Tumgik
#hbd to you both
poorly-drawn-mdzs · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 2 - Psyche Skills
Part 1 - Part 3
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#disco elysium#MDZS disco elysium au#jiang cheng#jiang yanli#yu ziyuan#While it's more in vogue to draw a character's skill roster tailored to them -#One of the more subtle details I love in DE is how some of the skill portraits parallel character portraits of people hbd associates with.#Theres somethine rather poetic to be said about how other people shape out thoughts and sometimes act as a 'voice' in our head.#How we are in part a collection of impressions other people left behind on us.#I am a huge Skillhead (Those are my friends! My party members! They love me! They have their own agendas and alliances!)#so of course a healthy portion of this AU is dedicated to them <3#the Int skills go basically unchanged from DE. Psy as well (with changes to a few quirks in voice).#Fys skills though...well...wwx is in a different body! Those voices belong to Someone Else.#Esp electrochem (MXY in this AU also partied to near death. WWX is withdrawing and craving substances he's never even heard of before)#While I personally don't fully subscribe to Volition Jean I *do* see Volition Jiang Cheng. The voice of your Not Brother keeping you afloat#All three of these parallels make me unbelievably sad. They are also both purple. Art is like that sometimes.#Empathy Jiang Yanli...oh man do I have a lot of thoughts about her. Disco fans Who Know....you can probably see what I'm cooking.#Authority is a really interesting skill in DE because *yes* its about power and intimidation - but it's also about finesse and respect#Titus Hardie and YZY both abuse *and* finesse how they establish their authority - in a way that leaves quite an impression.#2 more mdzs disco posts that I *need* to create and then I'm off to working on raffles <3
651 notes · View notes
canayams-art · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
[OCs;; Micayon] Been drawing these two guys hopelessly in love with each other a lot lately ✨
(Micaiah (left) belongs to @/allerghen, Yon (right) belongs to me)
31 notes · View notes
mblue-art · 10 months
Note
Heard word that it’s someone’s birthday
Tumblr media Tumblr media
:3
uwu heheh yaaa it iss— :0
omg cat bday hat,, , !!! (*꒪ヮ꒪*)
M,, MARK I PLIER ⁉️ THANKS FOR THE CHOCCY MALK ⁉️‼️
37 notes · View notes
lunetual · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
INT: Now, if you were in my position, what would you ask yourself? WH: “Are you happy right now?” I would say, “Yeah.”
wishing the happiest of birthdays to @20cm​ ♡
50 notes · View notes
keitheaverage · 9 months
Text
MLaaTR/Barbie joint fans when they learn that when Takara-Tomy lost their licensing to Barbie from Mattel in 1986, they continued making the dolls and changed her name to Jenny: Hey did you know that when Takara-Tomy lost the licensing to Barbie from Mattel in 1986, they continued making the dolls and changed her name to Jenny?? Like how XJ-9 changed her name to Jenny? Isn't that coincidence just soooo crazy?
10 notes · View notes
sonego · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
dream beyond dreams beyond life
LEWIS HAMILTON + BEYOND by DAFT PUNK
happy birthday mina @samlammers 🥰
48 notes · View notes
justplaggin · 1 year
Note
what do you think about the fact that chat noir and atsushi are both cat boys with belts for tails
tail belt = instant selling point. it's endearing. it's all about the swishy flair. it's character design at its finest without overdoing the cat boy-ness. it's there to be yanked by characters voiced by cristina vee. it's black. contextually it's a found family gift given as a sign of belonging, of having a meaningful role to fulfil. it moves on its own and no one knows why
12 notes · View notes
nohoney · 5 days
Text
hbd to the explosion king! takes place in this universe and yes, im deadnaming twitter
Tumblr media
dynamight is trending again on social media—this time in celebration for his birthday.
there’s thousands if not millions of birthday wishes being sent his way through all his platforms. comments, posts, tags; any and all forms of interaction in the online world that would overload a normal person’s notifications. deku posts and tags a childhood photo of the both them from his account. uravity also posts the clip from their time in the sports tournament when she was selected to fight him, her caption joking that she still toughed it out against him but was lucky also to fight someone so strong too. continuing on with the throwback theme, red riot posts a photo of when they graduated UA along with a very manly caption in celebration of his birthday.
there’s an overflow of birthday wishes for the explosion hero.
his profile was as quiet as ever. the last post made was of his newborn’s hand clutching his finger that was captioned with a blue heart. that post was uploaded almost nine months ago. that is until his birthday comes along and one interaction from him gets everyone in a tizzy again.
dynamight doesn’t address his birthday, at least not formally.
from his twitter, he retweets a single post from you that tagged him. the post—
“happy birthday to my number one hero @ dynamight!! let’s fuck around and make another baby 🤪”
his reply to the tweet: “yes ma’am.”
1K notes · View notes
welcometomyoasis · 3 months
Text
Forever and always | Choi Seungcheol
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Synopsis: Despite the fact that death will tear you and Seungcheol apart, you can seek comfort in the fact that you’ll always be each other’s one true love. Forever, and always. Seungcheol x fem! reader | reincarnation au, fluff, comfort | 0.9k words | warnings: mentions of death, petnames (baby and princess), minor nudity (Seungcheol is shirtless) A/n: hbd my angel @brownsugarbaybee <3
Tumblr media
“Cheol?” 
“Yes princess?” 
“Do you think we’ll meet again in our next life?” 
“Yes. I have no doubt about it. We’ll always find each other.”
“Forever?”
“Forever. Forever and always.”
₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. 
Shooting up from your position on the bed, you blinked rapidly to try and regain your bearings. Dreams about your past lives were always disorientating. You placed a hand against your chest, trying to soothe the rapid beating of your heart.
“Baby?” Seungcheol called out from beside you, his husky voice still laced with sleep. 
He shifted, turning around to face you. When he saw your panicked expression, he was up, rubbing comforting circles around your back to calm you down. Pressing a kiss onto your temple, he asked softly, “Baby? What’s wrong?”
You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. You whimpered, “I dreamt about the past again.”
Seungcheol nodded in understanding. While you both had been a couple in all of your past lives, you had a harder time than he did when the memories came flooding back to you. He never really had that problem. Afterall, he was always the one who succumbed to the grim reaper first. First it was disease, then it was starvation, a fatal wound, old age, conflict, and then disease again. Most of his memories were full of joyful, loving moments with you. However, in your case, you would bear the burden of having to remember and relive the pain and fear of losing him over and over again. 
Seungcheol pulled you closer until you were lying on his bare chest, “Baby? Princess please, calm down. I’m okay. I’m here. Hear that? It’s my heartbeat. I’m alive. I’m with you.”
You snuggled closer to him, adjusting your head so you could hear his heart beating. It was loud and strong. You inhaled sharply, focusing on the rhythmic beats to let them calm you down. Once you felt better, you let out a shaky breath, turning so you were now leaning with your back against his chest. 
“Feel better yet baby?” 
“Definitely. Thanks Cheol.” You replied shyly, a little ashamed that he always needed to calm you down whenever you woke from a dream about your past lives. 
“Do you want to… maybe talk about it?” 
You could hear that Seungcheol hesitated when he asked that question. You knew that he hated the burden you needed to carry, that he was practically helpless in this situation. He couldn’t do anything but comfort you and let you talk about it. It was the only way he knew how to ease your burden or at least share that burden with you. Yet, he also didn’t want to pressure you into talking about the awful memories. They were traumatic and he never wanted you to force yourself to talk about it just because he asked. 
Fortunately, today’s dream wasn’t that bad. So, you agreed, “Don’t worry about me Cheol. The dreams are always disorientating, but today’s dream was actually pretty sweet.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Yea. In fact, now that I think about it, I really like this dream. We were lying in a cabin, much like this one,” you giggled, gesturing to the space around you. You were both currently in a remote, cozy little cabin that Seungcheol booked for your birthday. He planned a wonderful surprise party, full of your friends and family. Once that was over, he promptly whisked you away, bringing you here so he could have you all to himself for the next 24 hours. 
You smiled at that most recent memory as you looked around, your eyes landing on the flickering embers on the fireplace, “I guess we really like cabins. It’s probably our thing.”
At that, Seungcheol let out a laugh. Turning so you were now facing him, you continued, “Yea. We were talking about being with each other. Throughout the many lives that we will get to live. Forever and always.” 
You flushed, murmuring lovingly, “I don’t think you remember that conversation, but it’s a beautiful sentiment. Don’t you think Cheol? To be someone’s forever. I don’t know, to me, it’s beautiful and comforting to know that you are my forever.”
When he heard you, Seungcheol only had one thought - that you were beautiful. Under the warm glow of the fire, with your eyes glazed over while you reminisced about the conversation you both had in your past life, you looked ethereal. 
Noticing Seungcheol gazing so softly at you, you flushed even further, bringing your hands to cover your face in embarrassment. Seungcheol shook his head. He never could get over how adorable you were. Even now, after being together for so many years (in this life and the last few lives), you were still just as shy as ever. Cooing adoringly at you, Seungcheol slowly brought your hands down. Then, he leaned forward to capture your lips in a soft, passionate kiss. 
