Tumgik
#and im sure this has been said a million times but
shebsart · 1 year
Text
The X Files' iconic "I want to believe" line is generally about wanting to believe in the unknown -whether it be extraterrestrial life, god/faith, a reason- and keeping an open mind to possibilities
but when you remember the context those words were spoken in for the first time in the show by Mulder, it was him in a hypnotic therapy session saying he doesn't know if he believes, but wants to believe that his missing sister is still alive out there somewhere.
337 notes · View notes
Text
begging the projmoon fandom to be normal about gnc characters
5 notes · View notes
420technoblazeit · 9 months
Text
i can't stop thinking about The Expression. and how harry subconsciously wears it because it reminds him of a better time when the economy was good and he was probably happier. it's supposed to create the illusion of confidence and charisma, everything that he wants to be. a superstar. but because harry's actually miserable and violently self-destructing and The Expression reminds people of a time they know they can never return to, it doesn't quite land right. so what it actually does is make him look like a relic desperately clinging to the glory days, lost in time. everything from harry's expression and clothed to his lost memory characterize him as a man who spends his life looking back
9 notes · View notes
wibble-wobbegong · 2 years
Text
what really hits it home for me is how mike’s monologue didn’t use a single flashback EXCEPT for when he first met el. not because he couldn’t pick a better moment, but because that was a tactic he’s used before to save someone (will)
that probably doesn’t make much sense at first but let me try and explain
mike is throwing a bunch of bullshit together for his confession to el. it’s a bunch of random crap and repeating “i love you”, since he has no real way to convince her other than that, but he tries to really connect with her in one moment. by describing the moment they first met. despite this being the most impactful part of his monologue, they watered it down by including that flashback.
why is that watered down? don’t flashbacks increase the power of a scene? yes! usually. this instance takes that rule away though. if mike were really, truly wanting to use that moment to inspire el we wouldn’t need a flashback. we know this because of mike’s s2 monologue. he perfectly describes how he felt that day, how meeting will was the best thing he’s ever done, the implication of how much he needs will.
we didn’t need a flashback for that monologue because visuals weren’t important. that monologue was completely reliant on mike’s emotions, what he feels when he isn’t with will and how will changes those feelings of fear and loneliness. he was describing the swingset memory, but what he’s actually saying applies to his entire relationship with will. he’s lonely when will isn’t around. he’s scared when he feels alone, like no one understands him. meeting will took that fear he had as a young kid away, but more importantly, will continues to do this for mike. crazy together. i feel like i lost you.
if they wanted to give that moment real impact in mike’s s4 monologue, we already know what it would’ve looked like. we’re given that flashback because all mike does when talking about that moment is give visual details.
the flashback shows just how detached mike really is in that moment. none of what he’s saying in that scene has any feelings for el behind it, not even it’s most impactful lines.
36 notes · View notes
jellogram · 1 year
Text
I saw the Logan Paul suicide forest video on IA and I watched it because I wanted to see his reactions for myself and while I don't recommend watching it because it was exactly as disturbing as you'd expect, I do think it's really interesting sociologically.
So much of Logan's reactions do seem genuine. He is genuinely upset and uncomfortable but he doesn't know how to express that in a way that fits his persona. Here is a man who's spent so much time inside the altered reality of internet fame that he's lost touch with anything else. All he understands is content. But this is a dead body. That doesn't fit. That's not his brand. The façade he's constructed around himself doesn't have room for tragedy, and it doesn't allow him to express genuine distress. He knows he needs to appear sympathetic, so he throws in some performative bullshit about suicide, but in reality his content goggles are blurring everything.
There's a moment towards the end of the video where he comments that he wore a stupid hat for the occasion. This was supposed to be fun, his says. Logan's life is the story and the world is his stage. He can wear a stupid hat and goof off in the suicide forest, because he's the main character and nothing will happen unless he scripts it. The world wouldn't dare intrude into his narrative. Or so he thought. And for a few brief moments, barely visible in the video, he realizes he's a complete fucking idiot.
But then he gets back to the parking lot. He greets some young fans. He still seems shaken but he's back on. He's back in His World, where he calls the shots. This will be fine. We can frame this. We can shape this into a narrative that works for us.
And what does the internet content machine do with tragedy? What is the only way that dark topics like this become readily consumable? They're sensationalized. They become clickbait. They must have all their real pain and suffering removed and replaced with mimed sympathy in order to let curious viewers indulge with a clear conscience.
So that's what Logan does. It's all he knows how to do. He's no longer operating by human rules; he's part of the machine. He's a brand. He's soulless. The human part of him is trapped somewhere behind his eyes, genuinely disturbed by what he's witnessed, yet too small and feeble to affect his judgement.
So he posts the video. And suddenly, outrage. He discovers that not everyone else is also inside his Content Bubble, completely devoid of humanity.
Perhaps I am reading too much into this and perhaps it is after 2am and I should be going to bed instead of writing essays about Logan Paul, but this one video encapsulates so much about social media, content creators, and fame. It's such a perfect snapshot of a man's destroyed soul.
Like I said, I don't recommend watching the video, but I am glad it's been preserved for anthropological purposes. There's been a lot said about how and why this was a terrible action (which like, duh) but I think the mindset that causes a person to do such a thing is interesting to unravel. Selling your soul for fame or success is such an old concept, but rarely do we get such a clear cut example.
2 notes · View notes
uselessemos · 3 months
Text
my hottake is that i LOVE AI. that's right. i think AI is a wonderful tool that's going to make our world a thousand times more beautiful. like any new thing, we have to learn to use it ethically and responsibly. we can't shy away from it due to fear of the unknown.
like, AI and art. it's already been proven that AI is basically dying and has no real way of taking over creatives jobs. plus, it would be unethical to allow AI to put so many millions of people out of jobs! however, it can be used in art in small ways. a personal example of this for me is that i use ChatGPT to look up synonyms or to restructure sentences sometimes. however, I wouldn't use it to create an entire screenplay.
and hypothetically, if AI developed to be sentient like people are, then we'd just have to treat AI like a new type of person. they can create their own art and have their own opinions, but should respect humans and other AI just like humans should. Luckily, we can program AI to be like that starting now (: #putthehumaninAI
0 notes
aymethyst · 9 months
Text
This js another reason why star wars has just heavy religious ties to it, the jedi teachings and ways ARE separate from each user/the council. Just because the council became corrupt Doesnt mean jedi way itself is corrupt and its always been the same with the church, the teachings and writings arent the corrupt thing starting wars its the people behind them taking it to far and to their advantage
1 note · View note
ivanpellicer · 10 months
Text
the casting of the adult / kid pairings is so fantastic 
1 note · View note
fleshdyke · 1 year
Text
shjsjegdbjdr
#going into this im not even totally sure what im gonna end up talking abt so tw for like everything. sui sh csa etc#i have dreams and things i want to do with my life and i dont want to die but i dont know how to handle emotions like this#so my first response has always just been suicide attempt#its so stupid what im upset about but like. idk. i cant get it out of my brain.#its literally just bc my friends are sort of drifting apart from me at lunch. its just that. and it seems so stupid and small to say but i#feel like ending my entire life over this so idk#like im so fucking scared of being alone at lunch. im so scared of being alone. and i tried talking to them about it and i know they have#good intentions but they said ‘we all have other friends and we aren’t each other’s main friends anymore and that’s okay’#and like. i don’t. i don’t have anyone else to go to#and they basically said it wasn’t their problem. and they didn’t say that verbatim and i’m making them sound so much worse than they are and#i love them all but thats essentially what it felt like to me#and i dont want to bring it up again bc theyve dealt with my shit enough and im mature enough to deal with my own problems#it just. it feels so awful being so fucking alone. i had an actual friend group for a while and my meds were working andi forgot how fucking#bad everything feels. im so paranoid theyre going to drop me and then i don’t know what to do#if they drop me i seriously think i might try to kill myself because i don’t fucking know what to do without them#like it feels like its only a matter of time and i know its not the end of the world but it feels like it. it really fucking feels like it#i feel so inherently unwanted and i know ive said this like a million times over but the only time anyone has ever wanted me was when i was#like 6. and i cant even fucking remember it. like every cis girl is like ‘universal woman experience of being chased by boys you dont want#in elementary school’ and its like. its not universal i would give absolutely anything for that to happen to me bc i know logically that’s#awful and i dont actually want it but god it hurts so fucking much to be unwanted. no one has ever wanted me once. and it scares me that i#want some man to want me so badly he just takes it and i don’t actually want that but it would reassure me that im not broken#and i know its unrealistic to expect to be in a relationship in hs but all of my friends are and it just feels like what the fuck is wrong w#me that no one has ever looked twice other than to bully me. what can i do to change it. will i ever be wanted#everyone i know has someone that loves them unconditionally and not even like romantically like everyone has a best friend at least#but im just so fucking alone. i dont want to be alone forever. i dont know what to do#i dont know how to handle these emotions so i just want to kill myself about it#but i dont actually want to die so i just sit there and cut my arms and hope that someone will ask if i’m okay bc there’s no way i’m#going to volunteer this shit to someone who didnt ask#rambles#vent
1 note · View note
srjlvr · 7 months
Text
ENHYPEN
,, enhypen’s reaction to their partner commenting on their live ! — <3
OT7!enhypen X idol-fem-reader | genre fluff | warnings mentions of food ! | not proofread | note. with all the seriousness im a sucker for these kind of reactions. | also yes, i know it’s hard but PLEASE imagine that their interaction with their partner is allowed and fans totally love it and live for it.
