#moni writes

[konigbabe]

PERISH

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x gn!reader Word count: 1.6k Tags/warnings: no y/n; manga spoilers (post Shibuya timeline); canon-compliant; angst; death; emotional breakdown; hurt/no comfort; loss; grief Summary: For the first time in a long time, Satoru Gojo, the epitome of strength, breaks. Happy start of JJKS2 writing week.

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

November 2018 8 minutes until Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

"Don’t worry, I’ll make it on time. I’m right behind the corner."

"We can wait," Yuji’s voice carries through the car, the static of the Bluetooth speaker occasionally cracking.

It feels like years have passed since you last saw him. Sealed away in the prison realm, Gojo’s state remains a mystery. There’s no telling how being locked in a place where time and space don’t exist can affect even the strongest minds.

That’s what worries you. What if he’ll break? What if he goes crazy on all of you? What if he explodes; wipes you all out with his technique? An endless sea of ‘what if’ swirls inside your mind as you take another turn, the mountains on your left with an ocean view on your right.

"Don’t," you reassure the youngster, "don’t wait any longer."

"You should be here, though," Megumi jumps into the conversation, "You’re closest to that idiot. He’ll want to see you."

His words draw a smile on your lips. It’s finally happening. The sleepless nights are coming to an end with the arrival of your lover.

"Then I’ll just opt for a dramatic entrance while you keep him busy," you respond before tightening your hands on the wheel. A familiar feeling washes over you; sudden knowledge of a new presence. Heart picking up, your eyes search the road for the source while the car’s speed slowly drops.

32 seconds; that’s how long it takes you to locate the source. A curse spirit manifestation stands in the middle of the road, blocking you. Its small hunched build stands a mere meter above the ground; four arms decorated by translucent fins hanging by its body, the prehnite skin glistening in the last rays of today’s sun, giving off a wet, moist appearance.

"Boys," you announce, stopping Yuji’s and Megumi’s bickering while still keeping up the cheerful, light voice in an attempt to not raise suspicions about your current predicament, "don’t wait any longer. Unseal Satoru and stop worrying ‘bout me. It’ll be fine."

Bringing the car to a slow halt, Yuji’s tone shifts into a more attentive one as your name seeps through the speaker before you hang up after one more reassurance.

As you step out of the vehicle, the curse's malevolence engulfs the air, almost tangible in its intensity. It clings to the atmosphere like a poisonous fog, penetrating your senses with a pungent sulfuric odor that threatens to overwhelm you.

Your hand slips inside your jacket to retrieve a carefully preserved seal, reserved for such precarious situations; just like this one.

"I’m sorry," with every footfall, the curse seems to shrink in size, yet its malicious nature grows stronger, the smell of sulfur almost suffocating, "but I’m in a hurry right now and you," pointing the parchment paper towards the spirit, "are in my way."

Swift and precise, your movements carry an aura of practiced precision. With little effort, you firmly press the seal upon the spirit's head, causing it to stumble momentarily before dissipating into thin air, vanquished by the power contained within the sigil.

Yet, the energy lingers.

Stronger than before. Stronger than a second ago. Its absent defense, non-existent attempt to fight or flee…it all makes sense now —

A powerful grip; a strong hand adorned with talons as keen as the finest blades dig into your shoulder as an inhuman force pushes you to the side.

As you're thrust aside, your vision catches a subtle glimmer of chrysolite, a hue that seeps into your perception; its scales are sturdy, each edge honed to a dangerous sharpness. Driven by instinct and the will to protect yourself, you reach out, your hand making contact with the curse spirit’s scaly hide.

The jagged edges of its scales cut into the delicate flesh of your fingers, leaving trails of crimson in their wake.

— it was a decoy.

Your body collides with the unforgiving side of the mountain, back meeting the rough and unyielding surface. A symphony of pain resonates within your bones, their structural integrity compromised as multiple cracks reverberate through your form.

Gasping for breath, your body instinctively seeks solace, but find none amidst the terrain. The curse doesn’t wait either. Swiftly moving forward, it lunges at you. Unforgiving. With a clear intent to strike. To kill.

During Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

There is no pain. The moment the curse’s hand breaches the barrier of your chest, you expect it. Expect some kind of visceral reaction. But there’s none — a gentle pinch, akin to a fleeting touch when the sharp claws first pierce through the protective layers of your breastplate. A slight discomfort upon the feeling of having a foreign object that’s found its place within the confines of your ribs. The barrier of your rib cage offers minimal resistance, yielding to the relentless advance that seeks to reach the very core of your being. The heart.

It all feels confusing.

"Kenjaku sends his regards," it whispers, the words slurred by the razor-sharp fangs that protrude from its mouth.

October 31, 2018 — 8:09 PM

"What’s the worst that can happen?"

Satoru saunters around the corner of the table, his presence punctuated by the audible slurping of juice from a small cartoon container. All while your palms rest on top of the said furniture, fingernails tapping at the surface.

The news has spread fast through the jujutsu community, faster than wildfire. Whispers of an unknown curtain cast around Shibuya an hour ago, trapping all non-sorcerers, innocent civilians, inside its insidious grasp with only one demand: Bring Satoru Gojo.

"Don’t say it like that, Satoru," you turn to face the man whose casual and dismissive demeanor only adds fuel to the worries setting inside your bones.

"They’re a bunch of curses," his hand finds its place on your hip bone while placing the empty container away, "Some special grades, yeah, but they’re weak compared to me. I’ll deal with them, save some people in the meantime, and bam," he snaps his fingers loudly, "We can go home. Get that sunset date you’ve been babbling about. Life is good," he finishes with a kiss on the crown of your head.

Life is good.

You watch the sun dip below the horizon behind the curse spirit’s back, indulging the sinister being in a halo glow.

Yeah. In the end, life was good.

