#⋅ ▽ ° ─ are you always this articulate? ; ANSWERED

[pearlymel]

✩ CW: SUGARDADDY!NANAMI, fem!reader, fluff, MDNI unprotected soft sēx, lowkey breeding kink. basically he pays you to spend time with him. overall felt soft writing this.

Nanami watches you tilt your head up, your smile full of childlike wonder as you observe the snowfall. The snowflakes that are as white as your coat.

"You wanted to see me because of the snow?" You ask, your eyes meeting his.

A rare smile graces his lips, and the sight makes his heart feel inexplicably lighter. "Mhmm," he replies, his voice deep yet somewhat soft. "You like the snow, don't you?" He brings the wine glass to his lips and takes a small sip, his gaze flickering over you, from head to toe. The way the snowflakes dance in your hair, your bright eyes, the way you were smiling as if enjoying this time with him… All of it adding to your beauty.

He looks unbothered by the chill in the air, and the snow that gently falls on his shoulders melts on contact. He sets down his glass, his eyes still fixed on you.

His gaze drops to the cup in your hands, his eyes lingering on the steam rising from the hot liquid. "Hot cocoa?"

Wine and hot cocoa, what a match.

“Better than wine in this weather, don't you think?”

Nanami's lips curve into a half-smile at your response, finding your practicality endearing, "I suppose you're right," he nods slightly, the sound of the falling snow blending with the soft hum of the city. "Sometimes it's not about alcohol—it's about what feels nice." He watches you with a slightly fond look, continuing to enjoy the way the snow dances around you like tiny, frozen stars.

The quiet settles between you two like the snow falling around you. He’s not one to fill silences—he’s much more comfortable listening. But still, he can’t ignore the nagging feeling that this time should be different.

“Kento,” the call of his name immediately grabs his attention, “why.. do you always have to buy something expensive for me whenever we meet? I'm perfectly content with you paying me in exchange of my time.” your question is something he didn't expect you to bring up, but he can understand anyway, you're always grateful for the little things, even when you always deny his gifts because they're too ‘expensive’.

His fingers tighten around the stem of his wine glass, and you notice. He’s silent for a beat before he responds in a murmur, "Because I want to."

He doesn’t elaborate right away, his eyes flickering over you, and away, as if he’s considering his words. He seems lost in thought, though he’s struggling to articulate something.

Your fingers glide along the cup holder of your hot cocoa, relishing in the warm in provides for your palms, “you should find a wife for yourself,” you tell him, honestly. “It's better than wasting your money on this…”

But Nanami nearly scoffs at your suggestion. As if it's that simple.

"And who'd want to marry a sorcerer?" He retorts dryly. "One day, you will wake up in the middle of the night to find me gone. Off hunting a cursed spirit, or fighting. Maybe not coming back." His jaw tightens "It’s not that simple." He continues, taking a larger sip of his drink to buy himself some time.

"I..."

He doesn't finish his thought, his tongue suddenly feeling like lead in his mouth.

And you understand, so you don't press on further.

"Maybe I'm just not the type." He finally speaks before he looks away from you, staring at how the snow has taken over the city.

You want to almost apologize for killing the mood but another question pops in your head that you just can't resist but ask.

“Kento,” your sweet voice that calls his name, again.

“Why did you decide—I mean, why are you doing this with me?”

The arrangement between you.

The answer was simple, "You’re the only good thing in my life... right now.”

You chuckle, "I find that hard to believe. Are there not any good people where you work at?”

"Most of them are idiots or brats. Or both."

“Mm,” you take another sip of your hot drink that started to cool down, “does anyone know…”

“No.” Quick to answer, again. “Embarrassed?” You ask jokingly.

And Nanami's brow furrows at the question, "Embarrassed?” he repeats, "More like protective." he mutters under his breath.

His lips purse in thought, before he continues, "I don’t like sharing.”

“… protective?”

“Of course I’m protective," he mutters, his voice low. "What we have..." He trails off, his words suddenly failing to find the right way to describe this thing between you two. Instead, he lets out a frustrated sigh. "You’re special. I don’t like the idea of sharing that.”

You feel like you should close this topic for now, and you push your sleeve up to take the time from your wrist watch.

He doesn't have to ask, it cue to leave. And Nanami always walks you home whenever you meet somewhere close to your place.

You both walk along the snow trail on the side walk, leaving your footprints behind, Nanami follows beside you, his hands also shoved in the pockets of his coat as well as yours.

His gaze flicks from the children playing in the snow, the old friends chattering and laughing as they catch up on life, to the couples walking by hand-in-hand.

“You like kids?” Nanami blinks at your question, his focus shifting back to you. For a moment, he almost looks embarrassed to be caught staring too long at a few children singing and laughing as they drown in the snow.

“Yeah,” he replies gruffly, his eyes flickering to the group of kids before looking back at you. He’s silent for a few moments before speaking again. “I like kids...” he says slowly, as if he’s testing the words on his tongue. “Not a lot, but I like them.”

You giggle, the sound warm and light, and his expression softens. He can’t help but be taken in by your carefree attitude. It's a side of you that makes him even more drawn.

He keeps walking as he glances at you, watching as you rub your chin against the scarf wrapped around your neck. He almost wants to reach out and touch you, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he clears his throat before asking, "are you warm enough?”

You stop walking, “wanna hold my hand?”

“… do you want me to?” he asks slowly.

………..

It doesn't take long until your hand is interlock tightly with yours, his hand enveloping your own in his pocket.

He really doesn't want to let go.

The journey passes in relative silence, the only sound is the crunching of snow under your feet. Nanami doesn’t say anything, his mind seemingly preoccupied.

Finally, he speaks, “Are you really gonna go home, once we get there?”

You raise your eyebrows, “what does that mean, Ken?”