Tumblr media
— 희승 ✶ (heeseung)
you had your free time in between your very tight schedule, you decided to text your boyfriend and ask him how his day is going so far. you waited about ten minutes which was weird—he has a free day today.
that was when you noticed enhypen is on live! you quickly got in and saw your boyfriend smiling at the screen while talking to his fans.
“what’s this bracelet? oh that! y/n gave it to me, look at her wrist she has a matching one” he smiled. you tapped your keyboard and sent your comment, ‘that’s why you didn’t reply to my text!’
“oh? y/n’s here!” he smiled widely this time, “i’m sorry i’m having too much fun here” he answered your comment, “everyone please give lots of love to y/n while i reply to her text”
just like that, he grabbed his phone to answer your texts, regardless of his 1 million views on live.
— 제이 ✶ (jay)
jay decided to go on live today and play some songs with his guitar while talking with his fans. he was so busy focusing on his guitar to notice your cute comments which adores him so much.
you were almost about to give up after commenting more than any other fan on the live when he finally looked at the screen, “huh? y/n’s here?” he asked the fans.
when he noticed your comment, ‘you look so cute today, my cute boyfriend😙’ he giggled while staring at it.
“i’ll be playing the next song for y/n,” he suddenly said and grabbed his guitar again, “it’s our favorite song! you should listen to it”
you then stayed until the end of his live, not minding the fact that you’re a bit late to your next schedule.
— 제이크 ✶ (jake)
he was busy putting his favorite songs on youtube and singing his heart out to notice your song recommendations.
“lately, i’ve been spending my time with y/n while listening to our favorite songs, i really recommend you to do it with a person you love and cherish” he pressed his lips together and smiled.
fans noticed that speaking about you always made him smile and feel better.
he was searching for song recommendations in the comments again and noticed yours, “oh? wait a minute!” he reached to the phone to search your comment again.
“it’s y/n!” he said and immediately went to youtube and put your song, “its her favorite song, i hope you’ll like it too” he smiled proudly while pointing at the screen.
— 성훈 ✶ (sunghoon)
sunghoon was answering some questions and talking about his previous schedule.
you decided to comment on his live random questions to see if you can get noticed, questions like ‘sunghoon!! how’s gaeul doing?’ and more.
without even noticing that it was you, sunghoon replied to all of your questions. “people are saying that y/n is here” he reached his phone and searched through the millions of comments.
after noticing your questions that he answered just a second ago he giggled and smiled, “i didn’t even notice it was y/n”
you then commented ‘you don’t even text your girlfriend lately’ and he just sat there for a few minutes and just asked for your forgiveness after his own fans told him to apologize.
— 선우 ✶ (sunoo)
sunoo was playing some songs while sharing with everyone a few stories that happened lately.
“right! y/n came to our photoshoot and gave us some homemade food! i think she had a lot of free time that day considering the tight schedule she has” he frowned.
he then read a few more comments until his eyes fell on yours, ‘i’d make sure to pack you homemade food everyday’ and smiled widely.
“since y/n is so free today, let’s call her!” he grabbed his phone and face-timed you. “y/n say hello to my lovely fans” he turned his phone and your face showed up.
“hello!” you giggled, “please give a lot of love and support to my sunoo” you waved. sunoo then turned his phone back and sent you a flying kiss before hanging up, “that was my girlfriend everyone”
— 정원 ✶ (jungwon)
as soon as jungwon sent you a text that his food arrived, you also got a notification that enhypen is live, and of course it was going to be jungwon.
he was talking and putting some songs, making a little mukbang for his fans. fans went crazy when they saw your comments, ‘jungwon said he was going to buy me food too but he went on live😒’
he noticed your comment only after his fans told him that you’re watching the live. “y/n….?” he asked and searched for your comment.
he chuckled to himself, “wait i’ll order you something now” he grabbed his phone and tapped some things.
“i’ll be ordering this for y/n” he showed his phone screen with a lot of food in the list, “eat well~” he smiled and continued to talk with his fans and enjoy his food.
— 니키 ✶ (niki)
he opened the live to casually talk about whatever with his fans. he likes to put songs at the background and give some song recommendations as well.
he was all dressed up today and was explaining where he’s heading after this live. you two barely talked that day since both of you are having a really tight schedule.
“i’ve been wanting to tell y/n this but we don’t have any time to talk lately” his smile dropped, “i miss having enough time to talk with her”
that was until he found you in the comments, ‘i miss you too! promise to video call you today🤍’ BOY WAS A BLUSHING MESS PFFFFFFFF
he spent the rest of the live sharing some cute memories of you and him together when you had the time to spend.
Tumblr media
••• copyright © srjlvr all rights are reserved.
2K notes · View notes
a-kaash-me-outside · 24 days
Text
˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡
Tumblr media
- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -
Tumblr media
ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]
on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto. 
after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.
fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good
he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.
in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.
the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”
the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you. 
when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.
the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”
you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”
the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”
you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.
he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.” 
you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”
he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”
you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back. 
when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in. 
but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.
your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs. 
“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable. 
he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest. 
“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.
you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.
“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”
his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin. 
you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.
there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you. 
when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”
in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?” 
he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.
“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.
Tumblr media
ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]
you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.
you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-
you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door. 
but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient. 
you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself. 
toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.
now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.
“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body. 
you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait. 
“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure. 
“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”
“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration. 
you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence. 
“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now. 
you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”
“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils. 
“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question. 
one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope. 
one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think. 
but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less. 
“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view. 
“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.
“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates. 
you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.
“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes. 
you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.
“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”
you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”
he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”
“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.
“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.
“clearly,” you interject.
“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.
“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer. 
“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?
“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest. 
“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.
“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.
the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left. 
his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”
“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me. 
“whatever you want,” he answers instead.
you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.
“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated. 
“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”
and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?
“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along. 
“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now. 
“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”
“and do you?” you ask.
his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.
“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.
“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?” 
“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that. 
“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.
you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)
“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”
“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want. 
“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever. 
“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”
“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”
you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it. 
“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.
Tumblr media
ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]
being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee. 
like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.
but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.
so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee. 
but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee. 
yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee. 
you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee. 
and it works for a while.
but not forever.
three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt. 
you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.
“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.
“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.
“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.
“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead. 
you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful. 
“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”
it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”
“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either. 
you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession. 
“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.
“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.
“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”
“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”
he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.
“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.
“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.
“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.
“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”
“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too. 
he nods in response, continuing, ��it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”
“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too. 
“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too. 
“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again. 
he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.
“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.
he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says. 
“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.
“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”
even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips. 
he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body. 
why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?
Tumblr media
ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]
you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme. 
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs. 
you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?
he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.
you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat. 
when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”
“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act. 
he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”
you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”
“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall. 
“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.
the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?” 
you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”
he nearly comes inside of you right there.
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out. 
you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure. 
but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this. 
it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out. 
you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.
and then one night you can’t find your keys. 
you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen. 
when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”
you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”
he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes. 
you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”
“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere. 
you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”
from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”
“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.
he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”
“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked. 