Against your lips, Seungcheol muttered, “Forever and always princess. Forever, and always.”
What you said was true, Seungcheol didn’t remember that conversation. But somehow, he knew it did happen. His heart recognised your words, fluttering happily when you uttered the words, forever and always. What forever really entailed, he would never know. All he knew at that moment, was that you were right. He was your forever, and you were his. Seungcheol loved you, and it warmed his heart to know that you both would love each other for eternity, and perhaps even longer than that. 
Tumblr media
taglist: @weird-bookworm @wonijinjin @babyleostuff @wishing-fieshes @kwanienies @mayashu @megseungmin @porridgesblog @haecien @mirxzii @scoupsofcherries @eightlightstar @brownsugarbaybee @zaggprincess2
404 notes · View notes
xythlia · 8 months
Note
Surprising mammon for his birthday with some absolutely sinful gold lingerie. You spend the night worshipping him, showing your devotion and greediness for him, taking your sweet time with his sensitive body
𓏲 ࣪₊ hbd to our mans hes getting smacked between us all like a volleyball holding on for dear life <3
› cw : f!reader, lingerie, body worship, praise, nipple play, hickies, handjob, petnames (baby, honey), anal fingering, ball fondling
Tumblr media
Your skin prickled with anticipation and heat, not even the cool air inside the bedroom worked to combat the fever stoked by arousal. The chain clasped around your neck, draping down your chest in interlocked mesh did little to ground you.
It was extravagant, something he rarely got to indulge in anymore but tonight was a treat; what could be more fitting for the Avatar of Greeds birthday than his beloved in trappings of gold just for him to unravel? You bit your lip, hands roaming your skin feeling far too needy for his touch.
But patience comes first, he went out with Asmodeus to do some shopping which means he'll be doubly surprised when he opens the door. Fortunately you don't have to wait much longer, hearing his telltale footsteps coming up the hallway as you rise to sit perched on your legs folded beneath you. It felt like that earlier desire was now a string fully pulled taught by ghostly fingers.
With a grin that nearly hurts your cheeks you watch as it takes his brain several moments to catch up to what his eyes see, mouth slightly agape as he takes you in. In a rush he fumbles with the door, dropping shopping bags at his feet.
"What are ya-"
"Happy birthday!" You tip your head back to laugh, purposely showing off your gold dripped breasts.
As your giggle tapers off you rise to your feet, padding over to him to take his hands in yours, noticing how hot his skin feels.
"Ya wearing that just for me?" You don't miss how his voice cracks on the last syllable. Stopping just before the bed you gently place your hands on his chest, humming in affirmation as they run down over the soft material of his shirt stopping to slip your fingertips beneath the hem and reveling in the way his breathing hitches at the contact.
"Mhm," you place a kiss to the side of his throat, "just for you...". The air is balmy as his hands hesitantly rest at your sides, as if for a split second he wonders if he's dreaming.
Encouragingly you drag his shirt up over his stomach, dragging your lips up his throat, over his jaw, before finding purchase at his lips in a kiss that devoured all air in your lungs. As he backed you up the rest of the way, until you felt the edge of the mattress hit the back of your knees, you pulled back to slow him. With a soft tch you help him pull his shirt off then toy with the waistband of his jeans before he eagerly slid them off as well.
"Thought ya said it was mine to unwrap?" He asked. Gingerly you palm his erection through his boxers, eyes half lidded as you guide him to lay on his back letting you straddle his hips. The sharp intake of breath as you slide your pussy, barely covered in a thin scrap of satin, against him makes you nearly moan.
He looks so gorgeous beneath you, hair tousled and skin already gleaming with sweat in the low light.
"It is, but what kind of birthday would it be if I didn't give you something extra special, hm?" You murmur as your fingers curl around the band of his boxers, enjoying the slight whine that slips past his lips.
His eyes are glued to you, rapt with want as you wiggle your hips again, friction working like pieces of flint to spark embers in your tummy and make your clit throb. Again you tell yourself to be patient, bending down to nip at his jawline before daring to swipe your tongue along his neck, sucking and grazing the flesh with your teeth to create vivid purple bloom across his clavicle.
Teasingly you roll his nipples between both thumbs and indexes, swallowing his whines as you bring your lips back up to his and his hands knead against your ass. In jerky motions his hips buck against you, desperate for that earlier friction as you pinch and lightly tug at his nipples.
It's easy to tell he's getting impatient, needy and you answer his breathy moans by slipping his boxers down. In a flash he's gotten the idea already, raising his hips to help you slide them off as his cock springs out of its confines to lightly hit against his abdomen. The swollen red tip makes you nearly start drooling, tongue sliding across your bottom lip with the faint remembrance of salty, thick cum coating it.
But that's not what you have in mind tonight, it just wouldn't be enough to show him how deep your affection for him runs. Softly you wrap one hand around his shaft, slight, slow pumps as he throws his head back against the pillows with a moan so deep you can feel how wet its got you.
"Feel good, baby?" You purr, keeping the pace languid to feel him throb in your hand. Instantly a deep flush spreads across his cheeks, one hand clawing at your thigh as the other lays against the top of his head.
"Everything ya do feels good," he grunts out the last part, already breathing heavy as your thumb smears precum across his tip.
"You know you're everything I ever wanted?" Your other hand reaches between both your legs to fondle his balls, a sweet spot you found early on in your relationship. Between the ragged breathing and the whiny moans you know he can't answer you, but you didn't really anticipate he would so you continue.
"You're so wonderful, always taking care of me," you bend back down to ghost your lips over his as you finish in a whisper, "let me take care of you baby, yeah?"
You pick up your pace, reaching over as you sit back to grab the lube resting on the bed. It's something he shyly brought up to you one day, something you've been saving for just this occasion. It slides out of the tube cold and sticky, easily enough to do one handed although some drips against the bedspread, forgotten.
Lightly your index circles his hole, gently building up to insertion so as not to cause any pain while your other hand keeps up its steady strokes against his cock. The way his jaw drops open in a silent moan as your first knuckle slides past the ring of muscle is absolutely sinful, searing itself into the back of your eyelids.
"You're doing so good, honey" you coo at him, barely holding it together yourself watching the way hes unraveling as you introduce more of your index. Tactfully you twist your hands around his cock, gliding against the skin as he sloppily pushes his hips up to chase the movement. When he stills for a moment you start sliding the digit in and out in a nice, steady rhythm.
"S'too much-" he chokes out, the hand above his head clenching part of the pillow in a white knuckle grip. "Feels good fuck-"
He cuts himself off in a strangled cry while your hand keeps pumping regardless, feeling the slow throb of his cock as warm cum spurts against his stomach, milking him as you place sweet kisses against his cheek.
Your noses brush as your hands leave him, groping for the hand towel that was also laying somewhere beside you on the bed. As you clean up in loving movements his breathing steadies against and his hands caress your sides, making you giggle.
"I get the rest of this present now, yeah?" He murmurs weakly, making your stomach do summersaults.
"Of course you do, birthday boy."
503 notes · View notes
hrtsdevils · 5 months
Text
dancing like we’re twenty-two! | jh86
summary: reader’s 22nd birthday instagram bash!
pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader
a/n in honor of my own birthday yesterday… we love a good yn jacky moment. the photos i used for the reader are asian girls because i am!!! and i do what i want!! it’s my birthweek… readers nickname is also nana because my friends call me that and i do what i want!!!!!
yourusername
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, yourbff, _quinnhughes and 8279 others
yourusername the 22nd year of ME!!! is upon us, feel free to celebrate however you see fit..
us personally? we got blackout drubk and ate a shit ton of cake!! ☺️❤️ thanks for celebrating!!!!
tagged jackhughes, yourbff, stellabakescakes, trevorzegras
view all 628 replies…
jackhughes happy birthday, pretty girl! i love you so much and i’m so glad i got to spend today with you! here’s to 22,000,000 more, my immortal girl ❤️❤️
yourusername @/jackhughes wow… you wanna make me cry huh… we’re beefing.
jackhughes @/yourusername how!? i just wished you happy birthday and i brought you a blueberry bagel this morning.
yourusername @/jackhughes okay we’re only half beefing.
user027 first non white wag (ever)
trevorzegras @/colecaufield I MADE THE POST AND YOU DIDNT HA!!! she likes me more than you. HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY NANA
yourusername @/trevorzegras stop bragging or i’m deleting the pic of you.
colecaufield @/trevorzegras i hate you. and @/yourusername how could you…
yourusername @/colecaufield IM SORRY COLEY
yourbff @/colecaufield @/trevorzegras she likes me most anyway you’re # irrelevant!
yourbff HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEXY MAMASSSS
yourbff forget jack let’s kiss!!!!
jackhughes @/yourbff bitch wtf
yourusername @/yourbff OKAY MOMMY ☺️🩷
jackhughes @/yourusername WHAT THE HELL..
elblue06 happy birthday! glad you all had fun 🙃
yourusername @/elblue06 thank you!!! love you queen el ❤️❤️❤️
user47 AHHH her and jack are adorable i cry
user83 SHES A SWIFTIE NO ONE MOVE
lhughes_06 happy birthday you’re my favorite sibling 😶‍🌫️
_quinnhughes @/lhughes_06 she’s my favorite too!
jackhughes @/lhughes_06 @/_quinnhughes i hate you both.
yourusername @/jackhughes sorry they like me like 🤣👩🏻
jackhughes @/yourusername you’re lucky its your birthday nan
user23 anti jack club!
stellabakescakes i’m so glad you liked the cake! happy birthday!
yourusername @/stellabakescakes thanks queen!!!