He gives your hand a squeeze like he doesn’t want to acknowledge this moment is going to end.

“You know exactly what I mean,” he says in a low tone, “Are you just going into your apartment and go to sleep, like usual? Or are you... gonna let me invite myself in?”

It always leads back to this after the cute meet ups.

Nanami's hands are all over you as soon as you’re inside. He backs you up against the wall without a word, his body pinning you against it as his lips find yours.

His kisses are slow but hungry, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his hands roam around your curves while slowly letting your coat drop on to the ground, and you huff out.

“You're getting my white coat dirty—”

"I'll buy you a new one,” he instantly responds his breath hot against your skin. “But right now, all I care about is you, and getting you out of these clothes.”

He groans as your fingers run through his hair, his body pressing against you further, desperate to close the tiny distance that’s between you.

“Stressed?” You pant softly, and his only response is a low growl, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he kisses you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth and making your head spin.

“You know I am,” he mutters gruffly in-between kisses.

It doesn't take long until your beneath him on your bed, taking his time worshipping your body—this time he notices how your arms cover your face just when his hands were sliding up and down your sides down to your stomach.

“I know what you're thinking,” he whispers, and the gentle tug at your arm makes you want to peek at him, “don't. Let me see you.” He gives your forehead a peck and you frown, he's being too loving.

“You don't have to take your time doing this, i can take it.”

“but i want to take my time with you.” He says bluntly, “do you not want me to?”

You shake your head, and a half smirk curls up his lips, “good.”

He noses right between your tits, giving them soft kisses which makes your teeth catch at your lower lip.

The minute the tip of his flushed cock nudges right into your cunt, pushing in, you both groan in relief.

Fuck was it a stretch even when you were just taking in his tip.

“Tell me if you don't want it anymore,” he reminds you, every single time.

Only when you nodded and wrapped your legs around his waist did he start to move, pulling out slowly before pushing back in while rolling one of your nipples to distract your fluttering walls from tightening too much around him.

He sets a gentle rhythm, each thrust deep and deliberate, taking his time, groaning as he watches his cock disappears into you before leaving you again and again.

Meanwhile you—you looked drunk on him, your worries pushed away as your head is rolling back and your ruined glossy lips part when he thrusts deeper into you.

“Nanam—” he squeezes your hip before kissing a mole from your body, “did you forget my name already?”

You pout, your fingers reaching to stroke his blond strands, “Kento,” you sigh breathlessly and his lips envelope yours—you’re even more breathless now.

“Ken—” you try speaking, only to be muffled by his passionate soft kisses that honestly just makes you feel a little bit loved.

He lifts your body a bit, his hands sliding down to take a feeling of your ass, giving them a squeeze before sliding up to the back of your thighs as he increases the pace of his rolling hips.

Was he fucking you or making love to you? There was definitely a difference between the two.

“Sweetheart,” the petname he only ever calls you in bed, it rings in your head, and it makes you clench tighter around him which makes him huff.

The rare raw feeling of his girth inside you makes you even warmer, you can almost feel every nerve throbbing and twitching. “i will pull out, don't worry—”

“No,” you stop him, and he seems confused.

“Cum inside.”

Bold.

“Oh, fuck me—” he pants before pressing your thighs down until your knees reach to your ears and you gasp when starts pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, you would stop him anyway if you felt uncomfortable, he trusted you on that.

But with you moaning and whining for release, he can only almost roll his eyes back as he holds it in for a minute just to get a more feeling of you.

“Kento, I'm not going to run—”

You don't know that, he doesn't know that. This is temporary, what if this was the last time you both get intimate together?

Oh, Kento would rather work overtime than end this.

“B-be my wife—” He almost whines when he comes right on the spot, the prettiest moans elicits from your throat as you cum with him, quite literally milking and squeezing every drop of his seed right inside you, making sure not to waste any.

And he's panting heavily into your neck, he's done for.

You stare down at his buried face onto your skin, noticing how his ears have gotten redder, “Ken, did i hear you right?”

He doesn't respond, and only rubs at your stomach slowly. Maybe… it's only a matter of time until it sticks, then this ’arrangement’ doesn't have to end.

[canisalbus]

genuinely CANNOT get over how you draw your boys comfy in bed. holy shit. how do you do that. the vibes...... immaculate........... so floppy and poofy and snuggly..................... teach me, sensei 😔😔😔 cloth is a nightmare lmao

yeah but no keep up the good work!!!!!

.

[unknownarmageddon]

cross stood a bit awkwardly, his brow furrowed as he stared at this mess of... things before him.

killer's goofy grin wavered just the slightest, and there was barely visible dip in his arm before he collected himself again.

"tadaa," he repeated, just as cheerful as the first time.

cross glanced at the little box in his hand, and glanced away nervously. "uhm."

killer's left eye scrunched a bit, confusion on his face as he lowered the small wooden box he was trying to give cross, "what's wrong?"

cross was looking everywhere but killer, his eyes focused on a nearby broken window, and he gripped his arm, frowning. he couldn't tell if this was one of killer's skits or not. the way it looked was striking cross oddly, and he didn't quite know what to do.

killer was kneeling, holding up a little box, and their campsite was set up vastly different than normal. it looked like... some kind of set up for something important, but he didn't know which option was the right one, or one he was okay with.

"...what's all this about," cross finally asked, and killer's head tilted, his grin going lopsided, one side ticking downwards at cross's less-than-enthused response.

"i dunno, i thought it'd be a nice surprise?"

"what kind of surprise," cross said back, a bit more sharply than he'd intended. it wasn't that he hated how much it looked like killer was proposing, no, perhaps if it were.. in a different time, he'd be less... averse.

