#writing this bcs I need it for something

[heartorbit]

MWAH!

[harunokijournal]

Akari terlahir dengan kondisi langka yang serius, yaitu ngga bisa merasakan sakit (in medical terms, called as Congenital Insensitivity to Pain and Anhydrosis (CIPA) ). Karena kondisi ini dia ngga bisa ngerasain rasa sakit sama rasa panas/dingin berlebih (bakal terasa b aja di dia, apapun yang terjadi), makanya sebenernya anaknya harus diperhatiin bener2 soalnya kalo dia kenapa2 dia ga bisa ngenotis sendiri.

Gladly her adoptive father take a good care to her! Akari diperhatikan baik-baik, kalo semisal habis masak atau pulang sekolah pasti blio ngambil waktu bentar buat mastiin Akari ga kenapa2 (karena meski Akari sadar sama kondisi dia dan selalu berhati2, tetep aja takut ada yg kelewat).

Hiruga gatau apa2 tentang ini anw, tapi dia tau dulu waktu kecil, somehow Akari gampang terluka tapi ngga pernah nangis (juga jarang sadar kalo dianya sendiri kenapa2, dan ga pernah nanya lebih lanjut tho).

[inkskinned]

i wrote an interactive poem for my girlfriend in 3 parts. she said you need to read it.

go here: take only the final quiz or take all 3. i don't mind. it's sad, though. this is a poem about choice. about fate and mental illness and how love fits inside of all of it. this is a poem about a long dark hallway. mostly this is a poem about mango sushi rolls.

good luck. i love you. despite it all, i'm hopeful.

[shouyuus]

counting stars

violet; 4,988 words; hurt/comfort, fluff, slightly suggestive moments, no "y/n", wlw (duh), self-indulgent to the point of lunacy, lots of kissing, mentions of bodily harm (not self-inflicted), teeth-rotting fluff mostly, popstar!reader x vi au

summary: when vi shows up at your door, what to do but to let her in?

a/n: bc nothing bad is allowed to happen to vi in my fictional world(s). and also im literally cackling ofc the fic that ppl r the least interested in posted first is the one that i post first; i guess i just like to be contrary but also i want to spoil vi and this is the only way i know how

─── Ⅵ SHE SHOWS UP UNANNOUNCED, split lip and bloody knuckles, leaning against your doorframe on a thursday night; you answer the door in your sheer pink nightgown and fluffy slippers, a bottle of rose chilling in a bucket on the table.

“vi?”

“hey princess —” she clears her throat, her smirk going lopsided as she tries to hide a clear wince. a bead of blood seeps out the corner of her mouth as she sucks in a shaky breath, “miss me?”

your lashes flutter with worry as you step aside to let her through — there’s a distinct limp to her gait that she can’t quite hide with her usual swagger.

“what happened?” you ask, letting the door click shut, following half a step behind her as she drags herself into your penthouse flat, letting out a low whistle as she looks around.

“nice place you got here. fits though, pretty castle for a pretty princess —”

“violet…”

you reach out with delicate fingers, taking slow steps forward; she hisses out a breath, her eyes sharp and wild as a wounded lion’s, her mouth a blunt-edged slash as she swallows, gaze flickering between your fingertips and your face as if she’s unsure what you might do.

she winces as you rub a light thumb along her cheek; your finger pulls away red.

“sorry —” the word rips from her at your touch. her eyes drop, her whole body shakes. “i — i didn’t know where else to go — and i — i remembered seeing that stupid 100 questions video you did here for —”

“for the fashion magazine, yeah,” you say, your voice soft as a baby’s breath. your hand lingers, a palm against her cheek. she leans into your touch, the movement small as heartbreak, but just as heavy.

“c’mon, lets get you cleaned up.”

you let your hand trail down her arm till your fingers link, and you lead her to you expansive couch, pressing her down firmly even as she frowns at her grime-covered clothes against your pristine white sofa.

“i’d offer to pay for dry cleaning but —”

you cut her off with a sharp look.

“don’t you dare. and plus, i’ve been meaning to change up the upholstery forever.”

you grab a bottle of vodka from the top shelf and a box of cotton balls, plopping down across from her on the couch in a flurry of pink-colored satin, inching forward till you’re nearly parked in her lap.

vi’s eyebrows hike as you pop the top off the vodka bottle, a grin twitching at her lips.

you roll your eyes.

“it’s not for drinking —” you soak a few cotton balls in the vodka even as vi’s expression falls. you lean in; vi’s hands find their way to bend of your waist, settling there as you daub gingerly at the blotches of drying blood on her face.

“ouch —” vi winces dramatically as you press down on a particularly deep cut, her lips pushing up into a pout, “not even a little bit? might help dull out the pain —”

she cuts off as you swipe a thumb along her bottom lip, breath hitching as you frown slightly, making to tug away for a fresh cotton ball.

“don’t — don’t leave —” her voice comes out harsh, desperate. you still, expression softening impossibly.

“i’m not,” you say, patient. she finds her fingers digging into your hips but you only smile. “i’m not going anywhere. promise. but i do need another cotton ball.”

she worries at her bottom lip, and already, you can see the fresh blood collecting in at the corner of her mouth. you press back into her space, wiping the blood away. her entire body slants towards you, her shoulders tight, her arms flexed, as if she’s bracing for a punch or a kiss.

you nudge her nose with yours, lifting up ever so slightly to press your lips to her forehead.

the dam breaks — all the pieces falling, her head tipping forward onto your shoulder, her hands wrapping around you tight, and then tighter. you feel yourself being hauled into her lap as she buries her face in the crook of your neck, a sound caught halfway between a gasp and a sob wrenching from her throat.

