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faithums · 2 months

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…cuddling with the jjk men ·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳

✎ synopsis: what positions do the jjk men cuddle in (+ my interpretations)

Inclu. gojo, nanami, megumi, choso, yuji, toji, geto

╰┈➤ saturo gojo

spontaneous embraces are his go to, you never know what he is going to say or do next. but he is always found in the classic spooning position. god knows what he would do without it.

As you lay comfortably in bed, the feeling of warmth of the blankets enveloped you, you sense Gojo’s presence drawing near, his captivating aura filling the room with a heavy tension as he stepped gently toward you. His touch is feather-light as he wraps his toned arms around you from behind, pulling you tight- leaving no room for air- into a soothing embrace.

You arch your back slightly, pressing into his torso and lower back, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His warmth seeps into your skin, creating a sense of security and tranquility. His breath against the nape of your neck sends shivers down your spine as he cupped the flesh of your thighs.

You intertwine your fingers with his, relishing in the simple yet profound connection between the two of you. In this moment there are no words required between the two of you; just silent understanding and subtle affection. It’s a moment of solace, where the world starts to fade away, along with the stress of it all- leaving only the comforting embrace of his presence.

You let out a sigh, a sigh to inform yourself how you can finally relax, knowing he is safe with you and, mostly, how you’re safe with him. He slowly begins to caress your hips, placing his chin into the slopes of your clavicle. You love him silently back by placing your hand atop of his (which is comically large on comparison) and tenderly trace the redness of his knuckles.

The silence as comforting, but all of a sudden this loud, jarring voice creeps up behind you, tainting your hearing: “If I slipped it in would it ruin the mood?” When Gojo tries to initiate anything sexual it all goes south hilariously.

A small wheeze left your lips: “Oh my god. Saturo, you’re unbelievable.” You love him and his stupid little comments, but sometimes this man cannot read the room.

“That’s not a no is it, love.” you could feel him smirk into the back of your neck, his hot breath making you fluster and choke on your words…

╰┈➤ kento nanami

a simple man, into the old time classics. like spooning or having your head on his lap whilst you two discussed the affairs of the fun filled days you’ve had. (p.s. this man is always the big spoon)

In the soft twilight glow, your head finds a gentle perch upon Nanami’s lap, a sanctuary of comfort admits the chaos of this curse ridden world. His relaxing presence blankets you like a protective cloak, shielding you from the tumultuous winds of life’s uncertainties.

As your fingers intertwine with his, it’s as though tune itself acquiesces, allowing this moment of intimacy to stretch into eternity (if only it could…). His touch, like the tender brush of a feather against your skin- despite his notorious ruthless nature- ignites a symphony of sensations that resonate deep with your soul.

With each stroke through your hair, Kento weaves threads of serenity and devotion, his fingers becoming the artisans of ataraxia in this shared sacred space. His heartbeat, a steady rhythm beneath your ear, acts as a comforting lullaby, guiding you into a state of peaceful surrender.

In this intimate cocoon, you’re both the architects and inhabitants of a world where love reigns supreme (despite the havoc which enfolds within your lives on a daily basis). Every whispered word, every gentle touch, is a testament to the profound bond that binds your sensitive hearts together, transcending the boundaries of time and space.

As you rest flush against his lap, enveloped in his warmth, you realise that this moment is not just a pause in time but a glimpse into your boundless futures- a testament to the enduring power of love to transform even the simplest of gestures into moments of sublime perfection.

“I love you Kento,” sleep configured your words to him, spilling your feelings to him for the millionth time, he must be getting fed up of it by now…

But no. He never does: “And I shall love and worship you for eternity, my darling.”

╰┈➤ megumi fushiguro

an affectionate lover when he needs to be. basking in the warmth of your embrace, relishing the moment, as he knows that this can’t last a life time, even though he wishes it could.

As the morning sun filters through the pristine curtains, it’s golden rays dance across the bare skin of you and Megumi, painting the room in a warm, honeyed glow. The gentle caress of sunlight kisses your intertwined forms; illuminating the delicate lines of your entangled limbs. His veiny, toned forearms (stained with an aureate hue) are meticulously wrapped around the flesh of your stomach, as his head rests flush against your chest.

Megumi’s strong, lanky hold you in a wholesome embrace as you cuddle together, radiating a sense of security and amenity. With each gentle touch, his fingers trace soothing patterns on your skin, a silent promise of protection and warmth. The contrast between the rough texture of his palms and the softness of your touch creates a sensation that feels both grounding and intimate, a tangible reminder of the bond you share.

You begin to play with your cute boyfriends fluffy, unruly black hair, eliciting a soft subtle groan of contentment from him, a sense of relaxation and desire washes over you both. Each onyx strand seems to have a mind of its own, curling around your fingers in a hypnotising dance. His groan carries a mixture of pleasure and relief, a testament to the blissful moment you share. With each gentle tug and caress, the tension of the outside world fades away, you become suddenly grateful of the serendipitous acts you both indulge in.

Megumi’s breath quickens, you feel the subtle shift in rhythm between your breathing patterns. The desynchronisation of the beats of your hearts made you less relaxed, the residue stress began to creep back over you.

“Can you match my breathing you’re stressing me out Fushiguro.” You whined, your voice strained with sleep.

“Mno.” He replied with a yawn which rippled against your warm chest, “its too much effort.”

“If you don’t I’ll send screenshots of our text messages to the group chat with Itadori, Kugisaki and Gojo in.” You chuckled to yourself through the ebony wisps of his hair.

“Okay. Fine.”

Even though he was getting sassier day-by-day, the hot smile on your skin was indicative of the inevitable submission of his heart beat would return to its original pace. Slowly transcending reality and entering a realm of bliss and freedom from the things that taint your very existence.

╰┈➤ choso kamo

someone who gets aroused by the little things in life, by cuddling. he’s too sweet, he doesn’t want to disrupt your rest. so he attempts at staying as still as he can before it goes noticed…

In the serene haven of your shared space, the soft glow of dimmed lights bathed the room, casting gentle shadows that danced across the walls. As you and Choso recline on the cosy refuge of the velvety couch, your legs intertwined seamlessly- fitting together leg the final pieces to a ridiculously hard puzzle.

Your fingers seemed to have a subconscious and moved independently to delicately trace the strong, defined contoured of his face, mapping out the creases from where he’s recently laughed uncontrollably. His eyes, riddled with sleep, were trying their hardest to withstand the effects of slumber. His brown pools meet yours with a silent unwavering support. With each small caress you feel the rough texture of his skin beneath your fingertips- earning a soft groan from each touch. A tangible reminder of how much you adore each other.

His hair spills over his shoulders and down his broad back, it carries an air of untamed elegance, undeterred by his busy life. He cups your cheek, whispering sweet nothing into your ear about how have you permanently altered his life for the better.

As you lifelessly wrap your arms around him, you feel that the world you seem to reside in fades away, leaving only the two of you cocooned in an embrace that feels like coming home. His strong yet gentle arms encircle you, pulling you close so your bodies touch. Flush against his toned chest, you felt small beneath him, vulnerable- in a good way, your hands traced his collarbones, counting the beauty marks on his sternum, which made his own unique constellation.

As you held him close you noticed that he began to subtly shift in his demeanour. He seemed to become tense which is odd as his posture is usually composed, and you can feel the faint tremble of his muscles beneath your touch. His breath, once steady and calm, now comes in irregular busts, betraying the carnality brewing within him.

“Choso. Can you not be hard for once,” you laughed into the crook of his neck. Inhaling his scent, a blend of earthy musk and the faintest hint of spice.

“Sorry Baby,” he whined into your hair, ruffling it with his large hand, “can’t help it… you’re too perfect.” he squeezed the flesh of your ass in response. And smiled knowing he’s safe from judgement in your loving arms, despite the current predicament…

╰┈➤ yuji itadori

this man expects hugs etc of how he is with his personality, he gives 150% each day, and alls he wants in return is to cuddle. but when he shares an embrace with you it isn’t long until he’s fast. asleep.

Your head is slung over his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his torso, scared he will let go. (Even though he would probably be thinking the same.) His pink hair, appears dark in the nights shine, with each rise and fall of his chest- his dreams catch up with him slowly but surely, a blanket of sleep falling and catching him.

The dust particles danced in the air as the moons iridescent rays highlighted them, you watched half lidded as they began their journey to perilously fall to the ground and be trapped forever. It was an interesting thought, but a thought at least.

Your leg was thrown over his, it had become limp as that too had been affected by the night, casting a paralysing spell upon you. You adjust yourself with a contented sigh, moving the leg, seeking even closer contact.

Yuji stirs slightly at the movement, but he doesn’t wake, instead, he instinctively pulls you closer, his arm encasing you protectively. His presence is comforting, and you revel in the feeling of safety and leave that being with him ultimately brings.

Wrapped in each other’s embrace, you drift off into a peaceful sleep, content in the knowledge that you are exactly where you belong- in Yuji’s arms.

It was peaceful, too peaceful. A bird cawed from afar, sending its voice ricocheting toward the open window above us. In response to this, Yuji inevitably flung himself forward, propelling you off his chest dramatically, his fight or flight activated.

“OW.” You shouted at him with a whisper, “Yuji what was that for!”

“Swear that was a curse…” He protested, a small blush creeping its way along his face, to catch him red handed for being too precautious.

“If that was a curse then I’m next in line to the throne of England.” You dismissed jokingly, and pulled him back onto the mattress, attempting to submit to sleep once more.

“It’s not my fault I’m a cautious sleeper! It was ever since that day-,” he rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah that was hilarious. When Nobara drew that penis on your face with permanent marker. Comedy gold.” You recited from memory with a laugh; for him to quickly ‘shush’ you as he says that can’t be disclosed out loud; because he thinks Sukuna will listen and take the piss out of him in-front of people in a future job interview or something. (Very unrealistic, but that’s Yuji.)

╰┈➤ toji fushiguro

he wants you to be on him, it’s rarely that he wants it the other way around, he enjoys watching your feeble attempt to climb on-top of him- thinks he’s funny. when he’s just a dick.

You were straddled across his lap, laying on his chest, enjoying the warmth emanating from his body as you cuddled together on the couch. The soft glow of the lamp nearby cast a gentle ambiance, enveloping the two of you in an adequate, snug atmosphere.

Toji’s arms (which were of ridiculous size by the way) were holding you tight, keeping you close as if he never wanted to let go. His fingers traced idle patterns down your bare back, sending shivers down your spine in the most delightful way. With your head rest of against his chest, you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a comforting lullaby that eased any worries from your mind.

Lost in the tranquility of the moment, you closed your eyes, savouring the feeling of being so close to him. But just as you were about to drift off into a euphoric slumber, you felt a slight shift beneath you.

Opening your eyes slightly, you saw Toji’s gaze fixated on something on the floor. Following his like of sight, you noticed a glimmer of metal- a coin (with the value of approximately £2) lying forgotten on the carpet.

Confusion flickered across Toji’s face for a moment, before he awkwardly adjusted his position, subtly manoeuvring his foot to nudge the coin closer toward him. It was a comical sight to say the least- the epitome of Toji’s resourcefulness even on the most intimate of moments.

Suppressing a laugh, you watched as he pitifully/finally managed to retrieve it (after what felt like hours of him kicking it further away for him then to scoot more off the couch, and for you to almost fall off it), his expression was a mixture of triumph and amusement.

“Did you just do all of that to end up with…,” you began, trying to stifle your laughter.

“Took me a second there. But moneys money babe. Gotta get it whilst ya’ can.” Toji replied with a grin, the small scar on his lips curling along with his mouth, he held the coin up to the light attractively, as if he’d won the biggest prize at a fair ground.

“I guess every little bit counts, huh old man?” You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement and denial with the fact a grown man spent 10 minutes kicking a coin around with his foot.

“Atta girl,” he said, pocketing the coin with a shrug. “Cant let em’ go to waist ey’,” he declared with a smirk into your hair.

“Guess not,” you sighed into his chest, and he turned his attention back toward you, surrounding you with his arms once more. And despite the brief interruption, you couldn’t help but feel even more enamoured with him, finding his attractiveness in the simplicity of your shared moments- coin and all.

╰┈➤ suguru geto

this may be out of character but i can just imagine geto enjoying the simplicity of a back to back cuddle. he knows you’re there and safe with him- that’s all he asks for. however on some occasions he will completely smother you.

You and Suguru lounged on the bed, with each others backs plush against one another, the feeling of his toned back against yours made you shiver. Suguru enjoyed the simplicity of being together, not much had to happen for him to fall in love with you again as of it was the first time.

Suguru let out a contented sigh, but then a mischievous glint danced in his eyes. “‘member when Gojo tried to make pancakes?”

You burst into laughter at the memory, “How could I forget that shitshow!”

Suguru chuckled, his laughter seeping through his body, making it clear to you as his back vibrated onto yours. “He was so confident, bragging about his secret recipe like an entitled child.”

“And then he proceeded to mix up salt and sugar,” you added, shaking your head. “Poor Itadori was choking for a solid minute, on those stupid pancakes- I’ll still argue to him that they looked like boobs, with how he deliberately placed those blueberries…”

Suguru laughed heartily, moving his arm back so he could knead the plush of your inner thigh, it earned a little squeal from yourself. “And don’t forget the time when he attempted to bake a cake for Nanami’s birthday…”

“The fact that goon forgot the flour. And how he put 100 candles on the cake- I swear Nanami was about to kill him.” You exclaimed, doubling with the giddy feeling, “at the end, the cake was a dense, sugary brick.”

Suguru smiled contently, thinking about the memories which brought him joy as he drew small patterns into your thighs, up-to to your ass. “Not as dense as him.”

Just then, you felt Suguru’s grip tighten around you, his laughter subsiding. “You know you mean the world to me.” He stated. “Life with you is what makes living in this unsanitary shithole so enjoyable.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚

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writingwithcolor · 1 month

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Sri Lankan Fairies and Senegalese Goddesses: Mixing Mythology as a Mixed Creator

[Note: this archive ask was submitted before the Masterpost rules took effect in 2023. The ask has been abridged for clarity.]

@reydjarinkenobi asked:

Hi, I’m half Sri Lankan/half white Australian, second gen immigrant though my mum moved when she was a kid. My main character for my story is a mixed demigod/fae. [...] Her bio mum is essentially a Scottish/Sri Lankan fairy and her other bio mum (goddess) is a goddess of my own creation, Nettamaar, who’s name is derived from [...] Wolof words [...]. The community of mages that she presided over is from the South Eastern region of Senegal [...] In the beginning years of European imperialism, the goddess basically protected them through magic and by blessing a set of triplets effectively cutting them off from the outside world for a few centuries [...] I was unable to find a goddess that fit the story I wanted to tell [...] and also couldn’t find much information on the internet for local gods, which is why I have created my own. I know that the gods in Hinduism do sort of fit into [the story] but my Sri Lankan side is Christian and I don’t feel comfortable representing the Hindu gods in the way that I will be this goddess [...]. I wanted to know if any aspect of the community’s history is problematic as well as if I should continue looking further to try and find an African deity that matched my narrative needs? I was also worried that having a mixed main character who’s specifically half black would present problems as I can’t truly understand the black experience. I plan on getting mixed and black sensitivity readers once I finish my drafts [...] I do take jabs at white supremacy and imperialism and I I am planning to reflect my feelings of growing up not immersed in your own culture and feeling overwhelmed with what you don’t know when you get older [...]. I’m sorry for the long ask but I don’t really have anyone to talk to about writing and I’m quite worried about my story coming across as insensitive or problematic because of cultural history that I am not educated enough in.

Reconciliation Requires Research

First off: how close is this world’s history to our own, omitting the magic? If you’re aiming for it to be essentially parallel, I would keep in mind that Senegal was affected by the spread of Islam before the Europeans arrived, and most people there are Muslim, albeit with Wolof and other influences.

About your Scottish/Sri Lankan fairy character: I’ll point you to this previous post on Magical humanoid worldbuilding, Desi fairies as well as this previous post on Characterization for South Asian-coded characters for some of our commentary on South Asian ‘fae’. Since she is also Scottish, the concept can tie back to the Celtic ideas of the fae.

However, reconciliation of both sides of her background can be tricky. Do you plan on including specific Sri Lankan mythos into her heritage? I would tread carefully with it, if you plan to do so. Not every polytheistic culture will have similar analogues that you can pull from.

To put it plainly, if you’re worried about not knowing enough of the cultural histories, seek out people who have those backgrounds and talk to them about it. Do your research thoroughly: find resources that come from those cultures and read carefully about the mythos that you plan to incorporate. Look for specificity when you reach out to sensitivity readers and try to find sources that go beyond a surface-level analysis of the cultures you’re looking to portray.

~ Abhaya

I see you are drawing on Gaelic lore for your storytelling. Abhaya has given you good links to discussions we’ve had at WWC and the potential blindspots in assuming, relative to monotheistic religions like Christianity, that all polytheistic and pluralistic lore is similar to Gaelic folklore. Fae are one kind of folklore. There are many others. Consider:

Is it compatible? Are Fae compatible with the Senegalese folklore you are utilizing?

Is it specific? What ethnic/religious groups in Senegal are you drawing from?

Is it suitable? Are there more appropriate cultures for the type of lore you wish to create?

Remember, Senegalese is a national designation, not an ethnic one, and certainly not a designation that will inform you with respect to religious traditions. But more importantly:

...Research Requires Reconciliation

My question is why choose Senegal when your own heritage offers so much room for exploration? This isn’t to say I believe a half Sri-Lankan person shouldn’t utilize Senegalese folklore in their coding or vice-versa, but, to put it bluntly, you don’t seem very comfortable with your heritage. Religions can change, but not everything cultural changes when this happens. I think your relationship with your mother’s side’s culture offers valuable insight to how to tackle the above, and I’ll explain why.