2 hours and 48 minutes after Satoru Gojo’s unsealing

For a moment, he stands still. Unable to look down; frozen in time. The weight of it all seems to bear down upon his shoulders – now that Sukuna’s taken over Megumi’s body, Nanami’s and Yaga’s death, Suguru’s body being used as a vessel, the slow crumbling fall of the Jujutsu world – and now you; being gone.

Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer of the current time. Yet even his immense power proves futile as the people he loves keep dying on him…because of him.

A burden that threatens to crush him beneath its insurmountable gravity.

The air around him hangs heavy with sorrow, as if the very essence of grief has manifested itself in the atmosphere. A storm of emotions swirls within him; a combination of disbelief, anguish and a gnawing ache that gnashes at the core of his being.

He clenches his fists, fingers trembling with a mixture of sorrow and determination. In that agonizing moment, he finds the strength to finally lower his gaze, to confront the devastating truth that lies at his feet.

Everyone holds their breaths, the weight of his misery echoing in the silence as his eyes meet the lifeless visage of the one he holds dearest.

Of you.

Hand reaching out, his fingers graze the once-soft flesh of your hand; now cold and stiff. It serves as a confirmation of reality. There’s no getting you back, no way Shoko can nurture you back to health with her technique.

You’re gone.

And in that harrowing instant, the façade crumbles. The walls he built to contain his pain come crashing down, and Satoru Gojo, the epitome of strength, breaks.

Crumbling down on his knees, the vulnerability that spills forth from his broken form is raw and unrestrained. Only a handful of those closest to him stand behind to witness the symphony of torment that pierces the silence. Tears stream down his face, each drop carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words, moments you two could’ve spent together.

One hand covering his mouth to silence the guttural sounds, the other reaches out to you, tenderly cradling your lifeless head upon his lap. He clings to the fragile hope that if he could provide just enough warmth and love, you might return to him.

Yuji looks around the room, at the people who silently observe their friend fall apart. Taking a step towards the hunched man, a soft grasp stops him mid step; Kiyotaka shakes his head, pushing his glasses back in place as Shoko looks down. For the first time, she’s unable to figure out her classmate, her childhood friend, the man whose side she’s always stayed by.

"Gojo," Yuji doesn’t allow Kiyotaka to stop him. Believing in what’s right, he stands behind his teacher’s back.

Hand laying on the tense muscle of his shoulder, he doesn’t attempt to comfort Satoru with any words — no words in this universe would bring you back anyway. Instead, his hand just rests there. Unmoving. Gentle.

"Who did it," his words cause Shoko to look back up as Satoru, stone-faced and stoic, speaks in a firm, devoid voice. Imagines of unspeakable horror flashes in his mind as he stands up, towering over the wide-eyed Yuji.

"Tell me now," his eyes search Kiyotaka’s, voice filled with undeniable authority, "I’ll kill them, kill them all."

#fun fact this is the first time I’m actually writing death and mourning #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk angst #gojo satoru angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #moni writes #moni's writing week #jjk writing week #angst

[captainsimagines]

oh. 

oh this chapter is breaking my heart. i need a break in writing it. oh my god. lmfao 

#making my own dumbass cry #moni writes #dreaming in june series #bucky barnes x reader

[eoieopda]

I am here to request some silly, sweet Channie fluff 🥺🥺 as mild or spicy as you want, idm, just want some deep comfort feat. my favourite fun-sized snack 🥰🥰

the one with chan and the promotion

pairing: bang chan x gn!reader type: drabble | genre: fluff, hurt/comfort au: fuck buddies to ?, pining rating: 18+ wc: 2.2k (don’t look at me) summary: you need a ride home after getting your wisdom teeth removed. chan just so happens to be free. cw: chan’s pov, no smut but it’s referenced, reader has outpatient dental surgery (not depicted), reference to blood/swelling, reader is doped the hell up. 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

You’re drifting off in some twilight on the other side of a closed door, but Chan’s the one that’s stupefied.

Mechanically speaking, he knows how he got himself into this position: drove here in his car, parked in the lot outside, walked into the front door. His ass is in this very seat because he dropped himself there, and he hasn’t moved in the two hours that have passed since.

None of that explains why he’s in his current position, though — why you reached out to him, of all people, to come with you to something like this.

Why he’s more giddy over that choice than confused by it, even if it turns out that he was your last resort.

He’s lost in thought when your oral surgeon’s head peeks out through the doorway to the recovery room. She asks if he’s “the boyfriend”, and he has no idea how to explain that he’s more of a “semi-consistent fuck buddy”, so he simply says “yes” before allowing her to usher him into the room.

You’re slumped in a reclining chair when Chan walks in, heavy eyelids fluttering as you try hard to fight off sleep. Better still, the gauze in your mouth makes your chipmunk cheeks stick out while your still-numb lips fumble with words. The urge to reach for his phone and snap a picture makes his fingers twitch, but he doesn’t; you’d absolutely murder him if he tried.

“Mmfph?” You grunt when your narrowed eyes manage to clock him standing there.

He grins automatically, fingers reaching up to tip a hat he isn’t wearing. “Mmfph to you, too.”

Whatever drugs they gave you to knock you on your ass aren’t strong enough to overcome your personality; you roll your eyes much more easily than you keep them fully open. That trademark sass must’ve taken a lot out of you, though. You doze off again before he can blink, slumping further in your chair with your head lolled uncomfortably to the side.

Your neck is going to hurt later, he thinks with a frown. 

“Once they get their sea legs back, you should be okay to go.”

Chan jumps when the surgeon pipes up, having completely forgotten anyone else was in the room.

She clears her throat sheepishly, clearly aware that she’s interrupting something. Breezing right past that awkwardness, she pulls a prescription pad from her coat pocket. The top page is promptly ripped off and passed to him with a stern look. 

She warns, “Make sure they don’t take this medication on an empty stomach.”