“f-fuck — shit —”

there’s heat to her skin, the roughness of her bandages, fraying at the edges, the worn-in material of her pants, the damp streaks of her hair tickling your cheek. her breath is uneven as it splays out against your collarbones, and when she finally tugs away to wipe at her face with the back of her hand, looking anywhere but at you, her lashes blink away wet.

“sorry — god this must be real sexy, right? mm — fuck —” she sniffles, shaking out her hand, her other one coming up to caress your cheek. her gaze is unfocused even as she skims her fingers over your skin. “god, you’re so soft. it’s like you’re made of — of marshmallows or something —”

you catch her hand with a tiny sigh, letting your gaze flicker over the bloodied bandages before you rub a thumb along an unmarred patch of skin.

“and you can be too. if you ever wanted to learn.”

she goes quiet then, the bravado bleeding from her as you continue your quiet work of cleaning all her varied injuries, disinfecting the cuts and bandaging the bruises. for the most part, she stays quiet, offering up the bloodied parts of herself for your perusal without resistance. it’s only when you shift back or make to tug away for a second that she jerks forward, resolute in her all-consuming need to keep you close.

“there. that’s about as much as i can do right now,” you say, heaving a sigh as you brush away several strands of black-pink hair from her face, letting your thumb skim over the tattoo on her cheek.

“thanks.” her voice comes out slightly hoarse, her eyes cutting away from you for a second before flickering back.

“i’d say it’s nothing but…” you let your thumb trail down the line of her jaw, tracing over her fluttering pulse as you work your slow way down her neck, “i mean —” you let out a soft laugh, hiccupping slightly as she takes the chance to tug you even closer, pressing you to her, chest to chest, so that you have to brace both your palms against her shoulders just to keep steady. neither of you mentions the fact that her arms are shaking.

“it was a bad night,” she says. and it’s all she offers for a few minutes, but you don’t push her, content to rest against her, let her run circles into your skin with her fingers against the small of your back, her breaths evening out till she looks back up at you with a wry grin.

“let me guess,” you say, linking your fingers behind her neck, “you should see the other guy though, right?” you drop your voice in a mocking imitation; it sounds nothing like her but it manages to draw out a laugh, the sound ricocheting between the pair of you like an echo till it dissipates, leaving the air somehow slightly warmer than before.

“yeah. somethin’ like that,” she murmurs, leaning forward to nudge your nose with hers, eyes going dark.

you cup her cheeks and let her kiss you, lips on lips and gasping breaths, till her fingers are inching up the thin material of your night dress, bunching it up, her thumbs tracing the ridges of your ribs, the weight of her body pressing you back into the plush couch, far too big for the pair of you —

“v-vi — wait —” you gasp away from her, fingers tangled in her oil slick hair, her mouth trailing hot and wet down the side of your neck. she makes a grumbling sound, nipping at your collarbones before resting her chin on your sternum, her hands still grazing further and further up your nightgown.

“c’mon princess — you got to play doctor, so now lemme pay you back proper —“

“vi.” the sharpness to your voice jolts her, and a frown creases her forehead as she blinks up at you with her gunpowder eyes, her fingers now still against your skin. you puff out a breath, pushing yourself back up to cup her cheeks, squeezing them slightly between your palms.

“i don’t want you to ‘pay me back’ for anything.”

hurt and confusion chase each other in a butterfly-wing flutter of emotions across her eyes before she pulls back.

“you don’t want this?”

you fight back the urge the roll your eyes as you sigh, reaching out to tug her back, this time, it’s you crowding into her personal space, leaning in to kiss her solidly on the lips. you feel her go soft against you, her hands cupping the ridges of your ribs once more.

“of course i want this,” you murmur against her lips, “but i — i don’t want it as ‘payback’ for anything. i…” your breath catches as vi leans in to nip at your bottom lip, heat pluming up the back of your neck, cresting into your chest as you blink at her, “i want this… if you want to give it. and — and i want it because — because i want you.”

she makes a strange, pitched noise in the back of her throat as she crushes you to her, her mouth slotting over yours so desperately that your teeth clack, but when she pulls back, she’s shaking her head, resting her forehead against yours with a sigh.

“shit princess — you can’t say shit like that and not expect me to lose my fuckin’ mind — fuck —“

you let out a tinkling laugh, fingers now massaging the cords of muscle at the nape of her neck. a shiver runs through her, her lashes a sweep of ink and shadow.

“relax… i’m not going anywhere. promise,” you remind her even as she tips into you once more, a whine working from her throat into yours as her fingers dig into the supple skin of your waist, dragging you down the length of the couch till you’re pinned beneath her thighs.

she pulls away panting, your own chest a staccato rise and fall. but your eyes are steady when she finds them again and you reach up to trace her cheek.

“when’s the last time you’ve had a bath?”

the question catches her off-guard, making her jerk back slightly, a frown ticking down between her brows.

“what?”

you giggle, “a bath. like, a proper one.”

one of her eyebrows kick up, “you sayin’ i smell or something?”

you sigh, yet again fighting the urge to roll your eyes as you push yourself up onto your elbows, your pink nightgown rucked up to your thighs, your hair falling out of the messy bun you’d twisted it up into earlier that evening.

“no,” you let your voice linger on the word, pinning vi with a look, “but you do taste like the inside of a paint can so.”

her eyes narrow but she lets you wiggle out from beneath her, your fingers trailing down her arm to tug her behind you as you lead her into the master bathroom. the light clicks on and vi scoffs.

“wow.”

“pick a bubble-bath, any bubble-bath — my favorite’s the —”

“rose one?” she finishes, lifting up the nearly empty bottle of light pink bubbly water displayed on a white marble shelf full of multi-colored liquids.

you allow yourself a blush as you shrug, twisting on the taps and testing the temperature, drying off your hand before turning back towards her.