"huh?" killer glanced back at the neat, comfortably made spot he'd set up in the backseat of a car, and then at the box and back at cross before his eyes widened and he started shaking his head, "wait- oh-- wait, no, shit okay-"

he stood up, dropping the box and reaching for cross, who took a half step back, his eyes narrowed, and killer let him go, his fingers curling in the air before he pulled his hand back and clasped them together, pressing his knuckles to his teeth as he hissed quietly, his brow furrowed.

cross crossed his arms, and frowned at the floor, not sure why he was reacting this way to the concept, the implications. killer let his hands fall as he started, "i wasn't-- i know what it looked like, but it wasn't-- i wouldn't. or i? w-would, but-"

killer looked increasingly embarrassed, or stressed?? as he fumbled with his words before finally blurting out, "valentines!"

cross blinked, and echoed, "valentines???"

killer slumped a bit, and groaned quietly, rubbing at his neck with a slightly pained expression, and he leaned down, picking up the little box and cracking it open, presenting it to cross.

rather than a ring, it was a little carving. the stray thought crossed his mind that killer was getting ridiculously good at carving. it was a small cat with an even smaller heart in it's tiny paws, as if it were playing with it.

cross's tense shoulders eased, his expression softening, and he reached forward to run a finger over the little carving, his eyelights trailing upwards to killer's crooked grin.

he looked apologetic, but sincere, hopeful even, and cross sighed as he shook his head, taking the little box and shutting it, setting it in his pocket as he muttered, "you fucking idiot."

killer's expression brightened, and he lit up, "do you like it?"

cross snorted, and pressed into killer's space, nosing his way into the warm space between killer's neck and his messy jacket fur, sighing as he embraced his stupid stupid companion.

"how did you even know if it was valentines or not?"

killer's arms slid around him, returning the hug tightly. cross could feel the chuckle in killer's chest, the echo of relieved joy cast from killer's soul, the organ hovering safely within cross's ribcage.

"i didn't. but, i figured, we should have one still. for, uh. for old timess sake."

cross squeezed him tighter to himself, and hummed. old times sake.

"...were you really that-"

"no."

"if-"

"yes."

killer's hold tightened, and cross could hear the smile on his voice. "where'd you wanna go, for the honeymoon?"

cross snorted and leaned back, knocking his forehead against killer's as he murmured, "i hear the backseat of cars are popular these days."

killer let out a delighted bubble of laughter, cackling and giggling even as cross nosed his way back to the crook of killer's neck to plant an affectionate kiss to his neck.

-p :]

if it were a different time, a different world, it would be someplace in the mountains.

AUGHHHHH????? AUGH??? AUGH. WAILING

[journey-to-the-attic]

i was listening to all the feels when i read that and i just started imagining the boys performing their songs doing their idol thing and meanwhile ik is ten feet away doing kickflips

she's the most popular act of the night

oh my god i love this image so much. the boys finish their show but the night's nowhere near over, because there's a massive crowd of demons absolutely bringing the house down for ik doing mid-air pirouettes on a skateboard she nicked from mammon last night

imagine the crowd is primarily made up of folk older than diavolo. geriatric demons cheering uproariously for the coolest kid in the whole devildom

[sheepstiel]

the thing is. i've been afraid to draw donna after the last time somebody told me i didn't do her justice in a requested thirty minute sketch i did and i shouldn't draw her at all if i couldn't do it right.

portraying bodies of all kinds is fun and i love practising with different body types. but it takes practise to improve, not everything is perfect instantly. drawing bodies in general is not easy.

what i wanna say is, be kind to fandom artists. critisism is mostly fine and appreciated, but kind encouragement to improve is even better - if warranted. just remember we're all here for fandom fun and no artist owes you anything. most importantly, not agreeing on everything and unfollowing and blocking is fine too.

in the end, no matter if you think donna as a character is curvy or if you think she's fat, she is beautiful and canon didn't treat her well because of her body and i believe a lot of us can relate to that.

i think especially in erotic art, representation matters a lot and i hope you can find some representation in what i do and if not, that other artists portray what you like to see. or even try out drawing what you like yourself - that's cool too!

you guys know i love and appreciate your requests if i have the time and spoons, so if you wanna see a certain body type, that's always ok to ask for and i'll try my best ❤

[euthymiya]

Not that I’m happy in the slightest that so many of you feel unheard about your sexualities but. I do think it’s nice that you (and I) now feel a lot less alone so 💖 hugging you all very tightly!

[icewindandboringhorror]

Everytime I face a new character limit on a website that didn't have them before/used to have really long ones... AUGHHhhh the modern social media world was not made for people like me (lovers of details, rambling, elaboration, thorough explanation, and nuance)

[not-poignant]

(TND au anon) please note my thirst for this is for more temsen content, he is not a vegetable, I want to see that guy in situations!!!!

It's time for you to start writing fanfic anon, and putting that guy in situations! :D

[scrawnytreedemon]

How to write Main Character: Make them feel unique,make them feel different but also familiar. Like you can see them everywhere at the same time nowhere

Or we can go the easy road and make one with God complex

I feel like ppl don't really make good main characters anymore. They feel the same these days

Ehhh???

Honestly, people do make good main characters, you just have to look. Usually easier to find in non-YA novels, in my experience. They tend to feel more like fleshed-out *people* with their own life-experience than vessels for the reader to insert themselves into,

Which, ironically enough, makes it easier for me to relate to them, even if we are otherwise very different people. If you make your character a person, then inevitably, some of those experiences line up.

If anything, trying to walk that tightrope of having your character just "unique" enough to be interesting while still "relatable" enough as to appeal to as many people as possible is where things can get muddy and you end up failing either way.

I think it tends to affect some genres more than others, but at the end of the day... It really isn't as bad of an issue as people make it out to be. Like, yeah. Mediocre literature exists. Things tend to be mid more than they are especially good or bad.

And I think that's fine.