I myself am biracial and bicultural, and I had to know a lot about my own background before I was confident using other cultures in my writing. I had to understand my own identity—what elements from my background I wished to prioritize and what I wished to jettison. Only then was I able to think about how my work would resonate with a person from the relevant background, what to be mindful of, and where my blindspots would interfere.

I echo Abhaya’s recommendation for much, much more research, but also include my own personal recommendation for greater self-exploration. I strongly believe the better one knows oneself, the better they can create. It is presumptuous for me to assume, but your ask’s phrasing, the outlined plot and its themes all convey a lack of confidence in your mixed identity that may interfere with confidence when researching and world-building. I’m not saying give up on this story, but if anxiety on respectful representation is a large barrier for you at the moment, this story may be a good candidate for a personal project to keep to yourself until you feel more ready.

(See similar asker concerns here: Running Commentary: What is “ok to do” in Mixed-Culture Supernatural Fiction, here: Representing Biracial Black South American Experiences and here: Am I fetishizing my Japanese character?)

- Marika.

Start More Freely with Easy Mode

Question: Why not make a complete high-fantasy universe, with no need of establishing clear real-world parallels in the text? It gives you plenty of leg room to incorporate pluralistic, multicultural mythos + folklore into the same story without excessive sweating about historically accurate worldbuilding.

It's not a *foolproof* method; even subtly coded multicultural fantasy societies like Avatar or the Grishaverse exhibit certain harmful tropes. I also don't know if you are aiming for low vs high fantasy, or the degree of your reliance on real world culture / religion / identity cues.

But don't you think it's far easier for this fantasy project to not have the additional burden of historical accuracy in the worldbuilding? Not only because I agree with Mod Marika that perhaps you seem hesitant about the identity aspect, but because your WIP idea can include themes of othering and cultural belonging (and yes, even jabs at supremacist institutions) in an original fantasy universe too. I don't think I would mind if I saw a couple of cultural markers of a Mughal Era India-inspired society without getting a full rundown of their agricultural practices, social conventions and tax systems, lol.

Mod Abhaya has provided a few good resources about what *not* to do when drawing heavily from cultural coding. With that at hand, I don't think your project should be a problem if you simply make it an alternate universe like Etheria (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power), Inys (The Priory of the Orange Tree) or Earthsea (the Earthsea series, Ursula K. Le Guin). Mind you, we can trace the analogues to each universe, but there is a lot of freedom to maneuver as you wish when incorporating identities in original fantasy. And of course, multiple sensitivity readers are a must! Wishing you the best for the project.

- Mod Mimi

#asks #multiracial #multicultural #south asian #sri lankan #senegalese #west african #identity #representation #worldbuilding #fantasy #mythology #folklore #fairies #deities #adoption #identity issues #mixed experiences #coding

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 months

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MLK at 95.

January 15, 2024

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

Martin Luther King, Jr. was born 95 years ago on January 15, 1929. As a Baptist minister, he advocated non-violence while promoting civil rights. He spoke for the poor, the oppressed, and the disenfranchised. While he was imprisoned in a Birmingham jail for protesting segregation, he responded to eight white ministers who had criticized him for participating in protests that they described as “unwise and untimely.”

Dr. King’s famous reply to the white ministers explained why he traveled to Birmingham from Atlanta to protest:

I cannot sit idly by in Atlanta and not be concerned about what happens in Birmingham. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. Never again can we afford to live with the narrow, provincial outside agitator" idea. Anyone who lives inside the United States can never be considered an outsider.

While Dr. King was keenly aware of the racism that served as the understructure of the Christian church in the old South, he would be shocked by the virulent, mean-spirited, anti-Christian message that animates many (not all) evangelical congregations in America today. They form the backbone of Donald Trump's support in Iowa and beyond. They have adopted Trump's message that treats the poor, oppressed, and disenfranchised as “outsiders” and “others” who do not belong in America.

Over the last several days, we have learned that members of the Texas National Guard physically blocked federal Border Patrol agents from responding to reports of immigrants in distress in the Rio Grande. The bodies of a mother and two children were later recovered from the river in the area where immigrants were reported to be in distress.

Texas, of course, denies that its cruel actions caused the drownings—a denial that should be viewed skeptically from a state whose governor—Greg Abbott—recently commented Texas troopers could not shoot immigrants crossing the border because the troopers would be charged with murder by the Biden administration. Texas governor criticized after comment about shooting migrants | The Texas Tribune.

Similar animus underlies the recent comments of Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves, who withdrew Mississippi from a federal program to provide food to school children during summer breaks. Governor Reeves said Mississippi withdrew from the program to fight “attempts to expand the welfare state.”

Blocking efforts to rescue a drowning mother and her children? Regretting the inability to shoot immigrants because it would be murder? Denying food to poor children out of spite? Who are these people? How do they look at themselves in the mirror?

Ninety-five years after Dr. King’s birth and fifty-five years after his death, it is difficult to believe that people who identify as upstanding members of the Christian church can support such actions.

Another section from Dr. King’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail is relevant to this moment in our nation’s history:

But the judgment of God is upon the church as never before. If the church of today does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will lose its authentic ring, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning for the twentieth century. I meet young people every day whose disappointment with the church has risen to outright disgust.

Dr. King’s words were prophetic. See Pew Research (10/17/19) In U.S., Decline of Christianity Continues at Rapid Pace.

And, of course, as Dr. King recognized, “there are some notable exceptions” among church leaders who supported his work—just as there are exceptions today. Several readers have recommended Faithful America as an antidote to Christian nationalism. The organization’s helpful FAQ page explains why “Christian nationalism” is not Christian. See Resisting Christian Nationalism: FAQ + Resources | Faithful America.

On this day commemorating Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s birth, we can see how far we have come—and how much further we must go. He didn’t despair. Neither should we.

Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter

#MLK #David Horsey #political cartoons #Martin Luther King Jr #justice #equality #economic equality #Robert B. Hubbell #Robert b. Hubbell newsletter

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cod-dump · 1 month

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For the teen!Ghost au, has there ever been a time where Price hasn’t come home? A mission gone badly and he gets injured? Maybe Nik has to handle the fort for a little while on his own because Price is trapped in the hospital?

(Also Roach is a precious bby)

———

John getting hurt bad enough he had to go straight to the hospital. He was unconscious or just unable to call home to tell Nik or the kids that he won’t be coming home that night. So Kate has to call, and she didn’t know enough to know that John would be fine after a minor surgery to correct whatever injury he obtained.

She calls Nik and tells him that John was in the hospital after a mission with south, and that she doesn’t know much about the situation or his condition. It was enough to make Nik’s blood run cold and him to be near hysterics. But Nik’s a professional and he was able to keep a mask up and keep the truth from the kids.

But they knew something was wrong. Dad wasn’t home when he was supposed to be, they hadn’t heard anything from him and Nik was being too quiet. The fact he wasn’t acting worried made them worry.

“Where’s Dad?”

“He’s held up at work. He’s not sure when he’ll be home.”

Nik never felt so much anxiety before, especially in the comfort of his own home. All it took was a phone call and now he felt so out of control. The hospital where John was hadn’t been disclosed with him, Kate hasn’t called and gave him any updates. For all he knew John was dead. And there wasn’t nothing he could do but stay home and care for the kids and animals.

There was nothing else he could do.

Simon and Kyle were not handling this well. Of course they knew something was wrong. They’ve always been anxious boys, and now their dad was missing. Farah was harder to read but Nik could tell this was affecting her as well. She was worried, scared. She was good at hiding how she felt, but he could see her fidget and watch her phone, waiting for a phone call from John.

They were all torn up about this, terrified of what the next call will bring. Nik couldn’t sleep for those two days of silence. He just laid in bed or just rested on the couch, hoping the front door would open and John would come in. He couldn’t speak on the subject with the kids, and he knew that made everything worse.

Kate finally stopped by when the boys were at school and Farah was at work. Nik had to do everything he could to keep himself calm when she walked up the driveway and to their door. He was expecting the worst, he was expecting having to tell the kids the worst thing he could imagine. Having to handle paperwork to become the boys’ legal guardian. Fuck- Pull strings to make it where they stayed with him if that wasn’t possible.

He was expecting the worst and it showed. And Kate blinked when she noticed the stress practically radiating off of him.

“God- He’s fine, Nik.”

Nik felt relief flood him, tears wanting to spill. Then he yelled.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!”

“Don’t you dare yell at me! This has been the most hellish week of my life! I’ve been having to clean up John’s mess and practically live at my office, not having a moment without someone calling me- Are you crying?”

He did start crying. And Kate had him sit down and coached him through what had to be his first panic attack in years. And once he was calm she was able to explain everything that had happened and where John had been. Both him and Kate had been practically isolated after their intel went sour.

John, having been the most hands on in it, was put through debriefings, meetings, and picked apart by his superiors the moment he came out of surgery. He wasn’t allowed to call anyone until SAS was sure he had nothing to do with everything going wrong at once.

“He’s coming home tonight. He asked me to check on you before I headed home.”

Nik felt stress and relief flow intertwined, his heart pulling every which way. John was coming home, and he wanted to strangle him for making him worry. He didn’t strangle him when he saw him get dropped off. Nik instead swung the front door open before he even made it onto the porch and grabbed him and pulled him into a fierce hug. John squawked when he was grabbed but didn’t fight him, just slumped against him, exhausted.

“Missed ya, too,” he had muttered against his shoulder. John could have easily fallen asleep right there, in Nik’s arms.

He wouldn’t get a chance to, however. Once Riley started barking, the house came alive and John wouldn’t know peace for the next few weeks. A small price to pay for the worry he had put his family through.

#call of duty #modern warfare #teen!ghost au #john price #cod nikolai #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #farah karim #kate laswell #drabble #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #dad price #dad john price #dad nikolai #dad nik #pricenik

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dragonheartstring360 · 7 months

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Some notes for anyone writing a character with glasses, from someone who wears glasses everyday:

- glasses need to come off before changing a shirt, unless it has a really big collar. Otherwise, glasses will get ripped off by said shirt collar.

- weather will affect how well you can see out of them, especially rain. Raindrops will dot glasses and it’s like trying to drive a car in the rain without working windshield wipers. Snow sometimes does this too, but not as bad, and lots of dust kicking up will make glasses dirty and foggy. If it’s humid enough (talking like swampy, Deep South levels, weather app says “90-100% humidity”), glasses will fog up when you step outside. If it’s crazy windy, glasses can fly off and the character should hold onto them or take them off and put them somewhere safe. They’ll usually get dirty or break in a pants pocket, so maybe have character carry around a sturdy glasses case if needed.

- not all materials are good for wiping glasses off. Some shirt materials just make it worse.

- if your character’s glasses are super dirty or smudged, they will be able to see it 24/7 as they look around and it’s annoying af.

- although glasses can keep things from getting in a character’s eyes (like something that’s been sprayed), it doesn’t protect our eyes all the time, especially if it’s coming at an angle or there’s a large amount. For that, you’d need actual safety glasses or goggles (and yes, they do make prescription goggles, but they’re not cheap).

- speaking of waves, for the love of god, DO NOT have your character swim with their glasses on. At best, they’ll get wet and they won’t be able to see. At worst, if they’re forced underwater or an ocean wave smacks them in the face, they’ll fly off and/or break.

- a crack in glasses is actually annoying af and makes it very hard to see.

- if a character’s face is wet, like from sweat or a ton of rain, their glasses will continuously slide down their nose and they’ll need to keep pushing them back up.

- lots of liquids other than water will make glasses opaque.

- glasses should be fitted pretty well to a person’s head. So if the character’s face is dry or there’s a moderate amount of wind, the “legs” that go behind their ears should be tight enough that they don’t just constantly fly off or slip down their nose. If they do, they’re too big (but obviously something a tornado will make them fly off).

- although I hate the whole “they took off their glasses and now they’re a ✨ model ✨” trope, people do tend to look very different with glasses on vs off - especially a character like Harry Potter who constantly wears their glasses. It’s not unrealistic that people who don’t know the character well (or even those who do, but just aren’t as quick) won’t recognize them at first without their glasses.

- as far as I know (correct me if I’m wrong, but I’ve never been able to do this), if a lens pops out of the frames, it can’t be popped back in by non-professionals without the right tools. The glasses are just done for.

- if your character has contacts in (or this is a psa for anyone who wears contacts), DO NOT have them rub their eyes. The contact will pop out and they’re very translucent and tiny, so trust me, it will just fall and be lost forever.

- being able to see clearly out of one eye and not the other (like with a broken/missing lens or a contact falling out) causes headaches.

- glasses are expensive af in the US (idk about other places). One time when I didn’t have vision insurance, an eye exam and two frames with lenses (I have blue eyes and very extreme light sensitivity, so have to have prescription sun glasses as well as regular glasses) cost over $900USD. If you want the special frames that become tinted and basically turn into sunglasses when you walk outside, it will cost extra.

- speaking of those lenses that become tinted when you walk outside, they take awhile to fade back to normal after you go back inside. Your character needs to be prepared to still be “wearing” sunglasses for the first 5-10 minutes after they walk inside.

- if a character is wearing contacts, they can wear normal sunglasses. If not, they’ll need special prescription sunglasses to be able to see. You cannot wear prescription sunglasses with contacts in or you won’t be able to see anything. Ever tried to look through your friend’s glasses and everything’s weird and warped and giving you a headache? That’s what it will look like.

- not exactly glasses related, but people with lighter colored eyes will always have worse light sensitivity than people with darker eyes. I have very blue eyes and looking up at the sky on a sunny day will literally make me see stars, and especially if I’m driving towards the sun while it’s setting, I have to have my sunglasses on or I literally will not be able to see and tears will be leaking out my eyes the whole way home.

- speaking of prescription sunglasses, unless your character can see pretty far without their glasses or they’re far sighted, you cannot just take prescription sunglasses off and still be able to see, especially while driving. You just have to deal with it and keep the sunglasses on and look like a Matrix wannabe if it gets cloudy or starts raining, or you have to do the super speedy Dance of Death where you’re still watching the road in front of you, taking off one pair of glasses and putting the other on super fast (which usually requires you to use your mouth to open and close things).

- GLASSES ARE FRAGILE. Seriously, a very petite person could sit in them and snap them in half. They’re not something you want your character just throwing around.

- there are varying levels of how well someone can see. There’s farsightedness and nearsightedness. Some people don’t have that much trouble and can see pretty far, so only wear their glasses as needed. But some people (aka moi) can genuinely only see a few inches in front of their face. Like if I ever lost my glasses or they broke, I’d be done for. I wouldn’t be able to work or drive or do anything around the house.

- glasses need to be replaced about once a year because of possible prescription changes or sometimes lenses losing their strength and becoming harder to see through. Trying to tough it out after long enough will give your character headaches/migraines and sore eyes from eye strain.

- some mascaras (especially thick ones) will smudge glasses when the character blinks. Same with false lashes (although they’ll brush instead of smudge). Usually less intense mascaras and shorter fake lash lengths are better.

- eye makeup is harder to see with glasses on.

- please, please, PLEASE stop using the whole “omg look how much prettier/more attractive they are without their glasses” trope. Not everyone’s eyes can handle contacts and some people prefer wearing their glasses. And it makes those of us who prefer glasses or have to wear them feel like shit, especially because there aren’t a lot of characters with glasses in media who don’t become the butt of a joke (ie the one wearing glasses is the “ugly duckling” for it like in princess diaries, or like Velma from scooby doo always losing them and patting around, or people who wear glasses will always be some sort of dorky/insufferable know it all).

- glasses come in all shapes, sizes, and colors and can be used to actually enhance a character’s style! Some of them even have magnetic frames that click in place over the simple pair, so have fun using glasses to build your character’s style.

- edit to add: no one ever purposely falls asleep with their glasses on. You will crush and break them when you roll around. However, if a character does accidentally fall asleep with them on, a love interest gently taking them off so they don’t wake them up and setting them on the table next to them can be a super cute moment.

- whoops thought of some more. Hair products, especially hairspray, can be a bitch to get off glasses and doesn’t always just rinse off with water. If they’re spraying anything, including dry shampoo, the glasses have gotta come off and get out of the line of fire first.

- hair can and will get caught in the little hinge by the legs and we do occasionally not notice till we take our glasses off and rip a hair out of our heads.

- be careful when you comb or brush, cuz if the glasses legs get caught in the brush or comb, it will be ripped off our face.

Hope this helps! May the writing gods bless your work 🤓

#friendly neighborhood writer #writer things #writers on tumblr #fanfiction writer #writers and poets #ao3 writer #writerscommunity #writing advice #fanfiction writing #creative writing #writing #fanfic writing #psa #glasses #characters with glasses

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banjjakz · 5 months

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convection currents ; yuuta x GN!reader

“Am I important to you, Okkotsu-san?” God, he can’t stand it. The way you look at him, the uneven lilt in your fragile, quavering voice; it makes him want to bury himself alive inside of you. “Yuuta,” he says. “Just ‘Yuuta’ is fine.”

word count: 7.6k

warnings: horizontal hanky panky, obsession, possessive tendencies, unhealthy relationships, codependency, semi graphic descriptions of violence, major character death

‪♡‬ read on ao3 ‪♡‬

likes + reblogs appreciated!

Yuuta wants to like you.

And he does – like you, that is. He really, really does.

But there have been some moments that give him pause.

Don’t get him wrong! You’re sweet, kind, doting, attentive, and very clearly an anxious bundle of painful self-awareness. He finds comfort in the kindred connection between your loner spirits. Training is made infinitely easier when he steals a glance at the gentle flash of your sweet smile, the soft flutter of your hair in the breeze, the twinkle of your laugh, floating through the air as a windchime’s ephemeral melody serenades the breeze. Everything about you seems to be perfectly enveloped and embedded within his daily reality at Tokyo Tech; natural, easy, right. That is what it feels like, to be at your side.

