#writing this in the midst of a spiral

[nickneedsablog]

need to crawl out of skin and scrub myself of my mothers sins

[captainofthetidesbreath]

me and @essektheylyss right now in the DMs speculating on what's happening in Midst and trying to piece the dots together (this is LITERALLY not an exaggeration for once)

[evermorecountsastherapy]

was genuinely considering sitting down to start working on writing chapter 3 of SD today until i re-read chapter 2 (bc I honestly couldn't remember what all went on in that one and where i left off) and..... omfg that chapter is such a trainwreck wtf was I even thinking

[raitonsfw]

jjk men: sub edition

characters: gojo satoru, geto suguru, okkotsu yūta, kamo chōsō, & sukuna ryōmen.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, gn!reader (gojo), sub!characters, vibrating sex toys (gojo's and geto's), face riding (yuta's), pegging (choso's), refusal to submit (sukuna's), whining, whimpering, pleading, begging, dirty talk, bondage (gojo's), p in v intercourse (geto [riding] & sukuna [mating press]), anal sex (choso's obvi), slight rim play (gojo's), degrading & praising, pet names, gojo selfishly whines, geto can't keep his composure, okkotsu loves you, choso's completely fucked out, sukuna shares a body with itadori (& doesn't care about your kinks), fyi the reader isn't very dominant (more neutral, maybe i'll write another one of these with a dom!reader later on)

a/n: this came about 'cause of some hate from an anon about me writing satoru gojo whimpering & that men shouldn't whimper or moan? next time, be a dear and send it off anon? i'll answer you more thoroughly that way. i love having the option that is 'write to spite'. wc: 3.2k total. m.list

divider credit: @hitobaby

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮…❞ who isn’t really all that submissive– at least not on the surface. in public his exterior shone a haughty personality but in the midst of silk sheets, he whined like a little bitch. 

soft whines of ‘please, baby…’ and ‘r-right there– yes…’ as you moved the vibrator towards the tip of his cock. he was sitting up against the headboard, his knees slightly bent and his bright eyes were glued on your hand that held the small pink wand. 

you knew gojo quite well, the man could withstand almost anything sorcery related; curses expelling out left and right, best friends turned enemies– but he couldn’t handle the juddering feeling of a sex toy. he’d practically short-circuit. his entire body would freeze up as you ran it along the side of his thigh, a dulled lust sinking within his eyes and suddenly his cock would be rock hard.

you’d watch as his legs would spread open for you, a quiet obedience held within the air and you’d hum in content as he let you shed his trousers and boxers. and holy shit, it was so intoxicating to take in how fucking hard he got just from the slight indication of the vibrator buzzing up his thigh. 

he wouldn’t be quiet for long though, no– that was just for show. as soon as your hand grabbed at his flushed cock, a choked gasp would follow and a bunch of pleas would spill out of his mouth like a waterfall. 

“need the toy– give me the toy…”

“y/n, baby…sweetheart– c’mon...” 

“please, don’t want your hand right now–”

“‘m sorry, i’m so sorry– fuck-!”

and despite his empty words (and the rushed apology when he vaguely realized his mistake), the vibrator would be set to the near highest setting. ‘cause there was something so hot watching him squirm from such a delicate thing, bulleting at an overstimulating press firsthand.

god, you could get drunk off of his whimpers and cries as they spilled from his mouth every time you ran the vibrator over a vein on the underside of his cock… his jolts of pleasure when you upped the setting by a hair as he was so sensitive and even the slightest change would send him spiraling… the constant clenching and unclenching of his fists within the confines of his blindfold– courtesy of you tying it that way. 

you had the right mind not to edge him, his voice pitching higher and higher each second you ran the droning sensation over his slit, precum slathering the toy. his chest rose and fell quickly as you switched the settings to a different rhythm, his back arching out towards you and his cock bobbing against his tummy with a loud whine escaping him. 

his head had knocked back into the headboard with his eyelids fluttering closed, a fucked out expression washing over his face as his thighs trembled– as his whole body trembled in front of you. you knew he was close; the tiny whimpers felling long with each stroke of the toy and the way his muscles tightened in his stomach with each roll of his hips as he desperately feigned for more friction. 

which led you to take a quick gamble– and press the toy right against his rim. 

you didn’t even have time to replace your hand on his cock as he painted his shirt white. long spurts decorated it, nearly up to his chin and you hummed softly to yourself as you pumped him through his release, your name heavy on his lips as he rode it out. you cooed out praises as he bucked into your hand, dribbling the rest of his cum all over it with small pants filling the room. 

and as soon as he came down, his hands were slipping from his blindfold and pinning you underneath him– it was your turn now. 

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮…❞ who’s slightly submissive– but knows how to keep his composure. it wasn’t often you got to see him needy, the man wasn’t exactly enthralled in giving you a show; so instead of begging for what he needed, he did everything in his power to please you.

the most he’d give you were tiny hums from the constant drag of his cock as you rode him, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. when he had the pleasure of cumming inside you – when he could because you’d fall apart against him in mere minutes – you’d hear the most sinful whimpers bare from his throat, his hands gripping your hips as he gasped for breath.

you couldn’t escape the cuddling afterwards either, the quiet contented sighs that captured you whole as he worked his body around yours in a tight embrace when the stars fell away from your eyelids. his mind would be reeling with the aftermath, still painfully hard in his boxers since he didn’t finish; but you came on his cock and that’s all that mattered to him.

but there were just some days where he needed you more than ever – and the aching pleasure of his cock spasming inside you – a pliant buzz reigning him in as he heard you come home. his arms would wrap around your waist as you’d toss your keys onto the kitchen counter and you’d feel his breath fan against your ear as he spoke, a slight whine etched in his voice.

“y/n, come to the bedroom with me…”

“ah–! shit… please?”

“need you tonight… can’t wait any longer–” 

“gotta be inside you– right now.”

and you thought it was the usual routine, you laid out underneath him with his cock driving into you like no tomorrow. but as you were pulled into the bedroom, the box of sex toys you shared with him had been dumped over the bed and you realized his neediness and the sound that droned lightly from him– the vibrating cock ring was missing.

you weren’t exactly sure if geto ever acted submissive in his life, never really wanting to push him too far as he already did so much for you; he never seemed bothered by the lack of reciprocation. but when he came home with the cock ring and your life sure flipped a sudden switch, your collected man reduced to nothing but a puddle as you drove him to the edge over and over again. 

as you fully sank onto his cock, his ring would vibrate against your folds and you’d sigh out in relief when you noticed his face screwed up in pleasure– and pain as he was already so close to his godforsaken orgasm. needy– fucking desperate whines would leak from his mouth as you bounced lightly on him, some hiccuped noises escaping him and– oh? he might cry. 

his hair was splayed out on the pillows, some of it stuck to his sweaty shoulders as the corners of his eyes brimmed with tears, his hands clutching onto you for dear life. he wouldn’t say anything, too drunk off of the overstimulation of your pussy and the vibrations pushing him over the edge; except he couldn’t cum yet. not until you took off the cock ring and honestly, did you really want to? 

this was one of the only times you saw this side of him after all. 

you eventually let him cum, pulling off his cock to ease the ring off while instructing him softly not to cum until he was inside you. and he’d be damned if he didn’t shoot off inside you, holding himself back for all of ten seconds before the feeling of your walls warm around him pushed him over– you felt him twitch inside you and a lengthy moan accompanied as he tried his best to pull you close into him through it. 

he stole kisses from you afterwards, his demeanor returning to the same old facade he encased himself in and you wondered if you buy him vibrating beads– what would that do to him?

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐨𝐤𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚…❞ who is just the right amount of submissive. he would quiver at the faintest feel of your fingers ghosting his cock as he knelt before you. his eyes would be nearly blown wide, taking in your composure as his falls away when you bend down eye level to him. 

he’d know better than to buck into your hand like a poor puppy, desperate for any friction you could give him as his fingers reach out to grip at your clothing. and he wouldn't even realize he broke a rule as he repeated in his brain ‘don’t thrust’ into the warmth of your palm. 

as you backed away, you’d notice the tears that pricked the corners of his eyes, the pout that would cross his face when he tried to retrace his movements– and then his mouth would be going a mile a minute with apologies.

“baby… i’m sorry! i’ll be good, i promise– i won’t touch you again.”

“please… forgive me? use me to get off…”

and that wasn’t a bad idea in your eyes as you thought it over, squatting back up to let him breathe. god, he was so pliant with you, complete putty– pulled and stretched out for you. his cock curved up towards his tummy as it stood proudly from the confines of his jujutsu uniform; he was so excited he didn’t even care to unzip his zipper, he just pulled himself out ‘cause you told him to. 

as you finally allowed him up onto the space of the bed after his relentless regret, a muffled ‘thank you’ spilled from his lips before you could even position yourself onto his face and you clutched the headboard to steady yourself; because he wasn’t allowed to touch– and he sure knew that as he was chanting it in his mind.

he needed you to use him, to just sit right on his tongue and ride him mercilessly; it’s what he deserves for breaking one of your rules. but you were nice, you weren’t mean with your punishments and honestly this seemed more like a reward for him. he was manipulative, that one– you had to be careful as he could get you to do anything for him with just a glassy eyed look and a pout. 

his hands grasped at the sheets for leverage as you sat down against him, his tongue not hesitating in the slightest to swipe over the swell of your clit and you huffed out a relieved moan. you didn’t falter, your hips rolling against his mouth with the shock of warm pleasure flowing through your body. and he reciprocated your moans, humming gently into you as he lapped at your arousal trickling against the tip of his tongue.

and all he wanted to do was touch you – bury his fingers inside you and fuck the life out of you – anything for his girl. but he knew the moment he moved his fingers from the threaded sheets, you’d pull off with a whine falling from his lips. god, did he want to please you– and he wanted it in return; his cock was aching even as it laid against his tummy. he couldn’t take it anymore, between the sweet taste of your slick running down his chin and the insane amount of precum building at the tip of his cock– he begged. 

“fuck, please touch me… won’t cum til you say so, i swear–”

“just need your hands on me, y/n honey… l-love you so much– god, thank you.”

when you leaned back to pull him off, your other hand feathered into his hair and you caught a glimpse of his dark rimmed eyes staring back up with such profound desire– you just knew he wouldn’t last more than a few seconds.

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨…❞ who takes the cake for being the most submissive slut known to man. when you sunk into him the first time with the strap nudging into him subtly, he couldn’t help but let out a choked whimper. he would be so fucking full– his rim clenching harshly around you and you’d coo at him; some praises that did you no good as he could barely hear you through the pounding rush of blood in his ears.

you couldn’t even begin to fathom the drunk passion you felt for this boy, arching his back for you as you started to ease yourself in all the way– it was fucking insane and you weren’t even the one with your nerves on fire. he’d grip at the sheets with a wanton moan, pushing back onto the strap with eager hips and it took everything in you not to collapse onto him with the heated arousal you felt in your cunt. 

you’d be on your toes, basically straddling the poor boy’s hips, your hands flush against his waist to keep you steady and all you’d hear was ‘more, please… i can take it–! need you to move.’ christ, you haven’t even gotten your bearings yet and he’s begging for you to pound him into the fucking mattress. 

his spiked hair wouldn’t be in their usual ponytails, it sleeked down the back of his neck and soon, it was going to be balled up in your palms while you fucked the living shit out of him.

once you actually rolled your hips into his tight hole, a broken moan flew out of his mouth and his head drooped down onto the side of the bed. his entire body shook in pleasure as you thrusted into him shallowly, hushed pants coming from him as his cock dripped onto the sheets beneath you. 

you noticed his cock rather quickly– and how neglected it looked, hanging between his legs with a reddened flush and you snaked your hand underneath him to tug at it a bit, earning a repressed whimper that was muffled in the sheets he buried his face into. before you knew it, your hips found a rhythm you were content with and one he was ecstatic with, his body jolting upwards with every stroke of his cock and bruising of your strap. 

you knew you nailed his prostate when his head snapped up, his entire body shuddering around you. his moan was so sharp in your ears, it delved straight towards spine and you threaded your fingers into his hair with the words ‘good boy, that’s it… that’s the spot?’ leaking from your mouth in a soft tone. to which he nodded, a heavy need carving out his common sense and replacing it with nothing whines and whimpers. 

‘soo good, thankyouthankyouthankyou–’

‘right there, keep going…’ 

and you did, even when you noticed his tongue loll out of his mouth– the fucked out expression blatant on his face as you pulled his head back to look at you. his violet eyes were watery, his mouth completely open in near silent moans as you pounded into him now, and you swore you saw a blood tear drip from his mark as he squeezed his eyes shut through a particular thrust. and now he begged for you, pleaded like no tomorrow as you fucked him senseless; his entire mind clouded with nothing but ecstasy.

‘am i being a good boy? please– tell me i’m being a good boy for you…’

‘fuck me harder, yeah– yes… shit–! so close…’

as he came around the strap, you watched in awe– ropes of cum spurting against the sheets and harsh gasps filled the air as you kissed down his back with your hands massaging his waist through the heavy orgasm. you ran a quick finger down his spine, reveling in the way he trembled against you as you pulled out of him. 

you wouldn’t even talk to him properly afterwards, just tiny adorations; because you knew as soon as he came to, he’d be out like a light.

❝𝐬𝐮𝐛!𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧…❞ who isn’t submissive at all. the king of curses didn’t have a submissive bone in his body– completely overtaken by the dominant hull. you’ve tried to make him submit – more than once – but it never worked out in your favor.

your hands would delve towards his shoulders to pin him down as you rode him– well, tried to ride him as his cock pounded up into you harshly– but you’d be thrown off in an instant, a mating press following suit so you couldn’t move underneath him.

you’d whine for him to take you more than once in a single night, in pursuit of overstimulating him– but you failed to realize just how much stamina he had and you ultimately ended up being the one overstimulated with your cunt stuffed full of his cum each and every time.

there were some days where he played along with your endeavors to be nice. sometimes a quiet whine would fill his throat before replacing it with hefty growls and grunts while you sucked his cock. and other times he’d let you have the upper hand for more than a half a second, reveling in the way your body moved against him to try to overtake him. 

your tits would bounce right in his face and it made him think twice– he almost begged for them, wanting nothing more than to take them into his mouth and litter them red with teeth marks. but that thought left his mind rather quickly as your cunt pressed warmly against his cock, stirring it awake from its confines and it was game over. 

there was no way he’d beg for a lowly human.

why would he need to when you gave yourself up to him so easily? you’d practically jump him as soon as he switched with itadori, strong arms holding onto you as you pushed him onto the bed. but of course, he could flip you over in an instant and he would, his cock dragging deliciously along your walls within the next two minutes. 

as much as it was fun to watch you squirm and cry about him not letting up his dominance, it also turned him on immensely. his cock would ache inside you as you begged for him to make a needy noise… his eyes would threaten to roll back as you clenched around him in hopes he would show some type of submission… and he’d have to recollect himself when you breathed hot in his ear that he was such a good boy for fucking you so well. why the fuck did that affect him? 

but once he grounded himself, you were in trouble– his cock pounding into you with heinous phrases leaking from his mouth. he couldn’t bear to listen to you anymore, the idea drove him insane– a fucking human shouldn’t be calling him wretched pet names like that. so to shut you up, his palm would end up on your mouth and his tongue there would shove straight into it. he just needed to fuck the kink out you, that’s all. 

and of course being the curse that he is, once you couldn’t speak, he’d tease (berate) you about your subby needs.