Plus, tastes vary. There's no doubt alot of stuff I love that people will look at and say is subpar. There is no objective way of looking at fiction-- We all come in with our own biases.

I'm going offtopic. Hope the first half of this reply made sense. Apologies if I've completely misunderstood your point.

I dunno, I just hear these complaints, and it makes me think of alot of those shitty writing guides that I used to eat up (often made by amateur writers themselves), which were very insistent on finding the "right" way to write and ruthlessly mocking anything "bad."

I don't think that's what you were going for, at all, but I still think it's very generalising, and I'm not sure what to make of it?

[neo-shitty]

spring day never latches on to a permanent face. it takes the form of the people i miss whom i have no way of reconnecting with. ever since i read that message in my inbox, it has taken the form of you, kesya.

[ifwebefriends]

My thoughts during “The Sign” [SPOILERS!!!!!]

ID in ALT

More thoughts under the cut

So I think most of us can agree that this is the best episode of Bluey so far. It was so emotional and satisfying in ways that are kinda new for Bluey. It answered so many questions while giving us a few new ones. I’ve been waiting for this episode for months and it did not disappoint in any way.

This is just a Chekov’s firing squad of an episode. As in a lot of stuff that was set up in earlier episodes all pay off in this episode. I kinda understand why people love soap operas now lol. I will say that this episode was a tad overwhelming for me in the best way possible. As in I had to pause and rewind every 30 seconds or so so I could emotionally process what was happening before moving forward (but that’s a me thing). There was just so much going on and I’m happy about that.

Now onto individual thoughts about specific things:

The callback to Baby Race (“you took your first steps in that house!”) really got to me because Baby Race was the first episode of Bluey that I watched and it immediately made me fall in love with it so it just got to me.

When Chilli said “Frisky and I came up here as teenagers to…um…think,” my mind started racing immediately with “what the FUCK happened at the Lookout?” “Who hurt Frisky and/or Chilli?” And I’m just so curious about what made Chilli say that line like that but we’ll probably never know what happened.

So yeah that scene at the end when the music was playing and Bandit ripped the sign out of the ground and Chilli tackled him to the ground ABSOLUTELY CHANGED my brain chemistry y’all. I can’t articulate my feelings any more than that.

I know some people were upset that Brandy ended up getting pregnant but I thought it was great for her! I’m happy for her! And I think that even though she got what she wanted in the end doesn’t negate the feelings she had about her infertility earlier. But I think we’re all wondering who the father is and I don’t know if the show really needs to answer that.

The whole message of “we’ll see” in terms of if something is good or bad is such a mature message that I never really thought of like that so I will be taking that philosophy forward in life. Congratulations Bluey, you managed to teach a 22-year-old childless person something new and insightful about life that I don’t think I’ve learned from another show.

I want to know more about what Bob was going through and feeling and why he went to India, but again, we’ll probably never know.

I just love how the wedding photos were beautiful but imperfect. Like of course we’re not perfect and nothing will ever be perfect but it’s beautiful and worth remembering anyway.

So many little jokes and moments were so funny in a mature way (I.e. “are we allowed to do that?” And Nana thinking there was about to be a baby announcement) were just so funny and memorable.

I think some people would say it’s a cop-out to end up not selling the house after building it up for 2 episodes but I don’t know, I think it works. I think Bluey and Bingo learned a valuable lesson and Bandit (and Chilli kinda) learned it’s not always about making their kids lives “perfect” in their eyes. Also I’m just personally glad they didn’t end up selling the house and I also kinda like that it wasn’t entirely their choice to keep it.

On a more serious note I think this episode has some interesting commentary on like gender roles and gender relations in straight relationships. In this episode Chilli and Frisky (both women) have to deal with their male significant others pressuring them to move with them far away from what they know and love. In the end they don’t end up moving and the men didn’t seem to have like malicious or selfish intent with it, they were just kinda basing their choices off their jobs instead of what’s best emotionally for their loved ones. But I think it’s interesting to have this conflict where gender is kinda brought up in a way (“because your husband is making you”). It kinda plays into the traditional idea of like men are the breadwinners and the family has to move with them regardless of what they actually want. And this episode kinda like deconstructs that and says “no, it’s not always about the job or money, it’s also sometimes about connections and emotional attachment.” And I’m not saying that you should never move or whatever, but really weigh your options. I just thought that it was interesting that this episode kinda touched on that.

So yeah that’s kinda the main thoughts I had on this episode if you made it this far thank you for reading my rambles and have a good one!

[rachalixie]

can’t get you off my mind

all good love stories start with a drunk stranger, don’t they?

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fem!reader

genre: fluff, comfort

word count: 4k

it starts at a bar. 

or really, it starts with a man at a bar. one that you’ve seen before in passing, a familiar face in a sea of more familiar faces. someone who you’ll later learn is one third of your best friend changbin’s production team, someone who you should have met years ago probably, someone who you would find is the perfect puzzle piece that fits into your jagged edges.

but right now, he is just a man at a bar with a beer in hand and a ridiculously dopey smile on his face. 

“marry me, please,” he says, absolutely serious but it’s a bit diluted from the way his words were slurred around the edges. “or i’ll have to kidnap you.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow at him, his image swimming a bit as you turn your head to fully take him in. you’re not drunk, but youre a couple glasses of wine deep and you’re not known for being fully articulate whilst sober anyways. 

“i swear i’m going to marry you,” he says, eyes wide as he looks at you. “you might be the most perfect person i’ve ever seen.”

you’re not overly fond of men you haven’t met hitting on you, but this one seems a bit harmless. if you ignored the part where he said he would kidnap you. at least he wasn’t grabbing onto you or trying to touch you - that would have sent your fist flying towards his face and probably a swift exit from the bar. it was a little weird that you didn’t find him weird, but in retrospect you must have known, even then. 