Damn — only two hours in, and he’s already being promoted from chauffeur to caretaker? It should embarrass him that this fact tickles him thoroughly pink, but it doesn’t. Inwardly, he high-fives himself.

Nice one, Chan!

“Soup is best,” the surgeon continues, once again pulling him out of his own head. There’s a pause before she remembers the kicker; she waves her hand urgently when she finally does. “Nothing spicy, though.”

He nods in understanding, and just like that, she pats his shoulder and disappears out the door. Unsure what else to do, Chan takes a seat on the small stool next to your chair and waits.

And wait, and waits, and waits.

Jesus. What did they give you — a horse tranquilizer?

When your eyes open the second time, they find him immediately. They’re still a bit glassy, but they’re much more alert. Bright, even, which is a bit of a wonder, given the circumstances. Right away, he can tell that the space cadet has — sort of — returned to Earth.

“Can —?” You gesture to your mouth, which struggles to frown around the gauze. 

Uselessly, you flick out your tongue in an attempt to wet your lips. They're dry from all the time you must’ve spent with your mouth open, and his fingers twitch again when he pictures the chapstick in his pocket.

You distract him with what he assumes are words, prompting him to shift his gaze from your mouth to your eyes.

Everything that comes next is garbled, totally incoherent, but he gets the gist. With a quick glance at his watch, he confirms that it’s been thirty minutes since he started watching you sleep, and that feels like enough time. 

Right?

So, he shrugs permissively; you perk up the second you’re given the green light. Bravely, you only whine a little bit when you lay eyes on the slightly bloody, thoroughly spit-soaked material as you pull it away from your gums. 

Chan can’t tell if you’re trying to pout when you hold that mess out to him and stare expectantly, but the intent doesn’t matter much in the long run; the effect is the same. He takes your drooled-on trash without a second thought.

Squinting as he concentrates, he fires it off towards the bin in the corner like he’s trying to beat a buzzer. The pair of you watch as it ricochets off the wall, then drops perfectly in the basket below.

Immediately, he turns back to you with wiggling eyebrows and a smirk. “Bank shot,” he brags.

You ignore the true purpose of his raised hand — a well-deserved high-five — and instead latch onto it.  Gripping tightly as if your life depends on it, you drag yourself up and out of your chair. 

Before you can throw yourself entirely off balance, Chan swoops in to tuck you under his arm. You’re independent to a fault, however; and you glare up at him exactly like he guessed you would. Apologetic, he keeps his distance with his hands raised.

Go for it, then.

All it takes for you to accept defeat is a few wobbly steps toward the door and some curse words muttered under your breath, for zest. You give in faster than you want to and dive into his side with a long-suffering groan. You’re not looking, so he doesn't bother to hide the triumphant smirk that spreads when your arms wrap around his waist.

The walk back to his car takes a lot more effort than he initially expected. Though you cling to him like you’ll float off without him, you insist on attempting to wander in every direction except the one you need to head in. To the best of his ability, Chan steers you across the pavement; you babble through every stumbled step.

“I’m going to open your door now, okay?” He coos once you finally reach his car.

It surprises him slightly — the softness he’s exuding, and how much like a reflex it feels — but he doesn’t dwell on it. He’s got a far more difficult puzzle to solve: getting your wriggling body into his car.

After a few unsuccessful tries, you finally let him usher you out of the way of the door. You spill into his passenger seat like you’re more jelly than bones, knocking your skull against the doorframe as you go.

Jesus Christ.

Eyes wide, Chan ducks down to run his fingers gingerly over what will likely be a goose egg tomorrow. Nervously, he chuckles, “That — uhh — that was quite the entrance. You okay?”

Tilting your chin just so, you push your cheek into his palm and blink up at him slowly like you’ve already forgotten the question. Suddenly, so has he. Several moments whizz by just like that — with his arm raised uncomfortably and your heavy head resting against his hand.

Never in his life has he wanted to kiss a forehead as badly as he does yours. It’s like you’ve got a magnet where your orbital bone should be, and it’s a bit shocking. Whatever magic you’ve got — some sort of tractor beam in your eyes, perhaps — pulls, pulls, pulls, but he stops himself.

That’s not what this is, he reminds himself as he backs away and shuts your door carefully in his place. That’s not who I am to you.

In this moment, Chan is your taxi driver, carting you off to the apartment he’s been in a hundred times — but never once in the daytime.

As he goes, it becomes a little clearer with every kilometer: the sun can’t be beating down overhead because he feels it next to him, warming his arm through his jacket; blinding him whenever his gaze drifts over to the passenger side.

“Chan,” you pout out of nowhere.

Again, your head droops fast and bumps his shoulder. You don’t react to this second knock, but he does, sucking air in through his teeth.

“Need to get you a helmet,” he mutters with a sheepish laugh. “You’re gonna give yourself a concussion at this rate.”

“Don’t need a helmet,” you argue. “I need pork belly, bad. Stop, please?”

Glancing quickly down at you, Chan bites back a smile. You look so adorably pitiful with your hazy eyes blinking one at a time, lips all puffy to match your cheeks. It takes all he’s got to tear his eyes off you and put them back on the road ahead.

He sighs, genuinely sorry. “No can do, champ.”

You repeat the nickname, pop the last letter, and make yourself laugh so hard that you hiccup.

“Your options currently are soup or… well, soup.” He tries to sound firm, but if you pout at him a second time, Chan might throw your dentist’s warning right out the window. “Think it over while I stop at the pharmacy, yeah?”

In the quiet that follows, he swears he can hear the gears turning in your head. He doubts it has anything to do with what he just told you, but he doesn’t mind. Come to think of it, he doesn’t mind any of what this day has turned out to be so far. That doesn’t necessarily surprise him, either.

With the way things currently are between you, you don’t feature much in his everyday life; only weekends and the occasional weeknight. It works well, this thing you’ve got going. He enjoys what you do — that head game of yours is otherworldly — but judging by the glimpses he’s seen so far, he likes who you are, too.