15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?” 
your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs. 
you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.
“how do you know?” he asks.
“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”
“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.
you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face. 
eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.
“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering. 
he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”
you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”
it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost. 
it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.
in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.
you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs. 
you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together. 
you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”
you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur. 
“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”
“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree. 
he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?” 
and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.
you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow. 
nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.
Tumblr media
ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]
“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence. 
you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump. 
nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)
he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask. 
he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”
you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”
“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”
“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”
it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not. 
now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”
“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement. 
he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.
“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”
he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”
you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”
“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before. 
“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”
“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile. 
he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak. 
you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about. 
“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”
you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree. 
“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response. 
“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap. 
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:
>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby
<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)
>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????
<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!
>> nami <3 >> google tbh. 
<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(
>> nami <3 >> goodbye.
<< read << :(
>> nami <3 >> i love you
<< read << :)
you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy. 
arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case. 
he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”
if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop. 
he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word. 
by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky. 
“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too. 
he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are. 
“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles. 
everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time. 
it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you. 
when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop. 
you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back. 
the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety. 
“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur. 
he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter. 
“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates. 
sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder. 
Tumblr media
♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP
Tumblr media
ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)
Tumblr media
964 notes · View notes
yok00k · 3 months
Text
telepatía
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: idol!jk x model!oc
genre: fluff!
“a kilómetros estamos conectando”
—synopsis: when you’re getting ready for a party and jungkook, who’s thousands kilometers away from you, wants to video call.
word count: 1,082
warning: ldr, they’re disguisingly so cute, the word “baby” was said for about 1 million times it’s sickening, different timezones, oc dress in front of jk, mention of insomnia, anxiety, stress, mention of an uncomfy situation of oc where other men were being men, protective jk (this jk is not a manipulator, trust), 1st person pov(im so sorry)
author’s note: my second drabble/fluff!!! this was shorter than I wanted it to be but there will be few (idk how many, it depends to the future me) series of idol!jk x model!oc. <the meaning of ‘mahal ko’ means ‘my love’ in filipino>
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
Taking a cold shower after having an intense leg day plus cardio at the gym hits so different. I feel like a brand new person after getting out of my bathroom. I then settle down in front of my vanity table and begin doing my skin care + makeup. As I finished a smooth base of foundation, my phone vibrated.
2 messages received from
mahal ko🐰🤍
|| hey baby
|| can we facetime plz? wanna see u
[10:33 pm]
his text was unanticipated at this hour since it’s 5 am in Korea.
me
|| sure bb
[10:34 pm]
mahal ko wants to facetime
drop everything i have with my hands, i swiftly hit the green button, eagerly to see and hear his voice. we’re mostly texting these days because of having different time zones and working schedules to follow. Oftentimes when he’s free and wants to facetime me, I would be either at work or sleeping and vice versa.
“hi pretty!!” he cheerfully greeted me as my phone screen revealed his cute sleepy face. As usual, he’s wearing one of the eight Supreme beanies i got for him when I was in Tokyo. [side story: i was just strolling in the streets of Harajuku when i found this one clothing store that has a lot of stuffs i know jungkook would like and that’s when i bought those comfy beanies along with other nice things]^_^
“helloo, my ggukie can't sleep?” i asked while finding something i can lean my phone on so that i can continue doing my makeup
“응.. i'm trying to sleep but can’t.“ he simply explained as he placed his phone on the side of his bed, moving his naked body to a more comfortable lying position. His arm filled with cool, artistic tattoos is out and on sight, while his other arm were covered with the thick white comforter, so as his entire body.
“What's been going on in your mind?” I know that something is bothering him at times like this. i get that having the job and lifestyle he has, isn’t merely easy. the pressure, the media, the fans, everything. But although he deals with all these things, I never once heard him complain about them because he knows that that’s what he signed up for the day he chose to pursue being an idol.
“Just been stressed lately with rehearsals and I'm still jet lagged, maybe I have insomnia? ‘m not sure but it’s driving me crazy. now i get what u mean when u say ur body is tired and ready to sleep but ur mind isn’t.” he further describes how he feels. The worry and anxiety is written in his facial expression.
“my poor kookie you could’ve call me earlier and i would help you to fall asleep”
“but you were at the gym. i know you like blasting reggaeton music while working out.” he pouty responds. well, in his defense he’s right. I love that he remembers small details about me but nothing can top my love for him.
“i do that but I prefer listening to my boyfriend’s angelic voice while working out so that i’ll have motivation to do more reps.” replied to him right off the bat. realistically i meant what i said. I usually don’t like talking to people when doing workouts but he is an exception.
I received no words but a soft laugh. He must have thought I was kidding. I took a glance at him before I put lipgloss on[his favorite shade].
i can see him covering the blush he has all over his face. i'm very glad to see him having relief.
‘’Where is my pretty girl up to? hmm?” he curiously asks as i put highlights as my last step to finish up the look
“just going to the club for Sakura’s birthday party, i'm running out of social energy almost every day because of work and parties but I can't miss this event” I explained as I headed over to my walk-in closet.
“hmm ‘kay tell her i said happy birthday. what are you gonna wear?”
“well i'm debating on wearing a black leather mini skirt with this asymmetrical black top and for shoes i have this black knee high boots or i just go with this simple black mini backless dress with these red bottoms high heels” i say as i show him all the clothes. he and I almost have the same taste in fashion. if we were to combine all of our clothes, they are pretty much all black. whenever it’s shoes, jackets, tops, pants, etc. this is why buying clothes for one another isn’t difficult for us.
“What did I tell you about mini skirts bb?” oh. i forgot that he allows me to wear mini skirts unless i’m with him since an incident happened when i was in the club and random guys were making me so uncomfortable by giving disguising lust looks and nastily commenting on my skirts. Although he and I know that no matter what a girl wears, guys in the clubs will act like animals regardless. He told me to not wear it because he’s controlling me but rather because he won’t be there to protect me if something happens.
“ok then the second choice it is” i confirmed, putting the first outfit choice back to where they belong.
“how about you wear that mini skirt when we go on a date? how’s that sound?” he suggests.
“ok then ggukie”
“dress in front of me?” he boyishly asks, using his deep alluring voice. He definitely knows what he’s doing. How can I say no to him?
After dressing, I proceeded to put on the Cartier necklace with his initials in it that he gifted to me when he first came to visit my penthouse in Chicago.
“still have my oversized leather jacket with you?” he inquire before he yawned
“yupp, why?” I curiously asked
“bring it with you please. i don’t want you getting cold in there” he softly requested. him and his simple gestures make me fall in love with him deeper.
“i will baby thank you”
“i love you ___, don’t look at other men” jk murmur jokingly. Well, I hope he said that in a humorous way for the reason that I assure him with my sincere words almost every hour.
“ I love you more gguk i’ll update you ok?” he just hums, waving his hands leisurely to say goodbye.
583 notes · View notes
sickhabitt · 2 months
Text
modern ellie head cannons!
Tumblr media
- Ellie would definitely do photography, i mean we SAW photos of dina in her art room and around the house, the photograph of her, Jesse, and dina, i think she'd LOVE to do photography! just as a fun hobby. she definitely has one of those small 60 dollar grainy cameras that she carries around, snapping pictures of anything
-speaking of photos, she definitely would snap pictures of you! she would hang them up around her room, next to her bed or in a small little frame. Like, you standing in the kitchen, sleeping, if you play an instrument, studying, kissing, anything.
- I also think she LOVES hiking, camping, anything involving the wilderness. She could definitely live out there if she wanted too.
-again, topic of wilderness, she probably just grabs random animals and bugs. Like those people who are genuinely NOT scared of the everglades, shes just casually picking up a snake and grinning like she won a TROPHY.
-this might b a reach but, since shes an artistic person, she would probably be super good at makeup. not that she wears it as often, and if she does its just black eyeshadow, maybe blush and her brows. but theres definitely been a few times shes done your makeup and its turned out BETTER then you can even do it.
- her artistic talent has definitely lead to her doing super cute projects, gifts, and activities. Her gifts are 80 percent of the time hand made. she could definitely make some really nice rings, necklaces, everything out of random stones. she would come across something on pinterest and save it into some folder which is filled with things.
- facebook user.