The budding affection between the two of you kicks his foolish, stuttering heart into overdrive. How long has it been, since the blood pumping through his veins was motivated by a sensation other than mortal terror?

You make him want to envision a reality wherein he’s embedded into the fabric of the living, breathing world, rather than continue to occupy his perch as a pariah, perennially scapegoated to the periphery.

Each sidelong glance thrown your way is accompanied by the erratic twitch of his clammy hands, as he tries and fails to pay attention during one of Gojo’s rambling, nonsensical lectures. The light in his eyes revives when you call his name. Innards undulating in and out of place, he tracks your body’s every movement, your muscles contorting fast as quicksilver during scrimmages, lethal and alluring all at once.

These are some of the objectively positive aspects of his attraction to you; the things that pull him from his bed in the morning, calling to him like the abyss compels a creature of the night to rise from its coffin.

And then, there are the more…er, complex moments.

“Did you just come back from a mission, Okkotsu-san?”

Like today, for example. Yuuta had just arrived back on campus after a fun afternoon spent with Toge traversing around Tokyo, patronizing various cafes and konbinis. You were lingering at the entrance of the dormitory, back to the front door, effectively coming between him and his bed.

“Ah, no. I was with Inumaki. We were hanging out for a bit.”

“Where?”

“Just in the city…”

“What did you do?”

He stills, uncertain. “Um…that’s…”

“I’m sorry.” Your head ducks in shame, hiding your face from his quizzical glance. “It’s been hard adjusting to student life as a mid-year transfer. I keep up well enough in classes, and on missions, but I don’t think any of the other students like me all that much. Forgive me, Okkotsu-san. To be honest, I’m jealous of how easily you get along with Inumaki-san and Maki-san.”

Of course. How could he assume anything different?

As a non-lineage sorcerer, you were haphazardly discovered by one of the senior sorcerers on a mission gone south and roped into the jujutsu world without prior knowledge of its existence. From a firsthand perspective, he of all people should be able to understand how isolating that must be.

Kicking himself for his judgemental first reaction, Yuuta forces his skeleton to release the tension it harbors. “No, don’t worry. Have you been sleeping well? Did you eat dinner?”

Sheepishly, you shake your head.

This is how he finds himself alone, with you, in a secluded alcove on the outskirts of campus. The afternoon has matured into a thick, syrupy evening, the sky bruised with a smattering of warm hues. You sit on the grassy bank as a pair, shoulder-to-shoulder, your union celebrated by the rhythmic thrum of the cicadas’ song.

“Here, take it.” He offers you the last flavored onigiri leftover from his spoils of konbini adventures.

You protest, waving your hands in front of you. “No, no, no. I’m fine with just a plain one. Please. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”

“Plain is my favorite,” he lies. “I don’t even like yaki.”

“...Then why did you have one in your bag?”

“Haha! That’s a great question! I don’t know!” Beet red, Yuuta scratches the back of his head.

Out of mercy, and perhaps pity, you graciously accept the yaki onigiri. Munching in companionable quietude ensues for several minutes, as you both watch the sun impale itself on the dark horizon, bleeding out across the sky in dark, inky tones.

Without sitting face-to-face, it’s easier to speak to you, somehow. The insistent pressure on his chest lifts long enough for some words of actual substance to slip forth. “It’s hard, the first year.”

You remain silent.

“My first year was hell, too. Although that’s probably because I was being haunted.”

“By who?”

He blinks, your question knocking him off balance. Not by “what,” but by “who” had he been haunted? You’ve always been observant. This is why you’ve survived for so long.

“Um, it’s a long story… I’ll tell you in full one day. For now, I’ll just say that there was someone very special to me when I was a child… and it was hard for her to let go of me, when push came to shove.”

“Ah. I see.”

Although August has yet to conclude, the air around him is significantly chillier than what is characteristic of Tokyo’s late-summer hazy heat. Yuuta shivers, pulling his knees up to his chin.

“Yeah. But, um, anyways. If you need someone to talk to…to be by your side… I would like to be that person for you.” He utters your name like a prayer, too concentrated on not stuttering to be embarrassed at the earnest tremble in his voice. “I wish I had a confidante when I first got here. It would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

“A confidante? But didn’t you have your friend?”

Your reply jolts him into looking at you. The expression on your face tells him that you truly mean it as a genuine inquiry.

“Well, um. I was being haunted…and Rika – er, she didn’t really listen to me. She actually got a little overprotective, I think.”

“Do you think she was evil?”

“No!” The denial explodes from his mouth before Yuuta can even fully process the nuance of the question posed. “No,” he repeats, at an appropriate volume, this time. “She was clingy, and protective, and possessive, and honestly violent, but she wasn’t evil. I loved her. I think a part of me always will.”

Love? What is he doing talking to you, alone, at night, about love? How embarrassing. He hadn’t meant to say all that!

Quickly, he stuffs his mouth with the remainder of his onigiri. No more talking. Just chewing.

If you are perturbed by his sentimental ramblings, you show no sign of it. If anything, your face remains impassive, serene, undisturbed like the surface of a tranquil pond.

“You loved her for that, then. Was she haunting you if you were in love?”

After he finishes choking down the final, sticky remnants of his dinner, Yuuta frowns, mulling over your words which are heavy by the virtue of their implication, yet hang and sway in the air as an empty noose dangles from the gallows.

“...I don’t know.” Yuuta says, at length. “That’s what I was diagnosed with when I came here. And it was hard for me to function, back when Rika was still here. I didn’t have any friends. And people close to me got hurt a lot.”

“It sounds like she was always trying to protect you… even when you were apart. I only wish one day, I find someone who would have the capacity to care for me like that…”

“You want that?”

“I do.” Not an ounce of hesitation in your firm, forthcoming reply. “I’ve spent my whole life as something worth less than notice or acknowledgement. Always feeling invisible, never having anyone – not even one person – who cared about me. Up until this point, I’ve lived life wanting to die every day.”

For lack of a better reply, Yuuta simply asks: “What changed?”

“...I met you, Okkotsu-san.”

Oh, wow.

It’s kind of funny – where other people describe feeling hot, Yuuta has always been chronically, terminally cold. Your words induce a rapidly onsetting deep-freeze which permeates every layer of his skin, every molecule of his bones, every wretched atom of marrow lying dormant inside of him, all of it, every fiber of being rooted to the spot in an indescribable emotion.

“I–I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”

That’s wrong. “No, you didn’t! You didn’t, I swear. Just… um, I’m also a person who is lonely, like you described. So I’m not used to, err, being, ah, important. To people? I guess?”

“Oh… I see.”

Clearly, the higher function of critical thought has abandoned him; this is the only explanation for how he reaches to grab your hands, sending the half-eaten yaki onigiri tumbling down to the dark earth beneath your anxiously shifting feet. He squeezes you, tightly, and is delighted in a morose sort of way to find your digits even colder than his.

“Let’s teach each other. How to be important to someone else.”

“Am I important to you, Okkotsu-san?”

God, he can’t stand it. The way you look at him, the uneven lilt in your fragile, quavering voice; it makes him want to bury himself alive inside of you.

“Yuuta,” he says. “Just ‘Yuuta’ is fine.”

;

Field missions have been a part of his daily life as a sorcerer since the day he arrived at Tokyo Tech. Battle has always been challenging for all the obvious reasons, but never before has Yuuta had to deal with the added hardship of fighting alongside you.

This, of course, is not meant to imply that you aren’t able to hold your own; on the contrary, your physical and cursed prowess has granted you the rank of semi-special grade despite this being your first year enrolled in any kind of formal jujutsu schooling. Your cursed technique is innate to your personality and sensibilities, which helps. But even if that weren’t the case, you would still be one of Tokyo’s top-performing students.

Missions are difficult because, despite all of this being true, Yuuta is powerless to curb the instinct to protect you during fights.

It manifests in small ways, at first: insisting to be paired up with you for assignments, always volunteering to partner up when splitting from the larger group during an investigation– things like this.

His behavior starts to stray into problematic territory the longer he is allowed to get away with it, unchecked.

“After Ijichi casts the veil, we’ll sweep the building. Inumaki and Yuuta, you two take the upper levels. We’ll do the bottom half,” orders Maki, gesturing between you and herself.

Immediately, Yuuta objects. “No. I’ll do the bottom half. You and Inumaki should go up together.”

“What?”

“I have a phobia of heights,” lies Yuuta, shamelessly. “It will impact my performance.”

“I have literally never heard you talk about being afraid of heights before.”

“Shake sushi,” agrees Inumaki.

You remain silent, pupils trembling, bottom lip severed between your teeth in a display of bashfulness reserved only for Yuuta’s blatant favoritism, which he wields frequently, in hopes to catch a even a single glimpse of you just as you appear now.

“I’m self-conscious about it,” he laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Thank you both for understanding.”

“Wait! Okkotsu, we didn’t–”

And with that, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you away with him, sprinting into the abandoned love hotel before Maki or Inumaki can prevent you from absconding.

The two of you are laughing, tickled as usual at the effects of pissing Maki the hell off. Consequences will rain down in due time, no doubt, but for now, it feels best to bask in each other’s presence.

Once through the front door, Yuuta halts to an easy jog, guiding you past the cobweb-covered front desk, around the decrepit scraps of the once-ostentatiously decorated lobby, all the way to the far back corner, where a solid, heavy metal door obfuscates the emergency stairway.

“Oh, it looks jammed… Should we–”

Your stumped musing is cut off by the ricocheting cacophony of Yuuta’s boot violating the door. The metal itself bends and warps, caving in on itself in a hurry to make way for the unstoppable force of the sorcerer’s impassioned blow. He didn’t have to activate any cursed energy.

“Let’s go!” Chirps Yuuta, cheerfully.

In another context, maybe, it would be appropriate for his pulse to spike, for his hands to clam, for his breath to quicken, at the prospect of being alone with you. However, the reality of the current situation is that Yuuta is dragging you down into some dark, unknown depth, where neither of you will be disturbed. As you descend the concrete flights, visibility is increasingly hard to come by, and this, too, excites Yuuta. He is now forced to rely more heavily upon his other senses, which naturally prioritizes the scent of your sweat; the sound of your rabbit-paced heartbeat; the feeling of the paper-thin skin of your inner wrist; the taste of his own desire.

The cursed spirit they’re looking for has been wreaking havoc on the surrounding commercial strip, to the point where several businesses have had to draw their shutters in the wake of the love hotel’s primary foreclosure. Evidently, recurring, unresolved muder-suicides did not bode well for business.

“Um…if we’re supposed to be searching for the curse behind all of the couples’ deaths, shouldn’t we be looking in the bedrooms?”

Your voice echoes, tinny, in the thick, humid air of the emergency stairwell. They haven’t hit the bottom yet.

“Eh, maybe. This doesn’t feel like that kind of case, though.”

“Huh? How do you figure?”

Although moving swiftly, at the speed of light, your footfalls make barely a whisper against the aged concrete steps. Still, it’s enough for Yuuta’s hypersensitive ears to pick up on. Deprived of the sight of you, he drinks in the intimation of your existence, greedily.

“Heat rises,” he says, slowing pace as they approach what can only be the door to the boiler room, which has been left ominously ajar. “Cold sinks.”

“...Um, I’m not sure I follow.”

Stealthily, he slithers inside the slender crack between frame and the door itself. The angle of its opening doesn’t even waver. He pulls you along with him, replying as he moves, “Crimes of passion carry a kind of hot, frenetic energy. Panic, impulse, instinct – all of those things have lots of, hmm, friction? Like an explosion. Really hot at first, dangerously hot, and then it fizzles out into nothing.”

Unfamiliar pieces of enormous machinery tower in the dark. As much as you are able to while crouching so low to the floor, you take care not to trip over any errant pipes.

“So this isn’t a hot curse?”

“No,” Yuuta confirms. “The curse–” murder-suicides in a love hotel, how on-the-nose could it be? “–is premeditated by nature. Obsession solidifies over time. To act on that is a calculated choice.”

He stops short. You would’ve crashed straight into his shoulder blades if he weren’t painfully cognizant of your whereabouts at all times. He preemptively steadies you on your feet before you can even begin to stumble.

“At some point in this building, someone,” says Yuuta, quietly, as he cautiously eyes the opaque blackness before them, “spent a lot of time thinking about their beloved.”

“How can you tell?”

“Cold sinks,” Yuuta repeats.

Violence explodes, seemingly, out of nowhere. The curse attacks all at once, aiming perfectly towards you as though it had been lying in wait, stalking your every move. Yuuta always takes point whenever you pair up together, because he always insists on taking the first hit. It is this presupposition that leaves you wide open, vulnerable for attack from behind.

“Yuuta!!” You shriek, desperately dodging the grotesque appendages reaching out to you. Your body hits the floor just seconds shy of what would have been a gory fatality.

When you lift your head to identify the exact form of the curse, you still in uncomprehending terror.

“...Yuuta?”

How can this be?

Not even seconds prior, Yuuta had been a whole, living, breathing, intact person, guiding you as solidly as your own personal anchor. Why, then, does he appear to you now as a corpse, brain matter spilling down his temples, bloated limbs belying days of decay, flesh pale and tender and loose around the bone.

No, no, no. Had you been too late? Had the curse gotten to him first? Are you next?

Despair fills you, overflowing your sensibilities with the intrusive desire to rid the world of your miserable existence. How could you have let him slip through your fingers? How could you be expected to return to any semblance of a life, with Yuuta gone? You don’t deserve a future without Yuuta – you don’t even want to imagine one.

You’ll do what’s right, and offer your life in penance that you failed to protect his own.

Cursed energy welling within you, threatening to tear you apart at the very seams, you are about to implode with all the conviction of an abandoned lover– but a familiar, desperate cry of your name halts your ministrations.

That was Yuuta’s voice calling out to you.

But there he is, lying before you as nothing more than a desecrated body.

Unless…?

Yuuta calls your name again, sharply, this time in a tone adjacent to something scolding. The fear of disappointing Yuuta outweighs all else. It’s enough to snap you back to reality, to clear your clouded faculties and reveal to you the real Yuuta, who stands on guard just a few paces away, living, breathing, sweating, crouching, preparing for action.

“The curse,” he calls, eyes never leaving the thing in front of you. “It’s the curse. Don’t worry, it’s not real. You’re alive.”

“I’m alive?” You parrot incredulously. “That’s your corpse over there!”

“...Huh? My corpse? But I see yours–” He cuts himself off, face going eerily blank. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Close your eyes. Don’t flinch.”

In your defense, you try your best.

Remaining sightless and motionless is difficult as the rest of your senses are inundated with the disgustingly explicit soundtrack of slaughter. The sound of flesh forcibly sliding apart on the edge of Yuuta’s cursed katana is familiar, at this point, but no less gut-wrenching to bear witness to. When he deals the final blow, the evidence sprays all over the front of you, drenching you from head to toe in what should be the curse’s blood.

And yet, the liquid is frigid. Like you’ve been assaulted by the waves of the cruel, immortal sea.

“You can look now.”

Hesitantly, your eyes flutter open. You’re met with the sight of Yuuta, also covered head to toe in the viscous liquid produced by the corpse’s demise. Now that the exorcism has been completed, the preternatural heaviness is lifted from the building. But still, you struggle to breathe.

“Why didn’t you let me fight?” Something horrible announces itself, crowing from an ugly, dark corner of your mind best kept away from public view. “Was I going to slow you down?”

He sheathes in katana without sparing the gory weapon another glance. The space between your bodies is quickly extinguished, as Yuuta crosses the space in a matter of heartbeats. Blood roars in your ears, drowning out all which does not consist of Yuuta’s fixed gaze, Yuuta’s shaky breath, Yuuta’s pallid, sweaty skin, Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta.

“No.”

A large, wet palm meets your cheek. The soft squelch should be repulsive. Your stomach flips for entirely unrelated reasons.

“Why do you think all those murder-suicides happened?”

The question catches you off guard, but you answer, nonetheless. “The curse.”

“What do you think the curse made people see, for them to do something like that?”

You want to ask what the hell this line of questioning has to do with anything, with the mounting intensity in his stare, with the firm hand on your face, calloused thumb rubbing miniscule half-crescents into the crux of your jaw where the bone and flesh is pliant and breakable, could crack open like the shell of a creature already cooked alive, prepared to be split open for gluttonous consumption–

And then, rudely, the memory of mere moments prior hits you:

You’ll do what’s right, and offer your life in penance that you failed to protect his own.

“Oh,” you whimper, pathetically. “They see– the curse makes them see, um, someone special to them.”

“Not just ‘special,’” Yuuta corrects. From this close you can see the faint trail of blue-green veins spiderwebbing their way from his eyebags, metastasizing every which-way, just underneath his skin. “What is a curse?”

“The coalescence of negative energy secreted by human non-sorcerers.” You rattle off the elementary answer without second thought.

“What kind of curse was this?”

The moisture evaporates from your mouth. “A cold one.”

“Why?”

“‘Obsession solidifies over time. To act on that is a calculated choice,’” you mimic back.

Although, your tone doesn’t quite replicate the self-assured way by which Yuuta had originally imparted the information. No, your voice shakes apart, just as disjointed as the rest of your body feels at this moment.

“What did you see when you looked at the curse?”

He already knows. He wants you to say it. You want to plead for mercy, if only to savor the eroticism of begging for something you know will not be spared for you.

“I saw you, Yuuta.”