Despite not knowing you on some deeper level, shit like this — being around you for some profoundly asexual purpose — feels natural. Like he could do it more often; be a little more than just a recurring character. If you let him, that is.

Would you let him?

That question rattles around his brain when he pulls up to the pharmacy and dashes inside, too wary to leave you alone for long but wholly unprepared to guide you through a shop in your current state. He’s still thinking about it when he jogs back to his car with your prescription in hand.

That bag is nearly dropped to the pavement below when he sees you, however; and he can’t remember what he was thinking about before because you’re weeping now. In a flash, Chan throws himself into his seat and jerks the door shut behind him, metal groaning in the process. 

“What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t mean to sound so forceful, but he can feel his pulse in his ears. On instinct, he reaches out and places gentle hands on your temples. Eyes scanning for any sign of injury, he tries to bury his urgency in a soothing voice. “Hey — talk to me. Are you okay?”

You blink up at him with wide, wet eyes. Oh, fuck, you’re breaking my heart. His stomach drops at the sight of your lower lip trembling, but then you whimper:

“What if worms don’t have best friends?”

And Chan needs a minute because he can’t believe you’re real, that you’re borderline bereft over worms, or that he’s this fucking enamored.

Before he knows it, he starts giggling so hard that his eyes start to swim. Thankfully, it’s with mirth and not utter devastation like yours. Pinching his bottom lip between his teeth, he wipes a tear off your cheek with the side of his thumb. Just as gently, he tries his best to reassure you, “I’m sure they do.”

“You’re sure?” You repeat with a sniffle. Chan nods; he’s never been more so.

Successfully placated, you fall into thoughtful silence next to him. It doesn’t last long, though. Abruptly, you and your goldfish memory change course: “Can we get pork belly?”

Something in him wants to give you the world in this moment — the moon on a string, or whatever — but he shakes his head, unwilling to budge. But then your face falls, and he blurts out, “When you’re better, I’ll take you out for some.”

And he means it.

You peep, “Maybe next week.”

Chan laughs while he puts the key in the ignition and turns it. Maybe, he thinks, if you remember having this conversation. As the engine roars back to life, a new thought bubbles to the surface in his mind:

Maybe you will remember.

If you do — and if he’s brave enough then — maybe he’ll confess that he’s a liar. He might own up to the fact that, when you called to ask for his help, he didn’t already have the day off like he claimed to; or that the sick time he rushed to claim in the aftermath wasn’t attributable to his health at all. 

Maybe he’ll admit that he doesn’t care how many people you asked before you turned to him because you ultimately did.

Just maybe.

As he backs out of his parking space, Chan casts another glance your way. It takes all the effort in the world for you to do it, but you smile at him with your whole damn face. 

That settles it, then.

He nods once — firmly — and corrects you, “Definitely next week.”

#bang chan #stray kids #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #bang chan drabble #bang chan fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids drabble #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #bc #skz #moni! #moots #jade writes #jade’s requests #jade’s drabbles #re: the one with chan and the promotion

[ofmermaidstories]

i wish i wasn’t so lazy and impatient bc i would love to learn how to bind fics. holding a hardcover copy of something you love in your hands……. choosing endpapers for it……. i could make them dust jackets………

#and then of course the shameful truth: i wanna hold my own writing 😩🥹 #alas i lack real motivation for anything beyond making it through the day 😔 #but also have you guys seen the drama swallowing up the dr*monies regarding the illegal sale of bound copies of fic on etsy???? #they’re literally losing writers left right (write heh) and centre!!!

[finalfantasyx]

If Cleon ever got married, it would be a la Pirates of the Caribbean--like they'd just be in the middle of fighting off a horde of zombies and Claire will be like, "You wanted to get married, right???" and poor Leon will just be over here gunning down the five zombies around him going ??? while Jill rolls her eyes, says, "FINALLY" and starts officiating and killing the zombies in her way.

They'd probably head to the courthouse right after for their marriage license, tell the courthouse clerk to have a nice life and then head right back out to save the world from bio-terrorism

#Cleon #But actually though can you imagine #I might actually write this fic #Claire Redfield #Leon S. Kennedy #Leon Kennedy #Resident Evil #RE2 #Jill Valentine #Claire rants #Moni rants #Stuff

[minu-moni]

What I think is interesting to analyze when looking into a character portrayal is to notice how the author influences in the character’s actions.

Let’s compare Gamzee to Jevil, from Deltarune.

Both characters are essentially “character who came in contact with someone that gave them more knowledge than they could handle and they went insane because of it” but how Hussie and Toby run with this idea is majorly different.

While Hussie writes Gamzee to be an irredeemable monster, an abuser and overall a shitty person, Toby goes the other way with Jevil.

Throughout Deltarune’s chapter one if you’re going to do the hidden boss, you get some information from Seam about Jevil. He speaks about Jevil mostly with caution, but he never villainizes him. And while Jevil is implied to have hurt people, so much so that he had to be locked up, Seam never treats him as a villain. He treats him as an old friend and even speaks fondly of him after you beat his fight. There is no instance where Toby writes Jevil to be inherently evil, abusive or a shitty person overall, and the fandom mostly sees him on a positive light.

Gamzee however, is the opposite. His encounter with Lil Cal turns him into a villain with no redeeming qualities and strips him of any personality and nuance to the point he doesn’t even speak. He is also retconned to always have been an asshole and then Hussie goes out of his way to villainize him and treat his situation as something that turned him into a villain, instead of a character with flaws who was manipulated and used in some way.

And how does the fandom treat Gamzee? They absolutely despise him. There’s a pretty vocal bunch in the Homestuck fandom that thinks Gamzee is just a shitty person who chose to serve Lord English and kill all his friends, and part of this is because of how he’s portrayed in the comic.