-now if shes working i feel like her jobs could really vary. definitely not a barista because she doesn't like coffee, she prefers tea for sure, but she's definitely in something more artistic or musically involved. Like a record shop, guitar center, book store, maybe a pottery shop where you can MAKE your own pottery, or a jewelry store.
- her room would be a mess. jewelry everywhere, clothes tossed around, random shit tapped to her wall, anything you can think of its THERE.
- a million people have said it before but.. she shit posts like, crazy. She might have a main account for her instagram and she either shit posts to her main story or close friends. OR she has a private spam account, mainly used for stirring shit up with people.
-shes a tea girl! like sweet tea, iced tea, chamomile, green tea, chai, anything TEA wise. she owns it. she probably has some dumb cup specifically for tea, like cups from Spencer's.
- i feel like shes a collector, like bottle caps, pennies, gems, or guitars (if she has that money, but she's definitely broke.)
- definitely a stoner
- as stated like way before, she likes the wilderness, she would LOVE the beach.
- has a old vans shoe box, filledddd with shit from you if youre the gift giving type!
- wears vans or converse, but doesnt even skateboard, just likes the look.
- nails are constantly painted, dark, earthy colors tho, she wouldnt have long nails either, theyre trimmed short because, 1. she hates the feeling of long nails, 2. playing guitar with long nails SUCKS. 3. 🏳️‍🌈
first and maybe last time ill ever probably do smth like this... literally only did this cuz im sick 🤒
HOW CAN YOU HELP PALESTINE? 🇵🇸?
448 notes · View notes
sunshowerwriting · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pact Marks
Tumblr media
(Obey Me!) Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor x Gender Neutral Reader (Separate)
2.4 k Words
Where the pack marks are and how the brothers react to seeing them.
I am very behind in obey me and i still dont know if im gonna get back into the game but i <3 the boys so even if im way behind im gonna keep writing for them. also i know this has been done a million times but i wanted to write one too so :3
Tumblr media
Lucifer; 
His pact mark showed up right below your collarbone on the right side of your body. It was in a private enough place that it wasn’t noticeable 90% of the time, but if you ever wore anything low cut or were ever shirtless then there was no way of hiding it. 
He had no intention of seeing it at first. He felt no need, it was just a silly pack mark there was no need for him to search it out. And he certainly didn't think he'd feel as drawn to it as he did when he finally saw it. 
When he did finally see it he was enthralled. He was so mesmerized by the little symbol that he had to stop you from doing whatever you were doing so he could just stare at it. (And maybe touch it if you would let him.)
It was a hot day in the devildom. Hotter than it had been in a very long time and there was no way you were going to let yourself get heat stroke while you were here. So you chose to wear a tanktop that had as little fabric on your body as possible. You hadn't even thought that your pack marks would be on display; you simply wanted some relief from the sweltering heat. However, your housemates did not let you by that easily. Or specifically one house mate, one that you least expect.
You were just leaving your room for something to drink but before you could get the sweet liquid your body desired Lucifer stopped you.
“Y/n, face me.”
You knew better than to decline a request like that so you turned around hoping to get whatever this was finished with as soon as possible. But what you weren’t prepared for was Lucifer just staring at you.
It made you a little self-conscious at first. But the self-conscious feeling quickly turns into amusement when you realize what he was staring at.
“Your pact mark.” You said teasingly.
His eyes didn't move from your chest. So you offered your next question with caution.
“Do you wanna touch it?”
Mammon; 
His pact mark showed up on your left side right on your ribs. There was no way anyone was seeing this unless they caught you changing or you offered to show it to them. Which was bad for Mammon.
He wanted to know where it was immediately. But he wasn’t just gonna admit that to you. So he took it upon himself to pay extra close attention to any bit of exposed skin you had. Every time your shirt rode up or you took off your shoes he was examining your exposed skin with a magnifying glass. 
When he finally gave in and asked you (albeit in a very roundabout way) to show him you were more than happy to do so. He was a little thrown off at you showing so much skin to him but after the shock he was really surprised by the pack mark. It's almost like he didn’t believe that it was his pack mark.
“Sure I’ll show you.” Your words were nonchalant if not a little amused at Mammon's question.
You immediately moved to lift your shirt. It may have been better if you had just taken it off but either way lifting it certainly did the job. And there on full display was Mammons pact mark. Mammon had averted his eyes briefly when you started lifting your shirt but when you made an impatient noise he looked back at you reluctantly.
His eyes immediately met with his pact mark sitting on your ribcage. The little symbol fit perfectly there and he seemed to be in a state of disbelief. His eyes were wider than normal and his jaw hung slack.
“Why are you making that face?”
Your words shook him out of his little trance and his eyes shot up to your face.
“I’m not makin a face!” He said, placing his hands on his hips.
You rolled your eyes at him but didn't say anything else on the matter. His eyes went back to the pack mark while you slowly put your shirt back down, covering the little mark.
Mammon would definitely need to see that again at a later date.
Leviathan;
His mark showed up on the outside of your right thigh. It was an odd place in your opinion, but the more you thought about it the more you realized just how perfect it was for the avatar of envy.
Levi hadn’t thought about it initially. In his mind he knew you had a pack mark now but it hadn't crossed his mind that you'd ever want to show it to him. But as time went on he did get a little curious. Not enough to ask you about it but enough to start theorizing about where it might be. 
Eventually you brought it up. Asked if he wanted to see it and with some coaxing you convinced him to let you show it to him. He was… embarrassed to say the least. 
When you started unbuttoning your pants Levi started to freak out. You assumed this would happen so you tried not to pay it too much attention. Simply muttering a “calm down” and continuing your action of trying to show him the mark. Once you had pulled your pants down and turned your body to show the little mark Levi had taken it upon himself to cover his eyes with his hands. 
“Levi come on, You're not gonna see anything.”
He mumbled something incoherent but with a bit more prying you got him to look at you. And as soon as his eyes made contact with his pact mark his face went a whole new shade of red.
“It's there!” He practically shouted while trying to avert his eyes again. 
But now that he knew where the mark was he was having trouble keeping his eyes off of it. That seemed to be the way it was with most of the brothers and their pack marks, it was like they were drawn to them. Levi was certainly trying to fight that feeling however.
You laughed at the demon, and started to reach to put your pants back on. You thought you were sparing him the embarrassment or at least some of it but much to your surprise Levi stopped you before you could cover up again. 
“Wait! Can you… can you let me look at it a little longer?”
Satan; 
Satan's mark appeared on the inside of your wrist on your dominant hand. It was one of the most obvious places any of your pack marks had been thus far and truthfully that shouldn’t come as much of a shock. 
He saw it right away. He tried to play it cool. He wasn't even that attached to you so why would he go crazy over a little pack mark. But if you paid close enough attention to him his eyes would linger on your wrist every chance he would get. 
But when he actually gave in and took a moment to REALLY look at it he didn't even bother asking. 
You found yourself situated comfortably in the library. Cozied up reading and enjoying your moment of peace. You were bound to get interrupted eventually but who interrupted you came as a bit of a shock. 
“Y/n.”
Satan came to sit next to you on the sofa with the simple greeting and you put down what you were reading for a moment to see what he was going to do. He glanced at you for a moment before gesturing to a table on the other side of you.
“Would you hand me that book?” He asked.
You did as you were asked and handed him the little book that was sitting on the other side of you. When turning to hand it to him though you were stopped in your tracks when he grabbed your wrist and not the book.
“What are you—“ 
Your words died in your throat when you realized what he was doing. Satan's eyes were boring holes into your wrist, right where your pact mark was placed. His eyes tracing every curve and line of the mark. 
You were content to let him do whatever he wanted so you both sat quietly for some time as he looked at the mark that bound you together.
Asmodeus;
His was below your belly button. It was fitting  and when you realized where it was you knew there was no way you'd let him see it right away. Perhaps you wanted to tease him or maybe you just didn't feel comfortable enough yet. But no matter how fitting the placement was, you weren't showing him right away. 
Asmo begged to see it. He had so many ideas of where it could be, and considering he couldn’t find it on any of your exposed skin, his ideas were getting worse and worse as time went on.
You eventually gave in and let him see it and he was in love immediately. He would not stop looking at it and cooing over how good it looked on you.
“Alright, fine!” 
You were more than a little frustrated at Asmo’s constant begging but at this point you didn’t actually mind showing him the pack mark that much. So you might as well show him now and get it over with. 
