#kamesama

the aesthetic, perhaps. warm, fiery flicker in the cool night beneath the streetlights. synthwave in the background. delusional confidence attained through self-harm. a certain kind of loneliness. we seem to love bitter things. 

a cigarette.  davidoff white slims’ smoke and washed-out remains of zara’s supreme vanilla. the chill of a polluted night. jaded beat of track six of trevor something does not exist. and some strangers’ conversation beneath my window. 

it’s one of those nights.  haven’t had it in a while.

— notes and warnings: just a lil' scene of will's night terrors. kinda angsty. 12/10 will make you wanna hug him, maybe. at this point i'm just writing because i miss doing it, and there is comfort in snippets like these. — word count: 535

the cold sweat soaks the cotton, painting it a dark grey. ripples spread across his eyelids as the bulbs beneath roll frantically, as if searching for a way out of the black. the wrinkle between his brows deepens, and his lips twitch. he holds a mouthful of an incoherent sound; a diluted scream never spat out.

a faint whisper of the night. a light creak of the bed. a breathy burden of the lungs. 

finally, a gasp.

will graham’s eyes open to the darkness washed out by the meek glow of the distant streetlight. the unruly strands of brown stick to the wet skin, and his muscles ache from the seemingly frosty breath of his bedroom. ever an idle observer, the digital clock by his bedside reads 2:49 am. its gleam seems to hold no sympathy. 

again.

there is a sense of helplessness that rinses his guts. it’s a brief sensation, overshadowed only by a forced acceptance of his marrow-deep curse. he sighs — it calms the heart. normally. tonight, though, anxiety lurks uncomfortably close. something stares at him from the corner; a shadowy amalgamation with a penchant for mind-games. will graham stares back. it’s not the first time. it’s whispering something, but all he can hear are the rapid thumps of his heartbeat; the valves shutting and opening amuck like mouths wording warnings. he swallows.

water.

he doesn’t bother searching for slippers as he nearly stumbles across the timber. a flash of pitch black stains his vision, blots of ink spilling, but his footfalls continue blindly pushing through the night. his vision clears as he finds himself hovering over the kitchen sink, greeted by an unwashed coffee mug and a teaspoon. he pays them no mind as he lets the water run, washing his face with a sense of urgency before gulping the cold water like a starved man. it barely washes the mucous thirst off his tongue. 

something drips down his chin — sweat, water, saliva — and his breaths seep out ragged. eventually, they are polished to steadiness as clarity sneaks in. winston emerges from out of his car-chase dreams and tilts his head with an unspoken inquiry. unprovoked, he trots across the floorboards, wet nose nuzzling against will’s bare calf. 

“hey buddy,” the words are harder to spit out than he expected and he swallows the nothing that obstructs his throat. he drops to the floor, back resting against the kitchen drawers, and winston wastes no time in invading the space between will’s legs, the warmth of a friend — family — now like a blanket over his cold body. 

there is comfort in the handful of his russet fur. 

for a moment, it makes him forget that he is doomed. only for a moment.

the afterimages linger; fragments too small and too sharp dispersed all across the floors of will’s mind. it’s easy to bleed when he touches them. it’s easy to rip old scars and open new wounds. not even the selfless devotion pooling in winston’s puppy eyes manage to melt away the shadow that gnaws at will’s core. its teeth are in him, too deep. too at home. 

the hot tongue and wet nose smear a salted tear.

it’s just another night.

thank you for reading!

— notes + warnings: i have a habit of watching tv shows in the midst of exam seasons, and so i am now neck-deep in hannibal, and down bad for will graham. i haven't written in months because i am too busy with university and life, and as such, this combination has lead me to fantasise about a study date with will and i stole a window of time to do something about those fantasies. anyhow, more relevant notes incoming: female oc ( harriet ) x will graham; literally just short fluff that is not my best work because i am rusty; will being a cute little shit; kissing. — word count: 639

the faint aroma of coffee-gone-cold lingers; its scent stains the air alongside that of paper sheets and ink. daylight creeps in through the rain-stained windows as dusk draws nearer. minutes slip by. swift clicks of the keyboard and trackpad make the silence all the more apparent, but it’s not uncomfortable.

far from it.

will graham has one of his hands supporting his chin as his eyes trail over the text displayed on the screen of his silver macbook. his finger slides across the smooth pad before he taps it with a dull, satisfying sound, and then he is still again. the gaze behind the lens of his glasses remains focused. 

his companion appears to be just as immersed in her fair share of workload. she types, almost furiously for several seconds before her fingers come to a halt and the gears in her head twist and roll. then, she starts typing again. it seems to be a cyclic process playing on repeat, disturbed only by her hand reaching for the olive green coffee cup. 

she almost brings the rim to her lips, but then she realises — it’s empty. she glances down, and the newfound void of the cup glances back up at her. harriet frowns, and then takes a peek into will’s cup. it’s just as empty.

bruh, i took way too long with this. but yes, i agree 100%. gaolang is such a husband material, i love him so much. thank you for requesting him <3

— moments after: gaolang wongsawat.