“okay, listen,” you put your hands on your hips, giving him an unimpressed look. “if you find me when you’re sober, ask me again and maybe i’ll reconsider.”

“okay,” he nods, hair moving along with his movement like a puppy’s ears. “i can do that. i’ll find you, i promise. i’m gonna marry you, did you know?”

“so i’ve heard,” you roll your eyes, already feeling a bit fond about him. you didn’t think you’d meet him again, but you were sure that you’d look at this night with a fond smile later. 

he sends you the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a person and scampers off, and you stand rooted to that one sticky spot in the bar for longer than you want to admit.

–

he’s in the back of your mind when you wake up the next morning, in a better mood than most - you never liked waking up early, it always took you a good hour and some coffee to be able to stand without grimacing. this morning though, you float around your apartment as you get dressed with a small smile on your face. 

a cute stranger who kept his boundaries and called you perfect? that wasn’t something that happened often, at least not to you. 

the floatiness followed you all the way through your morning routine until you found your feet stopping outside the coffee shop that you and changbin all but owned. you had no stock in it, but you’re sure that you supply them at least half of their revenue, you probably sit on their rickety chairs more often than your actual couch at home. this place has nursed you through every college class and job interview preparations and beyond, and if it ever closed you might lose time off of your life span. 

your movements from the door to the counter to your usual seat were robotic, muscle memory taking over while your head did somersaults through the clouds. it’s only when you take the first sip of coffee, the bitterness and heat hitting your tongue in a delightful dance, that you notice it. 

another man is sitting next to changbin. a man that looks awfully familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize why. it’s the man from the bar. 

“changbin?” you keep your eyes on the other man as you direct your question at changbin, trying hard to keep your face neutral. “explain?”

“i’m chan,” the man interjects before changbin can answer, reaching his hand across the table for you to shake. it’s warm, his grip somewhere perfectly in the middle of too hard and too soft, and he lets go after an appropriate amount of seconds. despite the neutral passivity of the gesture, you feel something ignite within you, and it threatens to sputter out when you catch no spark of recognition in his eyes. was he that drunk last night that he doesn’t remember you? do his sober eyes not find you as perfect?

“he crashed at my place last night,” changbin’s voice filters through your turmoil, and you finally break away from chan’s gaze to level him with a look. “and he needed coffee, so i brought him along. chan, this is y/n, my best friend.”

the conversation that followed flowed more freely than the coffee dripping from the machines behind the counter, and you almost hate how much you like it. chan is a little goofy, the man from the previous night shining through moments of seriousness and rapt attention. 

by the time you had to leave to go to work you felt like you knew him. you learned where he lived (close to you!), that he worked with changbin (he’s a producer!), and that he loved all animals but he adored dogs (he has one named berry!). just an hour of casual conversation had led to you needing more of him in every aspect of your life, but still in the back of your head lived the thought of him not remembering you from the night before.

changbin leaves first, citing some meeting he had to run to in the middle of a yawn, and when you were left with chan the embarrassment began to set in. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he blurts out, startling you so much you almost jump out of your seat. 

“what?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and disbelief combining into a confusing vortex within your head - was he going to go through this again? you didn’t know if your heart could take it. 

“i mean, i remember you,” he says before you could awkwardly excuse yourself and commit to getting to work early for the first time in a year just to escape being in a room alone with him for much longer. “i’m sorry, i was just embarrassed. i didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of changbin.”

“oh,” your breath leaves you all at once and you slump into your chair, understanding hitting you like a train. “that makes sense? i think?”

“i’m going to marry you,” he repeats, a mischievous glint in his eyes, the boy from last night shining through. “one day. i’m going to do it.”

“take me on a date first,” you tease back, a genuine smile stretching across your lips when he laughs, a full bodied thing that drew in eyes from the patrons across the room. for once, you didn’t seem to care that others’ eyes were on you. he made you feel comfortable. 

“what are you doing tomorrow?” his mouth turns upwards into a beautiful smile that you can’t help but return. 

“eager, are we?” you open your phone, sliding it across the table with the new contact page open on it. “i’m free.”

“you’re the most perfect person i’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says, as serious and genuine as the way he had proposed to you last night as he taps his number into your phone. “sorry if i’m a bit desperate.”

“don’t apologize,” you take your phone back, making a mental note to text him later. “i like it, for some unearthly reason. you’re cute, chan.”

the sound of his delighted laugh follows your footsteps all the way to work. 

— 

he picks you up for your first date at noon, right on the dot. he wasn’t a minute late, a polite knock sounding through your apartment just as the hour turned, as if he had been waiting and watching the time outside the door. 

god, is everything about this man endearing? 

he’s wearing shorts and a light sweater, looking like something out of a posh magazine. his hair is curly and swept off his forehead and he’s wearing a smile with the most adorable dimples shining through. 

he leads you to his car and you have to hold back an impressed whistle. you knew changbin and his team did well for themselves, the name 3racha all over the credits of songs on the radio, but this car was nice. you were going to have a talk with changbin about why he still drove the same beat up sedan he’s had since college but that was a thought for later. right now all you wanted to think about was the man who held the door open for you to slide into the passenger seat and was now holding your hand over the middle console. 

“do i get to know where we’re going?” you ask, peering at the map open on his phone but it tells you nothing more than that your destination was 15 minutes away and that he had to make a right turn in one mile. 

“it’s a surprise,” he says, voice a little nervous but it was masked with excitement. wherever he was taking you, you would be happy to be there if he was this happy the whole time. 

four songs on the radio later, one of which you teased him for when he revealed that he wrote it, he was pulling into a parking lot illuminated by flashing colorful lights. he had brought you to the fair. 