Asmo was very excited. You could tell just by looking at him that he was bubbling with anticipation and excitement. His eyes did not stop looking over you for even a second while you prepared yourself to show him the pack mark. 
With a quick motion you lifted your shirt and adjusted your pants to expose the little mark. Asmos eyes widened way before he could even see the mark but when his eyes finally landed on it he let out a gasp. He was enamored by the little mark and he reached out to place his hands on your sides. It was as if he was making sure you weren't going to go anywhere.
“How has it taken you so long to show me this?” He whined.
You shook your head at him but said nothing. Deciding to let him marvel at the little mark for however long he’d behave. 
Beelzebub;
His mark appeared on your left shoulder. You actually couldn’t find it at first. Like you knew one had appeal but you could not figure out where it was, but eventually you did  catch sight of it. It was in a place that someone else could maybe see depending on what you were wearing but you yourself weren’t able to get a great look at it most of the time.
Beel hadn’t thought about it much. He kinda forgot you even had a pack mark for a while but even when the thought crossed his mind he didn't have the biggest urge to see it either.
He did see it eventually though. You didn't make a point to show him but you just so happened to be wearing something that shows off your shoulders and there it was. Beel was very nonchalant about it.
You had been looking for Beel for a while. You had to give him something from Lucifer and you were looking to get the errandend over quickly so you could go back to whatever it was you actually had planned for the day. And luckily for you you finally found Beel eating a snack in one of the sitting rooms. 
“Beel, I have something for you.” You said striding over to where he sat.
He freed his hands momentarily to take whatever it was you were giving him but he didn’t look too thrilled with it.
“It’s from Lucifer… Obviously.”
You laughed as Beel’s face scrunched up at your words but you paid it no mind as you turned around and began walking out of the room. As your back was turned to him you weren't able to catch the face he made when his eyes came in contact with your pack mark. His eyes went wide for a moment and he tried to map out the mark before you really left the room. 
He didn’t say anything, just quietly let you go as he stared a hole into your shoulder. He had never had any interest in seeing the little mark before. But now, well maybe he would ask to see the mark again some time in the future. 
Belphegor;
His mark appeared on the top of your right foot. It wasn't center to your foot though, it was slightly to the outside of your body. You found it pretty quickly as you do have to take off your shoes and socks pretty regularly, but the mark wasn't so out there that someone would see it every day.
Belphie was curious and he asked you almost immediately where it was and if he could see it. He had no shame in the question and if you really didn’t want to show him you could always say no. 
He was quite intrigued by it when he saw it. There was no way he was going to be genuine about that though. So he resorted to staring at it and making a snarky comment. 
“So can I see it?” 
You shrugged at Belphie’s request to see the pack mark. You’ve gone through this before and at this point you really didn’t mind showing him. So you sat down and took off your shoe, revealing the little mark on the top of your foot. Belphie looked at the mark with a strange look on his face, you almost wanted to ask what was up,but you kept the question to yourself as he continued to gaze at the mark. 
“That's it?”
You rolled your eyes at him but he didn’t even look up so you assumed he didn’t even notice. You could tell he was actually quite interested in the mark and you know how he can be so you let him act that way. But if he wasn’t going to ask the question you assumed he wanted to then you would offer for him. You moved your foot closer to him which made him flinch and look up at you. You only gave him an exasperated look before gesturing to your foot with your hand and spoke.
“Go on, touch it.”
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
01zfan · 3 months
Note
could you write something about giving head to anton or sungchan? i really love the way you write about sensations and details so i’m eager to read it 😔💗
haiiii anon im insane so i wrote it for both. i hope you like and yeah im sorry i got a little carried away.
Tumblr media
can i? | l. at & j. sc
boyfriend!anton x fem!reader | 1.9k words
this is a mature work. minors do not interact
contains: blowjob and the effects of said blowjob
Tumblr media
you sit on the edge of anton’s bed, your body turned to face him. his large hand rests on his face as you two are engrossed in an extremely heated makeout session. his other hand is tenderly on your breast, not daring to squeeze. it just rests there, but the way it fits in the palm of his hand has you equally as dizzy. you two have been going at it like this for hours, sloppy sounds of kissing filling his childhood room. you could spend days mapping out the ridges and sides of anton’s mouth and he would gladly let you.
when you work anton up, it’s very obvious. he grips you a little tighter, a little more desperate. his hand had moved from your breast to in between your thighs. anton was very different with how he touched you from other men. he wasn’t the type to stick a finger into your heat while kissing you. he preferred to cup your clothed center. he enjoyed just feeling the heat in his hands. it was a little weird, but that was anton. his large hand still made you squirm, and the way anton would moan just from almost touching you made you always want more.
anton put a hand in your hair, making you turn your head and deepen the kiss. you slowly let your hand explore the way down his body you’ve traced a million times before.
you placed a hand on the broad expanse of anton’s back and shoulders. the muscle underneath his skin was strong and steady. you brought your hand to his neck, caressing the soft skin you loved to leave marks on. his chest was your favorite, and you’re sure anton knew this. his chest was always like a brick wall to you. his chest was the best to lay on after you guys have your fun. you would rest your head over his heart, hearing it slow down. the steady beating would always lull you to sleep in anton’s arms. so you took your time with that area, resting a hand on his quick heartbeat. you smirked and anton noticed you smiling into the kiss. he pulling away.
“why are you smiling?” anton asked. his cheeks were rosy and he sounded exasperated, trying to catch his breath.
“nothing.” you smiled. you were tempted to take his hand and put it on your heart as well, but you didn’t want to move his hand from your heat or your neck. you instead leaned your head towards his, wanting to kiss him again.
when anton kissed you back, you resumed kissing and touching him again. you let your hand drift down his toned stomach. you rested it there for a moment, trying to gain the courage to go a little further down. you don’t know why you were so nervous, you’ve done this before. but when anton moaned into the kiss, you let your hand rest over his clothed dick. maybe it was too sudden, or maybe your touch just had an effect on anton. regardless, as a result of your touch anton moaned even louder into the kiss and his hand nudged closer to your heat. you both pulled away from the other, chests rising and falling in anticipation.
“woah.” was all anton said. you nodded in agreement.
anton’s cheeks were dusted with red. the smile that is always stuck on his face is replaced with slightly parted lips. his eyes were wide, probably as wide and blown out as yours. somehow, the thing you two have done time and time again felt different. it was like sparks were in the air, cracking around in the space you two had created. your skin felt on like it was being ignited when you spoke your next words.
“can i suck your dick?” you said it light and soft, the tone anton always had with you. the red on anton’s cheeks and ears intensified.
you really couldn’t blame him. you two were very affectionate but very shy. it wasn’t something you two were ashamed of or wanted to change. you both thought it was endearing how shy you two got around eachother, always looking away when you two held eye contact for too long and face always being hot when you touched. the shyness also came with the perk of feeling extremely validated when getting the courage to ask for something bold. so when anton heard you ask or something so lewd, he knew you could feel him twitch in his pants.
“yes. yes of course.” anton tried to be as bold as you were but the usual softness in his voice held him back. it came out as raspy and desperate. anton tried to care but he didn’t. he was desperate to have you touch him in any way possible.
anton is pliant to your gentle hands as you lay him down on the bed. his clothes were quickly discarded by himself, trying to make everything as easy as possible for you.
when he was laid down, he looked at you kissing down from his cheek. each kiss was sloppier than the one prior. he could feel the saliva from your kisses from the cool air in his room, maybe it would help his skin that felt like it was burning.
you reached his navel, pressing a deep kiss there. anton sucked a breath in when he could feel himself against your chest.
you took his dick into your hand. it was rigid and hard, standing straight in your hand. anton let out his breath slowly. already he was struggling to not buck into your soft hand. he didn’t dare look into your face, knowing he’d be done then and there. when you kissed below his tip and spread precum around, anton placed a hand on his stomach to ground himself. you took a hold of his hands and intertwined your fingers with his.
“don’t feel pressure to take all of it.” anton said sweetly. he wasn’t sure if his size would give you the same problem as the first time you two had sex. it took awhile for you to get used to it.