_quinnhughes HBD 🥳
dawson1417 Happy bday nana! hope jacks not hung over by tomorrows game 🙏
yourusername @/dawson1417 i’m working on it!!!!!!
jackhughes after all this hate i’m starting to doubt your immortality.
281 notes · View notes
hyperfixat · 3 months
Text
hbd to me!!!!!!! here’s a vent fic i wrote a few months ago so proceed with caution; reader attempted suicide, reader continues to have suicidal thoughts/attempts, reader seeks harm onto themself (both from external sources and self inflicted), reader is depressed!!! be sure to evaluate your mental state before reading this fic :3. this also contains a scene that i felt compelled to write for some reason involving assisted hygiene: idk i felt that needed a little acknowledgment..
ik its my birthday fic and it proably should be happy, but theres a bit of hurt comfort to this that i love and i polished it up to share so that hopefully u like it too.. again heed my warnings^
also final note; formatted on my pc, sprry if its funky
The first thing you feel upon waking up is disappointment.  This… you rub your face with your hands.  You can’t do anything right, you sigh.  Waking up is a clear sign of a failure as to your plans.
Although you frown as you observe your surroundings, this isn’t where you would be if someone had caught you attempting to take your life.  You wouldn’t be dumped in the middle of a sunny field.  This isn’t a hospital or ward, in fact there’s no sign of any modern buildings from where you sit.
Just where are you…?
You use shaky arms to lift yourself up, and begin to attempt to find a way home.  Or for something to just kill you.
What luck, you realize morbidly, you spawned on a plateau, and that’s all you allow yourself to think before breaking into a sprint and running both to and over the edge.
You hit the plains with a crack and you wheeze out a pained groan.  Before you can lift yourself up to try again or seek help or check for any witnesses, you feel your body fade away. It’s a weightless feeling as you sink into the earth of Teyvat.
There is not much pain, not as much as you had hoped or expected.  In ways this is a pro, for you are a coward in the face of pain no matter deserved or otherwise.
You fade, but not into the hold of death, at least you don’t think this is death, rather you fade from your spot crumpled on the ground into a sitting position firmly in the arms of an Anemo Statue of Seven.  The marble orb of Barbatos’ lookalike stops you from falling out of the statue’s arms and you heave a sigh.
How unfortunate.  It seems you cannot permanently die here.  Though… what if it was a fluke…?  With another bone deep sigh you fall to the ground and walk back to the ledge and stare down at the fifty foot drop.
Before you work up the courage to take the plunge a high, excited voice calls out for you.  You flinch, opening your eyes to see a youthful bard dressed in Mondstatian green, holding his hands out for you.  Venti is sprinting towards you and you take a step back nervously.  He seems to recognize you… but how could that be?  
His face falls as you back away and his sprint slows when he’s a few yards away from being able to reach out to you.  Venti calls your name again.  He falters, the smile adorning his face slips.
“Wait…” his voice wavers.  “What are you doing, Divine One?”
Why did he call you that…?  Is it some Mondstat greeting of sorts?  You can’t kill yourself in front of him and retraumatize the poor guy, so you allow him to get closer to you, and you don’t stop him when he sweeps his lythe form down into a kneeling bow.
“Hello.”  You greet, unsure of how one is supposed to act when approached by a fictional character.
Venti lifts his gaze from the ground up to your face, looking downright awestruck.
“I, we, have long awaited your descent, Divine One, it is an honor to have you grace the lands of Freedom with your presence first.”  
Uh-oh.  He seems to have confused you with someone else, because you are certainly no one special and definitely not any sort of divine.  How are you gonna break that to him without too much embarrassment on either of your parts?
“Please, come with me to the city, I’m certain the people will be delighted to host the one who shaped the world.”  His voice is high with a musical lilt, and it’s hard to decline him.
“I’m sorry,” your voice comes out dry, and you realize you’re terribly dehydrated.  “I think there’s been a mistake.  I’m not whoever you think I am.”
You take a step back, backing yourself up the hill onto higher ground.
“Whatever do you mean, Divine One?  Your presence is unmistakable.”
You shake your head, stepping further away from the Archon.  Venti reaches his hand out to grasp at the bottom hem of your pajama pants.  “Please!  I’ve waited so long for you.”  He falls onto his knees to beg.
Fuck, his eyes are so pretty when he pleads.  You don’t want to risk angering whatever God he’s mistaking you with, though, “Venti….”  
The blue-green sky of his eyes turns to the color of the ocean as tears well up in his waterline.  His whole body shivers when you utter his chosen name.  “I can keep it a secret from the public.  Surely only Archons and those blessed with a Vision will be able to sense you.  We can keep it quiet, please, Divine One, I beg of you.”
“I’m not this Divine One you speak of,” you kneel and place a hand on his hat.  Venti’s eyes search yours with confusion. As he lifts his head, your hand presses into the curve of his skull, making him lean harder into your touch.
“Th-That’s okay, please just stay in Mondstadt for a night, that’s all I wish.”  He doesn’t believe you, that’s clear, but he seems so eager to appease you.
You pause, looking away from the pathetically begging archon.  His hands clench on your pant fabric.
“Okay.  Just for the night.”  You hope no one else from Mondsat is as strange as Venti is…
“I don’t have any way to pay for this,” you smile at Diluc, placing a hand on the side of the glass to push it back across the counter.
“I wouldn’t dream of making you pay, please drink all you wish.  Let me know if it isn’t to your taste.”
“Does that apply to their guide as well, Master Diluc?”
“No.”
“A shame,” Venti sighs, taking a deep drink from his glass.
You have to hand it to Venti, he is a good guide.  He’s quick to shut down any vision holder you come across with a quick whisper in their ear, and he truly knows Mondstadt in and out.
The bell above the door jingles as it swings open, and you glance behind you in time to see Rosaria come strolling in with a timid Barbara clutching the back of her cathedral robes.  She must not visit the Angel’s Share much, seeing as the hydro-user looks around with quick, nervous eyes.  When her eyes land on you they widen comically, her small hand darting out to steady herself on Rosaria’s forearm.
“Farewell, my Divinity,” “Safe travels, Divine One,” and “May the wind bless your travels, Your Grace,” follow your retreating form as you make the hike to Dragonspine.  
Honestly you aren’t certain where you’re heading.  If the other nations treat you the same as Mondstadt, that's a no-go.  You won’t know unless you go, though.  Maybe you should head the same route the Traveler would.  That would mean Dragonspine is your next destination.  
Who will you meet there?  Albedo…?  He’s the only one you can think of that stays there.
As you begin the trek you realize; he’s a research-type dude, you hesitate to say scientist, but he does experiments and such.  Perhaps, you can make use of yourself by giving your body up to him to work on.  Surely an undying body would greatly interest the research of life?
After a surprisingly simple search you find him and present your proposition.
“Absolutely not,” Albedo dismisses you without thought.  He doesn’t even bother to spare you a look.  “That is blasphemy of the highest order, I’d suggest giving that attitude up sooner rather than later.”
You flinch back at the words, taking a step back into the chill of Dragonspine.
“I can offer you sanctuary here if you seek it, but I will not harm you.”  
“That’s…” not at all what you want.  “That’s very kind of you to offer, but I must decline.”
His haunting blue eyes follow you down the snowy path to Liyue.  Once you are far too away to hear, he states calmly, “safe travels.”
As you walk down the icy paths lining the gravel streets you think… Albedo had rejected you just like that.  What’s the next step?
You might as well stop by Liyue Harbor, maybe meet some characters before… before maybe heading to Sumeru?  
Ahhah! It hits you then, the harbinger introduced in Sumeru: Il Dottore.  If Albedo had reservations, then Dottore would have none.
Even still, Liyue is a harbor.  You’re sure to find a way to Snezhnaya from there.
You almost get to the docks without drawing any attention to yourself.  Almost.
Your mistake laid in the fact that you passed the Golden House, the weekly Childe Boss fight.  In your defense you didn’t actually think he’d be in there.  And it’s not like you even went in, only going up the steps and around for a detour.  
And it was a quick route until a strangled gasp came from behind you, making you spin around in alarm.  There, Tartaglia stood, with pupils nearly the size of his gray-blue eyes, staring, completely enraptured by your visage.  Your knees buckle and you make to sprint, but your body is no match for a Fatui Harbinger.
In retrospect you’re not entirely sure what drove you to run, perhaps some fight or flight instinct buried inside of you.