“i’ve never been to the fair!” you bounced a little in your seat, wriggling in excitement. “i’ve always wanted to go, how did you know?”

“lucky guess?” he shrugs, avoiding your gaze as he cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt. 

“changbin told you, didn’t he,” you smile at the thought of chan asking his friend about what you’d like. it was cute, a word that you were probably exhausting when thinking about him even after a day of knowing him. 

“yes, but,” he flushes, the tips of his ears burning red. “i asked him after i had decided to come here, just to make sure it was a good idea. i didn’t steal it from him.”

“hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours that he had yet to let go of in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. you didn’t know what brought him calmness yet, but you wanted to learn. you wanted to learn everything about him. “now, take me to the fair, bang chan. i was promised a date.”

he finally meets your eyes again and he’s grinning so happily that you feel like you had just won a prize. who needed a fair when you had your very own carnival game right here? 

it turns out, you did. by the time the sun was beginning to set, your arms were full of various plushies that chan had won for you, each one earning him a hug and a kiss to his cheek. you treasured every single one, the fluttering in your chest when he stepped up to the booths to throw and shoot various things never ceasing. 

“let’s go to the ferris wheel,” you tug at him with your free hand, thanking the skies when you see no queue there. “i bet the sunset looks beautiful from the top.”

he’s quiet when he follows you there and into the carriage, his thigh pressing against yours as he slides in next to you, but you don’t notice in your excitement. it isn’t until the wheel ticks to the top and stops that he grabs your hand again, trembling a little. 

“chan? are you okay?” you ask, concern warping your voice as you turn towards him. your movement rocks the carriage a bit and he turns pale, ducking his head into your neck to hide. 

“yeah, ‘m okay,” he murmurs, his eyelashes ticking your skin when he blinks his eyes shut. “just don’t like heights very much.”

“oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?” you cry out, jumping a bit and regretting it when you rock the carriage again. “nevermind that, what can i do? it’ll go down soon, you’ll be alright.”

“just keep holding my hand?” he squeezes your fingers lightly and your heart melts. you may have made a joke that he was just trying to trick you into holding his hand any other time, but the fear in his shaking body was real and you’d never tease him for that. 

“of course,” you press a kiss to his hair, moving your other hand slowly to wrap around your intertwined fingers. the wheel begins to turn again, swaying the carriage as it descends. you keep your grip on his hand tight the entire time, all the way until you’re on your feet again on steady ground. 

“i’m so sorry,” you begin to say, the horror of subjecting him to his fear creeping up now that the crisis has passed. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he says, cutting off your apology and lifting your hands to his mouth so he could press a kiss to the back of yours. “no one’s ever been able to keep me that calm. thank you.”

you were left speechless after that and all you could do was smile at him, the ghost of it not leaving your face for the rest of the night. 

–

your thirty first date with chan ends with you crying into changbin’s arms, utterly confused and the feeling of despair creeping up your veins. you had met him your cafe as you had done several times since the fair, but when you arrived he wasn’t there. he came late, dark storms in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw and you didn’t understand what had made him like that. the usual smile and twinkle in his eyes were missing, and when you and asked him about what was wrong he had snapped at you in a way you hadn’t been talked to in years. 

you had left after that, brushing him off when his eyes had widened and he reached for you while calling out your name. you know that you should have given him a chance to explain, but at the time you were too hurt to consider it. 

you made your way to changbin’s apartment without thinking, your feet taking you to safety before your head could catch up. changbin had taken one look at your face before wrapping you up in his arm, walking you to his couch so he could cuddle you properly while words spilled out of you like a leaky faucet. you felt like you were back in college, crying and blubbering over a boy who had rejected you at a party, and you hated it. 

you didn’t notice changbin sending an angry text to chan, but the sound of changbin’s door opening with a bang startled you out of your tears. chan bursts in like a whirlwind, his hair sticking up at weird angles and a look of panic on his face as he takes you in. he reaches the couch in a few strides and falls to his knees in front of you, holding a crumpled bag from the cafe in his hand and taking your cheek gently into his other. his thumb wipes at the tear tracks there and you could practically taste the guilt emanating off of him. 

“love, i am so sorry,” he starts, ignoring changbin when he scoffs at the apology. “i shouldn’t have snapped at you, i had no right to do that. i got some bad news this morning and i wasn’t feeling my best, and i should have been honest with you. i’ll never do anything like that again, please forgive me? i’ll do anything.”

it was more his voice than his words that did it - he sounded so desperate, like he was trying to hold

onto a ledge that was crumbling, threatening to hurl his body into eternal nothingness. you knew him, you knew he was sorry, and against your first instinct you trusted him when he said he wouldn’t do it again. 

“is that an almond croissant?” you eye the bag in his hand. 

“it’s two almond croissants,” he nods fervently, his hair swishing back and forth with the movement. you sit up, sliding out of changbin’s arms and onto the floor in front of chan. chan’s arms replace changbin’s easily when you lean into him, and it feels like coming home. 

“it’s not like i have a nice couch you could be sitting on,” changbin mutters as he leaves, shaking his head fondly at the two of you before making himself scarce. 

chan kisses you, cradling your head gently into his hands, and they’re so warm. he slides his lips against yours, slowly like he’s taking his time memorizing the planes of your mouth to commit to memory. even after kissing him dozens of times you still find new things to learn about each other. 

“i swear,” he says, pulling away to meet your eyes. “i’m going to marry you, someday.”

“keep getting me croissants as apologies and we’ll see,” you say, sniffling into his neck. 

—

your eighty seventh date was spent in your bed, your head spinning like both hands on a clock simultaneously and your body exuding more sweat than you ever have. 

chan is wringing out a cool cloth to place on your forehead and it feels so nice that you moan. 

“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and chan has lost count of the amount of times you’ve said it at this point. “we had a date and i ruined it.”