The curse’s blood is bitter and cold, like soured juice, when it is thrust upon your tongue. Yuuta is uncaring of the gore coating the both of you, the time-sensitive nature of this mission assignment, the way your knees sway and buckle as the adrenaline begins to leak from your body, replaced by a new, even more exhilarating sensation.

Opaque darkness still shrouds the boiler room; and yet, it isn’t enough to prevent your souls from recognizing one another. Hands wrestle with buttons, fingers grapple with zippers, teeth gnash into flesh, and the two of you take each other apart not with the reckless abandon of lovers under the duress of a transient liaison; no, you are methodological, thorough, all-consumed by the well-marinated desire that has been fertilizing from the moment you first came into contact with one another.

Yuuta throws you down to the floor and moves his body at a preternatural speed so that he beats you there, his hand cradling the back of your skull before it can strike the concrete.

“I saw you too,” he huffs into your mouth.

“You were d-dead…” The way you struggle to say the word is cute. You’re so fucking cute. God, he’s no better than a fucking curse.

It’s impossible to curb the temptation to sink his teeth into your neck, eagerly feeding off of the intoxicating effects of your pained, thrilled squeal. “You weren’t,” he murmurs into the abused flesh, pressing a kiss where he’d just gnawed. “You looked close, but you weren’t dead.”

“...Huh…?”

Can you even think right now? Do you understand what he’s saying to you? How could you possibly grasp the implications of what is transpiring, right now, when you’re laid out on the floor, snow-angeling in the blood and guts and gore of a murdered curse, delirious off of a heady combination of lust and adrenaline and fear?

“You were just barely alive. On the edge.” He moans, rocking the hard line of his body into your own. “Do you know what you said to me?”

“Tell me.”

“You asked me to finish the job.”

Back arching off of the grimy, gritty ground, every fiber of your being reaches out for the fingers that tear at the cloth of your uniform as though it is nothing more than some cheap costuming. “You know what? I knew it wasn’t the real you, when it said that. ‘S not like you.”

He’s monologuing to himself, it seems. You are far beyond the hope of verbally communicating in anything other than your strained, hoarse whines.

“You’d never ask me to do that. You’d stay with me until the very end, wouldn’t you?”

Desperately, hopelessly, you nod, your fingernails carving your intentions into the meat of his shoulders. When had his shirt come off? Did you do that?

Are you the one tearing away the last bits of offending clothing, or is that him? Do you growl in stoked desire as he breaches your entrance, or does that inhuman noise come from the both of you?

When Yuuta is buried inside of you, he feels like he’s finally been laid to rest. There is the warm, comforting embrace often described as death – but instead of an eternal bliss found at the conclusion of his life, Yuuta is able to access this euphoria by burying himself inside of you. You are his headstone, his tomb, his coffin: all of you exists to house the death of all of him, and without him inside of you, you would live on in aimless unfulfillment, anxiously awaiting the day a beautiful boy will come to die under your care and linger with you in eternity.

You are–warm, hot, burning up, self-immolating beneath his fingers. Every thrust forward threatens to scald his hips on your molten flesh.

“Fu-fu-fu-fu-fu–” you stutter, body shuddering to life, rising from the ground, seizing and contorting in strange shapes as you struggle and fail to cope with the insurgence of pleasure coursing through you. “Yuu–ta–”

“Promise me.”

“Wha–”

“Promise me,” he hisses, hands coming to your throat. “Promise you’ll stay. You’re too important to me, I c-can’t lose you too, hnnnnn–”

Promise you, I’ll never leave you, is what you are able to only mouth, breath and voice held captive in his unrelenting grasp. Because you cannot voice it entirely, you pour all the contents of your heart and soul into the sentiment. Fingers rising weakly to clasp onto his, you tighten his grip on your windpipe and take comfort in the drowsy haziness that cradles your consciousness.

When he comes, he holds you to him like he’s afraid you’re going to crawl off and die somewhere else if he doesn’t keep you right where you are, crushed against, his shivering frame, so tightly bound to him that he can hear your diaphragm contract and expand, over and over and over again, each breath cut short by a wheeze or a sob.

Through it all, he cradles you. Naked, bruised, and forever scarred from the sight of not-Yuuta’s rotting corpse, you cling to him and release your sorrows into the dark, empty abyss of the boiler room.

Back and forth, he rocks your body, soothing your nervous system into an illusion of safety. There is no such thing as “safety,” not for jujutsu sorcerers – but together, with limbs intertwined as one, this is the closest you can come to fooling yourselves into hoping, one day, for a safe place. A safe person, even.

“Shhh,” he simpers, thumb swiping your cheek, which is damp from an unholy mixture of cursed blood, sweat, spit, and tears. “We’re together. It’s all okay.”

“T-together…”

“Yeah. Just you and me.”

;

“You don’t think that’s an issue?”

“I’m not saying there isn’t an issue. But we should tread lightly, here. We don’t know what could happen if we interfere.”

“If we don’t interfere, the newbie might die.”

“It won’t get to that point. I won’t let it happen. Oi, don’t blow smoke in my face. That’s unladylike.”

“Don’t lecture me on what’s ‘ladylike,’ cocksucker.”

“Wow! That burns!”

“Come here, I’ll show you what else burns.”

Lingering outside the door to the infirmary, you shift your weight from foot to foot, unsure of the appropriate course of action to take. Clearly, Gojo and Ieiri are in the middle of a conversation that is not meant to be heard by prying ears – not that you can make heads or tails of what they’re talking about, anyways.

All you wanted to do was come see Ieri for your weekly check-up, as was customary following the love hotel mission. The adrenaline must have numbed your pain receptors in the moment, because as soon as you’d arrived back on campus, your entire body felt like you’d been through a grinder.

You were kinda confused, at first, because you didn’t even engage the curse in combat. In due time, of course, you remembered what–or who–had actually bruised your ribs, broken your skin, sprained your joints, left you carrying the contours of his wanting.

Why were they talking about you dying, anyways? Yuuta saved your life. Nothing was going to happen to you as long as he was by your side.

“Hey.”

Jumping out of your skin has started to feel good, kind of. You look forward to Yuuta’s unceremonious greetings as he creeps up on you in silence, futilely waiting for you to detect his concealed presence.

“H-hi,” you demure. Why are you shy? He’s been so far inside of you he practically fused into your skeleton. Blushing because he caught you unawares is ridiculous.

“Aren’t you going to go in?”

Wondering how he knows what you’re here for is pointless. Equally as useless is trying to deduce how he was able to figure out your recurring appointment time. He’s Yuuta – it’s natural for him to acquire knowledge about you, as easily as one picks low-hanging fruit from a tree.

“Umm, I think they’re talking about something.”

He frowns. “About what?”

You hesitate. Should you tell him what you heard? “Ah, I don’t know...”

“Are you sure?”

You remain silent, unsure of how to proceed. Part of you wants to bare your innards at all times, whenever Yuuta is around. It feels natural, like a rabbit’s cowering. On the other hand…

Somehow, the thought of telling Yuuta the truth–yeah, Gojo-sensei and Ieiri-sensei think there’s a chance I might die soon–would not end well for anyone involved. If there was something you truly needed to know, you’re sure your senseis would tell you.

Right?

“Please trust me,” you whisper, only feeling a little guilty. You’re doing it to protect him. If something dangerous is going to happen to you, Yuuta shouldn’t be involved at all. He must live. You must make sure of it.

Reluctantly, he acquiesces, although he insists on accompanying you to your check-up that week. Strangely, neither Gojo nor Ieiri seem surprised that he is here with you, and make no effort to question why. Yuuta is allowed to linger at your sides as Ieiri takes your vitals, reviews the status of your various injuries, and even holds your hand when she scans your cursed energy levels. Thankfully, you are on track to make a perfect recovery.

In fact, not only are you replenishing the strength and ability that had been impaired during the love hotel mission–you are regenerating cursed energy at rates which exceed your natural capacities.

When Ieiri relays this to you, Gojo, who has been lingering in the infirmary for some unknown reason (you suspect it’s simply to annoy Ieiri with his very presence) speaks up: “Do you know what that means, kid?”

“Um…” You start, nervous. Everyone’s eyes are on you. It feels like you’re under a microscope. “I’m moving up a rank?”

Gojo bursts into a fit of giggles, doubling over at the waist. “Wow, what an opportunist! Haha, maybe in the future, if your cursed energy continues to compound exponentially. I’m asking you about the cause. Any idea why you’re suddenly overflowing with power?”

“No.” Your answer is as truthful as it is anxious.

“Typically, a dramatic increase in output like this only occurs after a Binding Vow. Make any life-or-death promises, recently?”

It’s supposed to be a joke, the way Gojo says it. You can tell because his crow’s feet dip down just far enough away from underneath his blindfold that you can tell whenever he smiles with his eyes. And he is smiling, after he cracks the joke. You’re also able to intuit when he stops smiling, as the depressions on his face smooth out into a careful blankness. You are thirty seconds too late to the punchline. Instead of laughing along, you remain damningly silent, and Yuuta shifts uncomfortably at your side.

“Okay,” says Gojo, clapping his hands. “Alright.”

Although you’re fully clothed in your school uniform, it makes you feel chillingly exposed when what feels like all Six of his Eyes bore into the collection of dark marks ringing your neck in a brutal, makeshift collar. Those were not, in fact, the work of a curse.

Yuuta fidgets with the flimsy paper lining the examination bed. You kick your feet like a child in time out.

“You owe me seven thousand yen,” Shoko deadpans.

“Hey! Didn’t we say forty-five?”

“Don’t kid around.”

Am I in trouble? The terrified plea swells to the front of your mouth, begging to escape. You force the words to sit, stay, and curdle on your tongue.

“Can we go now?” Asks Yuuta, uncharacteristically direct.

Given the odd gravity in the room, you don’t expect Gojo’s easy wave of his hand, dismissing the two of you with a flippant hum. Not having to be told twice, you hightail it out of the infirmary, grateful to be released from the constant invasion of privacy and security that is a prolonged existence within the reach of Gojo’s Six Eyes.

Finally alone once more, the training grounds are a welcome reprieve for you and Yuuta, who crash into the grass clearing hand-in-hand, heartbeats synced.

“Did we make a Binding Vow? When we…you know…”

Yuuta’s voice trails off, lamely.

“What if we did? Would you regret it?”

“Huh? No, of course not! It’s just…well–”

“Well, what?”

“That’s kind of permanent,” Yuuta whispers, dark pools of obsidian sorrow holding your gaze in its cruel, captivating clutches. “And we don’t know what will happen if it breaks.”

For one second, the rawness of it hits you. Fear washes down your back, prickling your flesh, raising goosebumps, locking your spine rigidly into place. The two of you had certainly made a life-or-death promise, infused with cursed energy and blood and…other…bodily fluids. To inadvertently perform a Binding Vow meant that the sheer intensity behind both of your wills was purely, wholly devoted to the promise.

Which is why you take a step closer to him, voice steady. “I didn’t make that promise with the intention to break it. Ever.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Don’t…you can’t be sure of that.”

“I am.”

“You won’t be able to guarantee it.”

“I will.”

Familiarly calloused hands grab your shoulders, jostling you with charged intention. “You don’t get it! My favorite person in the whole world already left me once. If that happens again, I can’t… I don’t know…”

“Yuuta.” You don’t have to lay a finger on him for his entire body to stand at attention, drawing tall and taught, when you call his name. “I will never leave you, even if I die.”

The ensuing kiss tastes like metal.

Despite the passionate fervor with which he devours you, his mouth his cold, and his digits even more so as they dig into your cheeks, your throat, your waist, your chest, groping and pulling and kneading your flesh to loosen the rigor mortis that has arrested your willingness.

“D-don’t, ah, make any m-more marks…”

Your protest is, at best, unconvincing, the person least of all convinced being yourself, as Yuuta’s teeth and tongue on the tender flesh of your neck make you feel like you’re about to leave your body. “Hnng–Gojos-sensei already knows, I think.”

“Good.” He’s crazed, nipping and slurping at your sensitive soft bits like a man starved. “Let him know. Everyone should know. I shouldn’t even–” he kisses “–have–” he bites “–to say it–” he licks you in between speaking, as though it goes against the grain of his being to part ways with you for more than just a few jagged inhalations.

The ground hits you hard, reprimanding you for your clumsiness with a firm impact on your backside. Yuuta pursues with haste, hands slamming down on either side of your head, ripping the grass in retribution.

“Yuuta,” you hiss, hands flying to his dark mop of hair, trying to reel him back – in vain, of course. “We are outside. In the middle of the day. Anyone could walk by!”

“Don’t care.”

His eyes are glazed, half-lidded, pupils blown wide and deeply dark as a gunshot wound, uncaring of your anxiety as he attempts to dive back into you.

“Wait! What if someone sees me?” Now, he rears back. “I don’t want anyone else to see, Yuuta… only you get to see me like this.”

Even the ants traipsing across the clearing stop dead in their tracks, rendered motionless, silent, at the abrupt onslaught of highly charged cursed energy that washes through every living and non-living thing within a five-mile radius.

“Okay.”

Wordlessly, your world upends as you are thrown over a wide shoulder clad in spotless, wrinkled white. You’ve always thought it was funny – how Yuuta’s uniform never managed to permanently stain itself with any of the gore he frequently encountered, and yet, there was always a noticeable depression in the seams, ever-lurking, complicating the otherwise flawless expanse, evoking a sense of pity.

Even when the shirt flies off, abandoned to crumple sadly in the corner of his bedroom, you can’t get its image out of your head. That spotless white. Those gleaming gold buttons dripping in iridescent rivulets down the front of the garment. Only within the intricate designs etched into their surface is one able to glean the barest hint of blood, staining the metal a pale crimson. If you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t notice it.

But you have always sought out his ugly, twisted parts. Even when he tries to hide. Even when he might duck from them himself.

That’s okay.

That’s why he has you.

When he bites you so hard that the wound draws blood; when his palms squeeze around your windpipe so deftly that you lose vision; when pins down your bruised hips, ignoring their wriggling avoidance; when his unquiet nature makes itself known, eclipsing the carefully bashful performance he puts on for his peers so that he might be liked, or loved, even–that is when you feel most connected to him. That is when your affections burn brightest.

And during the comedown, as he holds you close and rocks your brutalized body back and forth and back again, you are well aware that it is he himself who he seeks to soothe.

He doesn’t know, you realize, broken out of your post-coital mental haze with a pointed moment of clarity.

Yuuta has no clue what lurks inside the haunted catacombs of his soul.

What does it say about you, then, that his naivete only serves to further incense your want, smoldering like an inferno brewing at the base of a pyre, threatening to engulf your sorry corpse in entirety?

;

As third year trudges on, instruction takes less time in the classroom, or on campus. More frequently, you find yourself out on missions from sun-up to sundown, running around Tokyo-to and even surrounding prefectures. The grades of the curses you go up against only increase with time, and so, to, does your proximity to mortal danger.

Through it all, Yuuta is present. Indignantly so. Despite your rank as a semi-special grade sorcerer, you have yet to embark solo on an assignment. The pair of you are one combative unit, at this point so intertwined in sentiment and instinct that rarely is it necessary to reach for verbal exchange while engaged in battle. It is as though the reserve of cursed energy you draw from is a pool shared between you, a combination of your innate abilities plus an additional overflow, supplied by the Binding Vow you had consummated all those months ago.

So close are you, now, that Yuuta grows comfortable – confident, even – with your hold on his proverbial leash. These days, he is less neurotic when you inquire as to his whereabouts. Your prying questions provoke within him nothing other than a deep-seated sense of reassurance. He no longer doubts where he stands with you, as he once did when you were still a fresh-faced, mid-year transfer adjusting to life at Tokyo Tech.

In retrospect, he recognizes that he should never have let his guard down.

It’s his fault, really. Entirely his fault. The extra strength provided by the powerful effects of the Binding Vow deluded him into a false sense of security.

He shouldn’t have been so careless with your life. He shouldn’t have strayed so far from your side. He shouldn’t have let you out of his sight. He shouldn’t have left you alone, even if it was only for a split second–not even.

Once again, he has failed to save the most important person in his life. Somehow, losing you is worse than losing Rika. He is no longer a child. He possessed both the skill and ability to save you.

And yet, he had been absent in your time of need.

The one time you’d been off on a mission without him. The one and only time. Principle Yaga’s sorry excuse was that the higher-ups found it strange that you, as a semi-special grade, had never completed a solo assignment. Apparently, your rank was being threatened if you refused any longer to display independent capability.

Well. Now there’s no rank for you to claim, anymore.

After news of your death reaches him, he roams campus like an aimless specter, as though he is the one who has been robbed of life.

In a way, he has. Half of his being has perished. He limps, lopsided, dragging the phantom weight of your body with him wherever he goes.

It takes a while to get used to the absence of your physical, living, breathing manifestation. As a fellow sorcerer, you have been wholly eradicated from the fabric of his reality.

But as a spirit…?

Death is not enough to break a Binding Vow – this, Yuuta knows better than anyone. He retains his augmented cursed abilities, along with your presence. The two of you join once more in battle, as he summons you to protect and guard him in life as he failed to do for you. Your selfless nature has never been more clearly evident. Not a single call goes unanswered, not a single need of his unmet.

Is this a haunting?

No, he doesn’t think so.

When the two of you had still been skittish and shy around one another, nothing more than a pair of innocently covetous children, you’d dared him to reflect on his relationship with Rika. What had been translated to him as a haunting, you reimagined as something more corporeal, something genuine, something worthy of gratitude, and love.

This is how he chooses to think of you – the both of you, together, still joined in perfect union. No matter the fact that you will watch him age, change, develop, and eventually die, one day, should he be so lucky. You do not haunt his waking hours. You do not terrorize his dreams.

You love him in a way that transcends the bounds of space and time.