His long hand wraps around your forearm, tugging you to a stop, you face him, and your face must portray your panic clearly because Tartaglia’s twists into sorrowful sympathy.
“My Divinity… it is an honor to meet you in the flesh.”
“Let go.”  He does, promptly so. 
“I’m sorry, I got ahead of myself.  May I ask where you are headed, and if you are in need of company?”
“No.  Thank you, Childe.” 
His face shifts into a serious look, nodding.  “Do you need an escort to Liyue then?  Is that where you’re heading?” 
“No.  I know where I’m going, and I much prefer to go alone.” It’s not entirely false, you know where you’re headed, just not how.
“Well… be safe, okay?  I hope to see you again.”
“I will.”  The lie comes out and you cringe, because its delivery falls flat and its so obviously untrue.
“Does Mr Zhongli know you’re here?  Surely you’re here to see Morax?” He strolls to your other side, offering a hand to lead you to the city.  You ignore the hand.
“Goodbye, Tartaglia.”
“I can’t let you leave alone in good conscience…. You don’t seem well.  Let me lead you to the harbor at least.”
Since he is as unmoving as stone, you let him take you to the main city, managing to ditch him before more people can know about your presence.
The boats docked at Liyue Harbor are hopeful.  “Where is this ship headed?” you ask one of the dock workers.  They look up at your voice before glancing at the ship they’re loading up with lumber.
“Snezhnaya.” They say glancing up at the grand vessel.  “Why?  Where’re you tryna go, friend?”  
“Snezhnaya.  How much does the fare cost, one way?”
“News of your travels have reached Snezhnaya, Divine One.”  Dottore starts, fixing his posture from a lean on a surgical table to something more proper.  You shake your head, the weariness you’ve accumulated on your journey weighing down on you.  You’re finally where you deserve to be.
“I’m not the Divine One you speak of, Dottore.”
“Hm?  Do you think so little of my intelligence?  Your presence is unmistakable.”
“No, it’s not that.  But I’m not.  I’m just a regular person.  And I came to you for a reason.”
“Oh?  The Creator themself, seeking me out?  It’s an honor,” the doctor bows to you, smirking at you from beneath his beaklike mask.
“I need you to hurt me.”
“What?”  He pulls himself up with a startled question.  “I’m afraid I misheard you, Divine One.”
“I can’t die, Dottore.  I’m giving myself to you, you…” you heave a sigh as you explain your reasoning.  “You could make use of me.  I’m not whoever you think I am, please just take me.  I don’t care what you do to me.”
“You’re… giving yourself to me?”  
“Yes.”
“Do you know what happens to my… patients?”
“Yes, that's why I’m here.  I can’t die, I imagine I would make a good test subject.”
“Is this a test?”  Dottore seems to be speaking to himself more than anything.  He pushes away from the table and paces to the back room of the lab, muttering madly to himself as he does so.  The door swings open with a loud screeching and you catch sight of multiple mops of blue hair and masks.  
His Segments.
You can hear a conversation ongoing between all of the parts of Zandik, it seems he doesn’t want to be rash and take you in too hastily.  You can understand his (their?) hesitancy; if a god offered themselves up to you, you would surely think it was a trap.  But you aren’t a god, so it should be a no brainer for him.  How often does he get consenting test subjects?
It seems this absurd idea of you being a higher power has infiltrated Snezhnaya as well, which is… not good. Everyone is saying you’re more than what you are, you can’t be a god, you barely consider yourself a human.
An older, completely unmasked Segment sticks his head out of the door, frowning once he makes eye contact with you.  There’s gray leaking from his roots into the teal of Dottore’s hair, and visible aging lines on his face; crows feet and tension on his cheekbones.  Glowing red eyes narrow upon meeting your own, mouth pulling into a tight line.
A younger segment, smaller in size and stature, with a nearly full face mask, only showing part of his mouth.  You think that is the one that the Fandom surrounding him dubbed Webttore.  You usually see pictures of him with a wide, jagged-tooth smile, but, like his older part, he looks solemn.
You wonder just how many Segments Il Dottore has, because you can still hear an entire conversation going on without the two.
The conversation seems to be dying down, not ending without a few red eyes peeking out from behind the door at you.  It’s surreal seeing so many versions of the same person at once; the youthful ones, eyes wide, and the older ones with wrinkles built with time and age, all at the same moment in time.
Eventually though, they do seem to come to a verdict: the Omega segment, the one you met upon walking into his lab, exits, closing the door behind him with a click that resonates through the room.
His answer is a simple word.  “No.”
Your heart drops and stomach sinks at the rejection, and based on il Dottore’s reaction it must show.  “Why?” your voice is small and sounds foreign to your own ears.
“I cannot forsake the true god in such a way, whether you acknowledge it or not, you have that power.”
All the turmoil and hardships it took to get here come crashing down, the light at the end of the tunnel is rejecting you.  You hadn’t known this was something that could happen, your… your savior, the one you were looking for is telling you no.  He won’t lay a finger on you, and it’s tearing you apart.  This was the only thing that kept you from burying yourself in the deep forest of Sumeru and letting yourself rot.
“Oh.” It’s shaky and you nod, trying to take it maturely.  “I see.”  Your voice is warbling like you're on the verge of tears.  Blinking rapidly to dispel the water from your eyes, you lower your head and make to scamper out of the lab.
Dottore lets out a heavy sigh, and his leather gloves wrap around your wrist.
“Wait.”  You nervously glance up at his mask.
“You said you would ‘give yourself to me,’ no?”
Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, “yes.”  Has he suddenly changed his mind? You shouldn't get your hopes up.
“I will take you.  I doubt you will appreciate my intentions, but if I were to own you, you wouldn’t be able to complain.  After all, you will have done it to yourself.”
You don’t know what those words mean, but the stinging rejection welling up in your eyes turns to relief. “Thank you,” he doesn’t stop you from dashing to his side and wrapping your arms around his waist.  You press your face into his abdomen, letting his clothes soak up your tears.  A hesitant hand rubs over your spine, an effort to soothe you.
You pull yourself together, sucking in a deep breath of the sterile lab air.  
“Alright,” Dottore says after he deems you put together enough.  “Come.”  His hand covers your wrist, gently tugging you behind him.  You aren’t sure where he is leading you, as he takes you out of the lab.  The halls are tall and gorgeously crafted, intermittent with intricate moldings on the wall.  
It’s a small room you find yourself in, but it is infinitely better than the wilderness.  The size is comparable to an average hotel room.  Dottore instructs you to sit and stay on the bed, which you do obediently.  Nerves swirl inside of you, as to where he has gone and what he will bring back with - when he will return, if at all.
Il Dottore knows.  While he is not well versed on human, much less godly, psychology, he can tell you’re depressed when you first stumbled your way into his workstation. Besides, he’d be hard pressed to deny the rumors from various agents that had been located in places you’d traveled through.
With a small caddy in his hands Dottore kneels next to the nightstand and places a hand on your shoulder to force you to lay down.  “Arm.”  Is what he prompts for you to let him maneuver your arm to lay open and flat over the edge of the bed. 
The scent of alcohol alerts you to the sanitary wipe before you feel the chill of it.  You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling as you feel the slight pinch of a needle  and a clicking as an IV is deposited into your arm.  Out of the corner of your eye you see Dottore set up a drip, but you don’t bother to ask what it is, the excitement of the day catching up with you.
Il Dottore eventually leaves the room in silence after pushing an odd vial of liquid into the drip, not bothering to look behind him as he closes the door and leaves with confident strides.
Although it’s entirely possible it’s simply the Placebo Effect, as the drip spreads throughout your veins you can feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier.  Before long you can no longer keep them open and slip into a dreamless sleep.
You wake up to a Mirror Maiden tidying up the nightstand next to you.  You observe her work, wondering how she can manage to navigate with the blind pulled over her eyes.  She startles when she catches your eyes on her, though returns back to work, quietly disposing of the used needles from earlier.  You wonder what The Doctor has injected you with; wonder if he added more of whatever it is while you were unconscious.
There’s a brisk, impatient knock on the door and the Maiden straightens up, taking hold of everything to discard and striding over to change positions with Tartaglia behind the door.
You stay flat on your back, looking at the ginger in mild surprise.  Last you saw him he was in Liyue and set to stay for quite a while.  Had he heard you gave yourself away to Il Dottore?   Is he here to plead for you to change your mind?
But to your bemusement he stays quiet, walking over to and kneeling next to your bed.  Instead of speaking he merely rests his head on the nightstand, dull blue eyes gazing at you sadly, yet reverently.
You’re unsure of how long you look up at the ceiling, doing your best to ignore Tartaglia’s eyes on you.  His gaze is unwavering, and eventually, you turn your head to the side, meeting his eyes.
“I’m sorry for my behavior in Liyue.  I was too excited to see you, and my manners deserted me.”
“It’s okay.” You croak, throat dry from sleep.  “I was dismissive as well.”
Dottore doesn’t bother to knock when he comes in.
“I see you’re awake and seem to have found a stray harbinger.”