Let’s not also forget about how Gamzee is written as neurodivergent and black-coded, while those characteristics are missing in Jevil’s character (at least in any major way). And while maybe not intentional, I absolutely believe that this influenced Hussie’s way of writing Gamzee. There’s too many influences of this to not be so.

People, specifically people of color and disabled people, have said this for a long time now, but this discussion goes unaddressed and recognized by the part of the fandom that hates Gamzee, which downplays these concerns, and Hussie, who doesn’t address them at all and even makes fun of people for thinking of Gamzee with more nuance on the epilogues.

Comparing those two characters and the way they’re written, we can see that it’s clearly an author problem. Hussie writes Gamzee so poorly that people have actually found instances of possible racism and ableism in him, meanwhile there’s way less of an issue with Jevil, who is written as nuanced and the fandom absolutely loves him for it.

Y’all need to stop talking about characters like they actually chose what they did. They’re not real. Someone wrote them to act the way they do. They’re not independent, they’re not conscientious, they don’t choose anything. It’s the author that chooses what they will do, and their biases absolutely influences the writing of such.

#deltarune #homestuck #gamzee makara #Jevil #writing analysis #moni speaks

[mayariviolet]

Film x Anime Concept ↴

Casting Anime Characters/Ships in Films - reijean

I think we should remake Brokeback Mountain with Reiner Braun replacing Heath Ledger and Jean Kirstein replacing Jake Gyllenhaal.

“All we have is Brokeback Mountain!” He spits out, half crying. Jean throws his now well worn suede hat at the ground. The impact so great it splashes some mud onto his and Reiners denim pants. “FUCK!”

Jean chews the inside of his cheeks and lets his palms rub his eyes aggressively. Reiner hesitates in his steps before pulling Jean into him. They melt into the interaction before Reiner grabs the back of Jean’s neck firmly placing their foreheads together…

Like I’m thinking both of them would be forced into heteronormative relationships (I’m thinking of Historia -> Michelle Williams and Mikasa -> Anne Hathaway). With Historia also being forced to conform to a heteronormative relationship.

I know what they are… you know damn well if they weren’t crunched on time to save the world they’d start kissing…

══════════════════

© Please do not copy or replicate my work. Inspiration is appreciated, but credit properly! ♡

#I wanna write a fic about this ngl #I’m a film major and I’m right about my casting choices btw. #someone needs to see the vision or I’m gonna roll in mud #aot headcanons #reijean #reiner x jean #Reiner Braun #Jean Kirstein #snk #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot film headcanon #aot drabbles #brokeback mountain #moni’s soapbox💌 #reijean blurb #mv.writing📝

[minisugakoobies]

IT'S YOU COUPLE!!!!!

I MISS THEM 😭😭😭😭

even though I know you are going to bring pain down on them (😠🔪🔪🔪)

I just want them to be cute and happy 🥹🥹

Moni, I miss them so much too!!! I've been writing other WIPs (gasp, yes, I've been cheating on bff's lil bro San 🙈) so it's been a while since I've worked on that one. I have several vignettes in progress but none ready to post.

But maybe Ateez's Coachella performance tonight will inspire me to write something? I was literally just talking about the need to write a very drunk, very lovey San the other day with @kiestrokes and @minttangerines… maybe I should sprint tonight and see what happens 👀

I want them to be cute and happy too, don't worry! 💕

#honestly it's mingyu's fault #i am consecutively writing 3 separate WIPs about him #it's a sickness #fic: it's you #san #ateez #lovely moots #moni logues #asks

[konigbabe]

frosting of my cake

DAY 5 ⇢ Breeding Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader Word count: 1.2k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; breeding kink; manhandling; mating press Summary: You want a baby. Satoru is determined to give it to you. [Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023]. Divider by @benkeibear [source].

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"My last, third wish," you put up three fingers, "want a baby."

He looks at you in silence, not quite comprehending the request you've just made. Casual over the breakfast bowl in your hands, hair still all messy and tangled from sleep.

"I was thinking you'd say more of a food play when you said you got the idea when grabbing lunch with Shoko…or another threesome. Both would be acceptable."

But this...this was unexpected. You've surprised him for once, made him speechless.

"Is baby not acceptable," you query, setting your breakfast bowl on the kitchen island.

Satoru shakes his head quickly and puts his breakfast on the table. "No–god no," he moves to stand beside you, one of your hands in both of his. Yes, it might've been sudden, but Satoru can't deny his heart skipped a beat when your words reached his ears – body shaking with anticipation and excitement, mind already running ideas of how you could make a baby.

"It's acceptable. Of course–completely acceptable. Very sudden but that's it."

"So…do you want a baby with me?" you suddenly feel timid. Even though this conversation has been long overdue.

The question seems to linger in the air. You remain still, staring into his face. Waiting.

"I do–yeah," he exhales oppressively, squeezing your hands between his own in a reassuring manner as if he knows exactly what you're thinking without ever having to say a word.

And so you get to work.

You should've seen it in highsight–

Satoru's determination – no matter the cause – has always been unwavering. Perpetual and steadfast, he's committed to his goals regardless of the situation or objective, whether in the jujutsu world or your love life. And if it involved you, Satoru Gojo has become anthropocentric.

–so when those words left your mouth a few days ago, you should've been more aware of the consequences.

It's also the reason there's a calendar on his nightstand, today's date circled in red – ovulation.

And why your cries resonate through the dimly lit bedroom. Sheets sticking to your back, slick with your sweat as Satoru pivots his hips into your quelching cunt. Puffy and swollen; already leaking his release, creating sounds that would make your face burn with shame if it weren't for the pure greed in his hungry eyes..

"Satoru–," his name flows out of your mouth, head fuzzy and unable to comprehend no more, "agh–feels so good."

Satoru's hand settles on the dip of your knee, pushing the leg into your chest more as his chest presses against your legs.

