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[bokutosmochi]

≡;- ꒰ ° hello and welcome to bokutosmochi ꒱

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9 years of AM collab [open], 250 followers event [closed], a date with u [closed]

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[brimstonebxtch]

[arcandoria-archived]

the horrors persist but my friends write beautiful fanfic

[lorelune]

i'll defend fanfic for my whole life. like the joy it brings is genuinely transformative and indulgent in a way unique to the genre. it isn't meant for a market, it isn't meant to be sold or marketed. it is born out of such care and passion for a media that one must write and must share it, so other folks can enjoy it to. for no other reason than love and joy. do you know how special that is? especially in our current social and political climate.

[nkogneatho]

controversial opinion asf but fanfiction community was better when it was underrated and was consider cringe. the whole fast content consumption thing ruined it. now there are moral policemen and more of uninvited critiques everywhere so i think people are often holding themselves back with thoughts like "oh what if they cancel me?" or "this is dark content. people will get upset." or "oh this kind of fic is not popular anymore so what's the use of writing it." instead of writing for themselves and their interests, writers self doubt and perform for the new trend hooked audience and while that may be fun for a while, it will get exhausting because it is not always something you truly wanted to create and also the "trend" will die fast and the same people come to you with "oh that is so overused" or "the character will never do something like that." there's no conclusion to this post i just wanted to let it out. but yeah, i miss old tumblr.

[sowearecleariamhere]

has this been done

[gooseberryfox]

YOU!! YES, YOU!! GO WRITE THAT FANFIC YOU THINK NOBODY BUT YOU WILL READ!!

[tojisun]

thinking about simon calling his fave cam girl his girl once again. prancing about like he’s dating her; like she’s for him to own. for him to come home to.

and, well, he thinks: why not?

so he finds a way to star in her shows—raffles and games and giveaways, but also large tips. marking his territory, making it difficult for her to ignore him.

and she falls. oh, how she falls.

beautiful in her curiosity, poking around his profile before finally messaging him. she sends an invitation. simon’s not even embarrassed to have been in the area weeks before the meetup.

ghost is big—that’s the first thing you learn. he’s a hulk of a man, shrouding you with his bulk. he’s all thick arms—inked and scarred and delicious hooked on your neck—and darken eyes, his gaze all heavy as it drags across your body, obviously checking you out.

that he wants you makes your stomach flutter, denial sitting on the back of your throat. but no, there he is. big and needy and thick. everywhere.

arms, neck, his legs. his cock.

thick as it drills in, in, in.

thick as it scoops you out, laying waste to your pussy, and fucking all of him in.

he is so good. he feels so good. you—

you barely know what to think, your mind razed by the undeniable pleasure.

you’ve never felt this way, like your body is scorched and branded and made to be his. his to ruin. to fuck. to use.

his to own.

christ. christ, what were you even doing before this? how could you have lived without him?

what—

full lips devour your moans and you realize, mind clicking in its place, that you don’t need to know anything else. nothing about how you met him; why he’s here. nothing about the camera. about the people watching you.

you don’t need them anymore, after this. you don’t need anything else but ghost.

simon laughs at the comments rolling in; the tips—this is the most you’ve done without his own donations.

bigtiddyluvr: whT the fuck happened to her? she looks so cock whippd

simon looks back to you, watching the way your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

yer cock whipped, alright.

[ad-wills]

[sourpeachsayshi]

okay, let me move onto my next blonde man, but I think that nanami's collar fetish only surfaces one night when you wear a choker while you both go out on a date. he has to keep adjusting himself in his pants because he keeps getting hard on the thought of you wearing a collar in the bedroom. he's all flustered and blushy and red.

you eventually pull out what's wrong of course.

he hooks his finger underneath the band of your choker, leans in and looks at you with very hungry eyes, "this is incredibly distracting..." he states before finally explaining himself.

he literally grumbles into the palm of his hand. he's so embarrassed. he doesn't want you to be uncomfortable. instead you inch closer to him, pull his hand away from his cheek and turn him to face you.

"I'd wear one for you, kento..." you say with a seductive smile and he almost blows a load on the spot.

you have never seen him pay a bill and skip out of the restaurant faster. he takes you home to order some cute ones that you can wear and then goes down on you as a thank you <3

[sukunasweetheart]

You make it a habit to just kind of touch sukunas body absentmindedly while you think about everyday things in bed, or on the couch while hes next to you, tracing his tattoos or just smoothing your hand up and down his back-- its lead you spiralling down into a trap as he now becomes the sassiest man ever if you stop touching him.