Tartaglia doesn’t react to his entrance, merely moving to the far end of the bed, laying his head on the covers near your feet.  You realize someone has drapped a plain, solid color duvet over your body when you slept. 
“Are you feeling anything out of the ordinary?” Dottore asks, checking the emptied IV bag.  He unclips it and pulls a fresh one from his lab coat pocket.
You take the moment to assess (how do you spell it) your body.  In all honesty you’re feeling much better, the hydration from the drip really made a difference.
“I feel hydrated.”
Dottore hums, he sounds disinterested.  “How’s your appetite? Can you stomach anything for me?”  He clips a new bag onto the pole, screwing it into your IV’s tube. “Stand if you can.” 
Dottore’s eyes watch you intensely behind his mask, observing how you tremble when you put a leg onto the floor.  “Childe, help them and follow me.”
Tartaglia scrambles to steady your arm as you fully get out of the bed, wrapping the one without the needle in it around his shoulder to support you.  You stiffen, but aren’t in any position to be able to get around without him, not with the emptiness of your stomach and the way black fades into your vision when you stand.  “Get them to the restroom, take care of their needs.  I will return with what they will eat.”
“Come on, I got you,” Tartaglia assures as he leads you to the ensuite restroom. It’s nothing too fancy; simply a sink, shower, and toilet.
You eye the toilet, realizing how long it’s been since you’ve relieved yourself.  A shower would also be nice…
“Allow me to assist you, Divine One,” Tartaglia remains stoic and respectful as he shimmies your pants and underwear down your legs, letting you support yourself on his broad shoulders as you step out of the pant holes.  After making sure you get to the toilet safely he turns around and starts the shower faucet.
The sound of the water helps you get over your pee shyness and by the time Tartaglia finishes soaking and preparing a cloth for you, you’ve finished and are ready to bathe.
With weak arms you gather the hem of your shirt in your hands and remove the remainder of your clothes.
Tartaglia helps you get clean with warm, respectful touches, passing you the cloth for you to clean more intimate areas, before helping you out of the shower and wrapping a large, soft towel around your body.  It’s huge, covering the top of your bust to well past mid-calf, looping around your body almost twice.  He tucks the towel tightly with practiced precision. 
“Il Dottore will be back soon, I’ll help you get dressed before he returns.  Do you have any material preferences?”
You sit up in bed, feeling marginally better than the day before.  The day after that, and the day after that all proceed in a similar fashion; each time you feel just a little bit better.  More clear headed, a better appetite, less like a corpse walking.
Only after Dottore deems you well enough to remove the IV do you get your suspicions that it was more than just the proper nutrition making you feel better.  He still stops by your room twice a day for some shots; he encouraged you to choose where he would deposit them (when you said into your brain or through your chest, it did not amuse him).  It feels suspiciously like the antidepressants you’ve been on before.  
It only further confuses you, though.  Does he want you in a proper state of mind for something?  He has no reason other than unfounded faith to help you, you don’t like it.  It’s … uncomfortable receiving this type of care, knowing it’s only because they think you're better than who you really are.
The food they feed you, the clothes they dress you in, it's all much more than you deserve.
“What are you doing to me?”
“Pardon?” Dottore sets the syringe down with a metallic click.  Through his mask you can feel his gaze on you.
“You’re… you’re trying to— to…” the words fail you.
“Mitigate your depressive symptoms?  Yes, I am.  What of it?”  Il Dottore picks the syringe back up, pushing the knob back before stabbing it into the vial in his hand. He pulls the liquid up with ease before removing the needle and pushing to remove the excess air in the syringe.
“Why?”
“Hm?  Why would I not?”  He flicks the syringe and some liquid flies from the point of the needle.
“If I were anyone else you wouldn’t be doing this.”
“Indeed.”
“Haven’t you realized by now that I’m not who you think I am?  That I’m just a normal human in a horrible situation of being unable to die?”
“That is not so.  Your skin cultures and biopsy results do not share that conclusion.  Even if you continue to deny your god-hood, it changes nothing. I know for certain who you are, and you will remain in my care until you utilize your divine right to revoke such.”
Biopsy? When on Earth — Teyvat? — did that happen?  But there’s more important things to discuss with him for now, not that you care how or when it happened.  You’re more surprised you never noticed, that’s all.
“You’re wrong!”  You wail, tears finally coming for the first time in a while.  You had thrown your head back to speak, but now you collapse in on yourself with your head between your arms and legs.  It’s humid, but saves you from having to look at the doctor and his unreadable bird mask.
“Oh my,” you hear Dottore murmur, then he sets his medical supplies to the side and places a hand on your shoulder. He remains there while you sob, when finally the lack of speech seems to reach the boiling point, he heaves a sigh.  “If it is of any consolation, if it were to come to my attention that you are not in any way godly or divine, I would treat you the same.  I’ve put far too much care into you to just toss you aside..”
That consoles you, if only a little, damn the drugs making you want to continue life to see the future.   But you broke the dam of tears, and it’ll take a while for them to stop; you need to cry out everything that led you here….
Your… attempt that put you in Teyvat, the one you tried right after arrival, the false death, all the eyes and praise that aren’t meant for you.  It’s dysphoric.  
The lurches of your body with your cries, stitches your sides and you sniffle harder into the crevice your body makes, the moisture of the confined body space blending in with your tears.
“There now,” Dottore says, quieter as you get so as well.  “Perhaps some more rest will do you good.  I’ll be at the ready whenever you wake.”
238 notes · View notes
lvlystars · 3 months
Text
23:55 — p.jh
Tumblr media
“you know…it’s not that bad, honey.” jihyo reassuringly rubs your arm in an attempt to comfort you as you dejectedly stare at your failed attempt at a birthday cake for your girlfriend. the colour combination was not the best, and the way some parts were piped looked a little larger than others, with little crumbs from the cake within speckled across the outer layer of the frosting.
“but it’s supposed to be perfect.” you sigh, turning away and flopping down onto the couch in your living room as jihyo follows you, gently sitting down beside you as she starts to rub your thigh. “y/n, i don’t care if it’s perfect or not. it was made by you, and that fact alone makes me so happy today.”
you face her with a pout on your face, furrowing your eyebrows as you begrudgingly slip your hand into hers. jihyo reciprocates your touch with a gentle squeeze, smiling down at you before leaning down to peck your cheek. “now get up, i want to take pictures with my cake.” she pats your thigh, urging you to stand up as you groan, shaking your head.
“you want to take a picture with that? you’re insane.” you laugh as you start to lighten up a little, jihyo rolling her eyes at you before sitting in the chair at the table and pulling the cake closer to her self. “come on, take the pictures quickly! my birthday’s gonna end!” she whines, shoving the phone into your hand as she grabs the matchstick and lighting the candle perched atop the cake.
you’re hit with a wave of some kind of nostalgia as you watch jihyo clap her hands while you softly sing ‘happy birthday’ to your girlfriend, jihyo beaming as you end the song. as you start counting to her age, she scowls as she’s reminded of how old she is, faking hurt.
“i’m almost nearing the end of my 20’s, my golden years.” she sniffles as she pretends to wipe tears away. you roll your eyes as you pat her head, picking up a plastic knife and cutting out a piece of the cake before feeding her with it.
you look at her expectantly as she slowly chews the cake, trying to digest the flavour before her eyebrows furrow as if she looked angry, and you chuckle softly as she lets out a hum of satisfaction, nodding before her face morphs into a look of enjoyment. “it’s pretty good! did you make this?” she smiles up at you, astonishment evident on her face. you nod as you smile back, feeling a little bit shy as she continues to eat the cake, humming in satisfaction at every bite.
you’re suddenly met with a single bite of cake in front of you, the spoon hovering expectantly as jihyo looks at you, urging you to take a bite. “eat.” she quips, motioning for you to open your mouth, and you slowly take a bite, chewing as you look back at jihyo’s giddy eyes, her face bright enough to light the entire dimly lit room you both were in. as you focus on the cake, you hum in delight as you nod. “it’s good, right?” she whispers. you nod in response before jihyo sets the fork down, hugging you.
you wrap your arms around her in response, basking in the warmth of your embrace as you both sway from side to side. you look at the clock to see the time showing “00:07”.
"ah, your birthday is done.” you whisper, and jihyo just shushes you, placing a delicate finger on your lips.
“let me enjoy this.” she mumbles, snuggling closer to you.
“but-”
“shh.”
Tumblr media
wc. 616
a/n. hbd to my mother jihyo, i love her sm, and in celebration of 'i got you' coming out today, i totally planned to release this today. (definitely not bcus writer's block got the best of me 😔)
tags 🏷️ —
@welcometomyoasis @wqnwoos @etherealyoungk @amxlia-stars @shuahaes @seuonji @star1117-archives @spicyseonghwas @haowrld @kyeomyun
networks 🔗 —
@preciousillusions-net @cacaokpop-fics @k-labels
lmk if you want to be added/removed from my taglist!