“so i know what i like. sue me.”

vi smirks in honest this time, uncapping the bottle and wafting it beneath her nose.

“mm, delicious.”

you don’t miss the licentious lilt to her voice, nor the flicker of dark, hungry light in her eyes.

you turn away, leaning across the vast bathtub to grab a white can.

“if you think that’s delicious — wait till you see the sugar scrub — oh!”

a pair of arms snakes around your middle, pulling you back against abs and a bandaged up chest. vi’s voice is hot by your ear as she noses into the side of your cheek.

“yeah? is it gonna make me taste less like the inside of a paint can?”

“mhm,” you say, letting your free hand rest naturally over both of hers, the other hand dipping into the sugar scrub to swipe a dollop of sticky white crystals onto her nose. she gasps, jerking back for just a second, going slightly cross-eyed before a mischievous expression eclipses her features and she hoists you up into her arms, holding you suspended over the slowly filling bathtub.

“don’t play this game with me, princess — there’s only one way it’ll end.”

you let out a bright peal of laughter that echoes around the soft marble walls, looping both your arms around her neck.

“try me.”

for a second, she makes as if to drop you, but she pulls you back into her chest at the last second, cradling you against her.

“alright princess, let’s see how good this bath is,” she says, her voice soft as she sets you back down on your feet. you lean up to give her a quick peck before taking the rose-scented bubble bath and pouring it into the swirling water.

by the time the tub is filled, the room is filled with a thin gauze of steam, and when you turn, you find vi standing awkwardly behind you, watching with one hand on her opposite elbow, rocking on the balls of her feet.

“in general,” you say, pushing to your feet, “people take baths with their clothes off.”

vi’s cheeks go blotchy, and her eyes skitter about the room.

“what, i’m just supposed to strip here and —”

her words cut off abruptly as you turn your back on her and tug your night gown from your body, stepping into the bubble-filled water, glancing over your shoulder.

“you coming?”

vi nearly trips out of her tight-fitting pants, tugging haphazardly at the bandages wrapped around her torso. when she finally steps into the water opposite you, she drops down with a soft splash, a loud groan rolling from her as her eyes flutter shut.

when she forces them open again, it’s to find you watching her with your round doe eyes, a sweet, knowing smile perched over your very kissable lips. she wonders at the heat in her cheeks, at the way it prickles at her skin, thinks to herself that it must be the steam, must be the hot water currently melting away at the knots that had braided themselves into her muscles the past few weeks, but she when she feels your calf nudging against her’s she can’t help the way her breath skids inside her chest.

“c’mere,” you motion, and vi blinks at you for a second before shifting till you’re face to face, her hovering uncertainly between your legs before you jerk your chin for her to turn around.

the bathtub is more than big enough to fit the both of you, and for a while, a comfortable quiet settles as she leans her back against your chest, your fingers dancing up the length of her arms, trailing warm water along her shoulders, tangling in the rapidly lightening tips of her hair.

the dark dye runs off her, pluming in the water like spilled ink. you steadily work your fingers through her tresses, smoothing out the knots, occasionally letting your nails scrape against her scalp.

“holy fuck that feels nice…”

you smile, washing as much the dye out as you can before rubbing your thumbs into her shoulders, feeling the tightness coiled there like springs. she grunts, shifting beneath your touch.

“y-you don’t have to do this y’know —” she tries to pull away, only to have you click your tongue impatiently and tug her right back.

“lemme know if i’m hurting you, okay?” is the only thing you say as you continue to massage her shoulders.

she softens, letting out a long sigh and a small chuckle.

“you’d have to try real hard to manage that, sweetcheeks.”

you puff out a tiny breath before digging your thumb into a particularly tender knot, her entire body buckling away from you.

“ow!” she twists around, eyes wide, even as you cast her a look that has her turning back again, but not before she flicks a bit of water at you, her other hand resting easy on your knee, bent next to her hip as she leans against you once more.

“this is the first thing they teach you how to do in a brothel,” you say, your voice light as you slowly work the tightness from each of vi’s muscles, applying gentle pressure, using the bubbles as lubricant.

“wait what?” she tries to turn around again, only for you to pinch lightly at one of her loosening knots, tutting.

“stay still and i’ll tell you the story.”

she stills, though her breath is still short, and the hand that had so recently been lolling against your knee is now stiff, her fingers wrapped around your limb as if to brace herself for what you’re about to say next.

“most people don’t know this, but i’m actually from the undercity — all my earliest memories are of the brothel, the girls there braiding my hair, or letting me sit on their vanities, smearing bits of lipstick on my cheeks as rouge. i think my mother must’ve been one of those girls once but… i never knew her. and it didn’t really matter anyway — i think… i was one of the lucky ones. at least i always had water and a hot bath when i wanted it.”

vi’s fingers tighten on your thigh before she lets up her grip, sighing as she presses her back more firmly against you.

“i’m sorry.”

you shrug, shifting a bit of hair from one shoulder to the other as you continue to dig your meticulous fingers into her weary muscles.

“don’t be. like i said, i was one of the lucky ones. but… i always knew that we were living a hard life. sometimes, one of the girls would vanish and… we’d never know where she went. sometimes, a guest would get a bit too rough and —” you let out a tiny laugh, “well i got pretty good at patching up cuts and bruises.”

you flatten your palms against her skin, running them along the expanse of her shoulders before pushing down her arms to squeeze at her firm biceps.

“there. how’s that feel?”

vi sits up, rolling her neck and shoulders with a loud groan.

“damn. that feels amazing but —” her expression softens as she reaches for you, running tender thumbs along the bend of your cheek.

“you — you don’t have to tell me this if you don’t want to.”

