydreaming

fluffff plot: Satoru Gojo doesn't ever depend on anyone but himself, but waking up next to you is starting to make him feel a little... in love? content: it is like brain rotting fluff. waking up together, reminiscing the love story, mentions of Geto, reader referred to as his pretty girl, yayyyy word count: 1.5k satoru gojo x reader note: a bit of a drabble i cooked up rly quickly but honestly i love it so much I love gojo happy in love. kind of inspired by daydreaming by harry styles if you wanna listen to that!! <3 love u

Satoru Gojo has never been one to depend on others.

His entire life, he has been put on a pedestal by the entire Jujutsu society. He has the weight of the world on his shoulders, solely due to qualities he was born with. He has always been expected to never depend on anyone as the world relies on him and his abilities. How weak would he be if the so-called "Strongest Sorcerer" ever needed any aid? So many eyes watch his every room that if he shows any sense of weakness, the existence of the world as humanity knows it may be at stake. He has learned through his training, through his old best friend Suguru Geto, through all of the losses, through every battle, through every decision he has ever made - he learned he was the only one he could truly depend on.

Gojo wants to help others - that's why he became a teacher. So others can grow strong, and they can save each other and themselves. To make up for his weakness getting the best of him; because he depended on his best friend, and it got the best of him. The next generation will at least be protected in a way his never was, and they will never have to feel the pressure Gojo finds himself under.

That's where you come in.

Golden sunlight gently embraces your features, emphasizing your beauty in such a vulnerable state. Your mouth is slightly agape, breathing quiet and evenly paced. You are at peace, dreaming sweet dreams about kittens pitter-pattering through the most gorgeous meadow with you.

Laying beside you and holding you in his arms now as he has been all night, Gojo admires you and the way the sun dances across your face and highlights how perfect you are. He watches the way your pretty eyelashes flutter every now and then, how your delicate fingers lay against your white bedsheets, how your messy hair sprawls across your pillowcase in a way that frames you to perfection. Your cheek is a little squished against the pillow, making your face look all cute and his stomach fills with butterflies, flying at high speeds and knocking into everything in their way.

Gojo can only think one thing as he watches you sleep: you are so beautiful.

You were in the same class as Gojo, only in Kyoto. While you weren't from one of the three great sorcerer clans of the jujutsu world, your lineage was decently known and well respected. When the two of you met, he thought you were cute, of course, but you were best friends with Utahime and she absolutely hated Gojo. At the time, he had no interest in anything other than meaningless flings and sex, anyway - which, from the rumors he'd heard around that that was not your thing (rumors being what he'd been told after bothering Shoko every single day with questions about you and what you are interested in, just because he wanted to hook up and not at all because you were the most beautiful person his six eyes had ever had the blessing to land upon and he never thought love at first sight was real until the moment he first saw you). Something about you had him holding back because deep down, he knew if he stepped too close to you, he would be completely sucked in, vacuumed sealed in your presence in an blink, and unable to control or stop it.

A couple years after being alumni from Jujutsu Tech, you ended up in the same place as each other - teachers at Tokyo's Jujutsu High. You moved after some conversations with Yaga who believed you were the perfect fit for a teacher at his school. You agreed, much to Gakuganji's dismay (though, you never liked the old man, so you were happy to be away from him finally). Gojo, still grieving his and Geto's friendship, tried his hardest to stay away from you at first. He resolved to put every ounce of his cursed energy into becoming stronger and saving as many as he could. He couldn't have any distractions, and he had been doing well with his plan ever since Shinjuku.

But once you were there, he was swept off of his feet almost instantly. He couldn't even try to stop it, because as strong as he was, he was weak at his knees just from looking at you. He knew you were special, but his eyes would never tell him exactly why, and he had to find out for himself or he would - as he had convinced himself - die.

He was over the moon for you. He tried to keep his distance, but how was he supposed to control himself when you kept talking to him at work, asking questions and requesting his help? At some point, he had found he memorized the crinkle in your eye when you smile, the way your cursed energy blended with his, and the curve of your upper lip that had always looked so delicious that he predicted it would be the best sweet he'd ever taste (which he eventually was able to confirm).

After very obviously swooning over you for about a year, Gojo found the courage to ask you to dinner, to which you asked why it took him so long to ask, and then you said yes to the date after that, and to the one after that, and to the one after that, and so on.