Tumblr media
ⓒ lvlystars
191 notes · View notes
whalesforhands · 3 months
Text
it exists only here
geto suguru holds onto your ghost in the trivial silence of the night.
HBD GETO SUGURU
“Geto-sama, you have an audience with an Amano Kiriko and her father in approximately 30 minutes.”
The cult leader doesn’t say a word, the stalk of pink carnation getting nicked a little too close to its petals for his comfort, his pruning shears threatening the beauty of the flora in his hand.
He thought he had it this time.
Now it’s too short. The osmanthus flowers he had spent so much time intricately placing together will go to waste… Dumb rocks and leaves that took way too long to work in harmony with each other. He sighs, frustration coursing through his tensed arms whilst staring down at the already ruined flower despite the beauty it still retained. It just didn’t fit in well with the image he had in mind. So beautiful, yet so useless now.
Should he just redo it? Amethyst orbs follow the stalk up to where it’s now currently being held up to the hanging lamp light, whiffs of its sweet scent reaching his nose as he glares. He ponders and ponders, his eyes closing to savour the fragrance.
So sweet.
“Tell Amaya-san we’re postponing. I’m busy.” Can’t you see how preoccupied he is with this? It obviously takes precedence over some worthless monkey.
A little more suffering won’t do them any harm.
The silence drags, yet Manami Suda does not break the tense stillness any further, does not even correct her superior on his mispronunciation. What use is there for him to remember a mere monkey’s name?
“Understood, Geto-sama. I will move your meeting back by 40 minutes.” She bows low, her gaze kept towards the ground before she turns on her heel and makes her way out, shiny hair bouncing with every step as she makes it a point to close the door behind her as gently, as silently possible.
It seems that her handsome boss is having one of those days again.
A quiet creak of his door and heel clicks that disappear with distance until they were no more.
It’s now that he realizes he’s alone again, silently staring down at the blush pink of the petals in his hand. He twirls the stalk over and over between his fingers as the silence stretches and stretches. It overwhelms him, his thoughts just a little too loud in the blaring quietude.
“Suguru, you don’t look well.” A warm hand against his forehead, your worried gaze and a soft voice. Touch shifting away and making him nearly chase after your comfort.
(Just for a little longer.)
“Have you been eating properly?” You’re sad, lips downturned into a frown that makes him regret ever looking so gaunt— So weak. He wants to placate you, wants to assure you.
“I’m fine—“
“Nope!” An interruption of an all too boisterous voice, lanky arms immediately hooking around both of you as you’re both pulled towards an all too excited Satoru. “So what say we go out and treat him some good ol’ soba?”
His head is starting to hurt again. A grit of his teeth and shears clattering onto the wooden table, frustrated sigh and slumping of his shoulders to ease this tension within his body. He doesn’t want to think, doesn’t want to feel so… Bad.
It’s only then that his hands reach for the book that was upon the chabudai he sat at, trembling fingers finally making contact with the old paper, the slightly frayed pages easing the stress in his mind, the roar in his ears.
His fingers would trace well-worn, yellowed pages of an all too old shoujo manga, familiar pages that had a noticeable dent in them from how beloved they were by the previous owner. It takes him back, makes his hands reach into traces of the past. Away from this headache inducing present, away from his pain.
“There you are. I bought those famous Kiyoken shumai—“ He freezes in his tracks, his eyes widening and eyebrows raising in shock and worry when he chanced upon your teary gaze, your expression akin to a deer caught in headlights as you look at him with shiny, gemlike eyes and tears that had already spilled, rolling down your embarrassed cheeks.
He takes only a moment to recover, only silently walking forward to plop the plastic bag onto the dining table, giving you a quick once-over before patting your head, as you squeak in stunned surprise, his hand combing down your hair gently before he turns on his heel, steps heavy, quick and a threatening smile upon his face. He starts cracking his knuckles for good measure, his aura flaring into one of intimidation as he gets ready to beat a certain someone up.
“I’ll kill him.”
“S-Suguru— Wait! It’s not Satoru’s fault!” You’re already up on your feet, running to intercept him and grabbing onto his arm, using all your strength to hold him back as you feel your socked feet start to drag across the floor, his strength uninhibited by your attempt.
An innocent, accusatory lilt of his voice as he stops, turning to face you. “Oh? I don’t feel very merciful today—“
“I was crying because of a manga!” Blurted out with a shameful, humiliated voice, your arms hugging his one to your chest even tighter. Your eyes are squeezed shut as your face burns and burns with growing mortification that makes you want to curl up and die and possibility cry even more.
And that calms him down in an instant.
That memory still makes him chuckle, a hand under his chin as his eyes blink at the imagery formed in his head. Mindless flipping of the pages causes him to land on a scene that’s been bookmarked far too many times. He knows this line by heart.
“Till the stars fall down and empty from the sky—“ You sniffle, cutting yourself off and letting Suguru dab the tears treading down your cheeks as you don’t even try to resist, or even pull away from his thoroughly amused self.
“I-It’s just so romantic, okay…?!”
“Hmm?” His smile only seems to grow wider as he leans forth, handkerchief is abandoned in favour of using his thumb, gently tapping at the tears forming again in the corner of your eyes to tease you. “I wouldn’t really know if you don’t finish, will I?”
“B-but I’ll just cry—“ You quickly press his abandoned handkerchief to your nose, a sorry attempt at trying to drag your expressions away to quell the burning shame of having to face him. “Way more, Suguru…!”
“Cry all you want then.” His hand goes to hold your cheek, settling your face in his hand and chuckling as he pats your head, smiling softly, gently, warmly at the way you’re starting to bawl even harder somehow. “I’ll be here to wipe your tears away for you.”
A lock of his hair flitters in front of him, breaking him out of his nostalgic trance as a breeze blows in, as if caressing the strands with tender curiosity. A hand reaches up to thoughtlessly twirl it, amaranth eyes finally opening to bring himself back to reality.
Should he cut his hair soon?
“Suguru, you cut it?!” Satoru holds the boy’s face in his hands, shaking him back and forth and whining his disappointment. “Whyyyyyy?! How could you do that to our beautiful hair?!”
“Our…? Satoru, last I checked it was attached to my scal—“
“No…”
You’re devastated as you sat behind him, fingers slotted inbetween smooth strands that have now been slashed into shortened locks, trampling on your dreamy imagery of his gorgeous hair, your arms hugging around his waist from behind as your face buries into his shoulder to weep for the loss of his beauty.
“Our pretty hair…”
“…aren’t you both being a little overdramatic?”
He feels his heart shake, an ache that yearned to be eased when he opens his eyes to realize that he’s all alone. No matter how far those memories seemed to be, whenever he closed his eyes… It always seemed to be filled with an image of those precious days.
Steadying himself with a sigh and getting up onto his socked feet, he stretches his arms and lets his joints pop.
He should stop thinking about these things.
——
It’s fun.
Geto Suguru is having fun. A stutter in his chest, a fleeting feel in his heart as he exchanged blows. Different from those other students, so similar to that certain someone. Dodging, parrying, summoning, running, bleeding.
So fast. So purposeful in every hit, so unnatural, so talented.
Okkotsu Yuuta was the perfect sorcerer. A curse technique with so much potential, an aura of budding, endless possibilities. Why, oh, why does he still stand with the lesser beings, the lesser race?
His wooden clogs skid across concrete as he stands his ground, a smirk of condemnation and displeasure evident as he spits out a mouthful of blood and metallic ire.
He’ll show him. Show this boy the disparity of their power, the difference in their leagues of playing field as he wipes the remnants of crimson off his mouth, the stinging bruise upon his cheek from where he was bunched pulsating with an urge to destroy. To conquer.
“Cursed Spirit Manipulation: Supreme Art,” A taunting point of his finger upwards, crazed grin upon his face. Bear witness to his overwhelming strength, to his irrepressible supremacy. He doesn’t need anything else when he’s drunk off of power. “Uzumaki.”
Swirling black and daunting shadows form at his fingertip, echos of screams and damned cries of the beasts he’s consumed billowing within.
“Okkotsu,” His face is in a state of a proud, manic insanity, shivers of lustful victory trembling his bones. “I’m glad I could kill you before you managed to fully wield Orimoto Rika.”
This is it. Geto Suguru’s victory, the beginning of the end for this Jujutsu Society. Once this boy dies, he will absorb the Queen of Curses, he will be strong enough to finally change this wretched world for the better.
Would he be satisfied then? Would he finally feel that he’s avenged—
Okkotsu Yuuta doesn’t say a word, a shining determination in his gaze as his back is turned to his enemy, a tentative hand upon the curse that followed him as he called her name. The name of the girl he had known, had loved all this time.
“Rika.” A small whisper into the cursed being’s supposed ear. “I’ll give you everything,” A breath is taken. “My body, my heart, my soul…”
Geto Suguru wants to feel disgusted at the sight.
“I love you, Rika.”
The light hits the silver of the young boy’s ring, metal glinting and catching the attention of the cult leader who was kind enough to let that poor kid say his final words.