“ah, so you get off on pussy men now?”

“don’t look away from me, doll, answer the question.”

“what– you want me to whine and beg for you like a goddamn pup? i don’t think so.”

“now hold your legs open ‘n take my cock… like a normal fucking human.”

yeah, you tried and all it got you was a sore cunt each time, unable to walk without a bit of a wobble– his devilish smirk and targeted eyes followed you every step of the way before he relinquished his form to itadori in the morning. 

taglist: @izakyun | @classyempathmongercloud | @satorawrrr | @winterskeleton

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

[emjayewrites]

Lil’ Crush (Lewis Hamilton x Black!Fem Hairstylist Reader)

SYNOPSIS: Lewis has a huge crush on his hairstylist.

PAIRINGS: Lewis Hamilton x black!fem hairstylist reader (Y/N)

WARNINGS: cursing, slow burn at first, obvious sexual tension, sexual content. RATED R (minors DNI/18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @pausmoon @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @pharaohanubis0 @certifiedlesbianbaddie @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @royallyprincesslilly @motheroffae @hrlzy @sinflowersugar @hopefulromantic1

A/N: Just something cutesy/nasty to hold everyone over as I take a step back from writing 🤗 This will be the only part.

Lewis tolerated your occasional tardiness at appointments, despite his dislike for waiting on others. Time and time again, you apologized, citing car troubles or traffic or double booking as the reason. But Lewis didn't mind; all that mattered was that you always showed up and delivered exceptional work.

You were skillful at your job, always in a chipper mood, explorative, and knowledgeable about your craft. You taught him the basics on how to take proper care of his hair, telling him what products to use for his specific hair pattern. You were licensed, a continuous learner of the industry, but most of all you weren’t afraid to put him in his place.

Although he hated to admit it, he enjoyed how straightforward you were, telling him off and letting him know that all of his championships, his celebrity, you couldn’t care less about it. Now, if that was anyone else, of course that will be the last time they will be within his inner circle, yet it was you.

They dubbed you “Lewis’ girl”, not meant disrespectfully but because there were rumors that Lewis forbids anyone else from pursuing you. He would never admit it openly, but you were special to him - his confidante. And he wasn't willing to let anyone else have you.

It wasn't possessiveness, just a desire to keep you all to himself. So he came up with a plan, vowing to be honest with himself and stop playing games. But knowing Lewis, it would probably take a while.

Until then, he continued pining - casual flirting here and there that goes under your radar, small gifts, giving you his undivided attention. The works. It was you after all.

Once again, you joined Lewis for another race weekend. Despite your growing fame and clientele, you made sure to schedule around Lewis's busy racing schedule. He always spoke highly of you and his fans loved every hairstyle you created for him since becoming his permanent hairstylist toward the end of last season.

Lewis only gave you the best: from hair tools to flights and hotel rooms, whatever you needed, you received it. After all, you were his girl.

Another race in another country. This time you found yourself in Japan. A first time for you whereas a countless number for him. Lewis flew you out first class and booked you a suite with a view. It was your first time, so you had to have a great experience.

Your hair was in its natural state, perfect spiral curls from your flexi rod set. Lewis loved your hair like this, how it framed your face beautifully and reflected your personality. You were always experimenting with different styles - silk presses, bohemian braids, wigs - and they all worked flawlessly. Despite claiming to not be into fashion as much as Lewis, he couldn't help but compliment your impeccable outfits.

You were in your own world, moving around freely as you listened to a song from one of your many playlists. You just finished washing his hair and was now in the midst of detangling his curls before blow-drying.

Lewis had always prided himself on being a disciplined and focused athlete, but when it came to you, he was powerless. Every time he saw you, his heart raced and his mind went into overdrive, imagining all the ways he could make you moan and scream his name, especially with the outfit that you wearing.

He had a preference for skirts over pants on you, admiring how they showed off your long legs despite being a few inches shorter than him. Your ass looked amazing whether you wore pants or skirts, but there was something about you in a skirt that drove him wild with desire. Many nights, he dreamt of bending you over, reveling in how the skirt would rise up to reveal your thighs and perfect backside. He imagined taking you from behind, delivering mind-blowing thrusts and relishing in the sounds you made when you were near climax. You bent over in a skirt, wet and willing for him - it was one of his favorite fantasies. Another was listening to your sultry voice praising him, a kink he didn't know he had until you comforted him after a tough race. As you paused in the middle of braiding his hair to hold him close and speak softly, it aroused him more than he'd like to admit.

The sight of you in that skirt today distracted him like no other. The way the fabric clung to your thighs, subtly emphasizing your hips and drawing attention to the gentle curve of your waist, was nothing short of intoxicating. He could have spent hours just watching you move, the hem of the skirt brushing against your calves as you walked, offering fleeting glimpses of skin that sent a shiver through him. But he knew he had to control himself, or risk losing all restraint and giving into his desires right then and there.

Lewis sat in his seat, stealing glances at you and attempting to distract himself from thoughts of confessing his feelings. He had been keeping them hidden for months, fearing that revealing them would destroy the strong bond of friendship that had grown between you over the past year. Before meeting you, Lewis was known as guarded by his close friends and family, but your presence had slowly broken down the barriers he had constructed after his breakup with his ex.

“Any ideas on what you want to get done today, or are you open to trying something new?” you ask as you part his hair into four neat sections.

Lewis winces as the comb glides through his tight coils, causing him to shift in his seat and prompting you to gently guide him back.

So tender-headed, you thought to yourself. But it was always worth it for the end result - styling Lewis' hair was one of your favorite things to do. You talked about everything and nothing - work, family, hobbies - and each time, Lewis opened up a little more. Plus, he was easy on the eyes.

He hummed thoughtfully before answering, "Hmm, let's go with the usual fade on the sides and maybe some blonde in the braids."

"Okay, I see you, Lew Lew," you exclaimed, causing him to chuckle.

As you worked on his hair, Lewis couldn't help but admire your skill and grace. You had always been artistic and creative, but watching you braid his hair was simply mesmerizing.

"How's it looking so far?" you asked, holding up a mirror for him to inspect the back of his head.

Lewis tilted his head to the side, admiring your handiwork. "Perfect as always," he replied with a smile.

"Good," you said with a satisfied nod before returning to braiding.

"So how have things been going for you lately?" He asks, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you.

You pause for a moment before replying, "Pretty good actually. I've been busy with work. I got a lot of new clients."

"That's great to hear," Lewis smiles warmly at you. "You deserve all the success that's coming your way."

Your heart flutters at his words and you feel a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. Lewis often showed such overt affection towards you, but it still made you giddy.

"Thanks," you reply with a shy smile. "And what about you? How's everything been since your last race?"

Lewis hesitates for a moment before answering, "It's been...strange. But good." He reaches up to rub at his neck nervously. "I've been feeling different lately. I was in a sour mood about the car this season, but I’m just trying to enjoy the rest of the races."

"As you should, King," you say, making him grin widely. Lewis closed his eyes in relaxation as you worked on him, massaging oil into his scalp as you continued to section off his hair. He enjoyed feeling your hands on him, how gentle you were. "Don't fall asleep on me now," you reply with a laugh as you catch him dozing off.

"I'm not sleeping, just resting my eyes," he responded, trying to play it cool.

"Mmmhmm," you said skeptically, remembering the last time he had said that and ended up snoring away. "You said that last time and your ass was out like a light."

Lewis chuckled sheepishly. "Well, don't be so good at your job," he teased playfully.

"Bye, Lewis," you quipped in a dismissive tone, rolling your eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere,” you shoot back with a wink before continuing to massage his scalp.

After a few minutes, you finish applying the hair oil and begin braiding the remaining sections of Lewis' hair. You work quickly and efficiently, your hands moving in sync as if they were made for this very task.

"You never cease to amaze me with your skills," he says sincerely.

"Well, I have a pretty amazing canvas to work on," you reply with a smile, referring to Lewis' hair.

He chuckles before getting serious again. "But seriously though, thank you for always taking care of me."

You pause in your braiding and look at him with concern. "Of course Lewis. You know I'm always here for you."

"I do know that," he says softly patting your arm.

Your heart races at the intimacy of the gesture. Lewis clears his throat and sits straighter in the chair.

"Alright, enough of that," he says, "what are your plans for the week?"

"Well, I was going to hang out here for another day or so then head back home to rest before I travel for another client."

"What do you mean 'stay for a day or so'?" Lewis asked incredulously. "Y/N, the suite is reserved until the end of the week. This is your first time in Japan; don't leave so soon."

I want to spend more time with you, Lewis thought to himself. But he couldn't express those feelings out loud, at least not yet.

"I have to rest, Lew," you stated, trying to sound firm.

"You can rest here," was his response, making you frown slightly. Although you didn't mind spending more time with Lewis, you didn't want to intrude on his personal space.

"What are you trying to do, convince me to stay longer so that you can bother me?" you teased half-heartedly, trying to hide your true feelings.

Lewis chuckled and shook his head. "No, I just don't want you to miss out on all that Japan has to offer. Plus, I would love for you to experience it with me."

His words tug at your heartstrings. You couldn't resist that charming smile and pleading look in his eyes.

"Fine," you finally relent with a smile. "But only if you promise not to bother me too much."

"Deal," he says with a grin before pulling out his phone. "I’m texting the guys now to tell them that you’re coming with us to dinner."

"Of course you are," you say as you finish up the last braid and give it a final spritz of hairspray. "All done."

Lewis rises from the chair and swivels around to face a mirror, examining his new hairstyle with a satisfied grin before turning his attention towards you. "Looks amazing."

"It was my pleasure," you reply with a warm smile.

The moment feels charged with unspoken tension, and for a moment, you both just stand there looking at each other until Lewis’ phone dinged with a text.

He checks the message and his grin widens. "It’s Miles," he informed you. "Looks like they're already waiting for us at the restaurant. You good to go?"

You glanced down at your outfit. You freshened up earlier and was currently wearing a mini cargo skirt and a black bodysuit. Simple yet stylish nonetheless. You nod, gathering your purse and other necessities then slipped into a pair of heels. You followed Lewis out of the suite and into the elevator. The ride down was quiet, but you can feel Lewis' gaze on you, making you shift slightly under his scrutiny.

As soon as the elevator doors open, Lewis leads you through the hotel lobby to one of the hotel’s restaurants.

Lewis fills you in on some interesting facts about Japan and its culture as you walk to your table. You find yourself hanging on to every word he says, enjoying not only his knowledge but also his company.

The rest of the guys are already seated, chatting animatedly amongst themselves.

Miles jumps up from his seat when he sees Lewis and rushes over to give him a hug. "Hey, bruv! Glad you could make it," he says before turning to face you with a warm smile. "Y/N, how are you babygirl? Looking as gorgeous as ever."

"I’m doing great." You greeted Lewis' best friend with a warm smile and leaned in for a hug. The embrace lingers longer than you expected, with Miles holding onto you tightly before finally pulling away. You don't think anything of it, as Miles is just as, if not more, flirtatious than Lewis. However, you can't help but notice Lewis's scowl from the corner of your eye. You then greeted Andrew and Tim, engaging in light conversation with them.

"Seriously, cut it out," Lewis whispered to Miles as he watched you talking to his friends.

Miles looked confused. "I just said hi, I can still talk to Y/N, right?"

"It's not about that, man. Just tone down the hugging and all that." Lewis was trying to keep his jealousy in check, but he didn't appreciate Miles being too touchy-feely. Miles was a hugger by nature, but sometimes he could be excessive.

"Relax, bruv," Miles said quietly so only Lewis could hear. "You need to be honest with her and stop messing around. If you keep dragging your feet, you'll end up losing her to someone else."

"But she--"

"Lew, are we going to eat or are you two going to have a private conversation all night?" you interrupted playfully, causing Andrew and Tim to laugh.

Miles nudged Lewis towards the booth. "Go sit next to your girl and quit being a dickhead."

Lewis chuckled and playfully swatted him away before doing as he was told and sitting next to you. He placed an arm around the length of the seat, engulfing you with his closeness and the addictive smell of his cologne. "Get whatever you want, Y/N."

"Oh okay, big spender," you say as you peruse the menu, your eyes stopping at the wagyu. "What if I want this?"

Lewis made a face of disgust at your choice. "You know how I feel about meat, but if you want it, you can have it."

Smiling mischievously, you pointed out another expensive option. "And this too?"

Lewis shrugged. "Anything you want."

You raise an eyebrow at him and put the menu down. "Are you sure? Because I can keep going."

Lewis laughs, knowing exactly what you’re doing. "Okay, okay. Let’s not bankrupt me. You can get things within reason. I don’t want you to become a little brat."

"I’m almost there with the way you’ve been spoiling me lately," you said. "I mean, who flies out their hair braider in first class?"

Lewis chuckled as he leans in closer, whispering in your ear. "Well, I can't have my girl flying in economy."

"Your girl?" you scoff, rolling your eyes as you continue playing the game with him. Lewis has always been a flirt, and sometimes the two of you engage in playful banter, but it never goes beyond that. A small part of you can't help but wonder if all the rumors about him being great in bed are true, and the thought briefly crosses your mind to take things further. However, your professionalism always took precedence, and you kept a decorum between the two of you. "So what’re you? My Sugar Daddy?"

"If that's what you want, I can definitely make it happen." He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, causing you to laugh and shake your head.

"You wish," you teased, knowing that Lewis was not one to shy away from spending money on those he cared about.

The conversation continued to flow easily between the two of you, with Miles and the others occasionally interjecting with their own comments and jokes. You couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment of normalcy amidst the chaos and hectic schedule of race weekends.

As the night went on and dinner came to an end, Lewis insisted on paying for everything before escorting you out of the restaurant.

"Thanks for dinner," you said sincerely as Lewis walked you back to your suite. "I had a great time."

Lewis smiled warmly at you as he watched you open the door. "Anytime, Y/N. Can’t have my girl out here starving."