“we were going to see a movie,” he says, running a hand up and down your spine. “and we will. we don’t need a movie theater when we have a screen right here, hmm?” 

“but the popcorn,” you complain, closing your eyes in bliss when he runs a hand through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. an apology for being so sweaty was at the tip of your tongue but you hold it back in favor of enjoying the feeling of his touch. 

“i’ll make you all the popcorn you want when you’re feeling better,” he promises, dropping a kiss to the side of your head. “for now, how does soup sound?” 

“popcorn soup?“ you ask, a wave of dizziness taking over your body; if you weren’t lying down already, you’re sure that too would be falling over. 

“yeah, baby,” and even in your delirium the fondness in his voice was prominent. he couldn’t hide it even if he tried. “i’ll make you some popcorn soup. get some rest okay?”

you’re asleep before he leaves the room, and you only wake up when he shakes your shoulder a bit and helps you into an upright position. he feeds you bites of what is definitely not popcorn soup after putting a movie on your laptop, the screen sitting at the foot of your bed. the both of you fall asleep before the movie finishes, but you don’t mind. 

he stays with you for days, making you soup and tea and toast and feeding you medicine and being an all-around angel as he nurses you back to health. by the time you’re better you think you’ve fallen back in love with him several times. 

as you had expected and warned him about, he catches your sickness the next week, and now it’s your turn to be his nurse. you try and do the same job he did, but his delirium seems worse. the silver lining is that his fever isn’t as bad, so you’re babysitting a babbling boyfriend more than a sick one. 

the night before his fever breaks is the worst, since he doesn’t even recognize you. you shake your head at his silliness when he asks who you are and calls you pretty. you smile when he takes your hand in his and asks you to come closer. 

you tear up when he tells you that he has a girlfriend that he loves very much and so even though you’re pretty he can’t do anything else because his girlfriend is the prettiest one in the whole world. you let a tear slip when he tells you that he can’t wait to propose to his girlfriend and that he’s going to marry her someday. 

you tell him that you have a boyfriend that you're going to marry someday, trusting that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

—

your hundredth and fifth date was not unlike your fifth, or your tenth, or your ninetieth. two and a half years later, you were just as endeared by him and he was just as obsessed with you - even more so, if it were possible. 

he takes the time to tell you how gorgeous you look when he picks you up just like he does on every date, and you hide your disgustingly fond smile for him behind his back like you do every time you see him. 

he parks and runs around the car to let you out like he does every time you habit this restaurant, a little fancier than your usual best but it was a favorite of the both of yours - across the street from the bar the two of you had met at. 

you start walking before he does, letting him jog to meet you and complain about how you left him, just like you do every time. before him. you might have thought the monotony would have gotten tiring, but he had a fantastical ability to make every moment feel like the first despite their practiced nature. 

he calls your name from behind you right on schedule and you hum in acknowledgement, turning towards him absentmindedly. the second you lay eyes on him you’re completely alert, though; he isn’t jogging after you, but rather he’s kneeling on the sidewalk, a small box in his hands as he smiles up at you. 

“i’ve told you that i’m going to marry you more times than i can count,” he starts, eyes shining like the stars twinkling in the night sky above you. “but this time i’m asking you.”

“chan,” you choke out, hands coming up to cover your mouth as it quivers. tears spring to your eyes and you silently curse yourself - you always thought you’d be level headed when you got proposed to, but nothing could have prepared you for this, not even the thousands of declarations he had made to you prior. 

“i love you. you’re the only one in the entire universe that i need more than blood or breath, you’re the song that runs through my heart and the fire that leads my path when i’m lost,” his voice is thick, like he’s trying to hold back his emotions long enough to get his words out. “i never thought that i would feel so strongly for someone, i never thought that i deserved a love like this until i met you.”

he pauses as you walk closer to him, letting you approach him before he continues. 

“my love, my eternal light,” he’s tearing up now, blinking fast to keep the salty water at bay. “will you marry me?”

“chan,” you start, kneeling down next to him and taking his wrists in your hands. “i never told you this, but ever since that first day i knew. i knew that the drunk idiot that was hitting on me would be my husband.”

he chuckles, smiling delightedly as the tears finally spring from both of your eyes in unison.

“so?” he trails off, searching your face with his eyes, waiting. 

“oh!” you tighten your grip on him in an apology. “of course i’ll marry you, gosh i love you so much.”

[gardenofnoah]

You know Katsuki, and you know, somewhere deep in your gut, when something is wrong.

He makes it easier than that, though, with all of his door slamming and grumbling.

“So are you planning to tell me what’s going on, or should I start looking for replacement hinges?”

He pauses, halfway to victimizing the microwave door. He sighs. Without turning to you, he holds an arm out to you. It makes you smile.

You make quick work of the distance and fit yourself in the gap between him and the counter top. Arms reaching around his middle, you squeeze until you feel the harsh (and exaggerated) exhale brush the top of your head—until some of the tension is forced to leave him.

“Rough day?”

He scoffs, dipping down to rest his forehead on the crown of yours. You’ve learned this language by now—you let him lean on you, because he needs to.

“Fuckin’ Denki—“ he grunts, and you know it must be something serious, for Katsuki to use his given name instead of the usual insult. You stay quiet to give him the space to get it out.

“Always so fuckin’ nosey—“

You can feel the frustration build in the muscles that wrap around his spine. With every breath, he works himself up further. It’s rare, even with his hotheaded nature, that you see him like this.

“Always asking about you. Always taking about how I should fuckin’ —just be a man and fuckin'—”

He won’t—can’t, most likely—tell you the direct quote, but you gleam the gist of it from the way Katsuki so clearly struggles to articulate it.

“Hey,” you say quietly, squeezing once more around his ribs. “It’s alright.”