“Thank you for always protecting me.” It’s odd, repulsive, Suguru thinks as his ears catch wind of those sugary sweet lines. How warm those words feel, how they’re said with such a bittersweet mirth, how it’s almost like it resembles your—
“Suguru.” Your voice is quiet, your presence a fading comfort as he barely feels it within this empty room.
He feels a phantom warmth, a non-existent touch lightly caressing his cold, gaunt face. A contact that he doesn’t want to let up as his hands reach up only to feel nothingness and an unbearable lurch of his throat.
An aftertaste weighs heavy on his tongue, like a rag that had been used to wipe up vomit. Ringing in his ears as his nose feels clogged, nigh unbreathable. Does it even matter if he doesn’t reply? Will it matter if he tries to will away that distorted voice of yours?
Geto Suguru sees red, sees looming metal doors, hears the thundering jeers of a cult, hears a scream of your name, feels the building terror and anguish of his heart in full.
Feels like he doesn’t know why you’re here now.
Think, Suguru. Why are you of all people appearing right in this crucial moment? What do you want? What are you trying to do? What are you trying to say?
If you had one thing to say to him right now, what would it be?
“Thank you for falling in love with me.”
A sharp intake of air to snap himself out of it, the odd chorus of Yuuta’s voice and yours mixing and mashing up in his head, his pupils dilating and finally focusing back into the battle at hand. It isn’t like him to lose his focus like this. Isn’t like him to get so distracted by a haunting thought.
“Aren’t you quite the player, Okkotsu Yuuta?” His words end on an annoyed growl, a building temper to supplement the forgotten rage in his heart.
But this is what he wants, isn’t it?
“That’s rude.” Okkotsu Yuuta is deadpan, his face set in a tone of utmost sincerity and seriousness.
“This is true love.”
And Geto Suguru wonders if that’s what went wrong as he gets swallowed by an explosion of pink and white.
——
Geto Suguru thought he would at least go out with more grace. A little more flair, in a burst of Hollow Purple or a deep Red.
But not like this.
Not with his back against an alleyway wall, slid down to the ground in pathetic defeat, not whilst he’s missing an arm, bleeding out and searingly painful.
Not while Gojo Satoru stares him down like that in his final moments.
“You’re late,” He just can’t help the smile on his face that forms as his voice traces those beloved words after far too long. “Satoru.”
An exchange of words, their conversation that took place. From the safety of Suguru’s newfound family, to the battle with Satoru’s students… Suguru realizes that what was once his cold, hardened heart was starting to stir with nostalgia, a flutter in his chest that makes him want to get lost in this conversation for just a bit longer; even if the expression on Satoru’s face was blank, empty.
Even if he never smiled at him anymore.
So he takes his time, drawing out each word and sentence and mindless thought that had been churned into a flitter in his stomach that makes him think that it isn’t so bad to be on the losing end.
That it isn’t so bad that this is his end.
And when all was said and done, it goes silent. Comfortingly so in this bitter atmosphere that makes him forget about the stale iron in his mouth and his defeated heart that had nothing left to hide.
It’s hard to say that Geto Suguru was satisfied just yet.
“Do you… Still think I’m a good person?” It’s sudden, a taboo scab nobody, not even Geto himself had wanted to pick at. A wound that never quite gelled over. But— It’s fine because it’s here. It’s fine because it’s right now. Because these trivial, meaningless conversations are what make him feel whole, make him find meaning amongst all his doubt.
“Yeah.” A pause as the honoured one takes in a breath, the squeezing of his palms into tight fists as his glowing eyes begin to soften to shimmery radiance. “I bet she would still think so too.”
That’s not true. Geto Suguru feels, knows it just cannot be, no matter how much his broken heart yearns to believe it. It’s for that reason that he finally lets out a laugh, eyes turning into crescents to match his satisfied smile.
“I killed tons of innocent people, you know?”
There’s no way you would ever look at him the same way.
“You can go and ask her personally, then.” Gojo Satoru sounds so steady, so confident and brazen with his threat; that it sounds like a consolation to Geto Suguru, that it leaves him in utter disbelief at the man’s faith in him, his belief that a damned person like him would ever get to reunite with the likes of you.
Though, it brings him peace in this moment.
“Maybe I will.” It’s his final reassurance, stemming from a hope that he gets to be together with you once more, a last solace for his painful, aching soul in the silence that follows after.
“It’s disappointing, Satoru.”
His eyes blink as he leans his head back against the grimy wall, letting out a breath to soothe the staggering gnawing at his conscience. “That I couldn’t wear a heartfelt smile in this world anymore.”
Not when it turned out like this.
A beat passes, and yet another as Suguru finally feels his body beginning to crumble, vision starting to blur as he starts to see brightness in his dimming eyes. It’s okay. It’s okay now because—
It’s over.
He sees his beloved squat down, coming down onto this pitiful level to meet eyes with him. What is he—
Sincere blue to fading purple, parting lips that start mouthing words that he didn’t think he deserved to hear. He knows that goodbyes are bitter, that he’ll never be ready enough to hear them.
That he’ll never be able to accept that you’re gone.
Yet, even as it reaches into his ears, he didn’t expect the weight, the pressure that makes the tiniest semblance of regret swirl in his heart, slowly realized into a wish that he could rewind time to hear Satoru’s voice that teeters upon a breaking sorrow once more. Just one more time.
“We’ll meet again, right?”
Geto Suguru can only laugh, letting amusement enshroud his expression as his neck cranes towards the light in which his one and only Gojo Satoru shrouded. It’s so stupid, so in character for someone like him.
“At least curse me a little at the end.”
This is how he wants to go. There’s nothing else he wants to long for now… Not the Queen of Curses, not the utter desire to destroy non-sorcerers, not the bloodthirsty revenge and grudge he held against the Jujutsu system— He just wants to feel at peace from the hands of his other half.
This is it.
“Take care of her until I get there.” Wherever you both end up, his final message and blessing from just Satoru to just Suguru. A responsibility given to him that Gojo hopes comes true. All because he hopes it’s peaceful where you both were, that it relieves you both of the hope that made you hurt more.
Suguru’s parting smile is bittersweet, a blush upon his face as enchanting purple finally hide away, finally put to rest with the last of his cursed energy dissipating. A ‘goodbye’ is something he’s no good at, a ‘see you later’ far too unfulfilling. He wishes he could find kinder words as he lets his heart speak his truth, breathed out in a whisper so tender.
“Don’t be late again, Satoru.”
previous next
Notes:
Pink carnations: I’ll never forget you.
Osmanthus flowers: True love.
‘Till the stars fall down and empty from the sky, if you’re with me then everything’s alright.’ - Everything’s Alright from To the Moon (nvy’s favourite game)
203 notes · View notes
ihavemanyhusbands · 3 months
Note
Hear me out, hannibal notices how in love will is with you (his wife) And so one night, he invites will for dinner and hannibal has you laid out on the table nude but he has like the yellow apples around the top of your head to mimic a golden halo or on your stomach he had pomegranate seeds to be a sign of fertility and he invites will to have a taste!! HBD to me, I've been cooking this one up!! - 🎀 Anon
Omggg happy birthday girlie!!!! I hope you had an amazing day!!! ❤️❤️❤️ you cooked up a good one phewwww 😮‍💨
——
Will didn’t know what to say at first. In fact, he seemed to have lost all words entirely.
He was fully aware of Hannibal’s artistic prowess, but he did not expect the masterpiece awaiting him on the dining table.
Pomegranates, flowers and ivy were some of the surrounding adornments, creating an almost pastoral background. But the focal point was you, lovely and radiant as the forest nymphs depicted in the classics.
Not to mention, you were completely bare. This rooted him to the spot, despite your strong gravitational pull. He averted his eyes to try to be polite, instead looking at Hannibal, who smiled at him like a gloating satyr.
“The eyes always betray what the heart wants, Will,” Hannibal said. “Take a closer look.”
Will hesitated only for a moment longer before slowly stepping towards you. You smiled gently, invitingly, cheeks flushed under his assessing gaze.
“I did promise you a lavish spread, did I not?” Hannibal continued, stepping up beside him.
“One I can only hope I am worthy of,” Will murmured, his voice almost dream like.
He looked into your eyes, silently asking for permission to touch. You nodded in assent, smile widening. You inched closer to his reaching hand, almost trembling with anticipation.
The warmth and softness of your skin was intoxicating, his fingers leaving slight goosebumps in their wake. Both men noticed the shift of your hips and the heave of your chest.
Hannibal tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear lovingly, his gaze just as ardent as Will’s.
Will’s hand came to rest on one of your knees, a quiet indication for you to bring your legs up. And so you did, knees drawn apart and feet resting on the edge of the table. He swallowed hards, flexing his fingers in self restraint.
“And you, Mrs. Lecter,” he said. “Are you ready to be devoured?”
Your eyes glimmered like the crystal chandelier above you, mischievous and gleeful. “Only if you promise you’ll lick the plate clean.”
——
218 notes · View notes
seventhcallisto · 1 month
Text
DENSE . (j.yh)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
a/n: hbd yuyu (a lil something I had in the drafts!!!)