"There you go with the 'my girl' bullshit," you say. "I bet you say that to every woman you’re around."

"Nah," he replied. "Only to you. You’re my girl."

You gave him a quick examination, noting how his frame filled out his clothes. He appeared to have bulked up since the last time you saw him; clearly, he had been spending some serious time in the weight room. You were fully aware of Lewis' reputation as a womanizer and didn't want to be just another conquest, yet you couldn't deny his attractiveness. And with him staring at you with such intense focus, you felt yourself on the verge of giving in to temptation.

"Why are you so quiet?" he asked you, pulling you out of your reverie.

"Honest answer?"

“Of course.”

"Just admiring you," you boldly stated, catching him a bit off-guard. "I’m surprised that you never tried anything with me. I mean, we flirt, but it never ends in anything."

Lewis looked at you with a mixture of surprise and curiosity, his eyes searching yours for any sign of jest, but the serious expression on your face told him otherwise.

"Well, to be honest," he began, "I didn't want to overstep any boundaries. You’re my hairstylist and I respect you."

"Is that all it is? Respect?" you inquired, unable to keep the hint of bitterness out of your voice.

Lewis hesitated for a moment before reaching out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. "Of course not," he said softly. "I think you're an amazing person. It's just... I don’t want to ruin our friendship or make things awkward between us."

"We're grown adults," you told him. "Trust me, I wouldn't be even considering this if I thought it was going to fuck up everything."

Lewis searched your face for any signs of hesitation or doubt, before finally nodding in understanding. "I know…and you have no idea how much…fuck Y/N…you have no idea how bad I want you."

"Then show me," you challenged.

Without hesitation, Lewis leaned in and captured your lips in a heated kiss. The passion and desire between you two was palpable as his hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer to him. You eagerly responded, your own hands roaming over his muscular frame, feeling every inch of him.

After what felt like an eternity, you pulled away slightly, both of you gasping for air. "Wow," you breathed out, looking into Lewis' dark eyes.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice low and husky. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time." Lewis rested his forehead against yours and whispered, "Let's take this somewhere more private."

Nodding in agreement, you grabbed his hand and led him inside your suite, shutting the door behind you.

Once inside, there was no slowing down. He lifted you up effortlessly and carried you to the bedroom, gently laying you down on the bed before crawling on top of you. His lips found yours again as his hands continued to explore every inch of your body. You moaned into his mouth as he kissed and nipped at your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Lewis' hands traveled down to your hips where he began to unzip your skirt. "You don't understand how bad I wanted to do this, especially with how you kept teasing me with these fuckin' skirts," he groaned, tossing the skirt aside before trailing kisses down your chest.

You let out a breathy moan, arching into his touch as his hands found their way under your shirt before he removed it and the bra you wore. His touch was electric, sending sparks through your body and igniting a fire within you. You ran your fingers through his hair as he continued to leave a path of kisses down your body, finally reaching the waistband of your panties.

He looked up at you with dark eyes filled with desire and need before sliding them off of you. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious under his intense gaze, but he leaned in to press a soft kiss against the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the way to your womanhood.

"Look at how wet this pussy is for me," he commented as he glanced at your glistening mound. "You’ve been craving a nigga badly, huh?"

You couldn't even form a coherent response as Lewis dipped his head between your legs, his tongue expertly finding all the right spots and sending you into a frenzy of pleasure. You moaned and writhed under his touch, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

When you finally came undone, it was with a loud cry of his name. He didn't stop there though, continuing to lick and suck at your sensitive folds until you were begging him to stop.

"You taste so good," he murmured, licking his lips before crawling back up to kiss you again.

You could feel his hard length pressing against your thigh and couldn't wait any longer. You reached for the waistband of his pants, but he stopped you, shaking his head.

"So impatient," he whispered against your lips.

"Shut up," was your response, making him chuckle. He stood up from the bed and quickly undressed himself before returning to hover over you.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, positioning himself at your entrance.

"I want you inside me," you moaned without hesitation.

Lewis didn't waste any time thrusting into you in one smooth motion. The feeling of being filled by him was almost overwhelming as he started moving in a steady rhythm. You wrapped your legs around him, urging him on as your nails dug into his back. He groaned as he felt your tight walls clenching around him. He had been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever. He had imagined it a thousand times in his head, but nothing could compare to the real thing.

Lewis started moving faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Your moans and whimpers only spurred him on as he chased his own pleasure.

You couldn't believe how good it felt. You had been with other guys before, but none of them could compare to Lewis. He seemed to know exactly how to touch you, how to make you feel like you were on cloud nine.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "So fucking wet."

He leaned down and captured one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while still pleasuring you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, wanting to feel even closer to him. The intensity was building inside you and you knew you were close to another climax.

Lewis must have sensed it too because he reached between your bodies to rub your clit while still thrusting into you and sucking your nipples. It was too much and you screamed his name as you came undone again, your body shaking with pleasure.

He followed closely after, his hips stuttering before finally stilling as he spilled himself inside of you.

You both stayed in that position for a few moments, catching your breaths and enjoying the afterglow of sex. Lewis rolled off of you eventually and pulled you close against his chest.

"Damn," he murmured into your hair. "That was amazing."

You smiled contentedly, feeling more connected to him than ever before.

"I can't believe I waited this long," he continued, placing soft kisses along your forehead. "I should have made a move on you ages ago."

You laughed softly and snuggled closer to him.

"Well I'm glad you finally did," you replied, feeling completely happy and satisfied in that moment.

The two of you spent the rest of the night tangled up in each other, talking and laughing until you both fell asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of Lewis moving around. You stretched and smiled, feeling content and at peace.

"Good morning," Lewis said, walking into the bedroom with a mug of coffee. He handed it to you before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Morning," you replied, taking a sip of the hot drink. "Thank you for this."

He grinned. "Anything for my girl."

Your heart fluttered at his words, still not quite used to hearing him call you that, but it felt right and it made you smile even more.

[shina913]

Nothing | KNJ

Pairing: KNJ x Fem!Reader

Rating: 🔞 M; NSFW

Genre: Established relationship; slice of life; smut; pwp with some fluff

Warnings: Cussing; fingering; oral (F-receiving); hot and sweaty unprotected sex in a committed, monogamous relationship; dirty talk; ass-slapping (his and hers); semi-rough sex; subtle switch behavior; creampie

Word count: 2.1K+ words

Summary:  If there was anything that made you feel un-sexy, it was heat and humidity.

A/N: Nothing like horny word vomit to break my writing drought--thanks, Namjoon for hopping on Weverse live today leading me and @roaminginthenights to collectively lose our shit and spiral into some deep, clownery abyss 🤪

"I told you we should have bought that air conditioner when it was on sale!" You grumble in bed. Your portable tower fan was fighting for its life, failing to cool you both down.

You've both been tossing and turning in bed for over an hour. You’re in the midst of a heatwave this week, and although it usually cools down in the evenings, there was no reprieve tonight. To make matters worse, it was also humid.

"That air conditioner was still $300 even with the discount," Namjoon points out. "Besides, it's a rare hot day where we live. We just need to tough it out for two more days and then it will be cooler again. It would just take up unnecessary space! Plus, who knows how much that thing would add to our gas bill?”

Damn him and his logic. It was great most of the time, but for this particular hot evening, you hated it.

“They make one of those energy-saver models. We shouldn’t have to suffer like this,” you pout.

“Baby, we need to lower our carbon footprint. This excessive heat is an effect of climate change,” he opines, rolling over to wrap his arm around your waist. The warmth radiating from his skin makes you recoil.

"Ugh, you’re too hot." You swat his hand away, unable to tolerate his current body temperature. Snuggling up to him was great in the winter but during the summer? Not so much.

Feeling rejected, he gets up to head toward the bathroom. “That’s it! I’m taking a cold shower.” 

“Again?” He’d already taken three today. “What happened to lowering our carbon footprint?”

“It’s just a quick one. Besides, do you have better ideas to cool off?”

You didn’t.

While Namjoon takes a shower, you suddenly notice your shirt and sleep shorts becoming stickier by the second. In a moment of desperation, you get up to open the windows wider, hoping to increase air circulation in the room. Afterward, you return to bed, strip down to your panties, and flop onto your stomach.

Namjoon shuffles out of the bathroom a few minutes later. Then, you feel the mattress dip and his hand landing on your ass cheek with a smack. 

“Woah–what–”

Your head whips around to find a look of hunger in his eyes. “Were you trying to surprise me?”

“Chill,” you reply with a laugh. “It was just too hot. I had to get rid of some layers.”

“Mm-hm,” he hums skeptically. “You should sleep naked more often.” He continues to squeeze your flesh, his voice husky.

You snort. “Doubtful. You know how much I love my pajamas! Besides, sleeping naked is your thing.”

"I know, but this is an unexpected treat," he purrs. He starts kissing the small of your back and then moves up your spine. The feel of his lips on your skin instinctively turns you on, but if there was anything that made you feel un-sexy, it was heat and humidity.

Namjoon didn’t care. The way he touched and kissed your body, he only had one thing in his mind and he was determined to make it happen.

You sigh, turning to face him. “You know I don’t like having sex in this weather.”

He stares at you with deep, dark eyes, already blown out from arousal. “But you don’t even need to do anything. Just lay there and I’ll do all the work,” he offers. “Please?”

In this heat, excessive movement would only make you more hot and sweaty than you already were.

As for his generous offer to pleasure you without the expectation of reciprocation, how could you refuse? The idea of being a pillow princess for the night was enticing. You nod and acquiesce. “Fine. Continue.”

Grinning, he dips down to kiss you. You kiss him back, sliding your tongue along his, savoring him. He moves to place a trail of kisses down your neck and onto your chest, pausing to flick each hard nipple with his tongue.

You’re nearly lost in the moment when you feel him strip your panties off, his mouth watering to taste you. You put your hands over to block him, attempting to cover up.

“No, I’m all gross down there,” you protest.

Now it was his turn to swat your hands away. “I don’t care. I want you like this.”

He lowers his head before you can say another word. With one broad lick, your back arches off the mattress with a gasp. Weather aside, your body can’t help it. He knew how to make you feel good.

The moans and sounds of satisfaction he hums against your flesh make you writhe against his mouth uncontrollably. He flits his tongue over in slow, rhythmic motions. Once your breaths grow ragged, he rubs the pad of his thumb over your clit in rapid circles, making you cum with a harsh cry.

He kisses your inner thigh before rising to capture your lips. You could taste traces of your arousal on him, but he didn't stop there. His fingers delve right back into your cleft, stroking over your clit and skimming the opening. As you groan with your lips pressed to his, you greedily grind your hips in response.

“Want more?” He mumbles against your lips.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

Smirking, he fingers you leisurely, building your need. You shudder as he cups you in his hand, his middle and forefinger sliding lazily into you. His palm rubs against your clit, his fingertips stroking over sensitive tissues above.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he rasps.

Whatever he was doing felt inadequate to you now. You needed to feel all of him. “Joon, please,” you beg.

“Please, what?” He teases.

“I want you now.” You reach between you and palm him through his boxers.

“Do you? I thought you hated fucking in the heat.”

You let out a low growl. "I know what I said! I just...please." You curl your fingers around him, giving him a nice squeeze, hoping he'll submit. He bites down on his lower lip, stifling a moan.

In retaliation, he applies gentle pressure to the roof of your core, causing it to swell and inching you closer to the edge.

“Tell me what you want.”

It took you a moment to come back to your senses before uttering, “I want to ride you.”

His eyebrows lift in surprise. Yes, you didn’t want to be all sweaty but you were turned on to the point of no return. 

“You sure? I don’t mind doing all the work.” He continues to tease that same bundle of flesh in you that he’s so intimately familiar with. You clench your insides in response, not wanting to cum just yet.

You slip your hand past his waistband, thumbing the precum beading on the tip. You needed him inside you, but you wanted to be in control.

“Mm, no. I want to be on top.” You tilt your head up and tug at his lip with your teeth.

He laughs low and huskily. “Whatever my lady wants...”

The moment he pulls away to sit up against the headboard, you spring up and pull his boxers off. You reach for his cock, gripping him firmly, pumping him from root to tip. He tilts his head, eyes rolling back in a groan.

You knew his body well, too; knew what he needed and desired. While you straddle him, he catches your hips and looks up at you.

“Ride me hard, yeah?”

The air in the room was thick and you’d be dripping in sweat by the time you were done with him. Still, your core clenches reflexively at the challenge.

He releases you, spreading his arms wide to grip the sides of the headboard. His biceps bulged with the pose. Seeing his bare chest glistening with sweat, his abdomen tightening in anticipation–it turned you on wildly.

You reach over to the side of his head for balance and wrap your free hand around his cock. A muscle in his neck twitches as you rub the tip against your folds, back and forth, coating him with your slick.

You let the first inch push in, letting it stretch you before slowly bearing down, drawing out a moan as you feel him so deep in you.

“Fuck,” he bit out, shuddering once you take him to the hilt.

You lift again, slowly, making you both feel every nuance of that mind-numbing friction. Then, you slam back down, the fullness, the connection, was too delicious to contain. He shifts restlessly, his hips moving in a tight circle, wanting to feel more of you.

“You feel so good,” you whisper, stroking his cock with your aching cunt. Sliding up and down his length.

“That’s the spot, baby. Make me cum,” he bit out, his knuckles white from his grip on the headboard. You wondered if he was just holding on or physically restraining himself from reaching for you.

Your hands snake up to your chest, cupping your tits and tugging on your nipples to egg him on.

“Gimme,” he demands softly, his mouth hanging open, beckoning you to lean closer. You oblige and watch as his cheeks hollow in suction. His teeth graze your nipple, making your insides clench more tightly around him.

You drop your hips again, putting the weight of your body behind it, surging through with a groan. You loved the feel of him.  His breath puffs out of his lungs with every plunge. You were hot, he was sweltering. Together, you were both radiating heat like a furnace. Up…down…up…down. Your thighs, ass, stomach, and core tightening, burning with every lift, squeezing him from root to tip.

You fucked him with everything you had. His breaths hissing out through clenched teeth once your ass claps against his thighs.

Unable to hold back any longer, he releases his grip on the bed. He grabs you by the waist and restrains your movements, holding himself deep.

He squints his eyes at you. “My turn.”

“Yes,” you gasped, wound up tight with anticipation.

His cock pushes into you. You whimper, your entire body thrumming with excitement. He held your hands down, his thighs between yours, keeping you spread wide so he could sink deep. Over and over. His thrusts were unfaltering, determined.

His jaw clenches, brows furrowing as he inches closer to his climax.

“Harder, Namjoon,” you choke out.