He has not been cursed. Rather, he has been blessed with your unconditional love.

To earn true forgiveness, he must show you his, as well. You must occupy his every waking thought. You will invade his every intention. You are at the forefront of his mind when he rises with the dawn, and the memory of your breath against the shell of his ear whispers to him good night. You dress him. You urge him to sustenance. You machinate his combat. You heal his wounds. You wipe his tears when he sobs, alone, terribly alone, sobbing into his knees after each time the life of a friend meets a senseless, violent conclusion.

You are still there when he wraps a rough, harried palm around his throbbing arousal, thrusting up into an elusive, now long-gone pleasure. You guide his hands’ journey across the hazardous dips and valleys of his rib cage, the grotesque concave of his stomach, the sharp blades of his hip bones. His skeleton threatens to crawl outside of his flesh. It yearns for something beyond this senseless cycle of bloodshed, grief, and rage.

Never does he feel closer to salvation than when he is on the precipice of ecstasy, dehydrated, underfed, delirious, heart beating so fast that it limits his vision, his lung capacity. When he occupies this liminal space, it is not the brink of orgasm which he straddles. As he approaches climax, he yearns not for an explosion of wet heat, but for the euphoric embrace of a final ending: your arms around him once more, real, tangible, warm.

Until then, he will trudge onwards. Miserably alive. Cold inside and out. Numb to physical pain, constantly inundated with the wounds inflicted on his spirit, his sentiments, his soul.

Solace finds him in the fact that you committed to remain by his side, forever. How could he wallow in total despair when this remains true?

You chose this, after all.

You chose him.

You did.

Didn’t you?

491 notes · View notes

astrologylunadream · 5 months

Text

Their Deepest Desires of You💀🔞🖤 [SPICY] (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hey it's Lunadream and for my beautiful souls we are doing a reading on what your person's deepest desires are of you🖤 hope you find your message🗝

(Things get spicy🔥 Darker themes are included)

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^v^ Think of the your person, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~💋🖤

Pile 1📿

Pile 2🥀

Pile 3🎹

Pile 4💄

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> 🗝🖤

Pile 1📿

Sign energy: Hug from behind, Imagination, Fight, Royalty, Bend, Sun, Leo, Mars, 12th house, South node, 🧜‍♂️🍪🍷😔

💀Your person's energy: Ohh this is someone very captivating and alluring. They light up the room when they walk in, strong assertive/dominant energy for this pile's person. Leo, Aries and Pisces placements but mostly fiery energy. Could Leo mars or mars conjunct sun in their chart. I'm seeing ripped jeans and leather jackets as their thing, they unconsciously command attention even when they aren't trying at all😭 So independent and I feel like your person just knows they are untouchable omg they are so regal and effortlessly attract people because they are just so classy and stunning also hot lmao😂♥️ Siren energy, They ooze confidence but not in a cocky way but a subtle "I know what I'm worth" type way😎👌 Some of you have fought with this person or thought they had it out for you but it was just because they seem so fierce and intimidating, There are such high class vibes from your person, I feel like they spoil themselves in a good way. King/Queen vibes👑 You may be a little delusional over this person😂😂 Sometimes feeling overlooked or ignored by your person since attention is on them usually. They have you fantasizing hot scenarios about them LOL your imagination goes wild for this person🥵💭

🖤Their deepest desires of you: Pisces, Valentine, Fit, Trust, Boundaries, North node, Lilith, Libra, Leo, 11th house, 🏃‍♀️📆🤴🟪 My pile 1's this is getting interestingggg😉 Oh god they desire trust so much with you and loyalty too. It's quite funny because they desire healthy boundaries and almost more friendship dynamic with you but then they deeply desire unleashing their dark side on you and getting in deep..🥵👿🖤 Oml they have so many desires for this pile and like, how can it be so wholesome and so horny at the same time?? They want your full attention and I'm seeing a definite desire for a future with you🥺♡ They want you to take them places they never knew (spiritual and all) and the most prominent message is that they deeply desire a romantic partnership with my pile 1's🙊💞 They want to date you I'm hearing, and they are someone who deeply craves your attention and affection. They desire a full devotion from you as if they are your queen/king, they want your heart to be bound to them and them only.😚🖤 Ahh your person really desires a deep intimate and loving connection with you guys, so sweet. Devotion, dedication, loyalty, sweet moments, long stares, being true to one another, hot intimacy, naughtiness, valentines day with you, spoiling you rotten, these are all things they desire deeply with you my lovely pile 1~

💋Messages from your person: You're causing me pain, You leave me wondering, I told myself to quit, You aren't thinking rationally, I thought I was going crazy, You might get scared, Don't be so negative, Imagine if I kissed you, You are my sunshine, Your body is mine (🙈🥵😳) Extra cards: Inner thoughts, Prison, Neck, Height, Sun, 1st house, Sun, Venus, Vertex, Gemini (You are their light in the darkness☀️🥺)

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🖤

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the emoji~ Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💋

Pile 2🥀

Sign energy: Virgo, Boundaries, Options, Emotions, Fine, Venus, Mars, 10th house, Taurus, Air, 🧊🧚‍♀️🆓️💪

💀Your person's energy: This is a very lovely person on pile 2's mind, they radiate beauty and grace as well as a light presence about them. Lots of air and earth energy, they could be a Virgo, Taurus or Capricorn. Any of the air signs, especially Libra is likely. They may have Venus in Virgo or Mars in the 10th house. I'm seeing someone very capable and analytical, very successful in many ways. I think they are rather reserved in terms of relationships, they may even suppress their desires when it comes to romance and intimacy. I just heard "I don't give myself out for free" that could be them they may be sceptical of sharing themselves in a relationship.🖤🤚 Your person could be famous or well known, successful entrepreneur or business owner, or simply has many opportunities. They may work in the beauty industry or in a more feminine environment (could work around more females). I think both men and women admire and are attracted this person, they have qualities that many wish they had. I heard they make your heart flutter🦋 Also your person may be chill and say they are fine a lot and it may seem like they have very few emotions, but they do think a lot in their head and may worry about little things.💭

🖤Their deepest desires of you: Head, Feelings, Nice, Dark thoughts, Fast, Venus, Pisces, 9th house, 10th house, Vertex, 📱🧍‍♂️🦥🐍 Ahh my pile 2's your person gets dark thoughts so quick about you like it just comes out of nowhere and then suddenly they hold onto those thoughts and can't stop thinking about them🧠👿😰 Omg and your person thinks you have nice thighs/hips and legs too and they deeply desire this about you.🥰 They love seeing photos of you and think you look really attractive on screen (do with that info as you will👀🙈) They desire soft loving and ever expanding feelings with you, and deeply desire dreaming of you~💤😇 They love the way you creep around their mind, and they tend to desire thoughts of bossing you around or dominating you. (omg) They want to hold you tight and love thinking about doing so, wrapping you in their embrace so you can't get out without begging🥵 They have these types of thoughts they desire with you. You know what I think they really want to dominate you the most, holding you down or restraining you is what they REALLY desire deeply like oml they have an intense desire for that with you my pile 2's. They want to meet their fantasies as well as yours, and drown in pleasure with you. They wanna make you theirs fast so nothing can tear you two apart🥺♡

💋Messages from your person: I hope you feel better, You might get hurt, I know you're crazy over me, I can't even, I wish I could, It doesn't matter to me, I can save you, I need someone, I don't think dark thoughts about you, Give me more (Omg playing innocent but the thoughts don't lie😂😈) Extra cards: Beach, Art, Matching, Diamond, Sweetheart, 7th house, North node, 6th house, Aquarius, Venus (Aww pile 2 your person wants to be your lover and know they want a future with you!!!💖)

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🖤

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the emoji~ Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💋

Pile 3🎹

Sign energy: World, Self reflection, Binded, Hold on, Health, Water, 10th house, Sun, Pisces, North node, 🌊😖🔝🦁

💀Your person's energy: Aww I'm getting soft lion vibes from your person, like they wanna be fierce and assert dominance but they are such a literal sweetheart.😢💞💖 My pile 3's may have fell in love with this person's emotional side, they are so soft and imaginative. Pisces energy is strong in this pile, also soft Leo placements especially 12th house, also Capricorn placements are present. I can see them starimg at their reflection in the water a lot, or that could be how they see themselves from a illusive ever changing view. This is someone you see yourself with in the future, and omg this person really reminds you of yourself. They inspire you that's what I'm hearing, like they make you wanna be your best most successful self😟💝❤ So sweet I honestly love the way my pile 3's look at this person with just so much awe and admiration!! They make you feel emotional even if you aren't usually, you feel like this is your other half. You feel like they are apart of your identity in some way, and they give you a sense of pride.🥰 You guys are so cute and for some of you this person is a nature activist or wants to help save the planet, some of my pile 3's person are into veganism and healthcare. Now they could live near an ocean or beach and want to help clean beaches. Many of you wish to hold on to this connection.

🖤Their deepest desires of you: Eyelashes, Question, Out, Prince, Learn, Capricorn, 9th house, 12th house, Pisces, Vertex, 🟨🧍‍♂️🤨🥊 Okay so I'm getting that for some of you this person may be more on the innocent side, I mean they could be very "out of the loop" I'm hearing (I mean in terms of intimacy💋) I feel their energy is more lost and confused about what exactly they desire with you. It is inevitable that they will ask a lot of questions and need to learn a lot more about their kinks/what pleases them. But for my pile 3's your person is definitely ready to learn for you, they want to discover every way to thrill you and do it just right.🖤 They also desire to get high from you and be more in touch with their spirituality with you, they really want to feel outer-body experiences with my pile 3's just like things that take them higher☁️ (could desire using substances to get high with you for some🍷). Your person wants to dream of you and learn more about yours and their darkest fantasies they aren't aware of. For some of you this person has some masochistic desires for you or them🤯 I'm hearing they wanna "knock you out" could be physical pleasure or they could desire to have you unconscious and have fun from there wtf🥵🥵🥵 Wow I didn't expect that but it makes sense, they wanna have you vulnerable and helpless a little. Their deepest desires are to learn your unconcious mind and surprise you with things you don't even know you like😈😰😰 Wow this is crazy pile 3 your person wants to learn it ALL.

💋Messages from your person: You scare me sometimes, I can feel your pain, I can be your fantasy, Oh my god, I'm bleeding, It's so painful, I'm obsessed with you, My angel, This is all my fault, You make me angry (Wow the passion is insane with your person🤯😫♥️) Extra cards: Ego, Attraction, Violence, Violate, Lilith, 8th house, Pluto, 9th house, North node, 3rd house (WOW this just got crazy I'll just tell you they literally want to make you moan wtf for some of you this person literally wants to be SO aggresive and intense in ways that bring you pain and pleasure🥵👿 Using your hands thighs, and legs... They wanna show you their dark side wtf take what resonates of course.)

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🖤

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the emoji~ Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💋

Pile 4💄

Sign energy: Pessimist, Museum, Quiet place, Optimist, On, Uranus, Pisces, 11th house, Venus, Scorpio, 😫👊🍓🙊

💀Your person's energy: Ooh we got some very scorpio vibes, intense energy. This could be a Scorpio Venus or Venus in 11th house, maybe Capricorn rising for some of you. Pisces, Aquarius, Libra, Taurus. Your person has a more introverted vibe, they don't talk that much. But they are very unique, I feel themselves do all the talking them. They have unique sensual charms about them, even though they don't think so. They prefer to be in their home, that is when they are the most happy or in a good mood.🏠🖤 They are very sweet once observed further, if you give them time you will definitely notice how soft they can be on the inside. This could be a friend, or someone close to you like that but maybe they don't talk much. They are very gloomy though, always thinking the worst especially when it comes to close relationships and intimacy. They feel that making close friends/partners will end shortly after it begins, and they will be hurt again. So they can be very guarded and have bad associations about making close connections. They fight their unconscious social needs for others on a deeper level, and they tell themselves they don't need it.👥☹

🖤Their deepest desires of you: Push, Defensive, Spotlight, Holding hands, Meeting, 4th house, Virgo, 11th house, Mercury, 12th house, 🎁🔮🤤🔭 My pile 4's your person has some deep feelings for you, they desire to hold hands with you🥰💕 Aww now I'm getting that your person is really shy and/or defensive about their desires with you, they would feel uncomfortable to tell you themselves. They may feel like it is better if you know through other means such as divination or tarot, yeah I definitely don't see them opening up about this any time soon😂🖤 My pile 4's your person has a deep desire to have a very caring and healing connection with you, a relationship like a close friendship they long for but feel they can never keep or don't exist entirely. That's why they desire this with you, because all they truly want is close relationship almost like a best friend.😢 Your person desires being with you often, and they also sort of want your close relationships to be theirs too. May have the desire to have the same friends as you, they also desire attention from trusted circles people you know. Your person really desires you in a very sweet way, they want to give you gifts like matching bracelets and things best friends would do. It's not so much in a friendzone way but because they really want to be close like that with someone.🤧💌🖤

💋Messages from your person: I have no boundaries with you, Tell me how you really feel, This is all your fault, I won't let bad things happen to you, It's love at first sight, Don't let them treat you that way, Why not? I wanna thrill you, These emotions are too intense, I feel like a ghost (Ahh they don't know what to do with themselves😨) Extra cards: Risk, Obsession, Heartbreak, Mindfulness, Queen, Beauty & the beast, Scorpio, Saturn, Mars, Lilith, Uranus (Omg you guys this person is holding back such intense emotions and heavy passion they are so into my pile 4's but they don't wanna risk getting hurt anymore so they don't want to share their dark side or fall to deep into an obsession with you guys oml they don't want to spiral out of control with this intense passion for youuu🥺🖤)

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🖤

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the emoji~ Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💋

Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸

Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3

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kiss-me-muchoo · 10 months

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘺𝘭𝘢. 𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘭?. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘈𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘔𝘋𝘕𝘐 𝘗𝘓𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘌.

♪ ♫ The ultimate Miguel O’Hara playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

Every day, at some point, you got struck by the fact that you were Miguel O’Hara’s girlfriend.

You just simply couldn’t believe it. Like, at what fucking moment that happened?.

You met him as a late teenager (around 2-3 years ago), and now, starting your young adult days, it happened.

He knew you were a pain in the ass from the beginning. But ever since the first day, he tolerated you. Only to be increasing his affection for you day after day of having you on the team.

Until the change was evident between you two. You were always clinging to him like a koala. He only rolled his eyes every time you bothered him but never scolded you. The only person besides Lyla that was always in his office was you.

Lyla, that sneaky little burden….

“Did you make evaluations for the anomaly?…” Miguel’s voice startled you. When you looked down at your wrist, you accepted the communication to see his image on your watch and answer him.

“Just finished it…” you say, looking around the old train station. Earth - 9664 hosted a female lizard. And to be honest, it scared you a little.

“And?…” he urged you to continue.

“It’s moving towards the East…” The technology of the watch lets you know that your enemy is near you.

“Go and corner her. If you go to the south and turn left, you will corner her,” he indicated with a low voice.

“On it, bitch….”

“Did you just?-…” you find a moment to giggle after insulting your boyfriend.

“Sorry. You know lizards scare me….”

“I curse a lot when I’m nervous or stressed…” you didn’t know, but the man smiled back at the HQ.

“I know, little one….” Oh, you loved every time he decided to give you a nickname. Which didn’t happen very often.

“Alright, mi amor. Time to beat this…” you say, arming yourself with courage; you sigh.

“You can do this. I’ll be with you the whole mission and waiting for you when you come back….” you knew he would.

A loud grunt and violent movements near you evidently were getting closer. Fucking lizards and their stupid necessity to experiment with things out of their control.

_____________

When you came back, you were greeted by Gwen and Miles. They turned to look at the just-opened portal and quickly ran to you.

“Damn. What the hell happened to you?” Gwen asked, inspecting you.

“That hideous lizard!. It came with acid spit and everything!” Your hair was a mess; part of your suit was a disaster. Your left shoulder was bare, and a big burn was decorating the skin.

“Acid hit your skin?” Miles asked worriedly.

“Yeah. None of this would’ve happened if-… Where’s Miguel?” The teenagers look at each other, and you keep sighing.

“She left with Lyla an hour ago….” They know you’re slightly pissed; how you roll your eyes and then throw your head back is a clear sign of anger.

“What? Why?” You finally ask in disbelief.

Miguel was supposed to guide you through the mission, not leave with Lyla to do God knows what.

“A report got lost and apparently was important,” Gwen explains, reaching to take your weak body and help you...

“He left me for a missing report?. Oh, he’s…” but you didn’t finish because you moved your shoulder, and the pain was unbearable.

As Miles and Gwen escort you to the medical aisle of the HQ, all the other spider people turn to look at the mess you are.

“Easy… I’ve never interacted with acid, but it sounds frightening,” Gwen admits kindly. You nod at her. Even when she’s just younger than you by little, both of you work well.

“Why has your skin not fallen apart?”

“I’m half a butterfly, Miles. Remember?” your skin worked in different ways. It was shiny and firm.

“Are your wings okay?” You could grow cute butterfly wings like a tattoo inked to your skin. It was pretty cool.

“Yeah, well… I don’t know.” You admitted, but thankfully, the three of you were at the medical aisle. Spider-doctor kindly gave you a private room, making Miles and Gwen wait outside.

“You’re fine. But I need 12 hours of rest at least. Okay?” you nod at him. After that, Spider-doctor left, and you spent hours with Miles and Gwen. Even Hobie and Pavitr played cards, brought you food, and chatted.

But Miguel didn’t come for the whole ass evening. Between talks with your friends, you mentally cursed your asshole boyfriend.

Sometime after Doctor-spider checked on you again and gave you a syringe of vitamins, Miguel's tall and broad figure entered the room.