C/w : SMUT! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT fingering (r.rec), teasing, public teasing, soft dom yuyu, switch! reader (sorta).
Pairings : idol!bf!yunho x idol!(member)afab!reader
Synopsis : getting your boyfriend a little flushed isn't hard to do, but the consequences will always haunt you. (SMUT)
Tumblr media
Yunho could be considered like his counterpart tyudeongi, cute and clueless looking.
Like a cute puppy, eager to please and wagging his imaginary tail whenever you praised him.
"I think I like when you're a little harder with me" you boldly admitted earlier in the day, and from right next to you, sitting on his phone with his legs crossed, yunho hummed. He was still dead set on texting whoever he was texting.
"Really?" his eyes split from his screen to glance at you, the familiar redness to the top of his ears coming forth the longer you both looked at each other. His lips quirked into an innocent smile, his single right hand on his phone. He squeezed your knee with the other, "I'll keep that in mind," he laughed lightly.
It really wasn't until later in the day, after a joint photoshoot, that you both get a break alone. Sitting in the car, yunho decided to take the backseat with you. He liked having you close like that. With a single hand holding your thigh and his other once again, typing away on his phone. The car was familiar with the darkness that you've encountered the last couple of sleepless nights. Packed schedule and all.
But you couldn't help the buzzing of your excitement the moment yunhos hand slowly began stroking up and down your thigh. Unconsciously, of course. Yunho had no idea what he was doing. You shifted from next to him, and the only thing he did was send a questionable glance at you.
"Are you tired?" He murmured, voice a bit husky from a long day. His deeper tone came forth due to the quiet he tried to keep. You tilted your head, thinking about it. "Just a bit," you sighed. He glanced down to your lips, then back up, pursing his own to begin talking again. "You can sleep on me until we get there," he smiled gently. And you had half an idea to feel guilty for thinking about the way his hand was slowly sliding to the innerside of your thigh.
You glanced down but quickly looked back up. "It's okay, I don't think I'll be able to anyways." And you wouldn't, not with the throb between your legs and the heat from yunhos palm on your covered thigh.
He hummed, a mumbled confirmation that the option was there always. Sweetly said, despite the way your perverse mind was still on his vieny and long hand clenched on your thigh. There was something wrong with your mind today.
Were you on something? Why were you suddenly so... needy.
You could recount the times the pulse between your legs took over for a moment. When you woke up this morning, curled up on yunho instead of your side of the dorm. His features- soft and free, and just.. so kissable. All puffed and his lips a bit dry, but the moment he opened his eyes and looked at you, did he finally wet them with a quick swipe of his tongue, his arms stretching over his head. Shirt riding up to reveal his tone torso. His eyes squinting shut from satisfaction. A quiet sigh from his throat- before he was tossing himself back over your side again, snuggling into your chest.
"You're staring," he mumbled.
Or when he was getting his makeup applied just before the shoot, his features enhanced by the work of the artist- applying a thin layer of lipstick to his plump lips. You could tell he was lost in thought, too busy focusing on the tickling feeling of the brush hair against his sensitive lips.
You were staring again.
Yunho gently shrugged his arms over you, his face mere inches from yours. The camera shuttered and clicked, and then suddenly, he was staring directly at you. His lean figure towering down to your level, his eyes taking on the familiar sultry look he always has in photos.
You couldn't help the way you stared back or when you continued to stare when he turned away to look at the photographer.
Your boyfriend was a little dense to the way he made you feel. Especially with times like this where it was so hard to convey that he was making you wet merely from the way he acts. The hand placed on your thigh or the casualness of his actions. His own tall body radiating heat next to you, or when he'd breath, and his already spread legs would bump yours mindlessly.
Your hand landed on his thigh, and he twitched as a response, glancing at you from the corner of his phone. But you were already looking away, taking interest in the outside view.
Just an inch did you move, pressing further up.. and then up until there was an audible clear of yunhos throat, his leg leaning farther into your grip. Yunho was sensitive, especially with your touch. You knew that.
"Jagi" he sighed, a bit pained, more so a whimper, followed by a barely audible gulp when you finally touched his crotch, just a slight graze of your fingertips over his strained jeans. He leaned further down into you, his phone tilted to the side- you could see the reflection from the glass you were staring out.
You began a pattern of touching, like strokes that made his hips twitch forward. You were trailing up to the path of his zipper, then his buttons, and finally, at his waistband.
Before you could press further. The driver door was being swung open, and you withdrew your hand. Yunho cleared his throat, his eyes a bit wide from the sudden interruption.
"Good job today guys," your sweet manager had said, unbeknownst to the action you had just done prior. He took his seat in the car, adjusting the rear view mirror. Then, finally, the sleek black car was in motion.
Yunho hadn't said a word, nor would he pick up his phone during the entire drive. His face was void, his jaw slightly clenched. You were in for it.
Rough palms gripped your hips the moment you stepped through the entrance of your dorm. Yunho, following behind with his heat radiating onto you. A heavy weight to his movement when he guided you forward after slipping off your shoes.
His fingertips digged into the ample flesh of your hips, his foot gently closing your bedroom door from behind you, the only singular room. He was spinning you around before you could say a word. His lips were on yours the next second, leading your arms to wrap around his neck. He picked up your weight easily, wrapping your thighs around him.
"You think you're cute?" He huffed sarcastically against your grinning lips, parting to breath from such an intense kiss, his eyes locking with yours. "I'm not the one who got a boner from just touching,"
His own grin made yours falter, a small breathless chuckle vibrating his chest. "Really? Come on, sweetheart." he trailed a kiss from your jaw down to your neck. His grin never left. "You don't think I didn't notice, right?" His hands were steady on your thighs to hold you pressed against him and the door, you wiggled from the friction of his hard abdomen pressed against your core.
"I know you've been waiting for this all day" he hummed against your neck, swiftly pulling away, you gasped as he took you away from the door, stepping away and placing you down on your bed.
He parted your thighs to place himself between them, continuing his assault on the hickey blooming on your neck. His larger body caging you in. "Come on, tell me you've been thinking about this all day" he parted from your skin, groaning into most of his words.
You panted softly. The ache growing between your legs the longer you had yunhos harsh jeans pressing into your clothed core.
"Been thinking about your cock all day yunho" you whined softly, threading your arms over his shoulder and into his hair. He hummed appreciatively against your neck, trailing down further. He pushed your shirt up, riding it higher so he could continue placing wet kisses on the new skin.
"Yeah? What else baby?" he encouraged with shuttered breaths, meeting just under your belly button with a single kiss. His thin and nimble fingers catch under your legging waistband and underwear to pull them off in one go.
You laid back gently, letting yunho take the lead. You sighed heavily. "I wanted you to fuck me all day- wanted you this morning too" yunhos breath finally reached you. You hips jolting from the coolness of the air.
"Fuck, you're ruined sweetheart, been wanting me this bad?" Yunho chuckled, parting your folds with his longest fingers. You shuddered from the friction, your clit aching for stimulus.
"Always want you this bad, yunho," you grumbled, moaning when he began gathering your slick and pressing against your entrance.
"Don't worry baby, tha' feelings mutual" he groaned, eyes locked on the image of your cunt in front of him. Slicked and sticky from the amount of arousal pooling in your underwear all day.
"Yunho" you whined the moment he pressed his thin digits into your cunt twisting them forward and stretching you out to take something larger.
He chuckled at your reaction, eyes lidded and full of desire. You could never get over that look. His fingers thrusting softly against your cunt and his palm ever so often grazing against your clit. The perfect amount of stimulus to make your already sensitive and neglected cunt spasm.
"You gonna cum from just this sweetheart?" Yunho murmured to you quietly, spreading your thighs out on his lap, knees keeping you spread open for his hand to work its magic. Your eyes were drifting every so often, biting back moans so you wouldn't wake any of your other members.
"Yes- yun- fuck" your head was thrown back in pleasure, that familiar sensation buzzing your entire body until it was too much. Each rub and flick of yunhos fingers inside you- stretching you out so good like he's done before. "C-cumming" you trembled in his grip, reaching for anything to hold you stable from the torture of a sudden and shocking oncoming orgasm.
Yunho was still thrusting his long, nimble digits when you began coming down, gummy walls fluttering around his pale fingers until you were trying to clench your thighs shut. Yunho pulled away with a satisfied sigh. Kissing your tummy on his way up. His eyes look up at you through parted lashes.
"Still okay?" He whispered, kissing the skin on your knee before he crawled up to land another soft one to your neck.
"Still good," you confirmed softly, wrapping your arms around your tall boyfriend. "Yunho," you softly called his name, twisting your legs around his torso and pulling him flush to you. He landed with a soft "oof" and laughed lightly. "What is it, sweetheart? Hmm? Tell me what you want"
"Yunho, I need you," you whimpered, yunhos shuddered breath reached your neck, a trail of kisses, soft and ticklish up your throat and to your own parted lips. "Say please?" The sly grin on his lips had you huffing, his eyes glued to the way your mouth fell open.
"Please yunho"
Tumblr media
124 notes · View notes