You hold onto him for dear life while he pounds relentlessly into you. You hear his breath catch on every muffled groan while he fucks into you.

“Yes, yes, yes…” You sob helplessly with every slam of his hips.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m cum—ahh…” He presses his forehead against yours before finishing his sentence. A long, deep growl rumbles from him as his hips jerk, gasping your name.

His spurting triggers the hypersensitive nerves in you. Next thing you know, your body shivers from another intense orgasm. You let out a long, drawn-out sigh, feeling relief flow out of you.

You collapse in his arms, your flushed cheeks resting on his shoulder. You were both panting and covered in sweat. 

He lifts you gingerly off him, setting you onto the mattress. You lift your head lazily and turn to him. You reach out blindly, suddenly feeling how damp the sheets were beneath you.

“Shit, did we sweat that much?” You sit up to inspect the damage.

“Yes. And you also squirted all over me,” he laughs.

Your hand flies up to your mouth in surprise. “Oh my god, I did? For real?”

He nods, still laughing. “Yeah. I felt it gush out of you.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was fucking hot,” he replies enthusiastically. He reaches for his boxers and moves toward you to clean you up.

You wave him off. “Nah, it’s useless. I’m going to hop in the shower.”

You roll out of bed and walk to to the bathroom in shaky legs. When you stop to grab a towel from the linen closet, you notice him following behind you.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I thought the shower was an invitation,” he smiles michievously.

“Don’t,” you warn, giving him a stern look. Eventually, a laugh slips out.

“I can keep my hands to myself.” He says innocently. “Besides, we’re in a drought. We need to conserve water.”

You roll your eyes at this practicality and shake your head. “You and your water and energy conservation.”

“Hey, if it wasn’t for me not buying that air conditioner, we wouldn’t have had mind-blowing sex tonight…and you wouldn’t have squirted like that,” he chuckles.

Touché.

But instead of giving him the satisfaction, you glower playfully at him and smack him on his bare ass, making him howl in laughter.

Nothing Masterlist | Main Fic Masterlist

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

[cupidjyu]

fragile

juyeon x reader (request for the anon with the super long sweet message!! ly!)

genre: hurt/comfort, crying, sweetie juyeon, cuddles, sharing bed, idk fluff but with comfort?? he likes to call you gorgeous just bc i said so notes: be ready for another hyunjae piece of writing you're going to be so tired of me (i have no shame) word count: 2k

It was not often that you felt like this. Ever since you started dating Juyeon, you found yourself smiling endlessly. He was the perfect boyfriend who made those silly pick-up lines or often invited you to slow dance to his favorite song. He was the perfect man that you could hug for as long as you’d like or kiss as much as you’d want.

But, that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t have any bad days. Today was a perfect instance, as nothing had gone your way. You barely slept after having a nightmare, leaving you exhausted. And for the rest of the day, as you tried to check off your to-do list, you constantly failed. Everything you did was either at the wrong time or poorly done due to your fatigue. It didn’t help that Juyeon was working that day, meaning you couldn’t call or text him for help to pick you up in the midst of a rainstorm.

So there you were, sitting in your bed with your knees brought up to your chest. There was a constant sense of “just give up” that rotated through your already racing thoughts. You stared at your phone which was constantly pinging with emails and text messages of all the responsibilities that you failed to do.

You were about to shut your eyes and block yourself from the world. Well, up until you heard a specific ring from your phone. Lifting your head slowly, you realized that it was Juyeon who had texted you.

work just finished, how’s your day? ^^

Frankly, it was horrible, you answered in your head. And you didn’t know what came over you but you found yourself clicking on the call button instead of answering with a text.

Immediately, he picked up. 

“Hello?” His deep voice rang.

You stayed quiet, trying to swallow the annoying lump in your throat.

“Y/n?” He asked again.

Taking a shaky breath, you willed yourself not to burst out into tears just at the sound of your boyfriend’s sweet, sweet voice.

“Juyeon,” You whispered. “How are you?”

Surprise was evident in his voice. “I’m… good.” He hummed quietly. “Are you okay?”

Biting your lip, you quietly shook your head. With your eyes shut closed you replied with a timid voice, “I’m fine.” A blatant lie but you knew that your boyfriend’s work was taxing and you would hate to create more of a burden for him.

He was silent for a second. And then—

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“What?” You panicked, but you could already hear his door opening through the phone. Your heart was pounding now as you looked around your room. Specifically, your bed was a mess. Clothes everywhere, random pieces of paper crumpled about because of your own spiraling. He can’t… come over now.

But it seemed that he didn’t care. He was always known to be the oblivious one, but when it came to you, he noticed every single detail about you. He could tell when you were tired and offer his shoulder for you to lean on or if you were uncomfortable, he’d shield you with his tall frame. As he stayed on the phone with you, his voice was sweeter, more gentle as he talked about his day. A way to distract you.

“Sunwoo tripped on a ball today. Can you believe that?”

You listened without saying a single word. Slowly, you lost track of time, and it must be that those five minutes had passed because he was now unlocking your door with the password that you had told him once. For emergencies, he said.

When he entered your room, you immediately whipped your head away from him to hide the growing tears in your eyes. He stayed there for a moment, taking in the sight before he silently took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“Are you really fine?” He muttered. His large hand came to the side of your face, gently coaxing you to look at him. His eyes instantly softened at the sight as there must be tears trailing down your face.

You shook your head.

“What happened?” Your boyfriend questioned. And taking note of your state, he was hesitant to touch you.

With a shaky voice, you told him about your day, occasionally pausing to try not to choke on your tears. Juyeon listened intently, his eyes constantly tender on yours. Slowly, his hand came to hold yours, stroking the back of it with his thumb.

Once you were done, you were practically heaving for breath. And cautiously, he approached you on the bed and he wrapped his arms around your figure. He pulled you close to his chest, letting you cry into his hold. You hadn’t even noticed that you had begun to grip the hem of his shirt tightly. 

His hand slowly traveled to yours, loosening your grip gently.

“Don’t hold on too tight,” He whispered with a saccharine tone as he entwined his fingers with yours. He pulled away slightly to look you in the eye, his fingers coming up to your cheeks to softly wipe your tears away, even though they were still flowing. “I’m right here. Just look at me, okay?”

You nodded, swallowing thickly as you focused on looking him in the eyes. He began to smile. It wasn’t the usual cheeky or teasing smile. This one was soft and genuine, reassuring you along with the constant stroke of his thumb.

“You’re doing perfectly,” He said, his other hand rubbing your back in up-and-down motions.

Once you were sure that your tears had stopped streaming, you tilted your head slightly to set your forehead against his chest.

“Thank you,” You mumbled. “You can… go now.”

He stiffened. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Yes.” But he quickly noticed the way your hand came back to his shirt to hold onto the fabric tightly. He huffed out with amusement.

“You know that you won’t bother me, right?” He replied. “I want to take care of you.”

You froze at his words. With a sniffle, you hid further into his chest. “Then stay if you want.”

He hummed. And then he looked around the room.

“Stand up for a moment.” He smiled as he gently picked you up in his arms. You watched in slight confusion as he began to move about the room, cleaning up for you. He put away your clothes and whenever he would walk past you, he would pull you in by the waist and press a soft kiss somewhere on your face.

He would pick up the papers, and then kiss you on the forehead. Put away your bag, and kiss you on your cheek. And just before he fixed up all your pillows and blankets, he hooked an arm around you to pull you right against his lips, moving softly and unhurriedly.

Immediately, you were blushing at his actions.

“Juyeon,” You whined. “What are you doing?”

“Making you feel better.” He grinned. And then he was pulling a comfy hoodie over you, specifically his hoodie. His hands came up to each of your cheeks, pinching them lightly. “You look gorgeous today, have I told you that?”

“Don’t lie,” You grumbled, aware of your tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes.

“I’m not,” He whispered, his voice lowering. He did have the habit of calling you gorgeous in the most random scenarios. Sometimes he’d be in a whole other room and he’d still be texting you that you look gorgeous. “I love you. And that’s also not a lie.”

You were even more flustered. “I love you too.”

“Of course you do,” He teased, taking your hand in his to pull you into bed. You had noticed that he had set up a movie to watch amidst all the soft blankets.

With a small smile, you sat beside him. Immediately, he pulled you closer so that you could rest against his chest. 

It was a simple movie. A cute Disney movie. One where you shouldn’t cry about. But when your mind had trailed off, remembering the fact that Juyeon had rushed to you just to pull you in his arms, that he pressed kisses all over your face to make you feel better, and that he had prepared all this, you couldn’t help but sniffle again. Again, tears welled up in your eyes and he was quick to notice.

Turning off the movie, he turned to you with a loving gaze.

“Why’re you crying again, angel?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

He huffed out a small laugh. “Don’t be sorry. That’s why I’m here, gorgeous.”

He shifted so that he was facing you completely. And then his hands came to cradle your face again as he wiped your tears off gently. He took extra care, even tucking a piece of hair around your ear as he pressed another soft kiss to the very tip of your nose.

“Tell me. What do you want to do?” He smiled softly.

You paused. And then you frowned. “I don’t know. I’m sorry again.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” And instead, he took the lead, gently lifting you up and placing you on his lap so that you were straddling his hips. He leaned against the headboard, his hand coming to the back of your head to bring you into his neck. Stiffly, you shuffled so that you were burying your nose into it, inhaling his comfortable scent.

Letting a few more tears fall, your hands fell to your sides, slowly relaxing against his warmth.

“Can we stay like this?” You whispered against his skin.

“Mhm,” He hummed, turning to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “Of course.”

And so that’s what you did. At some point, he began to hum a song that you didn’t know the name of, but his deep voice easily lulled you to fall asleep.

Checking on you, he cautiously brought you to lie down in bed, wrapping you warmly in the blankets. He brought his sleeve under your eyes, gently patting them with a fond smile as he admired each of your features.

But then you blinked your eyes open, startling him.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He pouted slightly.

You gave him a small smile. “It’s okay. I can fall asleep again. Right now actually.”

“Tired?” 

You nodded.

Juyeon chuckled, wrapping a strong arm around your torso to bring you up against his body. “You know that you don’t have to hide anything from me right? Just tell me and I’ll be right here for you.”

You nodded shyly. “Thank you.” You bit your tongue, your cheeks beginning to feel hot. And then you suddenly blurted out a quiet, “I love you.”

He widened his eyes slightly before his expression turned into a smug one, his lips curling up like a cat’s.

“Love you too,” He teased, pressing his lips softly to yours. And he had tried to pull away quickly but your hand grasped onto his collar to instead deepen the kiss.

He froze for a minute before eventually leaning back into your lips, a shy smile growing on his own as his hands tightened comfortably around you. It was a simple, cute kiss, though without much direction because the lights were too dim to see much of anything. All you could do was feel and hear as the two of you kissed over and over again, small noises in between. 

When you finally broke away, he let out the most adorable giggle ever as he nuzzled into your neck this time.

“What are you laughing about?” You smiled.

“Don’t know,” He laughed. “I just love kissing you. You make me happy.”

“You do too,” You whispered. “But let’s compliment each other tomorrow. I’m sleepy.”

“Okay, but one more thing,” He chuckled, pulling you into his chest. “You look gorgeous. Have I said that already?”

Slapping him with a scowl, you buried yourself further into him. “You did. And you can’t even see my face right now.”

“I stand by my statement,” He hummed. You laughed before your eyes began to grow heavy, sleep taking over you briskly.

Tears were dried on your cheeks and your eyes were puffy. It was not often that you felt like this. But as long as you had Juyeon, maybe things would be alright.

[blueiight]

can i ask your thoughts on the fandom’s heavy focus on louis as an object of desire? it sometimes feels to me like people are more interested in other characters reacting to louis than they are in louis himself. i know the “helen of troy” stuff is a joke but it genuinely seems like he’s often rendered oddly passive in his desirability, like we’re looking at him through the eyes of the other characters even though it’s his story (to be clear: in the fandom, not the actual show). or am i being uncharitable? either way, you always have interesting things to say about fandom reception.

i think the focus of louis as an object of desire arose largely in response to a lot of racially-charged nonsense about show louis, namely, where a loud minority of fans tried to deny the abuse and horror of season 1 and frame louis as the primary antagonist/abuser of his own story. which in of itself had the potential to go somewhere, especially considering the feminized role louis occupies in parts of season 1. unfortunately its spiraled off into its own dead end at this point to where now people, a year and a half removed from the release of s1, can box louis's character arc into this tale of getting all the hot boys to look her way. when this is a horror and tragedy series. romance is part of that, but is a piece of the full picture. classic romance is very much horror tbh but thats just me

if we're discussing the show strictly, majority of louis's relationships are antagonistic. even with his lovers, they love him as much as they seek to control him. 'his love is a small box that he keeps you in', trailer louis saying 'i knew who i was without those pieces [of myself?]' . so on and so forth. the first three episodes of season 1 are about louis's struggle to maintain a link with his mortal community, in the midst of increasing racist tensions against the city leaders, all as he struggles to come to terms with his existence as a vampire and how his relationship to lestat fits in relation to all these pieces of himself. doubly so, there is also the nature of the second interview in present time, and the sort of antagonism between daniel + louis as louis eventually pushes daniel into burning the old tape. the latter half of season 1, episodes 4-7 is squarely about the triad of lestat, louis, and claudia, how lestat increasingly tightens his hold over them both, claudia breaking them free of it, and louis's response to such. doubly so, daniel becomes more hostile the less he knows, and the more louis's composed 'master of his instincts' personage collapses to show the broken man thats underneath. armand comes in at the end bc the interview has reached a breaking point once more [as it did in the 1970s]. i know, im looking too hard into the meme, but so much of where louis errs, where his memory falters, where history is completely revised, has to do with the question of claudia. even book interview foundationally was about this grief, though not nearly with the level of depth+ gravity the show has added to the story.

where focusing on louis as an 'object of desire' most impedes analysis has to do with claudia as well, bc if u see louis as that solely, then what is claudia to u if not a 'child interfering in [louis's] romantic affairs'? why are people already seeking to write claudia off as a wayward child unduly 'taking out her anger on louis', when it was louis at the end of season 1 who strangled her against the wall and refused to let her burn lestat? when its louis in the trailer thats throwing claudia's words from season 1 back at her, evading her questions in the cafe? when claudia is having to dress as a baby doll and advertise with a sandwich board for a theater + a coven-master that all want her dead?

i think this is by nature of the fact that iwtv is canonly gay and isnt afraid of showing that, and modern fandom is mainly interested in romance. claudia's relationship to louis is secondary, if not tertiary, to all 'camps' of this tiny tiny fandom bc she is clearly established in s1 as not being a viable romantic option for louis, despite claudia's perspective and her story taking up the second half of the first season, and will continue to be important in the second season. the 'helen of troy' fixation on his desirability in relation to romantically viable vampires [or even men] seems to be another means by which fans can ignore this part of the story, just as the mutual abuse nonsense about louis being clarence thomas the third self hating black man who stole lestat's lunchables and is 'just as bad as the rest' drowned out and continues to drown out any other conversation for the past year and a half. it is very difficult to have conversations on this character precisely bc of this state of fandom, where many people seek to crack the whip over a fictional character for not being mother teresa and having a complex response to trauma, then instead of discussing that, some seek to fixate on the fact that mother teresa can be sexy, actually. when thats not the point. why is modern louis so full of grief and all but suicidal in dubai, if not for the fact that claudia is permanently dead, he still lives, he regrets something, and wants to find the truth under it all? the jokes are cute and all, but lets put our thinking caps on.