"Fuck," his hips roll into you with fervor devotion, "squeezing me so tight."

Once more you utter his name in a shattered tone. Satoru's response an unsteady thrust of his hips. It makes your back to arch in his grasp, toes curling as he relentlessly batters that sweet spot that sends waves of ecstasy crashing over your senses.

His thumb brushes against your slick, swollen lips, and his kiss is a wild, intoxicating mess. Sloppy. Messy. Unhurried with languid strokes of his tongue against yours. An oasis in the storm; a brief reprieve from the intensity that throbs between your legs. Satoru's hand drifts to your breast, cupping it like a precious gem, as he slows down.

The pressure moves from your breast, trailing along the curve of your waist until it presses against your throbbing clit. Small, filthy noises escape from the back of his throat as his lips meld with yours; a satisfied hum that spreads through your body with each thrust he gives you.

"Ahg–I'm gonna cum, Satoru–"

A guttural moan rolls over his tongue, past your lips. A rumble of approval that makes your stomach flutter with glee.

Your limbs pinned, unable to do anything against the relaxation that overcomes your body. And in this position, even if you could move, you wouldn't. You savor the leisurely gliding thrusts, the euphoria and warmth flooding your veins, the sensation of his body covering yours and the breathless sound of his moans against your lips.

"I love you so much," it's barely above a whisper, lips brushing against your skin as you feel his mouth curve into a smile against your neck. Satoru's name tears from your lips, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulder blades, legs straining painfully as he folds you in half.

It's your third time today and your second time in a row. A record for you. The sheer amount of energy you've expended almost unfathomable. A few minutes of rest to catch your breath is all it takes to has Satoru all hot and bothered again.

His name a constant thread beneath your breathless lips, heart racing so fervently that it threatens to burst from your chest before it's pulled back into your throat.

"Fuck–fuck–love you s'much," he babbles, feeling your pussy flutter around him. helpless to resist the temptation as your slick warmth pulls him in again and again–

The white stars in his eyes have always been mesmerizing but when he's close – about to blow – you've never seen anything more stunning.

–milking him dry when he reaches yet another climax.

(Fourth, you think. But given the passage of time, you wouldn't be surprised if it was even more.)

Satoru waits until you calm down, limp and pliant in his arms, before he lays a palm over your abdomen.

"I think we need more."

Satoru stretches his muscles as he rolls onto his back, his arm extending beneath the bed. Fumbling around in the dim light, searching until his fingers close around a thin, lightweight book. The image of a newborn on the cover already gives away the content, so it comes as no surprise when you read the title: BABY MAKING 101.

With an almost magical swiftness, Satoru produces a pen from somewhere and flips the publication open to its last page. You watch as he scribbles inside for a moment, his actions causing a curious intrigue to build within you until you can't help but ask, "What is that?"

He glances at you, his cheeks still sporting a faint pinkish hue. "A book. It has a list of all the best positions for breeding. Look, "and he turns the open page toward you, revealing a bulleted list of various positions—missionary, reverse cowgirl, wheelbarrow, waterfall, mating press—some of which you've never heard of before.

You raise an eyebrow and notice that some of the positions have a star drawn next to them. "Should I be asking why some of them have a star next to them?"

Satoru grins mischievously, and the tip of his pen clicks against the word "lotus" on the page. "For future reference," he says playfully. "My personal favorites."

You can't help but chuckle before he continues, "It even has tips and research on how to make babies."

"I'm pretty sure I know how babies are made."

#GojoNSFWweek2023 #i realised halfway through that im not a breeding fan #thats why its so short #and also because i forgot half of what i wanted to write #i might try an extended version later if anyone wants #moni writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #smut #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk smut #satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jjk fic #anime x reader #anime smut #gojo satoru

[gazelessmenagerie]

( after 2000 years Kuro breaks his silence... by reblogging all the promos he saw while he was at work. Granted I only saw a handful before I was stolen away. )

#|| Tag: OOC #( -stocks up the queue before work- ) #( why must work steal so much of my time and energy ) #( i get it for the monies but STILL. let me have some energy after work to write a bit algjdsg ) #( other than that. loving everyone's promos ~ ) #( still need to fix mine tbh but thats later down the line )

[eoieopda]

You said no more Hobi or Jin so:

Taehyung x fake marriage/marriage roleplay

Just don't tell anyone I made a Tae request lmaooooooo 🤣

moni, my love, i hate to break it to you, but….. the people know. they see you and they know.

the one with taehyung’s indecent proposal

pairing: kim taehyung x afab!reader type: drabble (smut, fluff) | rating: 18+ | wc: 1.4k au: fake relationship, fuck buddies to ? cw: oral sex (f), fingering, alcohol mention summary: your fuck buddy’s class reunion is coming up. that’s not something you expected to learn about. it’s definitely not something you expected to be implicated in. 🔞 minors & ageless blogs who interact with my content will be blocked. my stuff is not for you.

For whatever it’s worth, you consider yourself to be intuitive. It doesn’t take long for you to read a person, to start predicting their next moves with enough accuracy to spook yourself. You anticipate the direction their footsteps will take long before their feet hit the ground; and more often than not, you’re right. 

But then you look at Kim Taehyung, and you can’t tell if you’re illiterate or if he’s illegible because you have never — not once — been able to tell what the fuck he’s up to. He exists outside the matrix, you think, vibrating on a frequency you may not be evolved enough to hear. His mind is flying ahead at warp speed, and you’re usually stuck staring at the sky, wondering where he’s zoomed off to.

That’s how you ended up where you are at this moment — in the metaphorical dust.

The way your head is spinning has a lot to do with where his head is, but you heard him. You know you heard him, and there’s no mistaking what he said, no matter how muffled his voice is.

With fistfuls of bedsheets, you lift your head from the pillows they’d just crashed back upon moments ago. Panting, you balk, “What?”