Which brings him to today - several dinner dates and a few coffee dates and one willyoupleasepleasepleasebemygirlfriend later. It's still early in the relationship, the time where it's all so fresh and new, and you are trying to figure out each other. At this point, you have practically moved into Gojo's home, with the excuse that it was closer to the school and on the way, so why not stay there all the time and bring all of your belongings with you - even your cat?

Satoru Gojo stares at you and starts to think that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be able to live without waking up to this everyday.

Maybe he could let himself depend on this. On you.

Maybe this is what love feels like.

The realization reverberates in his mind as he takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself as he feels like he's dreaming alongside you. Your eyes crack open, growing more conscious as well as increasingly aware of your boyfriend's intense stare. You turn to look at him, confirming your suspicions, then cover your face to block his view.

"Hi, baby," Satoru quietly speaks, smile on his face spreading from the how adorable you are. "Sleep well?"

You smile at the softness of his voice - one that he only uses with you. "Woke up to you staring at me, creep," you tease. Satoru lets out a breathy laugh, watching as you reveal your face to him again. He reaches a hand to move a strand of hair blocking your eyes, allowing himself a clearer view of you.

"Sorry, you're just so pretty. I can't help myself, my pretty, pretty girl. 'm so lucky," Satoru coos. He tucks the strand behind your ear, bringing his hand down to your cheek. He leans your head toward his and places a gentle kiss to your forehead, a silent way of telling you he loves you.

Eventually, he'll find lots of ways to tell you he loves you without even speaking the words. Eventually, he will shower you with everything you could ever want, buy you sweets on missions, open doors for you, keep you safe, everything he can do to show how he feels about you to the world. Eventually, he will tell you those three dangerous words - and right now he is thinking of some extravagant ways to - but now is not the time.

Right now, he needs to savor this and savor you. Stressing about the so-called "L-Bomb" can be done later. Right now, he just wants you.

"Toru," you chastise, dragging on the end of the nickname only you can call him. It's a teasing scold, one full of sarcasm and sleepiness, and it made Toru's smile widen even more. He stares at you, his eyes uncovered and taking all of you in, no barrier between the two of you. No blindfold on, no sunglasses on; he lets you see all of him without filter, something so few are every granted permission to have a peek at.

You stare right back, somehow even more lost in his eyes than he is in yours. They truly are mesmerizing. They draw you in and have since the moment you first shared a glance with them - if someone told you his eyes had some magic love potion with no antidote, you would believe them. You lean up, landing a quick peck on his lips, and smile up at your boyfriend.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

The Satoru Gojo never needs to depend on anyone for anything, but sometimes, Your Toru just needs you. His pretty girl.

thank you for readdinnggggg i hope you like!

[gay-dorito-dust]

hey!! if requests are open can u write a luke x jealous!reader?

The ending is a rushed pile of dogshit cuz I didn’t know what to do. 🦦

‘Luke?’

‘Yeah babe.’

‘Are you happy with me, like genuinely happy?’

Luke looked at you confused. ‘I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life.’ He then reached to grasp one of your hands in his, intertwining your fingers and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. ‘What’s going on inside that pretty little head of yours.’ He utters softly, eyes shining with worry and concern.

You bit the inside of your cheek, all of a sudden feeling a little stupid in what you were feeling since this morning and shrugged your shoulders sheepishly. ‘It’s nothing, really. I’m just getting inside my own head.’ You attempted to play it off in hopes that it will all be forgotten, but you also knew that Luke would want to get to the bottom of what was causing you to be anything other then happy and solve it together.

‘It’s not nothing if it’s you sweetheart.’ Luke said as he then used his free hand to lift your chin so that you would look at him instead of your shoes. ‘Talk to me, please don’t shut me out. I know somethings wrong and I want help, so let me help you.’ He adds and you finally felt yourself crack. ‘I saw how some of the girls kept looking at you during training and kept hanging off of you the entire day and how you kept playing up to them.’ You eventually told him, not wanting to keep anything secret from him anymore. ‘So I ended up getting a little jealous that I might not be making you happy anymore…not to mention how busy we’ve both been with camp activities lately…’ you finished, staring deep into his dark, captivating eyes that seemed to see and know you at your core.

‘Hey, there’s no shame in what you’re feeling, and despite what we’re raised as, we’re still fundamentally human in every other aspect. Okay.’ Luke said as he tried to squeeze every ounce of his assurance into your interlocked hands, hopeful that it would bring you at least some peace of mind. ‘I hate how busy we’ve become, more than anything and I just wish we could go back to the days where we would hideaway together by our secret spot at the lake. For being with you during those moments when unrest would take over camp was always my antidote, my soothing balm for my overworked mind in trying to keep camp sane.’ Luke then rested his forehead against your own so that he was the only thing you could see and vice versa.