[simpforrooster]

would you be able to write something where the reader is maverick’s daughter and roosters girlfriend; she’s called back to top gun and graduated with rooster, grew up with him, etc. she is selected for the mission as well as Phoenix/bob, then rooster (so she would be on dagger 4). she sees her dad get shot down, is in the midst of trying to hold in her emotions, when rooster goes after him and also gets shot down? The last remaining have to fly back so once they land she goes somewhere to get air and doesn’t realize they’re okay until someone comes to get her? then she quite literally sprints to them and pushes through everyone (so sorry for the word vomit). angst and fluff PLEASE

for her.

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x F!MitchellReader

reader's callsign is Boho.

t/w: cursing, angst, mentions of death

a/n: oooooo yesssss! Love this! sorry this one took me a little bit to get to! I hope you like it :)

"Dagger 1 is hit!" Phoenix calls. "Dagger 1 is hit!"

The words are replaced with a high pitch tone as you realize the meaning behind your friend's words.

Was this sound just in your ears? Or were you and Payback next?

You and your boyfriend, Rooster, were called back to Top Gun recently. The two of you, along with the rest of your crew were taught how to fly this mission by your dad. Eventually, your dad 'Maverick'ed his way into the team leader spot. He chose you and Rooster to fly with him.

Maverick is in Dagger 1.

Your dad is in Dagger 1.

"Boho, you with me?" Payback calls from the front of your F-18.

You can't form words. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't.

"B, don't look," Payback warned you. Naturally, you turn your face to the right and see Mav's F-18 spiral toward the ground. A golf-ball sized lump forms in your throat.

You're going to pass out.

"I am going after him," your boyfriend says over comms.

No. No. He can't.

"Rooster, you can't. We've been told not to go back," Payback says.

That high pitch tone is still ringing in your ears. You can't stop picturing the smoke and flames coming from your dad's F-18. Maverick has always warned and prepared you that every time one of you goes up, you may not come back.

You just never thought you'd loose your dad on the same mission.

"I have to. For her."

You hear the dagger teams argue over the comms while simultaneously dodging enemy fire. You work through your weapons expertly, mindlessly.

"Dagger 3 is hit!" this time, it's Payback delivering the news over the comms.

Your dad and your boyfriend. The two most important men in your life. Blown from the sky.

"We've been ordered to go back. They don't want us turning around," Payback tells you. You nod your head even though he can't see, still numb. Still processing.

When the four of you make it back to the boat, you exit your aircraft with that same ringing in your ear. You stumble to the left, and then the right.

Is your head full of water right now?

"Boho, are you--" Jake reaches for you, but you move past him, like you don't hear him.

"Lieutenant Mitchell, you need to be debriefed," Cyclone commands, but this doesn't stop you from moving forward. Trying to find somewhere to let yourself breathe, to feel. To sort out these emotions. Warlock puts a hand on Cyclone's shoulder, holding him back from coming after you.

You make it to the other side of the boat before all hell breaks loose. Everything hits you like a Mack truck. Your dad was shot down. You watched his plane fall from the sky. Your boyfriend went after him.

"For her," he said.

Why the FUCK would Cyclone let your dad select you and Rooster for this mission. Wasn't that nepotism? Wasn't it a conflict of interest? What would Ice think?

It doesn't matter. He wasn't here anymore, either.

Gripping the side of the boat, your knuckles go white. Tears fall from your face. Your mind goes to Penny, to Amelia. To your mom.

Tears fall for yourself. Rooster doesn't have anyone besides you and your family. You will have to see to the arrangements. The love of your life's arrangements.

What kind of sick fucking joke is this?

"Boho! Boho! Where the fuck are you?" Jake's voice gets louder as he closes in on your hiding spot. "Y/n!"

You turn and take in the cocky aviator. "What, Hangman? What in the world could possibly be that important right now?"

Jake takes in your appearance and sympathy fills his eyes. The last thing you want is sympathy from Hangman.

"Come with me," his voice is soft, he holds out a hand.

You shake your head. "Tell Cyclone he's just going to have to wait. I don't care if he's an admiral, I just lost my dad and Bradley." Your voice breaks when you say the words aloud. Like you saying them just made it final.

It was already final when you watched both F-18 fall to the Earth in flames.

Hangman doesn't listen. Grabbing your hand, he forces you to follow him. You think about fighting him off, but suddenly, you don't have the energy.

As he pulls you back to the runway, everyone is shouting. Or is that cheering?

What could they be cheering for?

As you come around the corner, you see what everyone is cheering for.

You see Rooster first. He looks positively exhausted, and absolutely delectable. Is this a mirage?

Jake pushes you forward, and this resets your brain. You run, no sprint, through the crowd. Everyone steps aside as you shove through. Standing in front of Rooster, new tears fall from your face. Tears of relief.

"Oh honey," he says, drinking you in. You close the distance between you and run into his arms. Rooster lifts you up and your legs wrap around his waist. Grabbing his face in your hands, you attack him in kisses. When you're satisfied, you pull back and look him in the eye.

"I thought you were gone," you whisper. Rooster brings a hand to your face, wiping a tear away.

"I'm here," he says, pulling you in for another kiss. "I'm here, baby."

Your brain short circuits, and you pull back. "Dad?!" you whisper.

Rooster sets you down, and steps aside. You see your dad talking to Phoenix and Bob.

Relief washes through you for a second time. Both your guys were back and safe.

"Dad!" you shout, getting his attention. Maverick turns toward you and grins. He opens his arms to you, and you rush into them as if you are 5 again, and had just woken up from a nightmare.

Honestly, you really had.

"I see how it is, you go to Rooster first, then me," he chuckles. You pull away and swat his chest, your laughter mixing with tears.

Rooster's hand finds its way to the small of your back. He and Maverick take each other in, and Maverick reaches for him. Pulling him into a hug, you hear him say, "Thank you for coming back for me."

"It's what my dad would have done," Rooster murmurs into Maverick's shoulder.

masterlist

[eris-snow]

8. 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐀 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭

Tags:bakugou x fem!reader, juxtaposition, detective bakugou, hacker bakugou, fluff in the midst of angst

There’s a light at the end of the tunnel. One must grasp it before the tunnel caves in.

January 6 20XX

You have to give Katsuki credit, because the dude was dedicated. Not only that, but he could do things that you found difficult with ease. Such as, well, talking to someone.

"Aizawa-sensei says that the foolscap was outdated from 10 years ago. Apparently, it was the same ones he used when he was in U.A. It spanned a good ten years, so at the very least, they haven't walked off the fuckin' earth and died yet." The ash blond announces, flopping on the ground next to you. It was the first day officially back from winter break, but Katsuki was as unfazed as ever.

Back when people were still being potty-trained, Katsuki was practising hours a day on the piano in between kindergarten and card trading with the guys. That's what made him the best, and half of you was glad to see that part of him was still the same.

Focus, you tell yourself. Now isn't the time to get distracted!

"They could be anywhere in the country. With my luck, anywhere in the world." You counter. "Or maybe the one with my condition has poofed out of existence—"

"Stop it with that," Katsuki knocks his knuckles against your forehead, making you reel back at the contact. "People stop writing for all sorts of reasons. They could have cracked the code, or had a fallout, who knows? Shut up and be optimistic. I can't afford you spiralling."

You make a face at him. "You've changed."

"I'd be an asshole if I didn't." He replies, not missing a beat.

You're still an asshole, you want to point out, but you hold your tongue. He's trying to help you, after all.

"Any idea of what course they were in?" You ask instead. "It'd be easier if it was a hero, high profile is good."

"There's a phone number on the paper—"

"That has been changed and is unavailable." You finish. "It's a dead end."

Katsuki huffs, folding his arms. "It's a lead."

You snort loudly, holding back your laughter. "You've changed a lot—"

"And you're an idiot." He refutes. "You can track a phone even after its number is changed. I can get a hold of the IMEI number—"

"What are the chances of someone keeping a phone for over a decade?" You scoff.

"What other chances do we have of finding these pieces of shit?" Katsuki counters.

Biting the inside of your cheek harshly, you sigh. He has a point.

—

February 20XX

The plan, unfortunately, did not work. Either someone had used the phone beyond repair, or it had already been destroyed.

Brilliant.

Katsuki lets out a growl of frustration. It took him a month to find out how to track this guy. A month. And yet you were no closer to finding these grown-ass men.

It was around that time that you started to bring newspapers of that time to the hall, scourging for any clues relating to that incident.

"If only we just knew what course this guy was in..." You mutter, consuming yourself with the papers.

Katsuki stands by the curtains with an unamused expression, hands full of yearbooks as he watches your eyes scan the papers with an immense amount of focus. He's come to know you for months at this point, and has started taking note of little things about you because the more he looks at you, the more he finds.

Like how you bite your lip whenever you're nervous, bite the inside of your cheek when you're irritated and tuck your hair behind your shoulder when you lie.

Like how terrible your piano playing is but you still continue, like how even though what you've been through is more mentally taxing than anything on the battlefield, you still—

It takes Katsuki a second that he's been staring at you for way longer than normal before he unceremoniously drops all the yearbooks on the ground with a loud thud.

You jump like a startled cat, glaring daggers at him as you scramble to get your newspapers away from him. "What the fuck, Bakugou."

His mouth coils into a pleased smirk. "Jokes on you, I'm going deaf. What was that?"

You groan, and it makes Katsuki's confidence ignite. There we go. This version of you, he can handle.

"What's the yearbooks for?" You ask instead, nearing the dusty stacks of bounded paper before flipping through them.

"I managed to round up the yearbooks from the people who still used this piece of foolscap when they were in school." Bakugou plops down on the ground with you. "It's just ten years. If we can go through every class and see if anyone has photo fucked with—"

"Photo fuck?"

"Has the same photo issues as you."

You raise an eyebrow. "Not one of your best works, Nickname Wonder."

"Whatever. Find someone with consistent photo issues throughout their time in U.A and we might be able to narrow it down."

"..."

"..."

"Seriously, photo fuck—"

"Shut it."

—

"Hey man, where are you going?" Eijiro bounds up to him like he'd shitted rainbows, and as much as he appreciates the ball of sunshine cramped into every cell in his friend, he did not want to deal with him now.

Still, he replied. "Training."

"Sick! I was just thinking of—"

"Not today." Katsuki picks up his duffle, checking the clock. "Meeting the nerd at Ground Beta. All Might wants to try something. Gotta run—"

"You've been real busy lately." Eijiro cuts off, blocking his path. "Look, me and the squad don't want to push, but...don't overwork yourself, okay?"

Katsuki almost snorts. Yeah right. Overworking himself was Izuku's job, not his. A tight schedule didn't mean a messy schedule. He'd planned enough time for sleep, eating, internship, training and hunting down people who may or may not exist.

He was being productive, not stressed.

" 'm not overworking myself," Katsuki mutters, sidestepping his red-haired friend as he walks out of the common rooms.

"Well, I'm here if you wanna talk things out!" Eijiro calls.

Katsuki gives a grunt as a response as he pushes the door open.

It's not like Eijiro would remember anyway.

—

The list of possible victims is done by the end of the week, and Katsuki takes the liberty to go for a slow walk around the school to hunt down his teachers and interrogate them. He'd like to say that he's made a good amount of progress, but Katsuki doesn't lie.

The entire procedure is pretty much a coin flip. He can confidently eliminate one or two, but can't ever be sure for the remaining. Were they just forgotten with time? Did they drop out? What if they went undercover?

A handful were even in the General Course, and getting in touch with those alumni was even more difficult.

"Look," Aizawa stares at him tiredly. He looks like he's on his 5th cup of coffee and that his eyebags can carry weights of lead. "I see you from Monday to Friday non-stop. I wish to be alone on a Saturday morning so I can mark your papers and get them back to you on Monday next week. So for God's sake, get out of my face."

"I'm trying to save someone." Katsuki prevents the door from closing with his foot, staring up at his teacher with raised eyebrows. "And from what I heard, heroes don't get breaks. Let me in, Sensei."

Aizawa squints at Katsuki. He may have lost his leg, and pretty much his quirk, but Katsuki's still sure that Aizawa kicks ass. All Aizawa had to do was say the word, and he'd get booted out.

Wouldn't be the first time.

Even so, his teacher lets him into his lair of unwashed coffee cups and Post-it notes wonderland. Katsuki doesn't bat an eye.

"Doesn't ring a bell." Aizawa shrugs, crossing names off.

"Nothing? Cause this guy was in your class." Katsuki yanks out a yearbook and slams it on the table, flipping to the bookmarked page.

On it, is a class photo of 17-year-old Aizawa surrounded by his classmates all those years ago.

"It's been a decade and a war," His teacher snaps. "Give me a break."

As his teacher's eyes survey the picture of his youth, Aizawa's finger hovers over one person's face.

"Oh, I remember him."

Katsuki's breath catches.

Aizawa-sensei trails his finger down to the names, circling the name of the face he'd pointed out that was streaked with blotchy ink.

Imasu Saito.

"He was one of the top students in our year, until his third year. Kept disappearing after class and even ditched. Dropped out right before graduation."

A thin thread circles the name, bright red just like his eyes.

This isn't just a throw-away line.

This was a lead.

"Tell me about him."

Surprised by the sudden interest, Aizawa continues. "I don't know. Last I checked, he was still living with his parents. Could be anywhere by now."

Heat burned in his throat. This could mean something. "Kenji Tanaka," Katsuki urges, iterating the name carefully "Did Saito...know Tanaka?"

Aizawa gives him an unamused expression. "Flattered to think you expect me to remember my classmates' names. And to answer your question, I wasn't even aware that there was a Kenji in my class. Now looking back, I doubt I ever interacted with him at all."

Katsuki groans, slamming his head on the table and sending paper scattering everywhere.

"Fuck humanity. This is what I get when I try to be a little fuckin' nice."