“i know.” you catch her hand in yours, fingers curling in. all around you, perfumed mist hangs light in the air, hazing out the already diffused lighting. “but i want to.”

vi smiles, nodding.

you take another breath. your interlaced fingers sink into the murky water.

“when i turned thirteen, they started teaching me the ropes — massages first —”

“thirteen,” vi’s voice is harsh in the mist-hung room, the syllables cracking as they reverberate against the slick tiles.

you lilt your head, “how old were you when you ran your first job?”

vi stares, her mouth agape, “b-but — that’s — that’s different!”

“is it?”

she sputters for a few more seconds before deflating, shaking her head, tugging her hand from your grasp to splash water into her face, running both hands over her eyes with a groan.

somehow, she could picture it perfectly, you with your sweet smile and darling eyes, running deft fingers over the shoulders and necks of the unnamed girls at babette’s as they talk you through how to press just so, how to lull someone into your lap, and later, into your bed.

“but like i said… i was one of the lucky ones. really, really lucky — because one day, while i was refilling the water and tidying up the rooms, a guest heard me singing and… he offered me a gig topside.” you let yourself sink into the slowly cooling water, your hair flowing in a soft halo around your shoulders.

vi watches you with an inexplicable expression on her face — half-sadness, half-wonder.

“and the rest, well —” you flick a bit of water towards her; she blinks it away before pulling you into her chest, “you know the rest. or, i mean, i don’t know if you watched that entire 100-questions video —”

“i did.”

vi loops her arms around you, hooking her chin over your shoulder.

and once again, the quiet settles around you both, hanging solid in the air like so much dissipating steam.

“all that to say…” you murmur, turning slightly to face her, searching her eyes with your own, “you don’t have to pretend with me. not with me. not when it’s just the two of us.”

you watch her eyes widen ever so slightly, watch as her lips part and she hesitates over the words hanging at the tip of her tongue.

“thanks,” she finally manages, “for… for telling me this.”

you smile, pulling back to reach for the white can, unscrewing the top.

“okay. sugar-scrub time.”

by the time the pair of you leave the bath, the water’s cooled to a tepid chill at best. you offer vi a fluffy towel, wrapping one around yourself as you pad from the room in search for some clean loungewear.

you return with a large t-shirt and some shorts, which vi eyes for a second before pulling on, her cheeks darkening as she sees you watching her.

“quit looking at me like that…” she huffs as you tug on a loose shirt yourself, pulling on a pair of pink, lace-trimmed panties.

“like what? like you deserve to be looked at?” you ask, voice even as you run a towel over your damp hair. vi crinkles her nose, frowning down at her dirty clothes, piled in a lump on your bathroom floor. you shrug.

“leave it. that’s a tomorrow-problem. c’mon, bed-time.”

vi sighs, ruffling at her hair with the white towel, staring at the gray streaks she leaves behind. she glances up to find you standing by the bathroom door, a hand outstretched behind you, waiting.

she licks her lips before tossing the towel over her pile of clothes and reaching out to take your hand.

your bedroom is dark, lit only by the scatter of city lights from beyond your windows. through it, the city is a pulsing maze of tiny lights and spectral towers. you pause, glancing towards the skyline with a sigh.

“it’s a beautiful view,” vi says, coming up to stand behind you, looping an arm around your waist. you lean into her touch, her warmth, turning slightly to find her eyes just as faraway.

“yeah,” you grin, reaching up to touch her cheek, “you are.”

she turns, blinking at you for a second before your words register. she groans even as you laugh, the sound fizzling through her till her skin prickles with warmth and goosepimples.

“c’mon. bed.” she says, and you grin, allowing yourself to be led to your own bed, pulling back the silken covers, slipping beneath and watching as vi inches in next to you, pillowing her cheek on her arm. you angle your body towards hers, letting out a long, steadying breath.

she mirrors you — one breath, then another, then another.

“thanks, princess,” she says, after a few long moments.

you shuffle forward beneath the blankets, reaching out to wrap an arm around her waist. she closes her eyes, bending her head till you’re nose to nose.

“for what?”

vi lets out a puffed laugh, her lashes fluttering open again.

“for… letting me in.”

you press you lips, your eyes searching her’s. and here, in the dim moon-lit night, her eyes shone like twin stars, bright as firelights. you inch just a bit closer, letting your foreheads press as she shifts an arm to slip around your waist as well.

you hook your ankle over hers, shimmying till you’re hip to hip, your bodies arched into each other, bend for bend. she bites down on her lip, if only to stop it from quivering. you graze your hand up her arm to rest on her cheek.

“you know you’re always welcome here.”

vi laughs, the sound strangely watery as she blinks away the hot prickle biting up the back of her throat. it’s been so long since she’s had anywhere to come back to. and here you are, offering it up to her on a gold-gilded platter.

“yeah?” she says, even though her voice shakes and she has to swallow hard over the lump in her throat as she coaxes your chin up, angling your lips towards hers, “careful… i might actually take you up on that.”

“whatever’s mine is —” your breath hitches high as vi tugs you into her, crushing your lips to hers, a thick groan working it’s way through her chest. you taste salt on your tongue, even as she trails her mouth along your jawline to suck a dark, blossoming hickey into the side of your throat.

“— yours.” you finish, spearing your fingers through her hair to pull her back, your eyes soft in the gathering darkness. vi lets out a tiny, pitched whine as she buries her face in your chest, her body curling in on itself. you rock her against you, letting her grapple her fingers into your nightshirt, clutching you to her even as you sooth your palms over her head and neck, shushing her gently.

“fuck, princess…” she says, her voice slightly muffled, “you’re tryna spoil me rotten, huh.”

you smile, letting her pull back just far enough to catch a glimpse of your face.