Just thinking about how he would be sprawled out stomach first on the bed, face turned the other way, seemingly asleep- but the twist is that the moment your hand stops moving, he quickly turns back at you 0.001 seconds after with the 😐 face and asks "why'd you stop."

He'd never verbally request you to rub his back or stomach, or to play with his hair, because he has his sense of pride (stubborn old man.) but if hes lying on your lap or next to you in bed a little too close or when he gives you a certain look, its kind of an invitation for you to start doing your thing 😇 hes so adorable

Its surprising how obsessed he becomes with physical touch when sukuna is attached...

He gets more and more awfully spoiled because you enable him! Soon he will have you brushing your fingers through his hair for hours on end or have you massaging his hands and fingers for no good reason at all. Real princess treatment 👍 (he is always touch starved)

[ad-wills]

[peachsayshi]

(minors / ageless / blank blogs dni) ok but do you know how quick sukuna would fold in an argument if he ever made you cry?

we know he can get there. we know he can be difficult to communicate. but picture this:

he barks another reply, his responses always so sharp. the frustration gets you riled up and you can’t help but sniffle, can’t help but let the welling tears finally fall. you turn your back to him, your shoulders slump and miss the moment where the realization strikes him, where all the irritation and anger inside him evaporates.

“you…you can be such an ass…” you murmur, choking out a sob as you wipe your tears.

you don’t want him to see you.

two arms are around your waist then, “I’m sorry,” he huffs, “fuck, angel, I’m sorry, please don’t cry…”

and you turn to his embrace, because you love him. because his apologies are incredibly sincere towards you, and you alone. his voice is suddenly so gentle, his words chosen ever carefully.

yes, he can be vicious and rabid - but not towards you. never towards you. the guilt eats him up alive.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, keeping you firmly against him. his chin resting atop your head, one hand massaging the back of your neck.

people say he’s incapable of this, but his love towards you is immeasurable regardless of their opinion. they don’t understand and they never will. but in a moment like this he will always hold himself accountable, reminding himself never to cross this particular line with you.

you should never taste his cruelty, no matter how natural it exists within him.

so, when he cups your cheek in his palm, his eyes drooping in regret, you know that he recognizes his mistake. his thumb wipes away the tears, his lips pressing to the apple of your cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, “I lost my temper”

you squeeze your hand around the fabric of his clothing, another shaky breath leaving you. but when you gaze up at him from underneath your lashes, you know you’ve already forgiven him.

he rests his forehead against yours, another kiss follows but it’s a peck to your lips.

“you need to work on that,” you pout, your hands reaching for his jaw and he melts between your fingers like butter.

“I’m trying,” he exhales, mostly disappointed in himself. “I’m trying…”

[mintmatcha]

immortal and the human they've been cursed to watch die over and over again

[mintmatcha]

he remembers the first time you left him, the way you gently gave into the fever and went. the heat of your skin rose and rose, then it was over, and then you were gone. he gave you one last kiss on your cracked lips and pretended you were there to feel it.

he mourned, of course. harder than he had ever mourned any other lover he had ever entertained.

it was fifty years later before he saw you again. a baker's daughter, softer around the waist, with the same laugh you've always had. of course, you had no memory of your past life, but you fell into loving him like it was habit.

that death was the hardest.

Heat took you once again, this time in the form of fire. the bakery's flame caught your skirt and you along with it. by the time you were saved, it was too late. the final days of your life were spent in horrible pain, crying and screaming and begging for death. by the time it came, it felt overdue.

the cycle kept repeating. the two of you would meet and within five years, you would die. illness and childbirth and a stray bullet from war; even in the lives he tried to avoid you, tragedy would follow. once, you had married another man, only for him kill you within the month.

the worst part, he thinks as he stares at the most current iteration of you, is that his chest still flutters with joy when he sees you for the first time. that, despite the trauma and heartbreak and horror, he still loves you more than anything.

[mintmatcha]

He can feel it coming this time. There's a tickle in the back of his mind, like a click ticking down each second he has left.

"You've got-" He tugs the laces of your boots, your foot stepping up on his thigh. He loves kneeling over like this, at your feet. it reminds him of the very short life you had as a princess. "To tie your shoes better."

"What's gotten into you?" you laugh. "I'm not made of glass."