Well, a lead's a lead. Best to take advantage of it, no matter how small.

Aizawa raises an eyebrow, slides a hand to the mini-fridge and cracks a can of Red Bull.

He offers it to the blond wordlessly.

Katsuki swipes it from Aizawa's hand.

Best fuckin' teacher ever.

—

Katsuki shares his findings with you when he plops down in the hall later that evening, and you take turns to share yours.

"There's this guy that made headlines for one news issue." You show him the newspaper, and on it, he reads it out loud.

"20-Year-Old Claims The Existence Of The Non-Existent: The Hottest Flat Earther Theory."

Katsuki almost crumples the sandy paper in his hands. His mouth feels just as dry.

"Bullseye."

"Despite the catchy opening, it didn't do well. The news didn't stick, and there are no follow-ups in the issues before or after it." You push the paper down, causing Katsuki to look into your eyes. "This guy was—"

"Imasu Saito." Katsuki finishes, watching you nod in agreement. "A name. We have a name."

Katsuki looks at the decomposing tabloid, seeing gold. "Alright, spit it out. How did you even manage to find this? There were so many companies and articles—this isn't even from a big-name company. This could have taken years to uncover."

You wriggle your fingers together, shrugging. "Let's just say being invisible has its perks. And the internet. No one bats an eye towards me when I went through their archive."

"Their?"

"It's a long story."

Shrugging it off, Katsuki refocuses on their task. They have bigger fish to fry.

"We need an address." You tell him. "Do you have an address?"

Snorting, Katsuki gives you his most 'are you crazy' look. "Who do you think I am? God?"

"No, you're Katsuki Bakugou," Your eyes sear with confidence. Katsuki's felt that look somewhere. The pure, raw, doubtless look of trust behind those eyes.

He's definitely seen it somewhere before.

"You've risen from death and beat someone twice as powerful as you. You've bounced back from setback after setback. You're the winner of the Sports Festival and the top in Battle Simulation, and you've hacked into systems with firewalls so strong people on the other side of the screen think you have a Tech Quirk. You can find one measly address."

Well, when you put it like that, what is Katsuki supposed to say? Deny?

Puffing up his chest, he levels your gaze.

He can do this.

He can do this, and he will.

—

A week to the end of February, there's a text from Bakugou captioned "Look, at what I've got, you little shit."

On it, is an address of a residential apartment.

—

25 February 20XX

Katsuki could only get a permit to leave school on Friday, so it's the tail end of February when you leave school. It was only at this moment, did you allow excitement to swell in your chest. You're making progress. Much more progress than you had in years.

It was enough for you to start believing that there was hope for you after all.

And Katsuki was helping you.

Plugging the address in the GPS leads you both to your destination 30 minutes of U.A., and as you stand in front of a door with a fist raised, you glance at Katsuki.

He gives you a subtle nod.

Closing your eyes, you knock.

Please let him be home, please let him be home, please—

The door creaks open, and the door chain clinks as a lean man with lengthy limps peeks out. His eyes are cobalt blue, and when he looks at Katsuki, he squints.

"What do you want, kid?"

Wordlessly, Katsuki points to you, as if it explained everything.

All the trouble it took to find this stupid goon's house, led to one too-tall man that looked like he had survived a trainwreck.

Sunken eyes hollow, eyebags prominent, and body far too thin.

The man's orbs widen as he blinks rapidly, only just noticing your presence, even though you're standing right in front of him.

"Are you Isamu Saito?" Your voice is small, as if any louder would cause the floor to fall out from beneath you. "If so, I'd like to talk to you about this."

Rifling through your bag, you pull out the decade-year-old foolscap encapsulated in a file.

He just stands there, blinking, unflinching, mouth falling agape.

The door slams in your face.

At first you think that he wasn't who you'd assumed he was and that you had somehow gotten the wrong house.

But before the panic can sink in completely, you hear the door chain jingle as the door opens wide. The man's gaze of you is pitying, and he speaks directly to you for the first time.

"I'm Isamu Saito. Please, come inside."

.

.

.

8 Months, 2 Weeks, And 2 Days Until Time Of Death.

[yoonavii]

Hello! May I request a headcannon or a fic of Luffy x reader, and that when the reader cries it rains, the more the reader cries the more dangerous the rain is, to the point that it's becoming a storm.

Hello and good evening anon! What an interesting request you’ve sent me. I had fun writing this so I hope you can enjoy it as much as I have. :)

A storm of Emotions

Luffy x Reader

Your laughter filled the air as you playfully argued over a game of cards. It was a carefree moment, one you cherished in the midst of your adventurous lives. However, as the game progressed, the playful banter between you and Luffy took a wrong turn. Words were said that should never have been spoken, and your light-hearted game turned into a heated argument. The sky, seemingly mirroring your emotions, began to darken.

Your eyes welled up with tears, and as your emotions spiraled out of control, the clouds above followed suit. Raindrops started to fall, gentle at first, but they quickly grew in intensity. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. Realization dawned on Luffy as he witnessed the effects of your powers. Your tears were no ordinary tears; they were tears that could manipulate the weather itself, and your sadness was turning the tranquil sea into a tumultuous storm.

Panicking, Luffy knew he had to act fast. He reached out and pulled you into a tight embrace, shielding you from the rain that poured around you. His strong arms wrapped around your trembling form, offering comfort and solace. Your sobs filled the air, but Luffy held you even closer. He pressed a tender kiss to your cheek, a gesture of love and apology. “I’m sorry, Marina,” he whispered, his voice filled with remorse. “I didn’t mean what I said. I love you, and I hate seeing you cry.” As Luffy’s lips met your skin, a remarkable thing happened. The rain began to subside, the dark clouds above gradually dispersing. It was as though the very sky responded to the power of your love. You, still sobbing but slowly calming down, clung to Luffy. His sincerity and love had a soothing effect on you, and you knew that no matter how fierce the argument, your love could weather any storm.

Together, you stayed on the deck of the Thousand Sunny, holding each other as the sun broke through the dissipating clouds. The sea around you returned to its peaceful state, and your love emerged stronger than ever, a love that could tame even the wildest of storms.

©𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐈— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.

[whatsmymeme]

A Sandy Situation

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Mitchell!Reader

Request: Hey! Can I request an imagine with Jake Seresin x Mitchell!Reader where Pete is teaching the reader to play football at the beach (Because that's my favorite scene hehe) and then Jake comes in and the reader absolutely hates him because of his ego. He challenges her and she humbles him :) Thanks! I adore you and your writing!

Warning(s): Language

Authors Note: The beach scene is my favorite scene too hehe. I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 875

The beach was somewhere that your father took you numerous times growing up. It was practically a tradition that you would go every weekend during summertime. Well, this time was different. He not only took you to the beach today, but he invited the pilots that he had been teaching.

You adored them all, except the arrogant blonde-haired tease, Jake Seresin. Also known as a Hangman. You were done with him the moment you met him. He was flirtatious, but his attitude immediately changed when he figured out that you were the daughter of Pete Mitchell.

Although you had absolutely no interest in Jake, he actually found that attractive. He was always the guy who wanted what he couldn't have. You were number one on that list.

"You're getting better [Y/N]," Your father complimented, lifting you up from the wet sandy ground. "I think next time you need to focus more on where you're going rather than how fast you're going."

You nodded as you brushed yourself off. You hated wet sand.

"Not the first time I saw you trip [Y/N]," The familiar voice rang through the air. You huffed in irritation. You were not in the mood to talk to Jake. "It looked hilarious from where I was standing."

"Go away Hangman," You growled, shooting daggers into his eyes as he walked up to you. "I'm not in the mood."

"Oh, when are you ever?" Jake scoffed, rolling his honey-brown eyes. "You're always grouchy."

"Only around you Hangman," Your father chimed in, picking up the football from the sand. "She doesn't like you."

"Wait, really?" Jake asked, poorly acting surprised. "At least you don't hate me."

"Hate would be an understatement," You claimed, rolling your eyes. "Now, can you leave? Dad and I were in the middle of something."

"I want to challenge you," Jake stated. "You and me. Whoever gets a touchdown first buys the other lunch."

"I'm not challenging you Hangman," You denied, shaking your head. "Having to see you every day is already a challenge itself."

"Come on sweetheart, show him what I've taught you!" Your father encouraged loudly. "You can take him easily."

Jake scoffed at Pete's comment but continued to look at you, awaiting your answer. You sighed in defeat.

"Fine. I'll accept your challenge."

Jake's mouth grew wider, his pearly whites appearing clearer and clearer. He turned around and pointed out where your touchdown line was and he pointed out where his way. After everything was established, he shouted at your father to kick the ball. Pete let go of the ball and kicked it straight in the air.

The ball came spiraling down and you and Jake were sprinting toward the area that it was going to land at. You took a leap and surprisingly caught the ball in your arms. You could hear the encouragement from your father as you started sprinting toward the touchdown line.

"Better start running faster [Y/N]!" Jake shouted, right at your tail. "It won't be long until I tackle you to the ground!"

Focus more on where you're going rather than how fast you're going.

The words of your father echoed through your mind as you were coming closer to the touchdown line. It was as if time started slowing down as you focused on where you were going. All of a sudden, you noticed a little ditch in the midst of your path. You took one last leap and jumped right over it.

As you continued to sprint, you heard Jake scream a curse word as he didn't notice the ditch and went tumbling down. A small chuckle fell from your lips. You looked ahead and there it was. The touchdown. You inhaled one last breath and gave it your all.

You cheered to yourself as you made the touchdown. You came to a stop and threw the ball to the ground. You threw your hands in the air in celebration. You turned around, only to be unexpectedly tackled right to the ground by Jake.

You both rolled through the wet sand. Once it came to an end, Jake ended up on top of you with sand all over his face. You chuckled at his appearance.

"I beat your ass," You mocked, sticking your tongue out at him. Jake smirked down at you. "You owe me lunch."

"You wouldn't have beat me if it wasn't for that damn ditch," Jake complained. His eyes were fixated on your lips. You could tell what he wanted to do next. "But before I take you out to lunch..."

Your hand started clumping up some sand as his eyes fluttered shut and he started leaning in. You immediately took a handful of wet sand and shoved it in his face. Jake shouted in disgust as it got into his mouth. You laughed as he rolled off you, spitting out the sand. You climbed up to your feet and brushed yourself off.

"There's a time and a place Hangman," You advised. "I look forward to lunch. I'm hungry."

You gave him a small smile before walking away, leaving Jake even more in love with you. He loved games, especially if you were playing with him. He was happy and so were you.

»»-----　♡　-----««

Thanks for reading!

I do not own this GIF. Credit goes to the owner!

My Wattpad

[starseungs]

➳ this is how to be in love with you. hjs

pairing — han jisung x gn!reader

synopsis — dating han jisung was something you had never expected to happen, but now you wouldn't have it any other way.

genre/s — fluff. and i actually mean it this time. (a pinch of angst at the start but its over quick) • 2.1k words

warning/s — cursing, mentions of drinking

note — tbh i wrote this with a fever and dont know wth im writing aside from the fact that im so in love with han jisung it physically hurts

ⓒ written by starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

It was almost frightening how easy it was to fall in love with Han Jisung.

Who would've thought that the cute part-timer at the convenience store across from your apartment building would have such a huge impact on your relatively boring life? You certainly didn't, and yet his presence alone still hit you hard like a truck.

Everything started on one particularly hard day that ended with you fighting back salty tears in the midst of your dimly lit room. It was not the best sight, nor will it ever be, despite the shimmery streaks of moonlight seeping into the space in a pathetic attempt to provide lighting around you. The clear night sky would've been beautiful to gaze at if only it didn't remind you that your day would be ending soon without a single positive thing happening in the entirety of its hours. You were so so tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep until the sun rose for another day—a fresh new start for you to leave the past behind like you've done just this morning. But it seemed like fate had other plans that prompted you to storm out of your apartment in spite-filled rage.

Admittedly, you didn't have a plan at that time—only knowing you'd be damned if you continued to swallow your frustration alone. The weather outside was average at best; there was nothing too special going on. However, it was for that exact reason that the fluorescent "open" sign of the humble convenience store right across the street seemed to attract your eyes more than it ever did before. And who were you to say no to its obvious invitation? Beggars couldn't be choosers, after all, and you desperately needed something, anything, to distract you until the day officially came to an end.

So here you were, curiously slipping inside the store to find anything that might interest you. You faintly registered the chime of the door when you stepped inside and the polite greeting of whoever was behind the cashier at the back of your mind as your sight immediately zeroed on those eye-catchingly green bottles of fun.

It was just what you needed.

You hurriedly snatched a few bottles of soju with childish glee, already thinking about how perfect this was to end your less than ideal day. Maybe you could still sneak in some enjoyment in the remaining minutes until midnight—not that you thought drinking your problems away was exactly good, but it was certainly better than bottling up your sadness when you could open another type of bottle instead. It was an okay plan, or at least in your books, it was.

"That's quite a few bottles you've got there."

The sudden voice startled your train of thought, bringing your focus back to the real world. "Wait, shit, sorry if I scared you," the voice continued in a panic. "I didn't mean to, I swear. Damn, I'm not even supposed to comment on a customer's purchase."

You blinked dazedly at the person standing in front of you. When you raised your head to find a face to connect the voice with, you didn't know, but you quickly found yourself wishing you had done so earlier.

Because, wow. That face was very attractive.

"Oh, uh—it's fine," you shook your head lightly in an attempt to stop blatantly ogling at the guy. "You're good."

Unfortunately, that only seemed to send him into another spiral of misplaced guilt since he threw out a sudden offer of, "I'll give you a discount."

Your eyes practically bulged out of their sockets at the sentence that came out of his mouth. "What? No! You don't have to, really!" was your hasty reply, to which the guy only hummed as if it were no big deal.

"Would you let me do it if I say it's because I find you cute?"

"I'm sorry, come again?"

You watched as his eyes widened comically, almost like he didn't expect those words to be said out loud—and if you were to say, that might actually be the case. "Okay, yeah, that totally backfired," he exhaled shakily; you could almost hear him screaming internally. Honestly, you couldn't blame him. You would too. "This must be so creepy—I'll place these in a bag and get out of your hair in a moment."

After a few more seconds, the situation finally dawned on you. "Hold on," you wheezed like you just heard the funniest shit ever. "Are you seriously hitting on me right now?"

"No! I mean, yes? Kind of?" The guy ended up groaning in embarrassment at his own answer, running a hand through his hair while awkwardly avoiding your eyes. His actions were oddly charming, forming an unconscious grin on your face. "I meant it when I said I find you cute. You don't have to say anything, though. Just take it as a compliment or something."

"Why thank you, kind sir," was your amused response before composing yourself and giving him a genuine smile. "I needed that."