“well, someone’s gotta do it.”

vi chuckles, the sound rumbling from her chest to yours.

“yeah well… i’m glad you’re the one angling for the job, sweets.”

you hum, letting your eyes fall shut as vi’s grip on you loosens, and the pair of you sink into the liquid warmth of each others bodies.

vi shifts, tucking you deeper into her arms as you content yourself with sighing into her skin, and it’s an almost automatic spin-click of both your bodies, your limbs settling into and against each other, your torsos turning to just the right spot, just the right angles to fit against one another.

you settle, and feel the world settle around you — time itself seems to breathe and slacken, the evening-shaped seconds and minutes ticking each into its own place, like the teeth on a set of cogs, catching one rung into another, spinning one after the other till everything starts to hum into place.

sleep slips its gossamer gauze over your eyes and vi shifts, her lips ghosting your forehead.

“whatever gods up there that put you in my life…” she whispers, her voice tight, you make a soft noise, like a question, or perhaps a confirmation, leaning up to level your faces once more. your eyes open and vi finds her own reflection staring back at her, the shape somehow softened by your gaze, and she wonders, not for the first time, what you see in her, what you’ve always seen in her, that makes you so…

“there’s already a shrine set up for them in the living room,” you murmur, and for a second, vi stares, her own mind quiet for the first time in a long while. you smile sleepily at her confusion, nuzzling her nose with yours, “what, you didn’t know? i’d been thanking them for you since the first day we met.”

vi makes a sound like a hiccup, shaking her head as warmth bubbles through her, a champagne-colored shake-fizzle-pop of emotions welling up behind her eyes, making her head spin.

“well shit —” she grins, tugging you ever closer, “you’re always one step ahead of me, aren’t you princess?”

you hum, carding your fingers through her hair as she settles against you once more.

“mhm,” a tired little yawn, “and maybe tomorrow morning, if you’re feeling up to it —”

“yeah?” vi’s voice is soft, is sweet, is almost reverent as she kisses the skin of your sternum, her lips lingering right beneath your collarbones.

“i could show you some of the other things i picked up at the brothel.”

vi groans, her fingers digging into your hips at the tantalizing thought.

“mm, you mean other than giving people amazing shoulder massages?”

you laugh, and outside, a large neon sign flickers off, tossing the room into a deeper, richer dark.

“yep. but for now…”

“sleep?” vi asks.

you nod, watching as her eyelids flutter shut, and you let yours do the same. your fingers find hers beneath the blankets; your palms press and she gives you a tiny squeeze. you squeeze back and smile.

“sleep.”

[abyssal-ilk]

no more romance. romance is canceled. tell me about your warden/hawke/inquisitor's best friend and any info you want to add about their dynamic 🖐

[zephyrine-gale]

finished amphoreus quest, I really like mydei

[meowf4ngs]

more of roommate!ghost bc it's good to know that he can be happy too & he deserves softer mornings.

mdni.

cw: biting mention

prev.

the smell of coffee permeated the flat, the place he used as a minor safe house---to settle down for an hour or two---has now turned into a place where he relaxes in, somewhere he looks forward coming back to, and not the empty place it once was.

and sure, the boys---the idiots he adores but won't admit---have helped tried to decorate the place. the telly that his captain told him to buy, the coffee table that gaz pointed out at a passing furniture store, something to hold documents and his pints; the leather couch that he doesn't regret buying but makes his eye twitch---soap's the one that told him he should blow money on before they all shimmied the damn thing in.

but now---there's her.

his roommate---the little thing that showed up at his door to answer his ad about it on craigslist---he should yell at her for being reckless but that's another days problem.

when he walks into his, their, shared kitchen; he's greeted by the sight of bedhead, too short shorts that makes him rethink of better things---like a cold shower or running straight into traffic.

either way, she's looking over her shoulder---the softest smile he's ever been graced with, his throat tight and his hands turn into white knuckle fists before releasing their grip---a heavy sigh already on his lips, he really needs that cold shower.

"Mornin' Simon," and there's her voice, light and melodic even in the early mornings, sleep lines on her cheeks, the way her eyes sparkle just slightly---he's very much fighting the urge to put her on the countertops of the island, and do something roommates don't do.

ghost's voice is gruff, deep brown eyes flicking towards her outstretched fingertips in the cupboard and back to the sliver of skin of her stomach, "Mornin' sweetheart," and he's already walking over, grabbing the mugs---because she's sweet like that, she bought one for him when she went into town.

a thoughtful bird.

a sweet little thing---he wonders if she's as sweet as she acts.

the coffee gets poured and they're leaning on opposite sides of the countertops, and he can't help but admire her in the light---not especially the way the sweater dips off her shoulder, collarbone showing off---his teeth ache.

her eyes are fluttered shut, lips pressed to the rim of the mug, and he's watching the way her throat swallows---he's a little jealous. especially when she smiles, a shiver down her spine and looking right at him---he nearly chokes.

"Are you doing anything today?" she's asking him, and he's stuck on the way her lips glisten, how she smiles like she's not afraid of him---like he can't just lift her with a single hand--he exhales, soft, slow; which is interesting.

he's never been soft until her.

"No, I'm not," his voice is heavier, deeper---licks at the flames of his thoughts of wanting to add something less than appropriate, but he's got more self-control than most---better than soap anyway that's for sure, he's also pretty sure the Scot would beg to differ, but to each their own.

he's snapped out of his stupor when she breathes a sigh of relief, something of contentment and he wonders how to bottle that noise up, how to take it with him when he's out on the field---wonders how to make her his.