He lets you pull away, sitting back on to his heels. It's amazing how little your face has changed over all of your lives, how you still look the way you did when he first laid eyes on you, just with more lines around your smile. This is the oldest you've ever been-- and maybe ever will be. "Are you sure? I could swaddle you in bubble wrap, just to be safe."

You roll your eyes with a smile. "Sure, I'll just walk around the office covered in bubblewrap. My boss will love that."

The itch in his head gets stronger.

"Why don't you stay home for work today?" His hand runs up your leg, more appreciative than sexual. "Spend the day with me."

He leans forward and presses his head into your thigh, the way you've always been weak for. Your hands immediately find his hair and scratch his scalp, your body's tension giving in just a bit.

"Well..."

"Please." He's not really speaking to you. "Just give me one day."

You give in gently.

"Anything for you."

.

It happens three hours later.

You're laughing, pulling your shirt back on post sex. Lately, you've been insatiable and he knows why.

"I'm just saying-" you muse. "we're stable, we're in love. I'm just waiting for the ring."

He knows. He still has your original ring, the one he always takes from your finger before burying you.

"I'm not getting any younger. I wanna have babies and t-"

Your eyes shift a bit. It's subtle, until you make this garbled sound, not quite a word at all, like your tongue has disconnected from your brain.

Before he can get up, you're on the ground. Just like always, you're give into death gently.

The beat of your heart is gone before he can even call for help. By the time the EMTs arrive, you're cold. They cover you with a blanket, like it saves your diginity as you wheel you out of the apartment building. He cries, just like he always does, when the doctors tell him it was an aneurysm, that nothing could have saved you.

That's the horrible truth he needs to learn to swallow. Nothing could have saved you. Nothing will save you.

[mintmatcha]

For the first time in centuries, he speaks to the thing that made him. It comes only in the deepest of nights, when the winter air is most bitter.

"Why do you curse me like this?"

The voice tastes of forgotten pine, a species now lost. "Why do you speak in tongues I do not know?"

The language should be dead, but it rolls off his tongue as easily as it did back then. No written word, no official name in the modern tongue: a secret between him and the monster he's bonded to.

"You take her from me, life after life." He never ages, but he feels young again, angry, reckless. "You lied to me when you promised a painless life. You lied when you promised no one else would die."

The wind howls with insult. There's a moment where he can feel it there, hunched and hovering above his shoulder, maw gaped and empty.

"The only lie is the one you tell yourself."

It's gone again, nothing but a whispering voice on the breeze. Without worshippers, it no longer holds much power. Without him, it would fade into nothing, just like the other forgotten gods.

"I know your mind does not fail you. You remember your first meeting with the girl."

"In the summer fields."

"Ach. Your lie." It growls its words. "That was her second life."

He has no answer to that. No, he had met you in the fields, right after the grain had sprouted. The memory is his prized possession.

"You play your tricks again."

"You truly forget the face of the woman you sacrificed in my name?" The hiss runs a chill up his spine. "The one who you killed with your own hands? The one who's blood you drank to live for all eternity?"

Blood is always the price. He had taken a woman from the neighboring village, covered her face in cloth so he could not see the tragedy he was committing. The ritual was long, grueling, and the girl had almost died too soon multiple times, but she fought to live, fought against his hand-

"No." Those screams. Were they yours? "That's- no."

"You had chosen her to die, so you may live."

His stomach turns as he remembers the taste of your blood on his lips, the metal aftertaste as you fought with the last ounce of life-

"Now, she dies."

[wttcsms]

mmm tall boyfriend!character who you're excitedly telling a story to but you have to keep tilting your head up to look at him while talking, so in the middle of your excited rambling, he takes a seat but also pulls you into his lap; even sitting he's a bit taller than you, so having you on him and so close is far more practical, he thinks. you pause for a minute, but he's looking at you with a tiny smile.

"keep talkin', baby. im listening." but it's hard to concentrate on your story when he's looking at you like that, his large hand rubbing circles against the small of your back.

[andorology]

brooding men who cannot communicate their feelings if their life depended on it are only hot when they're fictional. if i have to deal with one in real life i will curse him and pray for his downfall every night before i go to bed

[kestrel-tree]

It's because the writer communicates their feelings for them. If people wanna pull that off in real life they need to hire a guy to walk around behind them narrating.

[gojoest]

it’s not just his arms that satoru uses to hug you with but his legs too when you’re in bed and he’s curled up behind you his head nuzzling the back of yours an arm tossed over you and one leg draped over your body he’s pulling you close from above and from below squeezing you into himself and whispering how you can never ever leave him bc he won’t let you ☹️