He snorts at that. "With five bottles of soju? Who would've guessed?"

"I suppose you're not wrong," you went along with his observation, eyes trailing along the bottles he had just finished placing in a plastic bag. "Also, what the hell was I thinking? I can't finish all of this tonight."

"You can give some of them to me if you want. I'll pay you back the amount."

You quirked an eyebrow at him as you handed over your payment. Thankfully, you had half the mind to bring money with you when you stormed out earlier. "Is that really fine with you?"

"My shift is almost over, anyway. A drink after would be nice," he shrugs nonchalantly. The information had you thinking. You'd hate to be drinking alone right now, so perhaps having him as a companion for a while wouldn't be too bad.

You bit your lip lightly before asking, "Do you want to drink a bit with me?"

"Oh," he reacts blankly at first, clearly not expecting the offer. His face revealed his thought process like a window, the gears turning in his head as he tried to piece together what you had just said. It wasn't long until he caught up, though, and with a shy grin he finally answered, "Sure."

You beamed brightly for the first time that day. "Sweet. I'm Y/N, by the way."

"Jisung. Han Jisung."

And the clock strikes twelve.

Just like Cinderella, everything started changing after that night. You had gained a new friend—or at least that was what you called him for now, even if you damn well knew friends certainly did not feel this kind of attraction towards each other. It was almost embarrassing to admit how much your heart leapt in happiness whenever you two were together, and you swore that if it continued any longer, you'd end up floating amongst the clouds. His gaze alone already sent a buzzing shiver all throughout your body, your mind going into overdrive at the sheer amount of emotion Jisung was able to pull out of you with somewhat concerning ease. He could melt you to a puddle on the ground with a single word, no questions asked. Maybe it was his frustratingly smooth voice, but the guy charmed his way into your heart in a matter of literal days. Either he knew what he was doing or you were just a hopeless simp—and no, you refused to ever admit the latter out loud.

So it was to no one's surprise when you agreed to his request to take you out on a date. And after the first one, more followed. Jisung's plans were, as one would say, straight out of fiction. Stuff that you knew existed in real life but never thought would have the same spark as its literary counterpart. Well, you really should have expected it, but Jisung certainly proved you wrong. The guy was an absolute romantic, and that translated well into everything he did between you two. Though you found out through your talks that he had a big love for the angsty stuff—to which you could only wish you wouldn't find yourself in that situation too soon. It was only when you felt a warm hand casually slipping into yours with a reassuring gentle squeeze that you realized.

God, you may have already fallen for Han Jisung.

There was no doubting it. When the night sky you had just cursed out weeks ago for reminding you of the dragging day you had was replaced with waves of affection and happiness, you knew there was no way you could doubt it even if you wanted to. That whenever you closed your eyes to rest, the darkness only brought images of you and Jisung screaming each other's name into the distance in an attempt to replicate a cliched scene of professing one's love during one of your many nightly picnic dates. Joyful laughter echoed under the stars as hands held each other's, a silent promise that didn't need to be said out loud for you to know what it meant. The moon was a witness to the blooming portrait of memories being painted at the very moment when you two had made it official.

You also particularly loved the moments that you shared indoors, where it was just you and Jisung. The comfort of being alone together was one of the things that came more naturally, especially with him leaning on the introverted side. This was where you found him thriving best, and it warmed your chest to see him so in his element. Whether it was his place or yours, there was never a dull moment, even if you two weren't doing anything. Then there were also the times where you did do something—quickly developing a soft spot for your domestic activities with Jisung. The sound of the oven working its magic was faintly heard in the background while he danced you slowly in the flour-covered kitchen from your earlier baking shenanigans.

Loving Jisung felt like second nature to you, as if you'd been doing it for years. Perhaps you did. The concept of soulmates wasn't new to you; only that you hadn't given it any more attention than mere acknowledgement. Yet, something about Jisung made you feel like changing your stance on the matter. Slowly but surely, he had taken over you.

And you didn't fight it one bit.

His lips were an inviting shade of pink as he went on about his newest interest. You really didn't mean to stare, but he made it a challenge for you to not have your full attention on him alone. To the point that you hung onto every word he said, whatever topic he brought up, you made a mental note of it to bring up at other times when it might be appropriate. Oh, how you wanted to stop time and just continue to admire the man Han Jisung is.

Sometimes you couldn't even believe he was yours. You knew your eyes dripped with love every time you had your gaze fixed on him, but it always caught you off guard when you noticed the same look in his eyes—and it was directed towards you. They always shone with tender gratitude and warmth mixed with fondness, making your breath hitch at the sheer intensity. If this was all a dream, you hope you'd never wake up.

"Hey now," you heard Jisung's voice call out to you softly. Warm hands cupped your face gently to ground you back to reality. "What's with that look, baby?"

You sighed dreamily, leaning in more towards his touch. "How are you real?"

"This again?" Jisung chuckles at your misty gaze pinned at him as if he could disappear in the blink of an eye. "I am. And I'm right in front of you."

"You're so good to me," you mumbled in a quiet whisper, starting to feel drowsy from the comfort he provided you at the moment. You could hear Jisung's heart flip at your honest words.

"Which is what you deserve," he leans in closer to press a light but passionate kiss on your lips before pulling away to stare at you with eyes containing hundreds of unsaid dedication. "I love you."

"I love you more."

Dating Han Jisung was something you had never expected to happen, but now you wouldn't have it any other way.

mastertag 🔖— send in an ask if you want to be added ! 🫶

@tyuniiz @lhskokoro @bookishcalls @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @jeonginwrld

[kyuuppi]

A/N: I hope this week has been much better for you. 💛 I'm really happy you enjoyed my writing. :,)

Ft: Kazuha; Tighnari; Xiao

Contents: modern AU; depression mention/symptoms; hurt/comfort; fluff; established relationship

You always tried your best but the expectations only stacked higher and higher until they towered over you, leaving you feeling small and inadequate. More nights have been spent restlessly, with your eyes glued to textbooks and fingers cramping from holding a pencil for far too long, than you can count. 

And yet it never seemed to be enough.

With each hurdle you had just barely managed to pass, another seemed to appear right after it. With each small accomplishment, another daunting task seemed to fall into your lap. You worked so hard but had nothing to show for it. 

While you slaved over calculations, your friends spammed your social media with momentos of nights spent out partying and making memories you would never be a part of. You couldn’t help but wonder what was the point of it all. You worked so hard only for lackluster results and you were miserable. Would you not be miserable after graduation too? You’re killing yourself for a 9-to-5 job that will be just as stressful—if not moreso. Were these truly the “best years of your life?”

Gradually, you lost motivation. Even in the midst of exam season, you find yourself just going through the motions. Textbooks and notes are opened and sifted through daily but none of the material actually sticks in your brain. 

You feel like a shell of your former self—another former gifted kid who had crashed and burned.

↳ Kazuha

Unbeknownst to you, he had silently watched it all. 

Kazuha was known to be something of a loner. He clearly valued self-preservation, preferring to keep to himself while classmates excitedly chattered in class. He sat at the top rows of the auditorium, silently observing from above. However, he was far from antisocial. Kazuha was known to be polite and knowledgeable—he would always reply when spoken to and often offered contributions during lectures that left even the professors impressed. He was good at communicating but only when he needed to. He never concerned himself with others more than strictly necessary. 

At least not until he met you. 

The scars of his last close relationship were still fresh, even if the physical scars marring the flesh of his hands and wrists had healed long ago. Not a day goes by that he is not haunted by the memory of his dearest friend—the one even he couldn’t save from himself. From that point forward, he had promised never to get too close to anyone else. He didn’t think his heart could handle another loss like that. 

But you had appeared in his life as abruptly as lightning and he was in too deep before he could even notice that he was falling in the first place. Your brightness had soothed the aches in his soul he hadn’t even known were there. In short, you had saved him from a life of solitude. To Kazuha, you were the most important person in his life and thus your happiness was his own…

…which also meant your despair was his own.

He noticed the way you had begun distancing yourself from the people you cared about—himself included. Routine late nights watching the stars together were discarded in favor of reviewing class notes and being holed up alone in your bedroom. He didn’t mind you prioritizing studying—he knew how important academics were to you and he promised to never come between that. You had a bright future ahead of you, afterall.

But the occasional all-nighters had spiraled until you hadn’t spoken to him in weeks. The only chances he had to catch a glimpse of your beautiful face that he cherished so much were more often than not obscured by a heavy textbook or the blue tinted glare of a computer screen. The bags under your eyes darkened each time he saw you.

He respected your freedom and independence just as much as he values his own—but your health came first. 

It was on a day you were feeling particularly lifeless—having read the same paragraph for the past ten minutes but still not processing any of it—that he appeared. He had come to your dorm without warning, carrying with him a bundle of soft-looking baby blue blankets and a tin of high-quality chamomile tea. 

“If you don’t mind, I would like to watch the stars together tonight.” 

How could you ever say no to that? 

Stargazing was something the two of you did frequently throughout your relationship. Sometimes the cool nights were filled with light-hearted chatter between the two of you as you reminisced over something funny that had happened that day and other times there was only comfortable silence as you basked in each others’ presence.

Tonight was the latter. 

For the first time in weeks, the tension in your shoulders slackened as you gazed up at the twinkling stars. They blurred slightly above your tired gaze and the warmth of the sweetened tea in your belly was quickly sending your body into a nearly meditative state. 

Beside you, Kazuha hummed softly, a tune he had likely been learning on the shakuhachi recently. 

“Kazu?” you called softly, voice slurred with sleepiness. 

Your lover’s vermillion gaze shifted from the sky over to your own, the warmth in them sparkling in a way that rivaled the stars above. He hummed in acknowledgement, patiently waiting for you to continue speaking. 

Whatever words you were originally going to say seemed to have died on your tongue under his loving gaze and instead you settle on something simple, far too simple to fully convey everything you feel for the man at your side, but enough to make the corner of his eyes crinkle with happiness when you whisper out a small “thank you.” 

He raises a hand to brush over the top of your head, making you subconsciously nuzzle into his touch before he instead pulls you into him, your shoulder melding his chest until you can feel his steady heartbeat against your side.

“It is I who should be thanking you, love. The world is a much brighter place when you're around.”

For as long as anyone can remember, Tighnari has been a high achiever. 

↳ Tighnari

He always won the science fair competitions in grade school, was top of his class in high school, and even now works as a teaching assistant for one of the most renowned botany experts in the Akademiya while simultaneously doing his own research and nature conservation volunteer work on the side. Tighnari seems to effortlessly excel in anything he’s interested in.

Therefore, of course, the last person you feel you can share your inabilities with is your lover, one of the most talented students in Sumeru academic history. 

So you keep it inside. 

You try to push through and handle everything on your own until it inevitably spills over and creates such a big mess that you don’t think it’s possible to even fix it. You’re ready to give up—not everyone is cut out for academics and evidently you aren’t either. Your mind is a mess, your body just going through the motions day-by-day as your grades sink lower and lower. 

Some of your closest friends begin to question if you’re okay—you’ve been forgetting even simple things and you never seem to be as excited as you used to be about your favorite bands or fandoms. They ask if you’re depressed, if you want to talk about anything, but you always decline. You lie and say you just haven't been getting much sleep lately. On the contrary, you’ve been doing nothing but sleeping. Coming home from classes and seeing the pile of incomplete assignments waiting stresses you out so you decide to go to bed early most days. 

It’s on a Saturday morning, close to noon, that there’s a loud knock on your door. Despite the high sun, you still lie in bed, unshowered and phasing in and out of restless unconsciousness. 

The first time you try to ignore it, assuming it’s a delivery and that they’ll just leave if they think no one is home. But the knocking is persistent, getting louder and louder until you’re sure your neighbors are going to give you a noise complaint if you don’t hurry and answer it.

Reluctantly, you crawl out of bed, taming your hair into something semi-presentable before shuffling to the door, blanket still wrapped around your shoulders.

It’s to your mild horror that you come face-to-face with your boyfriend, various plastic shopping bags in hand and grinning at you as if you don’t look like absolute death right now.

“Good morning, dear! Are you ready for today’s itinerary?” 

He doesn’t even wait for you to reply before he’s pushing his way through your door, setting the bags down on your kitchen counter and quickly rifling through them as he hums cheerily to himself. 

“We didn’t,” he confirms casually, “but it’s Saturday and someone has been neglecting their health lately,” he shoots you a stern look that makes you flinch before he returns his attention to the bags. 

You’re frozen in shock for a moment before you slowly make your way over, vaguely wondering if you’re actually still asleep and just having another bizarre dream.

“Um, I don’t remember us making plans today,” you start cautiously, watching as he pulls a seasonal fruit platter from one of the bags. 

“So I did some research on the best methods to treat burnout—all peer-reviewed and tested!” 

He looks a bit too proud of himself for you to even think of protesting and so you obediently allow yourself to be led to the sofa before Tighnari fusses around, lighting a few lavender and rosemary scented candles—all picked and dried from his personal garden, he excitedly tells you—before he places the tray of fruits in your lap and connects his laptop to your TV. 

He puts on a show he knows you love—something you haven’t kept up with in the past few weeks, and flops down beside you before pulling you into his arms.

It’s not until you’re both halfway through the second episode that you gain enough courage to swallow down a slice of fruit and ask your boyfriend why he went through the hassle to do all of this.

“Because you needed it. You were clearly stressed and burned out—and as intelligent as you are, no one can perform their best when they aren’t properly rested.”

He presses a chaste peck to the top of your head that sends your stomach into a flurry. 

You aren’t sure if there are enough words in the universe to properly convey how thankful you are to have Tighnari in your life at the moment so you don’t even try. 

Instead, you duck down and nuzzle your head into his warm chest as the soft fragrance of lavender and low tones of your favorite TV show relax your mind for the first time in nearly a month. 

↳ Xiao

If there is anyone who understands being hard on yourself and feeling like nothing you do is ever good enough, it's this man. 

Xiao had seemed to dedicate his entire life to his mentor, the man who he claims saved him from destruction in his abusive household. Since being offered an internship at Zhongli’s tattoo shop, Xiao had worked relentlessly on perfecting his designs and needlework. Regardless of how many times Zhongli told Xiao he was already well on his way to surpassing even Zhongli himself, Xiao always only found faults in his work and continued to overwork himself in his own attempt to repay Zhongli for his kindness. It was you who saved him from his own self-destruction when you taught him to take care of himself and convinced him that he was worthy of happiness. 

So when he realized that you—the one who kept him sane when his miasma of dark thoughts seemed too strong to bare—were destroying yourself, he was understandably a bit pissed off.