“i’ll try to manage.”
you start off slow. you take anton into your mouth, using your hand to occupy the rest of the space. he gasps, gripping tight to your hand. anton felt your tongue flick a sensitive part of his tip. he whimpered and looked at his slow moving ceiling fan. the blades were supposed to calm him but even those seemed to be moving faster and faster. it wasn’t fair how you had the ability to change anton’s entire world, how you invaded all of his senses and his grip of reality.
“it feels really good babe.” anton said. his voice was the way it usually was when talking with you, soft and encouraging.
the raspiness of his voice had you moaning with a mouthful of him. the moan came from the back of your throat. the sudden vibration had anton let go of his resolve, bucking into your mouth. anton quickly looked at you to apologize. this was a mistake. his face was burning watching you take more and more of him. anton was already gripping the sheets with his other hand, trying to keep himself here. it was always a struggle for anton to keep his composure, he did it for the sake of feeling your hollowed cheeks and tongue on him. his mind was reeling trying to figure out how lips so cute were capable of something so dirty.
he saw you take more of him, your nose almost touching his stomach. you were so close, anton couldn’t believe how good you were at this. he felt every part of your mouth. the sloppy noises made him dizzy. anton would’ve been completely content here in this spot. he was letting out shuddering breaths and gasping pants. anton felt you squeeze his hand and reach for his other one. instantly his large hand surrounded yours, gripping it to let you know he’s there with you.
“you’re making me feel so good.” anton said breathlessly.
slowly you moved his hands to the sides of your head. you moved you hands to rest on his thighs, ready for anything.
anton was ready to pass out when you looked up at him. you were completely giving him power to do what he wanted in this situation. gratefulness for your trust in him made him bold enough to slowly bring your head down from his tip. anton didn’t dare to move his hands from the sides of your head. he liked having them there to caress your cheeks and pinch your earlobes. no matter what, he wanted to be as affectionate with you as possible. to anton, that was when pleasure came to him in the best way.
the back of your throat felt like heaven and it sounded like your name, falling from his repeatedly mouth like a mantra. his hands and your own volition worked in tandem to bring you up and down his shaft. occasionally he would poke that spot in the back that made anton want to freeze space and time to feel it again. one of antons hands went to grip your shoulder. you moved a hand to hold his balls, experimentally squeezing.
anton was lifting his hips off the bed now. he held your head in place he gave your mouth slow strokes. he could feel it bubbling in his chest and he got even harder in your mouth.
“i’m so close.” anton whispered. he reached for your hand and you quickly gave it to him. he wanted to touch you, any part of you. he squeezed your hand he rested his hips on the bed. this didn’t you from taking him all the way again. anton could feel you gag on him and that made him swell with courage.
“babe where do you want it?” anton said
he looked down at you over his muscles. his abdomen was pulled tight underneath the skin to keep him from bucking into you. you were looking up at him already, eyes hooded. you kept sucking on him, not pulling away.
“in your mouth?” you nodded and moaned something that sounded like a yes.
“you sure you can take it all?” anton wishes he could sound controlled, but every other word was interrupted with a moan or a sudden jolt. he was amazed at how you were able to do this and make it look so easy. you were driven by his pleasure the same way he was with yours.
when you responded by taking him even deeper anton couldn’t hold it anymore. he hit that same spot in the back and your hand still massaging his balls made him moan expletives. holy shit and so good fell from his mouth over and over again. you took it all, still holding eye contact as anton came down your throat.
anton pitifully bucked into your mouth one final time as he laid spent on the bed. he slowly used the hand that was guiding your head to pull himself out of your mouth. he let out a gasp from lack of contact as his dick began to soften.
you looked at anton with a smile on your face. he reached a hand up to wipe away a dribble of cum that had found its way out.
“that was amazing. thank you so much baby” anton didn’t hesitate to bring you in for a million little kisses. he kissed you while rubbing the small of your back and pulled you close, missing all of you that he couldn’t touch.
boyfriend!sungchan x reader | 1.9k words
this is a mature work. minors do not interact
contains: blowjob and a little bit of cum eating (SAWRI)
Tumblr media
sungchan was usually really in tune to your emotions. he was often teased for staring at you observing what you did in almost every situation. he couldn’t help it when everything about you he found so endearing. he couldn’t stop watching you and he believed knowing what you were thinking made him a better boyfriend. no matter how much he watched you, he could never guess what you wanted when it came to the bedroom.
to say you were unpredictable in bed was an understatement. when you would get handsy in between the sheet sungchan never knew what variation of you he was gonna get.
was he going to get the bossy version of you. this was the one that told him when and where to cum and touch you? sungchan liked submitting to you when you were like that. he would never admit it but he loved being bossed around. he could feel the stress from his day to day life melt off his shoulders when you told him to get on his knees.
sungchan also occasionally got the bashful side of you. this was the one that he had to egg on and strain his ear to listen to. sungchan really like the way that version of you moaned, quiet and gentle. he liked feeling your face when he said nasty things to the bashful version of you, you face hot to the touch. the way you would grip your shoulder when he talked about how wet you were or how you’d hide his face in the crook of his neck. he also enjoyed telling you to touch yourself when you are like that, teasing you until the very end. the end was always the best, that was when you were at your loudest.
sungchan loved all the versions of you that he got. this time was no different.
sungchan looked at you on the bed, fucked out from your recent orgasm. he would pull them from you meticulously and repeatedly. once he found out what drove you crazy you used that to his full advantage. it felt like an accomplishment each time, especially if he could get you to finish before even taking any clothes off. there were several times sungchan would have his hand down your pants and his lips on your neck, sucking any skin you had exposed. each time an orgasm would hit you like a truck, making you grip onto him for stability. sungchan loved that the most, becoming something that you can lean on coming down from your high.
sungchan put a hand on your bent knee. he rubbed the skin gently, moving it around in the air.
“you got another one in you mama?” sungchan still moved your bent knee in circles with your hand. he already knew you were spent. he had lost count of how many times you seized around him over the course of the night. you were usually out of it by the second one, but tonight you were insatiable. sungchan loved this version of you as well.
his hand creeped down your leg and you twitched when he got to your mid thigh. “is she too sensitive?” he asked with a pout.
you nodded you head while looking at sungchan.
“wanna take a break,” sungchan started palming your knee. when you shook your head, sungchan raised his eyebrow. “use your words baby.”
“can i suck your dick?”
sungchan couldn’t stop himself from smiling. you were so polite, eyes wide already crawling towards him on the bed. you had shed the effects of your nth orgasm and were ready to go again. sungchan wasn’t sure how to approach this situation. which version of you was this one?
“oh? you wanna make me feel good?” sungchan’s smile turned into a smirk. you nodded quickly, hands touching him everywhere.
sungchan loved teasing you, but it always gave him a guess on what you wanted from him in bed. if you were feeling defiant, you would stare at him with narrowed eyes. if you felt pliant you wouldn’t say anything, getting into the position you wanted him to take you in. the way you were nodding made sungchan a little harder, his member bobbing up and down.
“where do you want me?” sungchan could feel your hands all over him. they were shaking a little so he grabbed them, kissing each finger.
“standing. off the bed.” sungchan nodded and heeded your request. he liked it best when he was laying on the bed with your ass up in the air next to him. he loved being able to slip a finger into your heat or slap your ass while you sucked him off. it would always end with you laying across sungchan’s abdomen while he brought you to your climax. but your determined look was so cute he decided to listen to you.
when sungchan was off the bed, he reached out his hand to help you off the bed. you stood in front of him and sungchan used a finger underneath your chin to look up at him. sungchan had to lean down to bring you into a kiss. it was a simple peck from sungchan’s end but you quickly deepened it. you put a hand on the back of his neck and brought him closer. your other hand reached between your bodies, hand grabbing his dick. sungchan almost bit your lip in surprise when you tightened your hold on him. he broke apart from you with gentle hands on your shoulders pushing you back.
“wanna get on your knees for me?”
you nodded and got on your knees for your boyfriend. sungchan pushed his hair back as he looked down at you. he didn’t want to miss a second of this.
sungchan liked it most when you gripped his dick. he remembers telling you that your hold didn’t have to be weak, he preferred the hold to be a little stronger. you were a good listener, and fast learner. he felt secure in your hand, but lightheaded when you looked up to him for approval.