— notes + warnings: post-coital bliss; gaolang's making you a snack. just tenderness; very small suggestive implications but nothing scandalous, really; domestic fluff bcs i'm domestic fluff provider™. — word count: 339

your feet dangled as your hands gripped the edge of the kitchen counter. with lips still reddened and just a little swollen from being so loved-up, you hummed quietly, admiring the wondrous expanse of gaolang’s broad back. his dark hair remained uncharacteristically loose and out of the confinements of its usual style — it made the entire scene all the more intimate, all the more yours.

it’d grown mild — and replaced by the whiff of something utterly delicious that it nearly made you salivate — but the subtle scent of his hot skin and sweat remained stuck within your nostrils, leaving you vaguely infatuated and thoroughly satisfied. perhaps it was just a faint remnant of him from the white button-up you’ve lazily draped around your form for the sake of maintaining some decency.

sliding off the counter, you wrapped your arms around gaolang’s frame; feeling every hardened muscle underneath the pads of your fingers, underneath your cheek. you trailed your hands across his breasts, running across what would be the bedding of his pumping heart; you felt it beat rhythmically. steady. it seemed to kick just a little quicker for a second or two, making gaolang’s face grow a faint shade of red, before calming down. you placed an innocent kiss against his spine; a messenger that serenaded of your affections and gratitude. 

“are you impatient, darling?” gaolang inquired. there was a tender desire in him to plant a kiss to your hairline, but you seemed too comfortable at his back. he decided to postpone his own affectionate gesture for when he served you your morsel, “it’s almost done.”

“nuh-uh… you’re just comfy, my love,” you uttered, and you knew that it made his lips tug upwards in a little arch. you knew it made his face grow hotter, “besides, i’m not that hungry…” you murmured, and in that very moment, a thunderous growl rippled from within your stomach almost comically.

an amused huff left gaolang’s lips as he took one of your hands to his lips, “almost done. i promise.”

thank you for reading!

For one-word prompts, may I request a Mahito + Scientist 👀✨(yus its the mind palace agenda bhdsbhds I hope that's okay --have yet to finish JJK S2, I miss my problematic son v much)

Good luck with your exams, I believe in you!! 🍀🍀🍀

i appreciate the panccs, always. i finally got some time on my hands ( not really ) bcs i'm sick so that means i can write ( it doesn't ). also, bbys, i'm sorry, i love you but this man is deranged and i can only write him as such.

— scientist: mahito. ( one word prompt )

his grandest schemes, eagerly and thoroughly made on a whim, sought to result in an insatiable satisfaction of his messy, deranged wits. the havoc. the chaos. oh, how he adored it — the sight of a face slowly painted over with a sticky layer of stupefaction; sanity evaporating from the eyes like vapour; lips quivering with wordless laments as hope slipped through the equally trembling fingers. and he adored it red; mutilated; gruesome. it dragged the edges of his lips into most delighted of smiles. after all, the world was his to experiment on, for he was the scientist.

thank you for reading!

jujutsu kaisen

i match you with NANAMI KENTO 💛

you + nanami live a very peaceful, domestic life. think: morning sunlight streaking through your blinds, white sheets, arms wrapped around your middle and a sharp intake of breath in your ear while he wakes up. makes you coffee e v e r y s i n g l e m o r n i n g. you guys learned how to roast coffee beans together at home so you could make coffee the exact way you wanted it. even if you have different tastes —like if you like light roast + he prefers dark roast, he will always roast it your preference. he’ll deal with a lighter mouth feel if it means he can hear you sigh happily as you grip your mug after your first sip. 

you work extremely well together because you are both animals of routine. the work day is reserved for work/study + evenings are reserved for quality time. nanami will never ever miss a night in with you, or a night out with you for that matter. but, let’s be honest, it is mostly nights in. nights spent making dinner together with soft, lighthearted + romantic music playing in the background. playfully bumping your hips or shoulders against each other + pouring just a bit too much wine in your glasses.

nanami really appreciates the outspoken yet humble side of you. he finds comfort in someone who can speak their mind but also someone who isn’t too proud to admit when their at fault. you two rarely ever fight or argue because of your level headedness, although sometimes you can feel just a bit begrudged when nanami is too frank when talking to you about something you may have done to bother him. it ends well, though, and all’s well that ends well.

nanami is the strongest partner you could ever ask for. many people don’t think nanami an empath, but he easily is! he will comfort you when you’re down + in need of some reassurance. he will fight for you when you’ve been wronged. he will tell you the hard truths + give you that tough but much needed advice when you’re perplexed about something. he’ll laugh + celebrate with you when you’re excited about something! his soul will weep when you’re sad. but most of all, he will love you more than he loves himself + then some, when maybe you’re not loving yourself so much.