Honestly, he didn’t even notice at first. You had always been dedicated to your studies, which he admired, so he didn’t think much of it when you would occasionally turn down his invitations to hang out when he was free from work. It was only when you started missing your weekly date nights that he grew concerned—and even then, rather than thinking anything was wrong with you, he assumed it was because of him. The darkness in his mind told him you were finally sick of him. You had finally realized how worthless he truly was, how he would bring you nothing but pain if you continue associating with him, and were starting to protect yourself from him. He told himself it was for the best—it was selfish of him to ever try to keep something as good and pure as you in his life in the first place….

But he wasn't that strong. The thought of going back to a life without you proved too painful to bear. He found himself at your door one late afternoon after you’d rejected his offer to hang out for the umpteenth time. His heart was hammering in his chest as he anxiously imagined what exactly you would say to him but he knocked on your door anyway, patiently waiting for you to open it.

He was in the midst of imagining your face morphed into an expression of disgust and telling him to “fuck off” for the third time when you finally opened the door and effectively halted all of his dark thoughts. Far from disgust, he only saw misery in your expression as you tiredly looked up at him, droopy eyes slightly widened in obvious surprise to see him. 

“Xiao? What are you doing here,” you croak out, voice slightly raspy as if you hadn’ spoken to anyone all day. 

‘You probably hadn’t,’ he realizes with a growing sense of panic.

“I’m sorry but I really can’t hang out tonight. I have a report due Thursday and…”

Your brows are knit in genuine apology as you explain yourself. He watches in realtime as your expression grows more and more hopeless as you continue to list out all of the reasons you can’t spend time with him. It begins to feel like you’re talking to yourself rather than him as you drone on about all the deadlines, all the responsibilities,  all the expectations—

That’s when Xiao’s brain seems to finally start working again and, as always, the first emotion he is truly able to recognize is anger. Your words are cut short when Xiao bullies you into your small apartment, absently closing the door behind himself before he’s firmly ushering you into your bedroom. Protests fall from your lips the whole way but Xiao is having none of it and, before you know it, you find yourself cuddled up against your many pillows and plushies in bed with a thick, warm blanket swaddled around your body. Your study materials are abandoned on your desk nearby. 

Xiao himself quickly ducks out of the room followed by the familiar metallic clanking of dishes in the kitchen. In less than ten minutes—just enough time for your frazzled brain to quiet down just a bit—he’s back, carrying a bowl of something that steams and fills your senses with a familiar scent that makes your mouth water. 

He sets the dish on your bedside table somewhat sheepishly before announcing he tried his best to make your favorite with his limited cooking skills. You consider telling him he could have literally given you a slice of stale bread and you’d be happy just cause it was from him but you refrain, instead taking an eager mouthful—”hey, be careful. It’s still hot…”—and being pleasantly surprised by how he managed to make the cheap, packaged ingredients from the back of your freezer so palatable. 

While you tuck into your first real meal of the day, Xiao hesitantly settles in beside you, sitting stiffly on the bed just close enough for you to feel his body heat but not enough to be touching. 

Despite his silence, you can feel the obvious tension radiating from him but before you can ask him what’s wrong he beats you to it. 

“You need to take better care of yourself,” he starts, voice sharp. 

You can already feel the scolding coming and you mentally prepare yourself for another ten minutes of criticism. It seems the only time Xiao has a lot to say it’s when he’s reprimanding someone—usually you for being a bit too audacious for your own good at times. 

To your surprise though, his tone shifts into something much softer as he pointedly avoids your gaze, staring down at one of your pillows in his lap with an almost shy expression. 

“I know school is important to you but…your health is important to me so please don’t overwork yourself.”

Something in your chest squeezes but you decide to spare him of the squeals and pinching of his steadily reddening cheeks that you’re tempted to inflict upon him—not that it matters much when you’re grinning so hard your cheeks ache. 

[talkingparrotkee]

After seeing disagreeable claims critiquing the end of Wakanda Forever float around for the nth time, I felt like organizing my qualms and putting them neatly into another blog. These are just my musings.

"Shuri should've killed Namor! Sparing him was wrong!" I apologize for my harsh phrasing, but this is a horrible and brainless take, especially when it's from begrudged shippers or anti-Wakanda Forever recasters 😭. Whenever I see it, I can't help but wonder if anyone who says this or agrees genuinely likes and (especially) understands Namor and/or Shuri's actual characters. And no, I do not mean the surface aesthetic of or attraction to them.

If you knew and understood what kind of character Shuri (at least in the MCU) is, you would know why she spared Namor's life after nearly taking it. If you understood the important messages carefully baked into the film, you'd understand the writing choice of Shuri sparing Namor and Namor not being the "incorrigible villain who deserves death."

Asking the silly question of why she didn't kill him in the form of critique, or worse, saying she should have or somehow should give him hell after the fact (fortunately, a regressive immaturity neither character has), is a clear show of media illiteracy. It neglects both characters and at least one pillar theme of Wakanda Forever. If Shuri killed Namor, Talokan and Wakanda would unnaturally be eating away at each other for eternity, allowing the surface colonist nations to swoop in as the destabilization process was done for them. The true villains and enemies that put them in that situation where they collided with one another would gain access to their vibranium and technology. Game over.

Shuri Was Never In Her "Villain Era"

The simple answer, Shuri is not Wanda Maximoff 😊. Goodnight. (Author's note because someone was troubled by this tongue and cheek remark: I don't hate Wanda at all. I meant what I wrote: Shuri is not Wanda, just Wakandan. People want her to be Wanda and have a Wanda arc when she is not and will not. 🫡)

Even at the lowest of her low, Shuri is no villain. Shuri was just a young woman trying to find what kind of leader she was in the midst of grief, inner turmoil, and human anger. I don't know why some fans say she had a "villain era" or want her to canonically have a "villain era," but ok. That is not Shuri, nor would it have filled the hole in Shuri's heart, as said by Nakia. It was not just because it endangered Wakanda and would spearhead them in an eternal war either. Although, that is reason enough for Shuri not to kill Namor.

Who Princess Shuri Truly Is

Princess Shuri is a natural healer, teacher, and creator. Shuri loves, designs, creates, innovates, builds, and protects. Shuri has people who would die for her and trusts her to make the right choice in the end, faithfully standing beside her even when they recognize that the trajectory she currently set them on wasn't a good one. Why do you think this is? Because they know and trust Shuri. They know her brain is as big as her heart.

Shuri is not inherently destructive. That was the uncharacteristic result of her gripe with death (thinking it meant gone) and destructive handling of her grief. Ryan Coogler even pointed out how Shuri's state was unhealthy and dangerous. Shuri and Namor were both grieving and asking themselves painful questions.

That is why Killmonger is who appears to her. Killmonger is a violent, radical character (made that way by neglect, grief, loss, militaristic molding, and the suffering African Americans face) who almost carelessly sent Wakanda spiraling into mayhem. He became the people he hated, in the wise words of T'Challa, and was an unworthy king, in the wise words of Shuri. If such a man is comparing himself to Shuri and is who her subconscious elicited on the Ancestral Plane (which Shuri seems to be taking to her grave now, refusing to tell Nakia), maybe she's not doing alright? Just a thought!

This is also why Ramonda took her out by the river. It's why M'Baku said what he said at Ramonda's funeral. It is so she can mourn properly. So she could heal properly. Something she wasn't doing since the day T'Challa died.

Killing Namor would've destroyed her, not just her people. It wouldn't have sated her despite in her rightful anger, feeling it would. It would've just sent her past a point of no return.

"Show him who you are." Ramonda told her this after she struggled on her own with killing Namor. Why do you think Shuri hesitated even without Ramonda's influence (which was just her presence and reminding Shuri who she already was) yet? It didn't feel "right" to Shuri as their moment together (watching the Talokan sunrise), how Namor paralleled her, and how their people were alike flew through her mind's eye. Shuri hesitated, not because she was "soft" or "nonsensical mushy writing." Shuri saw what they were and what this was. She thought beyond herself. As Editor Michael P. Shawver said, Namor's line of, "only the most broken people can become great leaders" is what they focused on. It is what Shuri finally realizes at the bitter end. They relate. The narrative, characters, and actors all recognize this; I don't see how some audience members do not.

She and Namor were perpetuating the destructive cycle of grief and vengeance while setting that example for their people, but she was strong enough to pull herself up and break that chain. Then she offered her his hand for the sake of not only themselves, but their people. She saw firsthand the beauty of Talokan. Like Namor admired Wakanda in the beginning, she admired Talokan. She remembered her visit to Talokan in the mix of her nation's beauty.

"Vengance has consumed us. We cannot let it consume our people."

Not "my" people. Not "your" people. Our people.

Shuri realized many simple yet, at the same time, humanly complicated truths of how they had connectivity and were broken, trying to be the best leaders they could be. Neither of them was the villain but are what they were due to the bitter hand life dealt them and the situations they faced.

The Real Theme of Black Panther's Wakanda Forever

This movie also had clear themes of:

A) how POC/indigenous infighting sucks and is counterproductive

B) connectivity of black and brown, from culture to shared wounds

C) the scars of colonialization

Shuri killing Namor would defeat the carefully woven narrative and betray all these well-built things. I know some of you guys don't like to hear this, but Namor is not of the archetype of Killmonger, nor is he the real "villain," so he was handled accordingly.

“We talked to so many experts and really made relationships with them, because there was a lot to go through,” says Beachler. “There are a lot of parallels between Africans and Latin Americans as far as the colonization of their communities and cities, the enslavement of their people, the lies that were told about their culture, the misinterpretation of their words, and the ways they were made out to look demonized in order to elevate a European country.”

Shuri Getting Her Lick Back

"Shuri should've beaten Namor until-" or "She let him off the hook unpunished!" If you paid attention to the movie, you'd see she literally beat him within an inch of his life? She definitely did get her lick back just as Namor got his. Wanting her to get "more" licks after the fact is regressive.

Shuri:

isolated and trapped Namor to weaken and drain his energy

ferally clawed both of his wings, taking out his ability to fly

made him bleed and bruised him up

roasted him in a firey explosion, effectively charring him and rendering him temporarily paralyzed

Shuri didn't play patty cake with him; she made an immortal bleed and fear death. She had him gasping for air on his back at the mercy of her spear tip. She made him yield and call off the troops. She made an ally out of him on her terms who exalted her strength and is currently bandaged up, flightless, and awaiting to aid her (rather than striking first, waging war as originally wanted). It's more than enough and was the best course of action. What do you mean? What are you talking about?

[spacecasehobbit]

Thinking some Azula thoughts today, in particular about her mindset during that final Agni Kai with Zuko and why it wouldn't have been a positive thing for her recovery if Zuko had refused to fight just because she was in a bad mental place.

When Zuko and Katara arrive at the palace, the audience knows that Azula is in the midst of a paranoid breakdown because she is feeling betrayed an abandoned by the people she trusted. We also know that the reason she trusted people like Mai and Ty Lee to stick by her side, the reason she expected people like her ship crew at the start of s2 or her servants in the palace to obey her commands and be loyal to her, is because they fear her.

She expects people to fear her because she's a prodigy who has been treated by Ozai as the golden child who can do no wrong all her life. She expects that fear to motivate loyalty and obedience because she's also been taught by Ozai that strength and power and the use of those things to instill fear are the only way to prove one's value; she's bought into Ozai's view that life can only ever have winners and losers, that the winners deserve absolutely loyalty, that the losers deserve to be hurt and used and tossed aside whenever they're no longer of use, and that up until recently she has unquestionably been a winner.

And now she's seriously questioning that view of herself for the first time.

She brought Zuko home to the palace and Ozai with the belief that she knew how to control him, that she could treat him however she wanted because she was stronger and smarter and better than him. Instead, he kept secrets of his own from her, revealed to Ozai that she'd brought him home on a lie, and ran away to join the Avatar. Then Mai and Ty Lee turned against and refused to let fear keep them loyal to her anymore when she demanded things they weren't willing to do.

Then she tried to go with Ozai to burn the EK down, and he effective tossed her aside the way that losers can be thrown aside and forgotten.

By the time Zuko arrives, Azula is in desperate need of someone she can use to reaffirm her own value by proving the lack of theirs. She's lost, she's spiraling, she's questioning her strength and her intelligence and her right to be treated as better than the people around her because of those things. Then along comes Zuko, the scapegoat, the weak and silly and stupid child, the one who would never catch up to her or earn their father's approval and respect like her.

The one who she could always count on to fail and make her look better in comparison.

To her, this Agni Kai with Zuko is "the showdown that was always meant to be," because it's the showdown that she was never meant to lose. If there was one thing Ozai taught her that she could always count on growing up, it was that she was strong and Zuko was weak. And maybe Zuko surprised her once when he ran off to join the Avatar instead of staying under her thumb at the palace where she wanted him, but that also wasn't a direct fight. If her recent 'failures' to keep people obedient to her through fear can be flukes, moments of weakness that don't make her weak, then Zuko's recent surprising behavior can be a fluke too. They can be moments of unexpected cleverness that still don't make him strong.

Or, more importantly, that don't make him stronger than Azula.

Refusing to fight wouldn't challenge any of this, for Azula. She could write off any reasoning Zuko gave about her mental state or concern for her wellbeing as Zuko trying to cover up his fear, and she could tell herself that she would have won, if Zuko hadn't been too afraid to fight. Not only that, but she was always taught that Zuko's compassion was what made him weak. Refusing to fight out of compassion for Azula would only confirm that view, in her mind.

On Zuko's side, refusing to fight out of concern for Azula would have been putting compassion for one person - one person who had repeatedly shown themselves to lack compassion and empathy for others, one person who had repeatedly shown themselves willing to use violence as a means to control and dominate those around them - above the needs of the rest of the world (including the rest of the FN) to have a Fire Lord who would be committed to peace with the other nations.

If Zuko can stop Azula and secure the crown for himself through an Agni Kai, then he only has to defeat one person before he can get on with the work of committing the FN to peace, instead of fighting his way through however many guards Azula can throw at him and Katara and still likely wind up fighting Azula afterwards anyway.

He knows that Azula backing down peacefully isn't an option he can reasonably expect or hope for, because he knows Azula. He grew up with Azula, he went through his own phase of trying desperately to mimic the lessons about strength and power that Azula had already been mimicking from Ozai when they were kids. And he knows very well that no matter how much love and compassion and empathy is shown to a hurting, frightened kid who is choosing violence and threats and fear to prove their own value to themself, that kindness alone won't stop that kid from lashing out at those who don't deserve it.

And Azula won't be ready to learn that her value doesn't rest on being 'better' than anyone and everyone else around her, that she can be loved without being feared, until she is forced to face the fact that she isn't strong enough to make the whole world bow to her without ever losing a fight.