‘You mean that?’ You asked and Luke let out a chuckle.

‘Mean it? Sweetheart, I live by it.’ Luke said, gingerly pressing a kiss to your brow as though to ease the tension within it, leaving you to melt into him a little bit. ‘So I don’t want you to ever think that you’re not enough. Especially not when you’re the sole thing I think about from the moment I wake up -wishing you were cuddled up in my arms- to the moment I drift off to sleep. I cant get enough of you!’ Any ounce of insecurity you might’ve had beforehand had been discarded afterwards upon hearing his sweet words, so much so that you couldn’t seem to stop smiling nor stop the warm feeling within your chest whenever Luke said anything remotely endearing; it was your biggest weakness and he knew just how to exploit it for his one benefit.

‘There’s that gorgeous smile I love.’ He coos, stealing a kiss from your lips to emphasise his point, leaving your smile to widen against his lips; humming in content as any and all notions of jealously were completely forgotten alongside the campers those feelings were aimed towards.

‘Just remember that it’s your arms I want to be held by and that it’s your smile that I want to be the reason for because getting to see you smile, laugh, or just being your authentic self is my guiding light in this life and I’d be stupid to ever give that up. You’re it for me, for if I can’t have your kind of love, then I don’t want to ever experience love at all.’ Luke spoke against your lips, keenly kissing them whenever he felt as though you needed that extra bit of proof of his love and devotion.

You didn’t because Luke never failed to reaffirm his adoration for you in the little things he did for you, but you couldn’t help but allow yourself to drown in his vast displays of affection, for your love for Luke was considered your Achilles heel but you’d happily let that continue to be the case for the rest of your days.

[2smolbeans]

"Nearly breaking down as you saw Marco softly smile at you. A smile you haven't seen ever since he found his 'darling'."

Part 2 Part 2.5 character info

Love Me, Love Me Not

Yandere Best Friend x Obstacle Reader

*unedited

Tags: kidnapping, complicit murder, guilt, suggestive tones, mixed signals, eventual smut, oneshot, reader is going through mixed feelings, one sided crush, yandere is in love with someone else, imprisonment, will they won't they vibes.

Disclaimer: This is just a scenario I thought of with an Oc! So nothing is really 'official' or canon-

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One too many times, you should've called the police. Why didn't you though? Now you sit there on the shower floor, hot water burning your back as you try to warm up the chill that goes down your spine. Their eyes, oh god they were open and staring at you dead in fear. Why did you cover for him?

You felt the sob trapped in your throat rip out of you as you remembered all the horrible things you were complicit in. There was nothing you could do now but accept the reality. You wouldn't get caught. The two of you burned all the evidence, and sadly, the victims were easy to dispose of. Did anyone look for them? Was anyone curious about them going missing?

The guilt was heavy, and it didn't help that the person you did it for- couldn't give two shits about you.

Marco, your happy go lucky best friend. You remembered that night when he called you, in a panic, begging you to rush to where he was. Of course you went, you were so worried for him. Upon arrival, you saw the large bag and tools. The look on his face warning you to do as he says before he decides to have another matching body bag beside him.

"You trust me don't you? I just need help with this, and then we can be over with it!"

You should've ran, screamed, called for help. But instead, you just grabbed the lower half of the bag, feeling the dreadful sensation of its limbs. You heard a shocked hum across you before the bag lifted off the ground.

"This is why you're always my number one go to. I apperciate this, I mean it. I won't ever forget this. Now follow me 'kay?"

What a joke. It was all a lie, wasn't it? All of that just for some sick obsession. Just for his "girlfriend" to focus on him and him only. If Marco just pursued her normally like a decent fucking human being, nobody would've been hurt, lies wouldn't have been told, your friendship would've been intact..

He could've just told those once alive victims that he wanted to ask her out. If Marco just smiled at her like he used to smile towards you- you're damn sure she would've fallen for him.

It worked for you afterall..

Maybe you should've let go when you had the chance. Cause now here you are, fending for your life as the killer you once called a friend claims you're the very obstacle of their relationship.

What? But you helped him?

You're staring at her in the wrong way.

Are you fucking kidding me? Does he know how many times you cried. The nights you spent mourning for the dead and the friendship that once was?