"Really? that's great---we can be lazy today." she's grinning, sipping her coffee once again before moving to make breakfast, the sounds of things moving and her mug being put down.

and ghost just stares, lashes blinking at her--he swallows hard, his heart hammers and he moves his gaze to look at his coffee, the dark liquid rippling back at him.

god, his teeth ache.

god, he needs to sink his teeth into her.

[warmfuzzyanimal]

[jinwoosungs]

12/02/24; 12:40pm

dragon/human!sylus x fem.reader / mc.reader

notes: this was written as a soft comfort fic left in the wake of his tragic myth. if you haven't read his story, then avoid this oneshot for potential spoilers.

warnings: this is an unedited mess; somnophilia.

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

were your eyes deceiving you?

had your dragon returned to you after all?

did your curse work-

forever tying sylus to your soul?

no, it couldn't be. the forlorn cries of his roars and the memory of how his blood soaked through your skin with the blade lodged so deeply within his chest-

the memory of it all was too much to bear.

yet the way his voice calls out your name was undeniable-

how his clawed hands seemed to tremble as they reached out to frame at your face, the shudder that was felt coursing through his body when he feels your pulse thrumming against him.

and when he crushes your body against his, you didn't feel the need to resist him any longer.

he settles your form amidst the crimson datura blooms, lips seeking yours almost instinctively when he grips at your thighs. the sheer material of your gown shone like gossamer from beneath the silvery moonlight, painting your form in an ethereal glow as sylus began worshipping every inch of you.

your dragon teases you, pressing his full lips across the expanse of your skin. he takes in the sight of your heaving breasts while letting out a pleasured hum of your name. wishing to taste you, he leans forward to capture your hardened nipples into his hot mouth, tongue curled while gently suckling it. such hedonistic actions succeed in making your back arch against the plush grass, hands gripping at the datura blooms as you desperately sought ways to help with grounding yourself.

a muffled laugh was felt vibrating against your skin, with sylus enjoying every reaction that he manages to elicit from your parted lips. keeping you distracted by pressing heated kisses all around your breasts, he allows his hand to slide down your form, not stopping until his hand cups at your entrance.

you gasp at the sudden sensation between your legs, already tossing your head back when you felt the palm of his hand gently slide up and down your slick folds as it provided a friction you desperately craved for. your soft mewls echo throughout the meadows, making you become drunk off of the sweet scent of flowers and the gift of pleasure sylus was giving you.

a wry smile paints his expression, watching your every expression with an intensity that makes the heat travel up your spine and settle against your cheeks. your dragon becomes aware of the sudden shift in your demeanor, giving you a knowing smirk, "ah... are you feeling good, little one?"

unable to respond to him with words, you manage to give him a swift nod all while riding the palm of his hand, earning a string of curses from him. "i can't tell if the scent of such sweetness is coming from the flowers... or you."

your breathing becomes labored when sylus slowly removes his hand from your slick heat, watching as your entrance began to clench around air in desperate need for him to fill it. crimson eyes look down at his hands, seeing the way your sticky arousal clings to his appendages, giving it an almost shiny quality from beneath the moonlight.

"tch." with a click of his tongue, sylus quickly tore away at the leather that covers his bottom half. the belt that once secured it in place was also torn to shreds. his chest begins to move rapidly in response to his labored breathing as sylus looks down at your form momentarily before ripping apart what was left of your flimsy nightgown.

with your form bare to his hungry gaze, sylus settles himself between your legs. he breathes in your pure, feminine scent before licking away the evidence of your arousal. his scorpion-like tail descends upon you almost immediately, gently wrapping around your right ankle while helping with keeping your legs spread as he devoured you like a madman.

heat courses through your veins when you felt the way his wet appendage makes its way within your slick walls, almost greedily collecting the moisture that began to escape out of you. the more his tongue laps up your love juices, the tighter that band around your abdomen felt, bringing you that much closer to your impending release.

his thick cock was felt brushing up against your inner thigh, and the moment you finally climaxed into his mouth was when sylus pulls away from you, removing his hardened cock from your inner thigh before swiftly impaling you with his cock, setting a rapid pace against you-

you gasp, finally waking up from that vivid dream, your heart a pounding mess as it takes you a minute to reorient yourself. when you regained consciousness, you became achingly aware of something thick and hard sliding in and out of your slick heat, making you gasp as you saw your lover already grunting and panting above you, his cock rapidly moving in and out of your entrance.

"s-sylus! t-that dream- ah!" sylus grips at your hair, his form no longer carrying such draconian traits from his past life as he presses a searing kiss against your lips. he continues to thrust his cock harshly in and out of your walls, filled with a need to remain connected to you.

"i felt it, too. that dream- my desire to reunite with you. it's all still here." sylus removes his hand from your hair and chooses instead to grip at your hand, placing it over his rapidly beating heart as he continued to make love to you, "hah, you're mine... you've been mine from the start, sweetie."

the rapid pace of his movements coupled along with the sheer intensity of his thrusts makes you cry out to him, legs already wrapping themselves around his waist as he pumps his cock eagerly in and out of you. with his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, sylus manages to grasp both of your legs before tossing it against his shoulders, allowing his cock to reach even deeper inside of you while trapping you in a mating press.

tears fill your vision as you were practically fucked dumb against him, with a trail of saliva trailing down the corner of your mouth. your moans echo throughout the room when you felt his cock lengthen and grow inside of you, clearly preparing to release his seed into your womb when he leans down to whisper in your ear, "milk me, milk me for all that i am worth, little one."

that was all of the urging you needed as your body arches against the bed, your cunt already pulsating around his cock as your walls tighten around him in a vice grip. your love juices were felt flooding out of you as you cried out to him, watching as sylus continues to slot his cock in and out of your hole to help with riding out your release.