“Hey…” his sweet voice almost made you remember you were mad at him. He came closer to take a look at you.

Immediately his eyes looked at your chest, noticing you were only wearing a strapless top because your shoulder was covered in bandages and dry blood.

Your right cheek was slightly purple, and some scratches covered your neck.

“Don’t you dare to ask if I’m okay or that you’re sorry, Miguel O’Hara,” you say firmly, looking at his pouting face? He might be sorry, but you didn’t want to hear it.

“I’m sorry…I really am” he has to kneel beside the hospital bed. Cause he’s so tall that even on his knees, he could barely face you.

“Oh really?… Even if a report was missing, I would have stayed with you the whole time. Bad boyfriend…” he wants to laugh when you say the last two things crossing your arms and looking to the window, away from him.

But he was trying, ridiculously trying to be good enough for you.

“Yeah, right. I’m never doing it again, promise,” he stated, taking your hand.

You really wished he was more like this every time, every single fucking day.

Because even as your boyfriend, he was always so damn distant.

“Don’t make promises you can’t fulfill…” How he was caressing your knuckles distracted you from your anger. He was good, very possessive, but a fantastic distant partner.

“Look at me, please….” His sharp features, gorgeous lips, and attractive eyes greet you. You simply stare in awe.

“I hate seeing you like this. And knowing it was my fault makes me feel worst.”

“I take care of you, and you take care of me. Right?…” slowly, you smile.

“I think we’re getting on the same page, handsome” When you interlock your hand with his, he knows it’s okay.

“Stop…” he sighs, closing his eyes. The touch of your free hand across his soft hair and scalp is always too much for him. All his worries are gone, but he knows it’s not the right time or place.

“Why? Does this remind you of something, babe?…” it makes him remember something for sure.

His head is buried between your legs. A wet mess and the most erotic night of his life.

“Don’t do this to me, y/n,” he pleads. The memory of your first time with him some weeks ago was killing him because it hadn’t happened again.

“I’ve been thinking about it…” your disguised innocence shouldn’t turn him on. No, you are innocent compared to him. You’re a burst of light. But you had to unconsciously be so hot and sweet.

“What part?” He teases back. Feeling proud and praised already.

“Everything. Though, I’m scared you won’t fit in again next time…” there it is. You knew his weak point. The amount of ego he needed.

“Oh, butterfly. You want to find out?” You nod, slightly spreading your legs, lifting the ruffled hospital gown you had.

His lips brush yours when someone something interrupts the moment.

Instantly you pull the gown down, and Miguel pulls away from you.

“Oh, hey. Sorry to interrupt!” It’s Lyla, always smiling and moving energetically around you two. You feel awkward.

“An anomaly has appeared on earth-1234, boss,” she alerts happily.

Earth-1234, Does that even exist?.

Miguel sighs. His serious tone and distance from you are back. While you welcomed the private affection, you disliked letting him go. Because you didn’t have enough of him, maybe you never would.

“We need to go to the monitors and trace a plan. Do I call Jessica? Or Peter?” The AI asked, completely ignoring you.

Which made you feel uncomfortable feeling on your chest. And you refused to let it take control.

“Whoever is available first,” your boyfriend says, returning to see you.

“I’m not taking too much. Sleep, and I’ll be here when you wake up” Knowing there was no other option, you nod.

You know he’s not gonna kiss you or pet you. He’s just going to leave because Lyla was there.

So something possessed you to say something out loud.

“Love you…” it wasn’t the first time. He had said it; you had too. But never in public, just in the privacy of you two.

“…me too,” he says, with his mask on. He means it, but he’s awkward about saying it out loud. Because he doesn’t want to show anyone he could be soft.

And you try to convince yourself you had said that I love you out loud because Miguel couldn’t kiss you that night.

Because that would compensate for the lack of communication and time together.

But deep down, you said it out loud so Lyla could hear.

______________

A new area in the cafeteria allows you to sit outside and have a beautiful view of the city and the clear sky.

You always fight for a table over there. The closer your lunch was to sunset, the cooler the sky looked.

“Hey… there’s my favorite flying spider,” Peter greeted, sitting next to you, placing his tray of food and Mayday on the table.

“Hello to my favorite spider father and spider baby duo,” you salute back. They both giggle, even if Mayday is less than a year old.

“How have you been?” The older man asks. You debate whether to say anything about your increasing insecurity or not.

“I’m good. I’ve missed you two,” you had to admit. Peter was so kind when you met him; everyone said he was a bad mentor. But you believed he had some talent.

“Same. This missy here always gets fussy when she hears your voice” That information melted your heart. Causing you to reach for Mayday and hug her tightly.

“Oh, Mayday. I love you like you were my sister” Peter had already asked you to be his kid godmother because MJ wanted to organize a baptism for little Mayday.

“My spider sense tells me you’re not comfortable. Mind to elaborate?” The man changed the subject suddenly. So you decided, if Peter had to learn Miguel was your boyfriend, fuck it.

“Have you ever thought about where Lyla comes from?” Your question made him furrow, ignoring that Mayday was eating a slice of apple from your salad.

“What? Why?”

“She spends a lot of time with Miguel….” You hoped Peter wouldn’t start asking more questions about Miguel.

“Well, she’s like Miguel’s second hand.”

“Yeah, but-, When did she start sticking around? I’m just curious,” Peter shrugs.

“She was already here when I entered. Some say Jessica brought it here. Others…” When he leaned to whisper, it made you nervous.

“There’s an old rumor. JUST A RUMOR… That Miguel created Lyla based on his…late lover.”

“WHAT?” You asked in horror.

“I know. Sounds terrible, but… honestly? I don’t know either.”

Hobie startled you with the sound of his tray banging against the table. Miles, Gwen, and Pavitr were already seated when you looked around.

“What sounds terrible?” Pavitr asked, but you didn’t know whether to answer or not.

“Would you guys think I’m crazy for being jealous of Lyla spending too much time with Miguel?” Everyone stood quiet, looking at you like you were the weirdest creature in all universes.

“Why?” Gwen asked, with her pierced brow arched.

“Cause-, uh-… He’s my boyfriend.” A new wave of silence and looks ruled the table.

Until everyone kind of digested the information and started acting like the fire drill of The Office show.

“NO WAY, WHAT?” Miles yelled. Gwen checked your forehead to see if you were okay and not on some delirious fever moment.

“I wasn’t expecting this…” Hobie didn’t act very surprised, but of course, he was.

“When did this happen? Why you didn’t tell us?” Asked an offended Peter, taking Mayday from your arms as a punishment.

“Because…ugh-, It was a new relationship and-, I-, I- wanted to make sure it was real-“ you’re nervous. And the fact that their looks are fixated on you makes you feel even more nervous.

“How long?” Asks Pavitr starting to eat.

“Like… two or three months?” They nod and start acting like it is apparent.

“Okay. That explains a lot… but, How?” The blonde girl’s question makes you remember how everything started.

“We met when I was your age…”

“And Uhm-. I don’t know; we always had a soft spot for each other. Only now that I’m a little older, it just happened” Since Pavitr and Peter are the only ones in relationships, they nod with a little smile. Like two little lovers who know what you’re talking about.

“That’s very sweet…” Your Indian friend was a helpless romantic. And it shows.

“And what has to do with Lyla?” Hobie asked.

“She’s very nosy…and Miguel never stops her from being nosy.”

“Like?…”

“Yesterday. I stayed late with Miguel keeping track of the anomaly recordings. And we-, uh, we were kissing. Then she appeared out of nowhere, and with one sentence, she had Miguel out of the room, leaving me alone” Instantly, Gwen and Miles remembered the incident of some days ago when you came back from fighting with that lizard.

“Lyla has always been with Miguel. But… maybe you should talk to him,” Peter suggested, but they received your head shaking after no.

“I can’t. He makes me nervous as hell.”

“But he’s your boyfriend….” Miles reminded you.

“So? He still makes me nervous” They couldn’t blame you. Miguel was… imposing.

“Just talk to him…” Since Peter was the oldest in the group, you knew he was right.

…

And you took a decision hours later, you would avoid your boyfriend.

Because the more you thought about the rumor Peter told about, the more freaked out you started to feel.

You successfully left the HQ that night without telling Miguel anything.

He noticed it; you were being distant. Sending him a little awkward smile before you left with Mayday to the ladies' room.

“I think she’s avoiding me, Lyla,” the AI shrugged.

“But you’ve been great. All the things we reviewed… Isn’t it enough?” She speaks worriedly.

“I don’t know…” he replied distantly.

“Well, let’s try harder. I’m a busy gal, and you have to get the girl” Her giggles made Miguel roll his eyes.

“I meant, keep. Keep the girl, boss” After that, she disappeared.

When Miguel tried to find you, he learned you had already left the HQ.

___

The curiosity to eat authentic Puerto Rican food was killing you. Miles had invited you and Gwen to his mom’s birthday party. You had met her once, and she was so sweet, his father too. His family had this fantastic warmth that made you feel welcome.

So the three of you agreed to meet at the HQ an hour before the event.

Many of your coworkers looked weirdly at you cause you weren’t wearing your suit. You had a halter top, wide jeans, and a pair of sexy boots. Your wings were safely inked to your skin, and the top did an excellent job showing them off.

A hoodie hangs on your forearm, and a little gift box is in your right hand. Only a little set of fine jewelry.

“Boo!” You jump at Gwen, scaring you. She’s wearing a dress and jacket with sneakers. Very much of her style.

“Damn, Gwen!. You scared me….”

“Hey, you look hot,” she said, sending you a smirk.

“That wasn’t the intention; it’s a family party. By the way, you also look very pretty” She thanks you, and seconds later, Miles comes in.

“Hey! Ready?” The boy flatters you and Gwen before checking his watch and opening a new portal.

A shiver runs through your spine because you know Miguel must be around, probably looking for you.

Literally, you push your younger friends inside the portal.

…

Miguel watches you dance in the middle of the rooftop with Gwen and the other guys. You seem happy, unbothered, and peaceful. He understood that maybe Lyla was right; he didn’t need a daily checkout to see how he was doing. He needed to be himself and make you happy.

Yes, he had followed to earth-1610. Because he was losing his mind over what he did wrong to cause your distance.

Seeing you so happy and having fun went straight to his heart because he couldn’t remember when you two had that much fun since your relationship started.

So he dressed like an average person with his suit underneath and took the courage to walk into the party. Because Pavitr told him that it was Miles’s mom's birthday party. Hobie refused and basically said fuck off to Miguel. So with Pavitr's words in mind, he was entering the party.

The Latin music was evident, and everyone laughing. He got closer and caught you singing a song in Spanish and dancing. The sight was attractive for Miguel, a definitive turn-on.

Slowly, he stood behind you, making you jump.

Sure, you were surprised to see your asshole boyfriend with a hand on your hip, in casual clothing, outside the HQ, his or her home.

“Miguel? What the hell are you doing here?” You’re in shock. Gwen looks closer and blinks, unable to believe what she’s seeing. So she nudges Miles, and his reaction is the same.

“You’re avoiding me….” you get blushed. The embarrassment of the cause of your distance from him, and the anger towards his attitude, and Lyla. Ugh…

“What? No. I’m not avoiding you….” he sends you a prominent look. Trying to tell you he’s not stupid.

“Yes, you are….” Before you can say anything else, Gwen drags Miles and stands beside the two of you.

“What are you doing here?” Gwen asks, judging your lover. Miles is quiet and slightly nervous that the man who tried killing him some time ago was at his home.

“I need to talk with y/n” Miles shrugs at Miguel’s comment. While he sips the soda from a red cup.

“Why? It’s our free day, man. And you don’t like the dangers of going to random universes if there are no anomalies” You stay quiet. Only glancing between the pair of teenagers and Miguel.

“Because, Miles… She’s my girlfriend. And I don’t have to worry because the only Spider-Man and Spider-Girl of this earth are in front of my eyes.” No one was expecting him to publicly confirm he was your boyfriend.

“Now… we’re going inside to the hallways to talk. Privately…” Before anyone can add anything, his giant hand drags you across the rooftop inside the building.

“Now, would you tell me what it’s going on?” He asks calmly. You sigh, hands on your hips.

“Okay… I feel-“

Maybe it was the most reasonable idea to maturely talk about the issue. But everything goes to hell when Lyla appears between you two.

“Woah. Am I late? Hope not to cause-“

“GOD!. She’s my problem!” You spit out, tired and highly irritated. And there was no turning back; you had to do this with both being present.

“Me?” Lyla asks, offended.

“Look, she’s known me for some time now, and you keep treating me like a ghost.”

“She’s always interrupting us and taking you away from me. The only thing left is her interrupting us in the middle of the action in my bed to give you a new list of anomalies” Both stand there quietly. Super awkward and uncomfortable. At least the hallway of that floor is empty, and the sound of the music coming from the rooftop.

“And I don’t know if I’m fucking jealous or not. But I’m certainly hurt, and this is so embarrassing, so… I’m just-gonna… leave.”

“It’s nothing personal, Lyla. I’m sorry. And I wouldn’t be opposed if you choose to break up with me, Miguel” Your cheeks were burning, dying out of cringe. So you awkwardly run downstairs, and once you are far enough, you spread your wings to fly and swing with your webs through the city.

This thing of being in love was making you crazy.

——-

You spent two days with Gwen. In case Miguel tried to break up with you at your home on earth-1610, in your LA apartment. Or, in case he wanted to reach you in the HQ.

You just wanted to postpone the moment.

You couldn’t because an emergency emerged, and even Jessica called you.

“Hey, I’ve been covering you for two days. But this is an emergency. We need you. Relax, it will only be Spider-Cat, Hobie, and I,” she alerted you through the watch.

“I’ll see you on earth-3344 in ten….”

It was 7:00pm on Gwen’s universe. She was out, and the whole two days you spent with her, you were crying and sobbing all over her place.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… FUCK” You keep cursing as you hurry to get your suit. At least you took a shower the day before.

You look okay. Your eyes were red from evidently crying for long periods. Aside from that, everything seemed stable.

So you leave a note for Gwen and make your way to earth-3344.

…

The showers are empty. You keep singing Stars Dance like you are part of a music video.

I'll make you whisper my name

And never leave the room

Night and day, I'II be your muse

No other girl can make you feel the way I do.

You had a good voice, you had to admit.

After the fight with some alternate venom, you ended up as a mess, so you decided to use the showers of the HQ and then call it a day.

Luckily, you hadn’t thought about Miguel and your stupid tantrum about him and Lyla. Your mind was on what you would have for dinner that night.

I can make the stars dance

Light up the moon

I can make the stars dance

If you want me to.

“Found her, boss. The ladies showers on the eighth floor,” You scream when you hear a voice behind you. Lyla is there, talking to someone.

“WHAT THE HELL?” You yell again, gripping your towel harder. There was no time to process what was happening; you just looked worried at the AI.

“There you are. Miguel has been looking for you like crazy. He’s coming right now!” Your eyes widen exaggeratedly, so you rush to turn and grab your things.

“WHAT?. No, no, no…” she’s offering a big smile.

“Gosh. I’m just in a towel, you know?”

“Oh. Don’t be ridiculous. I’m an AI!” And that’s when you remembered what you said about her last time. So you sigh, trying to find some time to apologize to her.

“Look… I’m sorry about the other day. It’s just… I miss him, and… we’re both busy. So I really treasure every moment I have with him.” Lyla tilts her head and starts pacing in circles around you.

“It’s okay. I knew it was wrong. But Miguel really wanted to check in with me after everything interaction you two had” You frown, confused at her words.

“What?, Why?…”

“Cause he wants to make you happy, silly. And I’ve tried to tell him that it would be better if he decided to be spontaneous rather than a perfectionist” Instantly, your heart softened twice. A smile appeared on your face, and you couldn’t help but stare at your feet.

“He wants to take things slow and thought spending too much time together would make you want space from him. I guess it turned out the opposite of what he expected” You nod. Because him bringing Lyla to stay away from you caused all this.

And he came in. Closing the door behind him. You remember you were still in a towel, and your hair was wet.

“Thanks, Lyla” The AI nodded and gave you a friendly wink before disappearing.

You and Miguel stared in silence at each other for some minutes. He stepped further toward you, and the invasion of privacy didn’t bother you.

“I know.” You start, shrugging. Telling him that you are aware of his reasons to add Lyla every time he could.

“You should have told me before acting like an immature bitch and taking it out on Lyla” The memory of you yelling at Miles building make you cringe. But Miguel is fixated on your clean face and how pretty you are. He had lost everything, but now… You were his everything.

Knowing that you wanted more of him calmed him.

“I don’t want to break up with you because of what happened.”

“I just want this to work out” his raspy voice and deep eyes are enough to make you nervous. So you just nod, grabbing his hand.

“Me too. But it would not last how it turned out” There’s a little echo in the room. Only a single window illuminated the showers in green and blue tones.

In your head, it was the perfect time to kiss him. A hazy scenario, ideal for a kiss.

“I’m sorry. The event of the lizard and acid still haunts me…” he admits closing his eyes briefly.

“Hey, it’s okay. Look, there’s not even a single scar on my skin….” you say, looking at your bare shoulder.

“I see that.” Miguel didn’t mean to sound so lustful, but he did. He couldn’t help his anatomy to increase blood to certain areas.

“I can hear your heartbeats, babe” Your giggles make him want to blush.

“I won’t trespass until I apologize, little one” Of course, he would say something like that.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too…” you reply, pouting.

“We don’t say it very often, but I-“

“I love you,” he says immediately, surprising you. But it’s more than enough. You have him, and you wouldn’t let him go again.

So you gently push him towards a bench facing the mirror and vanity where your stuff rests.

He lets you take the lead. There’s no turning back when he spreads his legs and grabs your hips to cage you between them.