“you look so determined baby,” sungchan caressed your cheek while you licked from his base to tip. “but can you even take all of it?”
it was no secret that sungchan was bigger than most men. you made sure to let him know this the first time you had ever slept together. he didn’t want to brag about it, but it had taken you awhile to get accustomed to his size. he always thought that this was the reason why you didn’t ask to suck his dick very often. sungchan treated your mouth like a prize, so he let you do your thing.
sungchan placed his hands on his hip when you first took him into your mouth. you started with an angle that had sungchan poking into your cheek. he knew how crazy it drove him seeing the physical evidence of how big he was. putting your hands together or lifting you like you weighed nothing didn’t hold a candle to how sungchan could see himself inside of you. sungchan’s dick made contact with the gummy inside of your cheek again before he leaned his head back.
“i-i can barely fit in your mouth.” sungchan said, clearing his suddenly dry throat. you prove him wrong by taking in all of him, until your nose is touching his sweaty stomach and your hooded eyes look into his.
“push me if it’s too much sweetheart.” sungchan drops his hands back to his side as he slowly rocks into your mouth. you take it all in stride and he feels something swelling in his chest. the inside of your mouth closes around his dick and he puts a single hand to push your cheek to the side. this gives sungchan a new angle, one that is helping you better manage your breath.
sungchan wishes he could spend the rest of his life rocking into your mouth. he wants to last forever for you, at the very least until you pussy is not so sensitive. he just wants to make sure you’re fucked out and happy, pulling him close while your eyes drift to sleep. but right now you were on your knees in front of him, fondling the balls the way he liked and taking you all the way to the back of your throat. sungchan tangled a hand in your hair, letting you set the pace. you were starting to lose your composure the same way sungchan was. your blowjobs were usually prim and proper. but you had spit coming out the corners of your lips. sungchan couldn’t hold back a smile. sungchan put a finger underneath your chin to bring your gaze up.
“you’re such a good girl,” sungchan used his thumb from the same hand to wipe the corners of your lips. “but you make such a mess.”
like it was a cue for you, you pulled sungchan from your mouth. you fisted his cock, pumping it at a faster pace and sungchan started losing his reservations. he was fucking your hand now, still looking at you. you were focused on how his abdomen was moving in tandem with your hand. you kissed his tip, trying to stay in your right mind to keep up the same pace.
“turn around.” sungchan gripped your shoulders and turned you around, so your back was leaning against the edge of the bed. you broke the beat you had set, but sungchan resumed at a faster pace than before. he fucked into your hand desperately without you even having to move. you looked up at him getting lost in pleasure. he was such a tease, so much to the point he teased himself. sungchan would be cocky, trying to tell you how badly you wanted dick while his voice was breaking just from the thought of being in your mouth. you let him lose himself and you were grateful because you got to watch the show.
“where do you want it?” sungchan abandoned the version of himself that was arrogant, trying to keep his pleasure to himself. this version of sungchan was whiny and desperate and in a hurry because he couldn’t keep it together for much longer.
“on my chest, where i know you like it.” you said.
sungchan pushed your shoulders against the edge of the bed. he continued to rut into your hand and he had to look at you one last time before letting go. you bit your lip and sungchan was gone. he came to an abrupt stop when he first came. you took the initiative to continue pumping your hand at the same speed he was humping your hand. he whimpered and moaned a broken cry as he continued to make a mess on your chest. all sungchan knew was your hand and your name and your face and your body. all sungchan could think about was you and the red hot pleasure that burned all over his body. the flames turned to blue and then white when you didn’t let up on your speed. sungchan had almost collapsed his whole body against you on the side of the bed. he didn’t stop whimpering until he stopped your hand with his. you let go reluctantly, exposing your full chest to him. sungchan used his finger to spread his mess around. he brought a finger full of himself to your lips and you licked it clean. sungchan sat beside you on the floor as he came down from his high. you did the same to him, bringing a finger to his mouth and he sucked you finger, biting it slightly.
“i’m ready whenever you are.” you said smiling at sungchan, who was still trying to catch his breath. “but i think you’re the one who’s sensitive now.”
630 notes · View notes
angel-of-the-moons · 5 months
Text
Doppelgänger
Miguel x Fem!Reader
TW/CW: Angst, self-image issues, mentions of childhood trauma, addiction, our mans has had it rough as fuck™
A/N: Brought on by this post from @tarjapearce and the comments i made (I'm sorry i am a ho for some angst sometimes) I'm merging ATSV stuff with comic stuffs because NO WAY IS HIS MOVIE DESIGN LIKE THAT ON PURPOSE WITHOUT IT POSSIBLY COMING UP IN FUTURE MOVIES ASDFGHJKL
Taglist: @tojishugetiddies
Tumblr media
🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷
You came home and it was quiet. Quiet and dark; and already you knew something was up. You left Miguel sleeping so you could attend to some meetings and paperwork at your office, and pick up a few groceries.
Miguel had been acting strange the past few days. You'd asked him if it had something to do with work and he simply shrugged the question aside, like it was a small chip on one of his broad shoulders.
You'd asked him what was bothering him again, and he simply stared at the carpet, muttering something you didn't quite catch, and he went straight to bed.
You were so worried you'd even texted Gabriel on your walk home:
Hey, Gabe...
Heyyyy! If it ain't my favorite brother's girlfriend!
You couldn't help but roll your eyes with a soft snort. You only have one brother, Gabe.
No no, chica, I meant that you're my favorite of any girlfriends he's ever had. 😂
Gabe that sounds a little... Bad. 😬
Does it? Woops! Anyways, what's up? My big dumb, brick-house brother do something to make you mad?
No, Gabe... He's acting weird. Has been for the past few days, and he won't open up to me. I'm worried.
You could see the chat bubble pop up over and over again with '...' signifying that he was in the process of texting. With how many times it popped up and went away you were expecting a bible scripture's length of a text wall.
But what you got instead made your heart sink.
He saw our mom. She... She brought up Tyler.
Oh, god. You knew that Miguel and Conchata had a rocky relationship. Miguel had told you why. It was so bad, even just recalling everything, that you felt Miguel's pain like it was your own.
You also knew that Miguel's biological father, Tyler Stone, was the one that manipulated him, that used him, got him addicted to Rapture and almost killed him...
But it wasn't even the real dose of Rapture. It was simulated. Just another manipulation tactic. It was overhearing that conversation that Miguel found out the truth of his heritage, and you could tell that nugget of knowledge permanently chipped his sense of identity.
Even moreso when he confessed to you about Gabriela--
Your phone pinged.
They fought. It was... It was ugly. I... I didn't know about Tyler. God, chica, I didn't know. Dad was...
You felt your heart flop, knowing poor Gabriel was shielded by Miguel for so long so he didn't have to suffer like he did at the hands of their gaslighting and manipulative mother, his sadistic sperm donor... Miguel wanted nothing more than to protect Gabriel from that pain.
Your fingers flew fast on the little keyboard, a few spelling errors here and there;
God, Gabri im sory you had to fidn out that way
I know. It figures Miguel would have told you, before me, tho. He loves you.
He loves you too, Gabri. God, more than you know. He loves you.
I know. He was trying to keep me safe and out of Mom's drama.
No offense, Gabri, but if I ever see that woman I'm rearranging her face with a shovel.
OMG. I mean... After the things she said to Miggy, I... Kind of want her to at least feel consequences of her actions, y'know?
Oh, she will. Don't worry. Thanks for telling me this, Gabri.
Go cuddle my big brother and tell him I love him, k? Let me know how he's doing.
OMW home now, I'll text you when he's feeling better.
KK, see ya.
🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷
Yeah. You knew for sure Miguel was still heartbroken when you came home after that.
You put the groceries away, a somber expression on your face as a million thoughts went through your head.
God, of course Conchata had to come see Gabriel at the same time Miguel was there. You wouldn't be surprised if either she could have tabs kept on him, just to... to try and lord her power over him somehow, like he was still that scared little boy, holding onto his baby brother, being his shield and buffer from their parents' fights.
That bitch had to have had a hand in Tyler using him the way that he did, that she had to have known about--
Your mind was knocked away from those dark thoughts when you heard glass shatter.
You dropped the bag of apples onto the ground, the fruits tumbling out and rolling across the floor as you made a mad dash to your bedroom.
Noting Miguel wasn't in there, you turned to the adjoining bathroom door, seeing faint light come down from below, small wafts of steam rolling out.
"Miguel?" You frantically called out, knocking on the door and leaning your ear against the smooth metal.