Taehyung pulls his face away from your cunt long enough for you to see his dark eyes brighten. Before he blinked, they were hazy with lust, and now — ?

Oh, god.

He licks remnants of you off his lips, and you forget what the fuck it was you were startled by.

“I said —” He clears his throat before repeating himself with a lazy, half-grin. “— Marry me.”

You blink at him. He blinks back at you.

One of you recalls that the two of you met at a party two (2) months ago and have kept semi-regular dick appointments in the time since. The other seems to have forgotten that, forgotten that this is the only context you know each other in: naked, sweat-slicked, and fuck-drunk.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Taehyung frowns. Then, to ease the tension between your raised eyebrows, he places an open-mouthed kiss at the very top of your inner thigh. 

Like it’s all casual. 

It’s supposed to be casual.

“You — ” You lose the next part of your sentence when he dives back into you, tongue so eager that it’s lapped up your words. You shake your head to clear it. Focus. “You want me to marry you? Taehyung, respectfully, what the — fuuuuck.”

Lost marbles scatter around your brain. There isn’t so much as a thought to stop them, just fireworks, echoing in the empty space. Relentless, Taehyung suckles hard against your clit, and you slump back fully against the mattress, groaning and gasping.

“What are you…?” 

You give up when his tongue flattens, presses deep into your folds as he drags a thick, languid line up your center.

Words. 

Words? 

What even are those? Where can I acquire them?

Can I buy a vowel?

He laughs, like you’re the one making the joke. Above all, he seems confused by your confusion.

“Not for real,” Taehyung clarifies. He pauses to flick his tongue against your swollen bud, leaving you twitching where you lay. “Just for a night. Gotta class reunion I have to go to and I, uhhh…”

“Holy shit,” you wail as his middle digit slips in to fill the void his mouth left behind.

The assault on your g-spot is fastidious and unrelenting, in total juxtaposition to the way he speaks. Casual and confoundingly chipper. If he wasn’t two knuckles deep, his tone might indicate that he was talking about his latest trip to the grocery store, or a movie he’d just seen.

Taehyung barely reacts to the way you clench around one finger; he certainly doesn’t bat an eye when he adds a second. Instead, he smiles sheepishly. 

Bashful? At a time like this?

“I may have told some of my old teammates that I was married.” He shrugs. “But, hey, if you saw the shit they’ve accomplished so far in life, you wouldn’t blame me for trying to save face somehow.”

Well. 

You sought an explanation, and you received one. What did you expect?

“T-teammates?” You mutter as he curls his finger upwards, rubbing so painfully perfect where you need the friction most. “W-what sport?”

Why are you making small talk right now?

Taehyung grins at the interest you’ve displayed; it’s the first time you’ve ever discussed hobbies. You can’t unpack that because your back is arching up off the mattress like he’s conducting an exorcism, not finger-fucking you to the brink of collapse. Worst of all, there’s no effort showing on his face. No acknowledgement in his sparkling eyes that he’s ruining you, with only one hand.

“Soccer,” he replies easily.

You squeak, “Oh, that’s nice,” and then your stream of consciousness sends you barreling over the waterfall. 

Convulsing, you cum so hard that your vision turns to static. Writhing and whimpering, you have to clamp your knees together to combat the overstimulation he’s — either knowingly or unknowingly, hard to say — dragged you towards.

When your limbs stop tingling, you scoot over to make room for him beside you on the bed. He drops himself into the space you’ve created, one arm tucked under his head and the other snaking its way under your neck. You accept his bicep as a pillow for your heavy head, and then you tilt it to stare up at him.

“So, what? You said you were married, and everyone else you asked to be your fake spouse said no,” you assume. 

Of course, as his biweekly fuck buddy, you wouldn’t be the first one on his list. You wonder how many other people he’d asked ahead of you, and if the offer only crossed his mind when they were squirming, naked, right in front of him.

Taehyung snorts. “Better get me an ice pack for the bruised ego.” He scrubs his free hand over his face as he laughs. “You really think I’ve been shot down that many times?”

You don’t know what to do with this statement, so you furrow your eyebrows. He finally looks at you, and once again, he’s shy. 

Either those are butterflies in your stomach, or your body is trying to remind you to flush out your bladder. Either way, you ignore the sensation. Elbowing him gently, you try to nudge loose whatever words are caught in his mouth.

“Might’ve dropped your name, specifically,” he admits with a grimace. He misreads the stunned look on your face as something else — offense or annoyance, maybe — because he continues quickly, “You were just the first person that came to mind, I dunno. Would’ve been easier if my lie wasn’t so… detailed.”

You can’t help but warble: “Aww, Taehyungie wants to fake marry me?”

He knocks your shoulder with his to hide how red his cheeks have gone.

—

“Does this look as bad as I think it does?” You mutter as you run your hands down the skirt of your dress for the hundredth time.

Taehyung gulps the remainder of his beer and sets the empty pint glass down against the bar. Hand now free, he grabs yours and holds it hostage. Affectionately — not annoyed by your fidgeting the way you yourself are. And he ignores your question. He should, after all; he’s told you two hundred times that you look pretty.

Pretty.

That stupid word has you tickled pink, which is ridiculous.

Ridiculous and pretty.

The brief nod of his head towards the doorway catches your attention. You follow his eyes to the other end of the hotel ballroom where a group of gorgeous men and their objectively more gorgeous wives cross the threshold.

“Damn, TaeTae’s all grown up!” The tall one shouts through cupped hands, even though he’s only a few meters away.

Your eyes shift upwards to Taehyung’s face. His boxy grin doesn’t quite meet his eyes; and he looks down at you as if he’s silently asking you to bolt with him out the back door.

You snort, voice low. “TaeTae?”