He still cares about you. But you forced him to get rid of you.

That's funny since you're currently showering at his apartment. You can't leave, though. He's locked the doors and windows. He even went as far as locking the knife cabniet and potential weapons. Still with the shower running, you didn't flinch at the sound of the bathroom door opening.

Curled up in a ball as you sat in the shower, you finally saw the eyes staring down at your naked form. You couldn't read his face, understand his expression, or even tell what he was thinking. It was foreign, new.

"Hey. Are you done? You're taking up the water bill y'know?"

Oh right, how long were you there for? Awkardly, you tried standing up while covering yourself with what little your hands could hide. You hoped he would at least save you some dignity, but he just kept staring with a blank expression.

"Here's a towel. Dry up and come to the kitchen. I made us something to eat"

You thanked Marco as you were quick to wrap your body with the towel. Looking again at Marco, you saw a hint of dissapointnent splay upon his eyes.

"Okay..Well just-Just..do whatever. Don't take too long or else I'll drag you out myself."

Rolling your eyes, you pushed Marco out of the bathroom as you closed the door. Locking - Oh right, he removed all the locks to each room..Drying off your body, you put on the clothes he left for you. Eventually, you made it to the kitchen, sitting down on the chair as you watched him cook.

He looked so calm, so soft as he focused on flipping the meat. You almost smiled when you heard him mutter about how he spilled some oil on his shirt.

Eventually sitting down to join you, Marco gave you your food as he offered you a drink. You declined of course, not feeling thirsty and paranoid of whatever poison he might spike it with. Smelling the aroma of the food, you felt your mouth water. He was always a good cook, hell you remembered the first time you visited his place.

How he made you a nice cooked lamb with mash potatoes. You recalled it being the first time you've ever seen Marco so particular about a certain thing - even though he's always been a speradic and chaotic individual. Though, the quick realization of your perdicment made the food cold and unappetizing.

Biting your lip, you turn your head away as you felt your eyes burn.

Don't cry, don't cry.

You sucked it up. Inhaled the air that surrounded you and forced a bite into your mouth. The food was good, you couldn't deny it. But it didn't taste as good as it did before. It's good, you say. Nearly breaking down as you saw Marco softly smile at you. A smile you haven't seen ever since he found his 'darling'. You want to run away and cry, to start fresh and new.

"I'm actually glad you moved in with me, it feels nice talking to someone who's helped me"

With the murders?

"Hey, we finally reached one of our bucket lists! To be roomates! Huh, well isn't that kind of funny? And we didn't even plan it out- kinda just happened huh!"

He was just rubbing the salt in the wound at this point. Forcing a smile, you just continued eating, chewing your food as a distraction as he kept on staring at you. Where's his girlfriend? Why didn’t he just make her move into his apartment if you're in the way?

"Oh her? She's at work, don't worry about it"

You stop eating, finishing your plate as you push it towards Marco.

"All done? I'm glad you enjoyed it! Just sit right there while I put everything away"

Is there any way for you to escape? There has to be a way, right? What are you doing here? How long is Marco planning on keeping you alive?

"Hey, your not thinking of doing anything weird right?"

You nod your head no profusely, trying to get his suspicion off of you. Patting your shoulder, Marco motions you to the couch. Sitting down before you as he drags you along with him. Placing you on his lap, he turns on the TV- switching through channels while you freeze on the spot.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Out of nowhere, his hands slowly begin to play with your shirt. His fingers rubbing up and down your sides, his crouch nearly pressing against you. Confused, you just sit there, your hands on your knees as you glued your eyes to the screen.

"You're not lying to me, are you?"

His voice is so sweet, so much closer than you anticapted. You nearly buck against his touch just as his palm brushes a certain spot ever so subtly. Why was he doing this? You had a slight speculation why - or at least a hopeful stupid thought that would fufill your old wishes.

"...If you say so"

You find yourself now sitting beside him, pushed off of his lap. Feeling the weight shift on the couch, Marco stood up and walked away for what seemed like forever.

"I just remembered I have to quickly run by to get some things. I'll be back.."

If like nothing happened, you were alone. Confused, you wave your hands around as you scrunch up your face. Talking to yourself as you pace around the room. Calming down, you walk towards the door. Examining it as you realised that Marco had left one of the security laches loose. Should you risk it? You could grab the butterknife he gave you for the meal to loosen the door..

Oh fuck.

You could perhaps finally leave.

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Part 2 coming up soon!

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