“I like this….Now kiss me.” He likes your eagerness because it drives him crazy how you could also be so shy and sweet at the same time.

Your chaotic attitude matches his stoic presence. And it never failed.

“Are you sure? Cause I don’t think I will be able to stop” Oh, you love that tone, the one he used the first he marked you as his.

“I think we should call Lyla” He can’t laugh.

“Now you want to call her?”

“To soundproof the room?”

“Smart little fairy…” he coos, and you instantly switch to the most passive girlfriend. You think it’s because of the new nickname. His little fairy…

And he knows it.

So you let the towel fall. And like an animal instinct, your wings spread open, leaving bare in front of him.

“Care to make us a safe room?” his eyes never leave the sight of your naked body, but he shoots out one of his shiny orange/red webs to lock the door of the showers.

As he makes you straddle him. You have to close your eyes at the feeling of his fangs brushing the soft skin of your neck. It tickles and sends shivers through your body.

But finally, he kisses you. It’s slow but very passionate. He takes the time to draw patterns through your naked back, barely brushing your wings. And make his lips give you the pleasure of feeling lost in the moment.

He hadn’t even touched you most intimately, and you feel like you had taken another shower.

Your body looks impossibly smaller compared to his broad figure. His hair starts to fall against his forehead, mixing with his sweat, turning you on more than it should.

“M-Miguel. Make love to me, please.” You finally plead. Surrendering to his charms.

“I’ll do more than that, amor.”

When his claws grasp your hips, it’s over; you’re a goner.

“Miguel?” You ask shyly.

He looks deeply into your eyes, ready to fulfill your desires. Because he can’t deny how much he loves you anymore.

“Please don’t stop kissing me,” so he does.

Cause you want him in every way. Accepting you’ve fallen too hard on him.

________________________________

𝐀/𝐍_ A year ago on this week I had a car accident that haunted the rest of my 2022. And now, I GOT TICKETS TO SEE TAYLOR SWIFT IN LA 😭, I successfully registered for my third semester of college and I'm making some money online, I'm so thankful and happy. So this writing was therapy to handle my happiness.

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara angst #miguel spiderverse #atsv #across the spiderverse #peter b parker x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you

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maleyanderecafe · 23 days

Text

When Jasy Whistles (Webcomic)

Created by: Cibeles

Genre: Fantasy/Romance

You probably have seen this one around, but I did find it very unique in terms of the worldbuilding. It can be admittedly fairly slow in some points in terms of pacing though actually the thing I enjoyed the most out of the series was seeing Jasy's siblings and learning more about them. Currently as of writing this, the story has finished its second season and the creator is working on it's third and final season.

The story starts out with Hela, a girl who lives in an traditional/ relatively isolated town outside of modern things who wants to take after her grandmother and become the chief of her town one day. Hela's best friend Rodri is one day taken away by one of the demigods, Jasy, and Hela goes to get him back. Jasy needs a human to help him get through the gate as a demigod like himself is not able to, and promises that if he makes a pact with Hela and gets through, she will be able to get Rodri back. Hela is very suspicious of Jasy as not only did he kidnap her best friend, but there are folk stories about how you should not follow Jasy's whistle, as it lures them somewhere bad. However, with no other way to get Rodri back, Hela accepts the pact and they go on their adventure. They are attacked by one of Jasy's half brothers, Ao Ao, a beast that eats everything and gives birth to children with only the desire to consume. As Jasy is not able to hurt his siblings, Hela must be the one to protect him using her skills in archery. They are able to escape and slowly walk through the land itself. There they meet other people there, trapped under strange circumstances. All of them are cursed to grow until they are adults and are never able to grow old, all while still having to sustain themselves on the few resources they have in the land. Hela wishes to open the gate and free the people there, as they are all fighting over the resources, while Jasy doesn't seem to care whatsoever, as he has a distrust of humans after the previous one betrayed him while trying to open the gate. Despite this, Jasy is able to mostly have amends with the people there, and even meets another sibling of Jasy's, willing to give her face to him so as long as they can go through to the gate safely. In the end, this brother instead wants to have Jasy's face, something that he willingly trades over Hela's, so as long as Hela can stay alive. Hela eventually reaches the gate where she sacrifices herself to open it and allow the people into the land. This greatly affects Jasy as he suddenly realizes how much he had cared for and loves her. To get her back, Jasy goes into the spirit realm to try to save her, and he's able to see her past with Rodri. Jasy is fully willing to stay with her in this forever loop of her childhood, but the two of them eventually come back into the world, and now having opened the world so the humans can go in, recover there afterwards. Jasy and Hela continue to love each other in their honeymoon phase, until Jasy is captured by humans. Hela finds out the humans that caught him are under the leadership of Rodrigo's mother, who had been missing for a while, chasing after treasures. We find out that she is the human that betrayed Jasy initially and attempts to get Hela to shoot him, only for her to free him. The last couple of chapters reveals that Mboi Tu'i, the sibling that has taken care of the realm is actually Rodrigo in some way and wants to take Hela away.

So I will say right now I don't really know that much about South American mythos, so there's a lot of things that go over my head in terms of references or how each type of god acted, but I do feel that I did have a good understanding on how each of Tau's children acted and the kind of possible personalities that they have. It's definitely a unique take on mythos that we don't normally see. The artwork as well is very gorgeous, the characters are very pretty and I'm a fan of the more monster designs of the siblings as well, seeing how each of them came to be and just how much they have to suffer. The world that Jasy and Hela go into is very cool, the idea of humans that basically can live forever is both a blessing and a curse, as they cannot reproduce and they still have to eat and fight for territory. I think my favorite of his brothers is probably Kurupi because I really do like sad monster boys that are shunned because of their appearance. Compared to his more real life depictions in myths he's a lot more sympathetic and tragic, so it's nice to see those incorporated in there. The entire plot seems to eventually go to deal with Tau, Jasy's father, in some point in the future.

Still, despite this, I feel like the plot at times can be really slow. There are good moments like when Hela helps out the people who are in stuck fighting each other and we see the dynamic of the world, as well as the aforementioned lore of all of Jasy's siblings, but the actual development of Hela and Jasy's relationship is slow, all things considered. Initially, Jasy and Hela are more like enemies, as Hela is extremely suspicious of Jasy and vice versa, only cooperating with each other because they need each other's help. Still as the story goes on the two of them fall for each other and slowly develop feelings for each other. This isn't necessarily done in a bad way, but it is incredibly slow and honestly lost my attention a lot of the times. I'm also a bit surprised that Hela wasn't more resistant considering Jasy actually did kidnap Rodri and only promised to give him back if she cooperated. While again, the romantic moments were fairly cute, they aren't all that interesting to me and to be honest, I'd rather see the actual worldbuilding that the two go through rather than their relationship. Hela as a main character focuses mostly on her desire to run her tribe, and while she initially is fairly competent and active in the story, shooting a lot of Ao Ao's children, she ends up having to rely a lot of Jasy to save her, especially since she ends up losing her bow and arrow after a while. I actually straight up forgot that she could do archery at the end when Hela was forced by her aunt to kill Jasy, which is probably not a great sign. I don't think she's the worst MC in these stories because she does have a lot of interesting points to her, but it does feel like she was hamstringed after a bit, with a bunch of chapters after Hela dies and is revived pretty much being carried around by Jasy as she recuperates. She does have a fairly strong conviction of not only bringing back Rodri but her connection to her grandmother, as well as the development to allow herself to finally decide things for herself without having it taken away from him, but I still feel like she could have used a bit more agency in the story itself.

Jasy as a yandere doesn't actually start out as one so we actually see the kind of decent he gets into. He is a rather light yandere all things considered, but it is always fun to see them descend into yandere behavior nevertheless. Like I said before, Jasy and Hela have a bit of a tumultuous relationship at first with the two of them begrudgingly forced to help each other, while slowly learning to understand each other a bit more. Jasy doesn't understand why Hela would go so far to save Rodri and later the humans that are trapped but has to go along with her anyways since she's the key to him getting through the gate. By the time he does reach the gate, and Hela sacrifices herself, he starts to realize the error of his ways- while initially he viewed her as a tool to open the gate, he now starts to realize that he actually did care about her, and more deeply love her, even to the point of going to the realm of the dead to find her. He even so much is willing to loop over and over Hela's favorite childhood memories forever so as long as they are together. When Jasy does finally retrieve her, the two of them basically have a honeymoon together, where Jasy is extremely doting on her. We do see some of bits of jealousy earlier with Jasy, such as when one of the guys of offhandedly suggests that Hela is actually pretty attractive, but it doesn't really come to full fruition until after she dies. It's a bit hard to say right now exactly how far he'll go considering it feels like it's just the beginning of the yandere arc for Jasy, but it at least is a start. Not sure how far they'll ramp it up in the third and last season, if at all. Like I said though, it's still pretty light and it's very possible that it might stay that way, though with Rodri's reveal, it could also very well go on a darker path.

Overall, I was pretty surprised at the story, but I do have split opinions on it. The worldbuilding and the mythos of the monsters are really interesting and a definite unique take that I haven't personally seen as much before, but I find that the story and pacing for the characters are pretty tedious and dragging at times. Still, it's extremely beautiful and the story itself is something unique to experience if you are interested in such things.

#When Jasy Whistles #ongoing #male yandere #yandere boy #yandere #recommendation

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iznsfw · 11 months

Note

was wondering if you ever thought about writing a taeyeon smut with breeding/squirting kink

Setup

Part Three of Dulce Periculum | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Girls Generation's Kim Taeyeon x Male Reader Smut

5,273 words

Categories | exactly what's in the ask: breeding and squirting, fingering, cunnilingus, light bondage, overstimulation, uniform sex, subbymommy!Taeyeon

Of course I thought about it! I would have written a hundred more fics for Taeng like I did with Eunbi if I weren't a lazy fuck LMAO This chapter is already barely edited!

Anyway, here's best girl. Please enjoy and await the next chapter ;)

"That was… something."

Eunbi's on your lap again, as she always is. It would be no surprise if it's become what she uses for everything now: a school chair, a backseat, everything. Her glasses are tilted to the side and her skirt is a bit too undone for suspicion to not be cast, for questions to not be said: “Why do you look tired?”; “Do you need a ride home?”; “Were you fucking Ms. Kim?”

Already she's forgotten about her earlier volleyball game loss, which is a good thing, you guess, since a disappointed frown no longer dimples her cute face. You'd rather have this Eunbi: a smiley one, clinging to you as if the two of you were magnetic forces that can't be separated without a fight, with her hair down and her body resting on yours.

Comfort. That's the word.

You've no idea how you look like, but from the way she's attending to you—brushing your messy hair with her fingers and easing the bruises on your neck with soft massages—you'd say you look pretty fucked up, in a word-for-word kind of way, And the blame is on Kim Taeyeon, certified freak in the sheets and a pretty awesome teacher besides all that.

("In the classroom" would be a more fitting phrase. She completely dominated you and your girlfriend as if she owned you, and it's safe to say that after that, she does. It's something you're more than happy to give in to.)

"Are you okay? You'll have to use makeup for this, oppa," coos Eunbi as she worriedly massages a hickey.

"My parents won't give a fuck, Eun. They'd be glad to know I'm getting laid."

She pushes her bottom lip out understandingly and nods.

"What about you?"

"Uhh," she thinks for a moment, "my parents wouldn't see—"

"No." Reword that: "What I meant is: are you okay?"

She beams. Pretty girl, pretty girl, pretty girl—that charming little smile dances in your mind like an act at a circus. "I'm alive, aren't I?"

"No, I mean, are you okay with the whole insult thing?" You push her lopsided glasses back on her nose. She kisses you appreciatively. "She called you… what? 'Naughty little girl'?"

"You can say I am," singsongs Eunbi as she toys with your uniform tie. Her smile is wider, a little more mischievous. God, what has Taeyeon done to her? "Right, oppa?"

"Whatever."

"What? You don't like it?" She's pouting, knowing how much that little downward quirk of her lips affects your heart. She curls her arms around your neck and drags her face closer to yours. The old Eunbi would have known better than to put on PDA in school, considering it goes against several student regulations, but she's starting to become a little more coy than usual. Her flushed cheeks tell you that she likes doing that for you, too.

"No, I do," you clarify, your hands sliding down to her tiny waist. "But I just want to, like, know if you're fine with everything. I mean, she likes to talk down on you, maybe even hurt your feelings while doing it. You sure it doesn't raise a red flag?"

"Oh, 'red flag'! Oppa keeps up with the lingo!"

Roll your eyes. Here we fucking go. "You know that I'm barely older than you, right?”

Eunbi giggles. She curls her little arms around you and pulls you close.

Taper your gaze south and you can see there are bruises on her shoulders, and a couple more on her thighs and legs that her skirt fails to hide. Hearing that cute laugh from her causes you to wonder if you're the problem. What did you do to Eunbi? What have you turned her into? A year or two back, she was just a cute little honor student with time in her packed schedule to allow for tutoring you. Now, she's constantly on your lap, as if it's her favorite seat, with the sweet smile on her face proving to be deceptive whenever she guides your hand up her skirt.

Do you like it? Fuck yeah. Do you feel just a little bit guilty for corrupting her? That's also a yes.

"I'm fine with it," says Eunbi softly. "More than okay."

Her eyes are serious, but hold a gentleness in them that makes you want to pull her down and kiss her, and not even sexually. It brings you at least some comfort to know that whatever you made her into, she actively participates and allows. It would be a whole different thing if it weren't that way.

"You sure?"

"Yes, my cute little oppa. Stop worrying about me." Eunbi kisses your nose again. "Let's go home?"

You look around. The covered court is empty, except for the remaining volleyball nets and confetti. The high school buildings are also silent. Taeyeon's car is gone from the driveway. Nobody is here but the two of you.

Has looking at your empty school always been this nostalgic? You used to view education as nothing but a filler and obstacle in your schedule, but being with Eunbi makes you look forward to the future. Having your arm around her as you walk to your locker and sitting with her during lunch has significantly brightened your day. Even your grades started to improve—maybe love is the answer all along?

As corny as it sounds, it might be.

Your satisfied grin is genuine. Picking up the small girl bridal-style, you take the long day head in full stride. "Let's go home, pretty girl."

“Why are you home so late?”

Eunbi’s mother squints suspiciously as the two of you enter her house. You’ve come over to visit your girlfriend’s family more times than you can count, but after being royally fucked over by Kim Taeyeon, you can barely look her in the eyes.

“Sorry, mommy– mom,” fumbles Eunbi. Her ears are red; the word sounds strange now after she’s used it on a woman twice her age, most especially if said woman’s her teacher. She shrugs off your arm and steps out of her school shoes. “We stopped by the gym.”

“Yeah,” is all you can say to support the statement, considering you didn’t know until Eunbi mentioned it that there’s a gym nearby. It’s time to bulk and lift, you guess.

You and Eunbi stand guiltily at the doorway of the Kwon household, heads hung like faultful puppies. How to deal with Mrs. Kwon after you fucked her daughter and a nymphomaniac professor wasn’t exactly written down in the boyfriend manual. That’s why your mouth has nothing to say, and your hands go nowhere but your pockets. It’s an awkward situation you wouldn’t wish on even the most horrible school rival.��

“You had sex, didn’t you?”

The bold, no-bullshit question makes Eunbi’s ears burn. Flustered, she shakes her head more times than someone who isn’t guilty should. “No!” she denies, as if offended by the thought of it. “Mom, why would you say that?”

“Oh, come on,” Mrs. Kwon says, placing her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. Her smile is hilariously condescending. “I know you get stressed when I make you attend all those extracurriculars. My little girl needs some relief, too, just like her dad—”

Your eyes widen.

“Ew!” Eunbi rushes into your arms and places her hands on her ears. “Mom, stop, what the fuck!”

“No swearing!” scolds her mother as she skips over to the kitchen to make dinner, her day slightly better now that she’s fulfilled her duty as a parent to humiliate Eunbi. “Make sure to be on the pill, my silver rain! Mommy loves you so much!”

Eunbi’s hiding her face in her palms, pressing them hard on her cheeks that it’s started to mold to their shape. You, on the other hand, are cackling, You’re having the time of your fucking life, slapping your knees like an entry to Heaven depends on it. You can’t believe the strict Mrs. Kwon would be so straightforward about that. It’s certainly a break of character, and an embarrassing but welcome one.

Your girlfriend glares at you. “It’s not funny!” she whines, punching you in the shoulder. “Oppa, how can you even laugh about that?”

“I’m sorry, Eunbi—” Interrupted by your own laughs, you apologize profusely. Still, your eyes make half-moon crescents and your stomach starts to hurt from giggling. “I’m sorry, it’s just—it’s just—”

“Oppa!”

"What did she say, baby? Mommy loves you so much—"

“You’re so mean to me!”

“No, wait, wait, wait, you’re not going anywhere.” Sweep her into your arms again when the upset Eunbi turns around to leave. She mewls in protest, but you kiss her over and over, arms ribboned tight around her body. Your laughing lips start to feel numb with how much they’ve touched her pale, milky skin. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry, okay?”

“You’re not!”

Look down at Eunbi’s angry face and kiss her on the nose. That should work usually, but it seems like she’s really upset this time. “Oh, come on, baby,” you say. “I said I was sorry. What can I do to make you smile?”

Eunbi looks away like an upset bunny. It’s hard to keep a serious face when she’s too adorable even in times where she’s annoyed.

“Tell me,” you urge. “I promise I’ll do it.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Bring my uniform to school,” says Eunbi, still refusing to look you in the eye. As she speaks, she unbuttons her blouse and slips out of her skirt, leaving her in nothing but a camisole and volleyball shorts. “We’re training again tomorrow and I don’t want to carry it in my bag. And quit staring at my chest, perv!”