"fuck..." a choked groan escapes from him when he stills his hips, allowing your walls to continue convulsing around him when he releases his seed inside of you, claiming you once more as he made sure he had fully emptied himself. you sigh and fell back in bed, simply basking in the sensation of his cock twitching while slowly softening from within you.

exhaustion takes over, left in the wake of such a vivid dream and how the memory of it all was enough to cause you both to react in such a sinful manner. trying to catch your breath, you let out a soft grunt when sylus lands on top of you with his face buried within the curve of your neck.

it takes you a few minutes to let the post lovemaking clarity to kick in for you and sylus. as your respective heart rates returned back to normal, you felt sylus press a kiss against your damp cheek before slowly attempting to pull out of you-

in which you stopped his actions right away by trapping his waist with your legs wrapped around it. "no, don't leave me yet..."

he scoffs, managing to rest the palm of his hand against the mattress while looking down at you with a smug expression, "is my kitten getting a bit frisky now? need i remind you that this won't feel... pleasant unless you're properly cleaned?" he casually points to the area where he was still limply buried inside of you.

you huff and look away from him momentarily feeling a little embarrassed, "i know that, but... that dream we shared- it felt so real. the anguish of losing you- i don't want to be away from you, not anymore."

sylus's gaze softens considerably in response to your words, hands already framing at your face the moment he leans in to press a lingering kiss against your lips, "and you won't be away from me, not after cursing me to stay by your side."

you were about to pout once more, only for your expression to quickly morph into that of shock when sylus easily picks up your form without breaking his intimate connection with you. you hold on to his broad shoulders for support, feeling the way he steadily hardens for you when he leads you toward your shared bathroom, all while letting out a sigh, "i suppose since i am still buried within you, i can take advantage of our situation and go a few more rounds before spoiling you with a bath."

and when he settles your pliant body against the bathroom sink while spreading your legs, feeling his cock return back to full hardness-

you were unable to stop your neediness for him as well.

end notes: no, i did not receive his myth pair, but i have watched enough videos to know that it hurt. this was written as a bit of a comfort fic, while also doubling as yet another thirst post since sylus looks so good as a dragon. 🫠🫠🫠🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[princescar]

matsushima married au from the vault bc i am sickk anyway let me know if ya wanna see more of this au ETA: HES THE #1 FAN OF HER MANGA just fucking realized that fan is missing and the fact the font turned my hashtag to "No." does not help me here

[kasieli]

DamiRae week 2025 | Day two: Nanda Parbat

Ha! Something that’s been kinda rotting in my files for a minute that I decided to (kinda) finish for today’s prompt! They’re in the LoA stronghold here, right? So Nanda Parbat makes sense???? (Pls say yes). There was supposed to be more (aka up to the point where Damian catches her). But here we are, one or two pages short. I mentioned wanting to do this scene a while back and that’s when I started this lol. I might continue it at some point to get to that part, but for now, here have this *shoves politely in your face*. Ignore the panel with Supes and Constantine I haven’t drawn them before

[iwatcheditbegin]

I don’t care about genre bc regardless of sound Taylor’s lyrics and storytelling are very distinct to her

[cozylittleartblog]

9th annual nick valentines day (ft. soup again) + doodle i made last year that i forgot about, from when bethesda gave us that free update

[s0fter-sin]

one of my favourite aspects of supernatural that you very rarely see in paranormal shows is that sam and dean are already versed in the world they live in. there’s no sudden discovery of ghosts and demons and now they have to learn about them along with the audience; they are born into it and already know all about it. it allows the audience to follow their personal story instead of also trying to figure out this new world and its rules

the first season is full of knowledge we never see them learn; “w*ndigoes are in the minnesota woods or- or northern michigan. i’ve never even heard of one this far west.” [��] “great. well then this [his gun] is useless.” (1x02), “you don’t break a curse. you get the hell out of its way.” (1x08), d: “it’s a god. a pagan god, anyway.” […] “the annual cycle of its killings? and the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman. like some kind of fertility right.” […] s: “the last meal. given to sacrificial victims. d: “yeah, i’m thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some pagan god.” (1x11)

almost every episode in the first season is a monster they’ve faced before that they then explain to the audience in a way that should feel patronising; like it’s the same speech given over and over again but instead, the audience almost feels included in the knowledge. it’s stated with such an innate confidence and comfort in said knowledge that it feels like we already knew it too; “spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors. if they want inside, they just go through the walls.” […] “the claws, the speed that it moves; could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog.” (1x02), “it's biblical numerology. you know noah's ark, it rained for forty days. the number means death.” (1x04), “no no no, not the reaper, a reaper. there's reaper lore in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names.” […] “you said it yourself that the clock stopped, right? reapers stop time. and you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why i could see it and you couldn't.” (1x12)

they already know and, at least in the first season, already have what they need to kill whatever they’re hunting; already know to salt and burn bones for spirits, fire for a w*ndigo, exorcisms for demons, a silver bullet to the heart for shapeshifters. there’s only three times in the entire first season that they run into something new to them; 1x14 when sam gets his first vision that leads him to another psychic, 1x16 when dean calls caleb for help on the sigil he put together and he tells him about daevas, and 1x20 when they find out vampires are real- and they only don’t know that bc john thought they were hunted to extinction and not worth mentioning