You could hear shuffling and the tinkling of glass shards, as well as the shower running; but no verbal reply.
You knocked on the door again, hurried and a little too hard, your fingers hovering over the control panel.
Before you could push a button, the door slid open.
Miguel was in nothing but a pair of boxers, leaning over your bathroom sink, his hands gripping the marble countertops, threatening to crack the material. Beads of water rolled down his muscular, tanned skin; droplets of water dripped from the ends of his thick, wavy chocolate locks, the natural curls more apparent thanks to the water.
That's when you noticed it. Your bathroom mirror, shattered into a hundred pieces, scattering the counter, floor, and in the sink.
Bright, scarlet droplets were on the floor, steadily building into small puddle from his right hand, his knuckles split, shards of the reflective material sticking out of it.
"I'll pay for it." His voice croaked out, unable to lift his eyes to meet your horrified gaze. "I just--"
"Oh, god! Miggy!" You breathed, reaching out, taking a step towards him, only to wince and hiss when the pieces of broken mirror stabbed the soft, delicate soles of your feet.
You gritted your teeth as the glass crunched, but you grabbed Miguel.
Instantly it was like a switch flipped inside of him, Miguel's head snapped up and he looked down at you, seeing the bloody footprints you now left on your tile.
He looked terrified at what he was seeing. How you just ignored the shards in your body in favor of frantically digging around one of the cabinets for your first aid kit.
"Bebita... I..." Miguel choked out.
When you found it, you killed the shower and stepped into the glass once again, pulling him into your room, and onto your bed, your feet leaving bloody prints as you walked, like macabre rose petals being left in your wake. Miguel had a large enough stride that he was careful to avoid getting any in his feet, but the smell of your blood permeated the air, it made him sick to his stomach. Not with disgust.
With guilt.
Of course, you checked him over first, plucking out the shards of glass from his knuckles and cleaning the cuts out with wound wash, ignoring the blood welling up onto the tile floor of your bedroom from.
You carefully roll his hand as you try to wrap the gauze around his knuckles. "Miggy, can you hold your--"
"I'm sorry." He interrupts.
You looked up at him, and only then do you see his face. Framed in his wet curls, his face was shadowed and haunted, his eyes dark and as tumultuous in a maelstrom of anxiety and fear.
You bring your hand to his cheek, caressing one of his sharp cheekbones with your thumb. "Baby, it's okay. It's just a mirror, I can--"
He shook his head, as if your touch to his face burned him like a hot iron.
He leaned over, grabbing your legs and pulling your feet into his lap so he can assess the damage, and return the favor of cleaning and dressing them.
"You're hurt because of me." He whispered sadly, dabbing the blood away.
"I'm hurt because of the glass, honey." You tell him gently, letting him apply the "honey" to the cuts in your feet, sealing them.
His massive hands encapsulated your ankles, his thumbs rubbing small circles as the rough pads caressed your skin. Like you were made of the delicate gossamer of a butterfly's wing.
He sits like that, not meeting your eyes. And god, did that hurt you so badly. You knew how important eye contact was with Miguel, he almost always went out of his way to keep eye contact when he was conversing with someone. Having him avoid your eyes... hurt.
Because you knew he was hurting.
"Miggy." You breathed. "Talk to me."
You move your feet from his lap and scoot closer to him, moving your face until he locked eyes with you again, and you could see the pain and the tears fill his own as he looked at you; his full, pouty lips trembling in an effort to hold his emotions at bay.
His shoulders dropped low, and Miguel leans forward until he was practically bent in half, clinging to you, burying his face in your chest as he fisted your shirt in his hands.
You rubbed his shoulder with one hand, biting your lip as he softly cried into your blouse, your other hand combing through his messy wet hair.
You stayed like that, for what felt like hours. You weren't sure how long it was exactly, with the blackout curtains drawn and the lights off. The only light that dimly illuminated the room was from your bathroom, and the open door.
He finally calmed enough to speak, to explain why he shattered the mirror.
"...I look like him." Miguel said, his heart in his voice, his soul stripped down and naked with raw pain.
"Mig--"
"God, I look like him. That... that cabrón." He hissed, tugging your shirt in his fists.
"I look like that bastard that... that made me into this." The self-contempt in his voice broke your heart.
You kiss the top of his head, murmuring against him. "No, you don't, baby."
"Yes, I do!" He snapped, pulling himself away from you and throwing himself to his feet. He paced like an angry tiger in a cage, waiting to swat at whatever keeper dared enter his enclosure. He didn't notice that he was stepping into the sticky, dried blood trails you left.
"I have his--his face. His fucking face--" He said, gripping his hair in his hands, tugging as he started to hyperventilate. "My fucking nose, my fucking cheeks, my fucking lips--they're all him! I'm not allowed to be me, every time I look in the mirror I see him! I can't ever get away from him! He's a part of me, he always will be! I fucking look like him!"
You get to your feet, ignoring the throbbing in your soles as you dared to reach out, to touch the pacing tiger.
Your hands smooth up his back, gently, softly; then back down until they wrapped around his mid-section.
You feel him, how tense he is, how his muscles flex at your touch almost like he's bracing himself for some kind of blow that simply will never come from you.
You rest your cheek against his back, feeling how hot his skin was burning.
"Baby. You don't look like him. You aren't him, and you never will be." You whisper.
You plant kisses wherever you could reach, not letting him go, feeling his body shake with each shuddering breath as your soft lips made contact.
"More importantly, Tyler will never be you."
"I--"
You cut him off. "Listen to me... Did Tyler figure out multi-dimensional travel, build a strike force of super-powered people from across the multiverse? Does Tyler, almost every day, work to keep dozens--no, hundreds--of universes safe from monsters?"
He didn't answer.
"And did Tyler Stone protect your baby brother from your mother all these years?"
No answer.
"You are Miguel-goddamn-O'Hara." You tell him. "I love you, with trauma, quirks and all. I love your little scritch-scratches you make, the way your bottom lip pokes out when you pout, your crooked teeth when you smile. I love your ridiculously large body, I love how you hug me. I love the little snores you make when you fall asleep at your desk, how you crinkle your nose when you're about to sneeze.."
You feel his hands slowly rise to touch your arms where they're almost-locked around his larger frame.
"I love how sweet and gentle you are. I love hearing you curse to yourself when you shock yourself with your soldering gun... I love listening to you bicker with Lyla, or complain about one of the other Spiders bugging you." You place more kisses after each sentence; hoping each one plants a seed of love beneath his skin, to bloom into a garden that he can admire and love, not hate for the very skin he was born with out of illegitimacy and infidelity.
"Tyler Stone is not you. He never will be. He will never be as good as you." You sigh against his skin, feeling the goosebumps form in the cold of your room, now that the adrenaline of his anxiety was beginning to fade, and his body became aware of the water that was slowly drying and cooling his skin.
"I love you, Miguel O'Hara. You and no-one else. Don't ever think for a second that you don't have your own identity because of your genes."
He slowly turns in your grasp, looking down at you with raw, unclothed emotion as his hand touches your cheek.
"You're more than that. You're you, and I wouldn't have you any other way." You say, your tone set and jaw tight; every word you spoke carrying a hefty weight of seriousness and honesty.
He smiles, almost sadly as you feel the rough pads of his thumb against your cheek, the little talon there poking you but not breaking the skin.
"...I..." He said, his voice stiff as he swallows the lump in his throat.
"I really will pay for your mirror, you know."
You grin up at him and turn your face so you can kiss the palm of his hand.
"I know you will, Miggy."
"But I am curious... I felt like you were going to keep going with the affirmations." He said, raising an eyebrow slowly.
"Well, the last one..."
"The last one?" Miguel tilted his head down at you quizzically.
You grin at him again, your teeth showing and eyes creasing as you barely manage to reach around him, swatting his ass playfully.
"I also love the fact you have the nicest ass I've ever seen on a man."
He couldn't contain the snort that came out of him, and he reached up to cover his whole face with his other hand.
"Mierda..."
You giggle as you step around him, giving a playful swat to his ass once again as you walk by.
"C'mon, Miguel O'Hara. You got a broken mirror to clean up."
His shoulders lifted as he watched you, his eyes softer than you've ever seen as he smiled.
Yeah. You were right.
He was Miguel O'Hara.
And he was certainly going to pay you back for the smacks to his ass.
566 notes · View notes