“Don’t,” he pleads. And he must be settling into character because he leans down to kiss your temple. Lips still near your ear, he whispers, “We may be pushing thirty, but I guarantee they’re still not above a titty-twister if I push back on it.”

You wiggle your eyebrows. “Kinky.”

And, just for a second, that fond look in his eye makes you forget that this is a hoax. So does that laugh as he shakes his head, the one that silently says, “oh, you.”

The stocky one is beaming when the group finally reaches you. He eyes you up and down with an amazed — albeit not inherently gross — whistle. He laughs as he claps Taehyung on the shoulder. “And he wasn’t exaggerating! Traded in those too-big ears for a smoke show, didn’t you?”

“I don’t remember saying the bit about the ears, but the rest is accurate.” Taehyung shoots you a wink that reads authentic. He squeezes your hand and your swooning heart, too. “Couldn’t have picked better if I tried.”

#jade writes #jade’s drabbles #jade’s requests #moni! #moots #2k drabblepalooza #bts #bts drabble #bts imagine #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts fluff #kth #kim taehyung #taehyung drabble #taehyung imagine #taehyung scenarios #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x you #btshoneyhive #micdropnet #btsafterdarknet #re: the one with taehyung’s indecent proposal

[cyberrose2001]

about to get comfortable and do some writing, im home alone and im hearing footsteps coming from my kitchen… please god let me push out just one more fic before you take me

#i aint playin today ghosts #lemme write OP bangin reader in PEACE #moni monologues #moni shitposts #miscellaneous

[winterchimez]

tag game! 🎮

tagged by: @zzoguri (thank you my sweetest moni <33)

rules: post snippets from 3 wips and 3 published fics

published fics 📖

beast in the beauty (s1 - old tales, new beginnings)

aaahhh my very first baby that i love dearly and will forever have a special place in my heart 🥹🥹 it is also thanks to you guys that this has now turned into a full-fledged ot11 series 🫶🏻 i will forever love the dynamic between eric & y/n in this, and i def miss writing this season loads (yall istg i cried writing the final few chapters like omg she’s done 😭😭😭) but yes, i love crime and i will def continue to write more of this genre in my future fics 😉

lip sync (ji changmin)

this was written based on their jp track lip sync and lol i wrote this on impulse and didn’t think much of it, until yall reassured that it was good from all the feedback ive gotten abt this 🥹 so yes now its one of the oneshots that i’ll forever be proud off 🤧

criminal (lee juyeon)

by far MY ABSOLUTE FAV oneshot ive ever written, and it is all thanks to my love @cloverdaisies for requesting this 🥹🥹🥹 immediately when you sent in the prompts i knew, i had to deliver a criminal juyeon fic for you and im so so glad this was well-received too 😭🫶🏻 fear not folks, i will eventually write a pt2 for this 👀

now, hohoho moving onto the fun part, my wips ✨

[untitled] (s2 - old tales, new beginnings)

lo and behold, a tiny weeny spoiler for s2 that is dropping real soon 👀 this 2nd season will be based on phantom of the opera so yall do expect more jaw dropping moments (i hope) & more drama bcs it’s gonna be a sangnew series ✨ (yes i have yet to figure of the title just yet but i will in time when its out 😭) tagging my biggest chanhee lover @heemingyu 👀

catch me if you can (lee juyeon)

okay so this was originally written for @cloverdaisies birthday but then irl stuff happened and i got sick so i couldn’t finish it on time 😭😭😭 but i will eventually get this out one day for you my love bcs I FREAKING LOVE THIS FIC. yall this is a yuukoku no moriarty au so if you ever read the manga/watch the anime YOU AND I NEED TO BE FRIENDS RN.

after midnight (sunkyu series)

so this was inspired by the weeknd’s moth to a flame and yes. it’s a nightclub au, it’s pretty suggestive, and it’s otome so you gotta pick if you want sunwoo’s or changmin’s route as the story progresses. it’s been a while since i’ve touched this so im presenting the best/spiciest part i have so far lmao 🤪 tagging @sungbeam for this cs i think ive never shown you this wip of mine 🤡 (or maybe i have ive forgotten)

tagging: @cloverdaisies @cupidjyu @heemingyu @juyeonszn @hongyangi @daisyvisions @hanniluvi @littleroaes

#tag games! 🎮 #mutuals! <3 #moni 🦝 #❄️ — wips! #❄️ — writes! #the boyz x reader

[moni-logues]

@minttangerines occasionally speaks the real truth:

#yes #I told you i was writing something from that skz pol #and I told you it wasn't chan!! #moni logs

[jermiahsbabygirl]

sub! Reader tells Daddy! Spencer, she has a present for him when he comes home from work and comes out wearing her first set of lingerie and she is super nervous cause she does not know if he will like it, but he goes feral over it

“Bunny?” Spencer calls as he enters the house. He spends a brief time searching for you. When he does find you, you are kneeling on the floor of the bedroom dressed in a white lace lingerie set, accompanied by white thigh garters and with a white bow wrapped around your tummy. 

“h-hi daddy…” you stumble nervously. 

“Hi sweet girl,” he smiles down at you. “‘s all this for?” he asks. 

“Got it for you daddy… y’you like it?” you look up at him with wide eyes before quickly averting your nervous gaze and playing with your fingers. 

“Fuck angel you look so good,” he moans softly as he sits on the edge of the bed. “c’mere,” he pats his thigh, and you walk over and straddle his thigh, wrapping his arms around you. “Was this expensive?” he asks quietly, fingering at the lace as he dresses open-mouthed kisses across your collar bones. 

“jus’ a little bit. got it at Victoria's secret. but it was only like seven-“you’re cutting yourself off with a gasp as Spencer reaches up and rips the lace off your body. 

“I'll buy you more,” he promises, lips attaching to yours in a heated make out as his hands grip your hips, moving you against his thigh. 

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A/N: First little fic!!

#~Mony writes~ #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #Spencer x reader smutish