(there’s also technically two half instances if you count one of them knowing something the other doesn’t - sam figuring out the tulpa in 1x17 and dean already knowing about the shtriga in 1x18 - but those still rely on sam and dean having prior knowledge)

even when they’re uncertain about facing something, it’s not bc they don’t know what it is; it’s precisely bc they know what it is and acknowledge that it’ll be a difficult hunt (“i don't know, man. this isn't our normal gig. i mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death and destruction for its own sake. this is big. and i wish dad was here.” 1x04)

so much of the tension in paranormal shows typically comes from the main character(s) not knowing what is happening to them/the people around them and having to find out how to resolve it. supernatural is unique in that it operates more like a police procedural. the tension comes from solving the clues and identifying patterns to figure out who (what) the killer is and intercepting before they can take another victim

it’s such a different tone to go for when compared to other shows that came both before, during, and after its run. it sets sam and dean on even footing with each other since they both have the same knowledge going in, and it puts them in a place of authority usually reserved for an outside character

the shows i compare spn to most is charmed, buffy and teen wolf; every main character in those shows are brought into the paranormal world knowing nothing, putting them on the same level as the audience, and they have their mc interact with others already knowledgeable about that world in order to overcome their problem/monster of the week. the audience organically learns about this new world as the characters learn about it. it’s a sound writing strategy that prevents “as we already know”-style exposition but something that complicates it is if your world building isn’t unique or intriguing enough, this slow introduction can become boring

we’ve seen shows like these before; sitting through the same tropes of characters learning to use their powers, struggling with no longer feeling normal/relating to the regular world around them, and not knowing how much they can trust the people already involved in this new world gets repetitive. all three shows eventually reach the same level of comfort with their new world that spn starts with but if the characters aren’t enough to draw you in, you can end up dropping it before they reach that point (and often, before the overarching plot can really kick in and evolve the show beyond the villain of the week format)

it’s the superhero origin movie in tv format; dragged out and overplayed. dropping the audience into an established world of course comes with its own problems but you also have the benefit of pre-existing established character dynamics that let the audience slot in like they’ve always been there instead of just getting to know all the characters while the characters also get to know each other

sam and dean already knowing about the supernatural lets the audience immediately get to the core of the story; the conflict between sam and dean, the search for their father, and the mystery of what killed their mother

[mangostarjam]

troublemaker — unedited, creampie, f!reader, car sex

street racer!sakusa kiyoomi picking you up after work in his mazda rx7, the car clean and shiny under the city lights but — understated, not flashy enough to turn heads like some of the other cars you've seen at meets.

you spot it right away, of course, along with your tall, handsome boyfriend leaning casually against the door, arms crossed over his chest and face mask firmly in place. his eyes light up when he notices you bouncing towards him through the crowded sidewalk, but otherwise he doesn't move from the safe bubble around his car.

"hi."

"hi." you can't stop beaming. kiyoomi rolls his eyes, but his hands are gentle when he sweeps your hair back from your face to tuck it behind your ear.

"are you ready to go?" he asks. at your nod, he ushers you into the passenger's seat, waiting for you to settle in before going around to the driver's side. he never starts the car until you're both buckled in, so when you look at him expectantly, hand hovering over the buckle but not clicking in, he hesitates.

"what?"

"kiss me?"

kiyoomi doesn't roll his eyes this time, but there's a small, fond smirk tugging at his lips when he unhooks his face mask and leans towards you. the kiss is heart stuttering — long and lingering and deep, his tongue licking into your mouth like he's missed you, maybe, his soft sigh nearly lost beneath your greedy gasp.

he pulls away and clicks your buckle in himself, that smirk fully on display when you blink your eyes open dazedly. "we'll be late," is all he says, but his smirk grows when you clear your throat pointedly and shift to face forward, hands resting firmly in your own lap instead of gently smoothing along his forearm like you normally do while he's shifting the car into gear. "don't pout."

"that was so not fair," you mutter. the car pulls into traffic smoothly and city lights soon begin to blur and flicker and glow through the illegally tinted windows as he navigates the streets. you almost think kiyoomi didn't hear you, but at a stoplight, engine rumbling in the background, he reaches over and tips your chin towards him.

inky dark eyes stare into your own. "you look cute today."

heat rushes to your cheeks and he goes back to driving, satisfaction set in every line of his body. you scrunch your nose at him helplessly, lost in the affection sinking deep into your bones. "you look like a troublemaker today."

he laughs.

but you're right — he is a troublemaker today, because sakusa kiyoomi keeps his car clean. no food, ever, and liquids are only allowed in closed containers. you've lost count of the number of times he's interrupted a heavy makeout session to drive you two to a hotel or back to one of your homes because he refuses to risk staining his leather seats.

"you're always so wet," he grunts, shifting further into his seat, one hand firmly at your back to keep you from hitting the steering wheel. you gasp as his hips drive up into your fluttering cunt, two orgasms already wrenched out of you as his reward for winning his races, a third on the way as punishment for making such a mess.

"ki-kiyoomi, i can't," you can feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. the button and zipper of his pants dig into the inside of your thigh with every sharp thrust, but kiyoomi doesn't relent. his free hand slips from your hip to your clit.

long, powerful limbs draw you close as he groans deep in your ear, hips stuttering against yours as you leap over the edge with a cry. your vision whites out and distantly you hear your boyfriend curse as he empties inside you, but your heart is pounding so loudly it takes you several seconds before you can blink everything back into existence.

"you look very cute today," he breathes.

kiyoomi kisses you softly. his face mask is still hooked and hanging on his ear somehow, but his curls are a mess and you can see the bite of your nails in the exposed skin of his shoulder. you lean forward to kiss the two beauty marks above his eyebrow, the way you always do, and he smooths a large hand down your back.

"i don't think i can get up," you confess.

"don't," kiyoomi says simply. "you'll leak everywhere, and i need to grab napkins first."

"you don't think my panties will be enough?"

your boyfriend just looks at you.

you snort. "okay, okay."

"good thing wakatoshi-kun wasn't here tonight," kiyoomi says, idly tracing patterns into your back. "if i won another race, you probably would have passed out."

"oh," you breathe, leaning forward for another kiss, "you are a troublemaker today."