“Sorry.” Close your eyes for a few seconds, then open them, as if doing so would chasten them. The next second, Eunbi’s uniform is in your arms. “Where do I put it?”

“Give them to Professor Kim.”

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re”—minimize your voice so Mrs. Kwon wouldn’t hear, just in case she'd been eavesdropping the whole time—”fucking her without me.”

“Oppa,” Eunbi interrupts. Her expression is suddenly serious. “Just do it, please?”

Oh, yeah, as weird as her request is, you don’t say no. If she's merely having your professor do her laundry or arranging a time for some one-on-one tutoring sessions, you take the clothes and take the trip. When Eunbi's upset, you transform into an overly nurturing father.

You almost told the school guard you’re there for boyfriend duties. He’s a friendly guy and would have understood if you actually said it, but you’re so irritated by having to drive all the way back to school that you don’t find it in you to crack jokes.

You meet Taeyeon in the faculty room. “Good afternoon, Professor,” you say, unsure if you should go on with the mommy thing.

Taeyeon is now dressed in a blouse layered with a brown fur sweater. Her beam is so different from the predatory smirk that was on her face earlier. “Good afternoon, pretty boy.” She looks down at Eunbi’s uniform. “What’s this?”

“Um.” You scratch the back of your neck, still flustered by Taeyeon’s coy remark. “Eunbi asked me to give it to you.”

“Ah, thank you. Would you check on me in three minutes, please?”

Another strange request from another beautiful woman. Trying not to look confused, you nod. “Uh, sure, Professor.”

Taeyeon kisses you on the cheek then brings the uniform with her to the bathroom.

You’re becoming more and more suspicious by the second. Everything falls into place a little too perfectly. Wasn’t Taeyeon’s car away from the driveway? If so, why is she here? Why did Eunbi ask you to bring her uniform, and what is your professor doing with them in the bathroom? You’re so close to figuring it out, but anytime you join the puzzle pieces together, they don’t make the right picture.

Three minutes pass anyway, and maybe it’s a wrong decision to knock on the faculty bathroom door, but you do, and—

"You're back, baby boy."

The door opens, as if it were an ominous curtain to one of the drama club's plays.

And the main character herself is in full costume: your teacher pushes her little weight onto the sink with one, practiced hand, dressed head to toe in the school uniform. It's not just any skirt and blouse she's donning—you come to realize that it’s the uniform you gave to her, that it actually belongs to Eunbi. With how slim she is, the uniform fits Taeyeon like a glove.

Her hair is perfectly messed up into brown falls of pillow-soft beauty. Her gaze falls nothing short of sultry, and so do the rest of her actions. Even the way she sets her hand on her hip is graceful. Each thing she does is designed to seduce you, and you'd be a filthy liar if you said it wasn't working.

Her name is all you can say. What else can you utter when she's completely stolen your breath? Locked it into her heart so that it could inhale nothing more than her desire and lust?

"I told you we weren't done yet, didn't I?" Taeyeon says. "And I always keep my word, especially for sweet baby boys like you."

"Mommy…" The title falls from your mouth seamlessly, as if it were a natural thing to say.

"You know," she goes on, suspense in each step as she approaches you, "I wasn't really satisfied with how you bred me. I wanted to really feel what your little girlfriend gets every night from you."

"Did you plan this?"

"You got me." Taeyeon pulls you close. She's smaller than you, but her dominance overpowers that. "Ms. Kwon wants me to feel good. She only wants the best cum for her mommy, and she chose you."

Ah, everything makes sense now. You should have known something was up when Eunbi smiled a little more cheekily, or when she remained on her phone during the ride home. How could you have let it happen right under your nose?

"So, won't you give mommy more, baby? Please?"

You think about it. You've got one of the hottest women you know standing in front of you with the sexiest uniform on. Is this really a chance you'd let slip?

No, but—

"Hands?"

Taeyeon nods immediately. It's as if she knows what you're about to do, so why is she surprised while you tug the uniform tie from her neck in one, swift pull?

Take her thin wrists after she turns around and bind them together with said tie. Taeyeon moans in excitement, even more so when you sweep her off her feet and place her onto the sink counter. The setting is less sexy than you want it to be, but you settle for it. What matters is what you do.

Part her legs and lift the lapels of the offending skirt out of the way. No panties; your teacher is truly the boldest.

Taeyeon's pussy is as ethereal as ever. Her thighs are slick from the wetness it exudes, and from that alone you can just tell that she's been fantasizing about having you fuck her for a while. When you glide your finger across the drenched slit, she whines loudly. Her back knocks at the bathroom mirror.

"Baby, please," she whispers. The plea written in her face is genuine. She tries, to the best of her bound ability, to squirm her hips in your direction. It's an unsuccessful attempt, needless to say. "I need you."

"What do you need, Taeyeon?" Yes, you're shedding the mommy formalities now, even going as far to call her by her first name. Calling her by her sexual title is absurd when you've got her fully under your control.

"Need your tongue."

She lifts her head high like she's reaching heaven due to your teasing kisses on her inner thighs. They draw the path to her soaked cunt, which clenches around thin air as it waits for you to put it out of its misery.

"A little more specific, please?"

"Need your mouth," whimpers Taeyeon. You're crossing uncharted waters now as you kiss around her folds. Her ecstasy is so close, yet so far. "Need your mouth on me. Need you to make me feel good, baby, please."

The watery look in her eyes convinces you to stop the foreplay. You hold Taeyeon's thighs and spread them apart, squeezing them as you go, then go for the kill.

"Ohhh!" With the tie around her wrists, Taeyeon can't hold onto anything but her own fingers to deal with your tongue. You make sure to drum it on her clit as you pump in a finger into her drenched hole. "Baby, oh my god, baby, that feels so good!"

Taeyeon's taste is one you'd remember forever. The tangy sweetness is addicting, and if you could keep your mouth on her pretty pussy forever, you would. For this reason, you serve rough, languid flicks with your tongue on her nub, and strengthen the force of your fingerfucking. With the combined pleasure, Taeyeon squeezes down so tightly that, if her wetness were nonexistent, it would be hard to move. It's lucky that each thrust draws out plenty of delicious nectar.

Taeyeon's thighs quiver as they try to keep themselves open. Her loud sighs fill your ears, and they turn into whiny cries when you brush your fingertips against a certain spot on her walls. Her lips are pursed, her stomach is tight, and her jaw is slack. She learned self-control as a teacher, especially when dealing with rowdy classes, but experience can't stop her incessant mewls.

"Baby, baby, baby," whimpers Taeyeon. "Please. Oh, oh my god, please, I need you."

"That's right, Taeyeon," you say. You lift your head to smirk at her, adding another finger. "You look so pretty when you're being a good girl."

Taeyeon gasps for composure as the praise leaves her more drenched. Your fingers aren't helping at all—they know each curve and spot that makes her writhe. When you've cornered her weaknesses and targeted them, her formal acts as a teacher go straight out of the window. In this school bathroom, she's no longer a teacher, she's not the one in control. Here, she's your good girl, and you'll lord it over her as much as you please.

Your digits curl. Taeyeon's back curves as her screams bounce off the tiled walls. You place a spare hand over her mouth. Her breaths hit your palm with the pleasant company of her broken moans.

"Keep quiet," you say, boring her down with your glare. Her eyes return a frenzied, lustful look. "There could still be people outside, you know. Wouldn't want them knowing how weak you can get for one of the delinquents, no?"

Taeyeon's folds swallow your fingers as they move, and when you finally get knuckle-deep inside her, they hold onto them and refuse to let it go. Therefore, you're forced to thrust bluntly, keeping the length of them inside her and reaching places that her slim ones can only dream of reaching.

She shakes her head. Her long toned legs start to kick wildly. You've seen that before, and you know what it means: she's about to cum. Hard.

She's chanting your name for the hundredth time. Lips pursed, eyes shut, she cries for more. You're a known rebel at school, but you choose this order as one you'd follow.

You place your mouth on her pussy again. As you stimulate the sensitive skin with daring licks and thrusts of your tongue, Taeyeon kicks and moans. She'd do so many things to you if her hands weren't tied: grab your head and pull it deeper between her legs, squeeze her own tits under her blouse, probably even try to wrestle for the upper hand. But she's left as another pretty girl who's yours to use, and for this time, you choose to assault her pink, soaked cunt with your mouth.

The hand that was on her mouth earlier is now firmly rubbing eights on her clit. Taeyeon's screams aren't muffled anymore, and as much as they're loud and deafening, you enjoy it. Who wouldn't when this woman, this forbidden bombshell of a woman, is looking down at you with breaths that quake like her thighs, and says, in a strangled whisper: "I'm going to… fuck, I'm gonna—"

You capture her clit in your lips and slide a third finger inside her.

Taeyeon screams.

Echoing wails of curses and blasphemy leave her open mouth. In everything you do, you do hard and fast. Taeyeon is struggling on the sink, trying to fight her way out of the tight school tie so that she can ride your tongue faster. The only thing she can do is close her thighs to keep you there.

"Baby, oh my god, oh!" Your teacher jerks her spasming core at your tongue, urging it inside her. Her pretty face is beet red. "Mommy's cumming, I can't– I can’t, please, I'm gonna squirt all over your face!"

A spurt of girl cum hits your chin. You slack your jaw to receive more of it in your mouth. You don't stop your frantic licking at her pearl which gets more of the unholy fluid spraying.

She tastes even better when she cums.

"Yes, that’s a good girl," you say. Replace your tongue with your fingertip to be able to drink from her. As her cum messily hoses in the air, you become a thirsted traveler hooking onto the last resort. You eat of her, you drink of her, you fuck her. "Cum for me. Make a mess like the slut you are. Be a good girl."

Tears run down Taeyeon's face. "Yes, please—hnnn, it's too much!"

Her bundle of nerves suffers rapid swiping that draws fire hydrant-like sprays from her. Her whole body is slithering and twitching erratically, yet you keep rubbing her. And you’re not stopping until her shaking legs are too weak to lift themselves and protest, or her throat becomes sore from screaming.

You keep that promise. “No, Taeyeon,” you murmur. Rubbing at her core, you smile down at her. “It’s not too much when you’re with me. I know you have more cum in that pretty cunt of yours, and I’m taking it all.”

It’s fascinating how she’s the one on the bottom now. This writhing, whimpering mess of a girl can’t be the same teacher who rules the classroom with an iron fist. But she is, and her change of personas doesn’t fail to amaze you as she cums and squirts even more. The tiles of the bathroom floor now bear a puddle on its surface, and the mirror reflects something other than Taeyeon’s back and your cruel grin.

Taeyeon’s breaths are accented by the lifts and rests of her tight midriff, seen under the uniform. “Please, baby,” she tells you. Her hips fly off the sink and land back on it as it tries to find a way in avoiding and giving in to your hand at the same time. “Baby, baby– baby, mommy can’t anymore.”

"Yes, you can. Keep cumming for me."

"I-I-I…. ahhh!"

Indeed, she cums more. What you thought would soon end with soft drops becomes a blast again. It's wearing Taeyeon out—her arms and legs are sedentary, and groans pronounce through her broken voice. You kiss her neck and collarbone while your finger does away with her pussy, pushing its limits and boundaries.

"God, you're such a good girl." You kiss the insides of her thighs. "That's it, you can do it. Just a bit more for me."

Her center flexes and squeezes to reach the peak of her orgasm. Taeyeon's sighs are loud and stammered, and you gently silence them with a kiss on her mouth. Her moans are sweet and tired, so you slow the rubbing up to the moment Taeyeon's legs stop quaking.

The aftershock halts. Taeyeon's head relies on the bathroom mirror for support.

"Mmm, oh fuck, baby boy, that felt so good."

"There's more where that came from, mommy."

"Oh, so now you're calling me that."

"Of course, unless…" You pause your careful touches on her legs. "You want me to stop?"

"No, please, don't stop!" Taeyeon shakes her head.

"Why not, mommy?"

"B-because…" she says, before making eye contact with you. Doing so causes her to stop.

Drum your fingers on her hip. "Yes?"

"'Cause I need you to use me, baby boy. I need you to make me cum again and fill my slutty mommy pussy with your load. Need you, need you to breed me, baby boy. That's all I want."

The most inarticulate sentences from Taeyeon make the most sense to you. When she's trying to fight her way out of the makeshift binds and whimpering even without contact with her skin, what else can be deduced? She's a needy woman, and you're the perfect guy to help her out.

What wouldn't you do to fill that pretty cunt? Her pleas are enough for you; you lift her off the sink and bend her over it instead. Can't resist being rough when she's biting her lip like that. Spank her.

"Gonna breed you, Taeyeon," you rasp. You squeeze her ass that peeks from the folds of her pleated skirt. "Gonna fill you up, and you're gonna take it all, won't you?"

Taeyeon nods, her breath long gone. "Yes, yes, please. Give it to me."

It only takes a few unzips and unbuckles for you to completely fill your teacher. Her whole body tenses up beautifully, and the mirror bounces back to you the image of her orgasmic face: eyelids shut, mouth contrastingly open.

"Fuck." Taeyeon bites her lip. "Just like that, b-baby, just keep going."

It's easy to propel yourself inside her when your hands are on her wrists bound behind her bent back. Her trapped fingers crawl and grasp on yours to deal with your anything-but-gentle violations of her pussy.

You propel pleasured expressions of bliss on her face that you can see on the mirror. You can barely see her irises while you fuck her. Must mean you're doing a good job rearranging her guts. You can feel her stomach when you thrust into her.

After feeling her nub for a while, you press on the bulge your shaft creates on her belly. "I'm gonna ruin you, Kim Taeyeon," you tell her, to which she whimpers softly in response. "I'm gonna put a fucking baby in your womb. Fill up this pretty pussy with my load. Do you want that?"

"Yes, yes, yesss," she drawls out. "Fucking breed me. Put that big cock to use, baby. I want it all."

"Oh, of course you do." Speed up, spreading her splayed pussy lips to force it into swallowing your whole shaft. Your cockhead knocks against her cervix, and it turns you on more than it should. "Asking your student for a uniform so you can look like a slutty little schoolgirl for me. If you want to be one, then I'm gonna treat you like one."

Spank her. Each blow from your hand on her clapping cheeks causes her cunt to hold your cock tighter. Her hole clenches and twitches as you abuse her ass, squeezing and slapping the soft flesh to hear her desperate, weak cries. This is the most disrespect you've given to a teacher, even if you're already a trouble child. Can't say you aren't enjoying each second that passes.

"Oh my god, yes!" Taeyeon squeals. In a sudden burst of energy, she fucks herself back on your cock, wanting you and everything but for your rod to stop impaling her. "Fuck me, baby, hurt me! Give me your cum!"

"Fucking cumslut. You'll get all of it."

Your fist ribbons around her hair and pulls back harshly. You kiss her neck and nibble on her earlobe. Your hot breath makes her legs tremble and her hands weaken in the restriction of the tie. She's submitting to you completely, allowing you to do as you please to her. What else can she do anyway, when she asked for it: for you to cum in her, to use her, to treat her like a toy?

Nothing. All she can do is receive your paced thrusts and spanks, be a good girl and bend her body over the sink for your cock to ruin. Never did she think she'd like to be used as much as she likes to use.

Once you've deemed her ass red enough, you switch your attention to her breasts. They're the perfect size to squeeze, and you do plenty of that once you realize her breasts are just as sensitive as Eunbi's. You pinch the nipples harshly, pulling on them to make her cry and rub them for her to squirm her legs together more. In everything you do, her pussy clamps tighter, and she's pushed closer and closer to an orgasm.

"P-please," she whispers weakly. "More, please, I'm so close."

"Promise me you'll take all of my cum." Pressure her into saying so through rubbing her clit. Her ass reverses into your crotch and her desirable body starts to spasm. "Promise me, baby."

"I'll take all of your cum!" Taeyeon sobs. Her voice is so loud that you're sure it passes through the bathroom door. "My tight little pussy will get all of your hot thick cum, I'll let you breed me! Just please make me cum!"

You bear her head down with one hand into the sink counter and fuck her like you mean it. All gentleness is lost now. You ravage her cunt as if you need to do so to live. Spread her velvety walls with your pumps. Let them remember the shape of your cock so that the next time you fuck her it contracts perfectly to your size. Make her sensitivity reach an all-time high.

"Big, so big, so hard inside me—fffuck me!"

Taeyeon leaves a big mess for the janitor to clean up. Her orgasm is wet and violent. It forces her to squirt on the tiled floor and your clothes, forces her to squeeze down so tightly on your rod that it suffocates and explodes inside her. Your groans are humiliatingly loud, but it drowns out in Taeyeon's chants of bliss.

"Oh, shit, baby!" she says. "Give me your cum, breed me, make me a mommy!"

Her moans are high-pitched unlike her serious tone when she teaches. When she instructs the classroom, it's strict, cutting through the air like a knife. Now, she's whining helplessly when she instructs you to breed her, bearing your drills as you fill her insides with your cum.

You don't pull out. It would be disobeying her commands. So, even when she's turned into your submissive babygirl with the help of your harsh pumps, she's still your teacher. You'll always follow her way.

"Yes… fuck me… breed me… use me…" is the last thing Taeyeon murmurs before she loses her strength and collapses on the sink.

You guide Taeyeon to her car and drive her home. She's sleeping beside you on the front passenger seat. Pray nobody sees you as you drive through the exit of your school.

But before all that, you went through Taeyeon's phone, and you saw her messages. To your surprise, there's a conversation log in which she texts your girlfriend Eunbi.

It reads:

Professor Taeng: You brought your uniform here, sweetheart?

Kwon Eunbi ♥︎: he brought it himself

have fun w him, Mommy :3

Professor Taeng: I will ;).

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