And you know that to him, it’s not. To disrespect you—however in jest—is one thing, but you know that’s not what’s red hot and prodding against Katsuki’s sorest spot right now.

"Since when do you care about what Denki says?"

“I don't care what that shit-for-brains says,” he grunts into your hair. "Just—think you deserve more."

You shake your head. “He’s an idiot,” you say, tilting up, searching for his eyes. “You give me more than I could ever ask for."

He scoffs, all forced bravado, but the tension doesn’t leave him. This is the hard part for Katsuki—to separate who he is and what he’s able to give with what he feels is expected of him.

You hope that he knows you love him. There’s no anyway, or in spite of, you just do. You know that in his mind Katsuki pictures himself storming in after a long day, tearing your clothes off and ravaging you until the early hours of the morning—but to consider it as anything closer than a distant fantasy makes both of you cringe. To stand here in the warm light of your kitchen with your ear to his heartbeat is more intimate than anything you’ve ever experienced.

“You know what I’d really like?”

He hums, a non answer that tells you he’s listening.

“I want to put on big sweats and eat at least two soft pretzels and watch trash TV.”

You feel him grin against the crown of your head and you know he’s coming back to you.

What you need—it’s only this. Only him.

[samodivaa]

║drool on dog tags║

Bucky x Reader : They sway in your face during sex... (smut) {request}

There’s nothing more dangerous than a man with charm—and Bucky looks like a deity—a small smile tips up one corner of your mouth as you look in his eyes which are powder-blue and still rimmed with the longest lashes you have ever seen on a man. His mouth comes down on yours without further warning. Not hard or violently or forcefully. But fully, with complete contact. He comes directly to you, seizing your face between his hands, and capturing your mouth beneath his. “I am going to shower, Bucky" 

"Is that an initiation? We can shower later” 

He cajoles, hoping he sounds convincing rather than needy. Tortuously slow, Bucky licks his lips, rolling his hips fluidly against yours. It’s a struggle to swallow back a groan when you bite his lower lip slightly. You are covered only by a towel, his mind running amuck over what the towel is hiding—sexual perversions mix with lust as his mind sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity. Bucky grips your waist and lifts you off the ground with ease, dropping you softly on the luxurious white linen bed, your body fully exposed to him. You lick your lips at the sight of his broad shoulders and an athletic physique that even a jacket cannot hide. Your eyes continue their upward travel to his strong square-shaped face, framed with short brown hair that falls to his shoulders and deep, blue eyes. He disrupts your thoughts by stripping his shirt off, shorts, boxers—letting only the dog tags trail over his chest.

He then craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten. His body hovers above you as he leans down to kiss you. You're perfect when you're underneath him, it's where you belong, beautiful face and pretty eyes lock onto his—your warmth cushioning him, your obedient body lush, your eyes flashing—and all he wants is to ruin you. His lips are once again on your skin, devouring everything he can—licking, sucking, and kissing. He drags his lips up your throat, along your jaw, back toward your mouth before leaning back to let his hips slowly rut against you, length parting your folds and rubbing over your clit, dragging his pre-come up between your lips. You simultaneously release a harsh moan as he buries himself deep with an upward thrust. You are grateful that he doesn't start slow, but slams into you with no remorse, the need for fucking poisoning his mind. Bucky brings both of your wrists above your head and grips them in his metal arm, restraining them from moving—It's a sinful sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. He loves watching it happen. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, his eyes roll backwards as the dog tags make melodious ringing sounds right above your face with every thrust.

“Can you feel my cock slipping in and out…feels good, doesn’t it?”

When you don’t answer in time, he stops and lifts his gaze towards yours. You feel a jolt of some foreign but not unwelcome sensation piercing your body. You look so—slutty. There is something raw and pleading in his eyes that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving—his dog tags continue to whirl in your hot mouth, drool dribbles from your corners on your lips—but your greedy tongue is always ravenous…for anything. It is the dirty, sinful element that gives pleasure to the act of lust, then the dirtier it is, the more pleasurable it is bound to be. He pulls out, only the tip remains inside. 

“Don’t-” you whimper desperately. Without warning, he pushes his whole length. He focuses his attention on your lips. His trusts are slow and his stare makes your walls clench around him.

“Don’t stop?” He chuckles softly, voice going deeper as he picks up the pace and fucks you into the mattress, his thrusts only getting rougher. “Is that what you want? Need me to fuck you till you come, baby?” he mumbles, not looking away from your lips, his gaze devouring you.

He has to take a deep breath. He tries to breathe, trying to avoid cumming, but your filthy mouth rips his soul and hypnotizes his brain—and your eyes, eyes that bare into his heart, making his dick twitch. The wet squelching, your shy moans, the way your walls tighten around cock is enough to make him cum. His dick keeps on slamming into you, the sight of his well-muscled body, covered in a thin layer of sweat, invites you to utter depravity, it is what drives you over the edge. You whimper and screw your eyes tight as another wave of pleasure spreads throughout your body in orgasmic tingles as he pulls his own climax with you. He finally presses his face against your neck as his hips lose any and all sense of tempo and when he finally stills, he holds himself deep inside as he leans back—with every breath, your bust heaves, sweat droplets running between them and attracting his gaze.  But what pollutes his mind even more—is when he pulls the dog tags away from your mouth, sticky strands of spit spilling between your lips and the small metal plates as you share collective gasps of breath. Sometimes, to regain sanity, one has to acknowledge and embrace the madness.

[dandelions-143]

Breeding - Chan

Kinktober Masterlist

Word count: 2869

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, explicit sexual content, breeding kink, this one’s sweet and short

No summary just smut under the cut

Chan perched on the high stool at the kitchen bar, the clock on the wall ticking just past midnight. His fingers absently traced the rim of his cereal bowl as he indulged in a late-night snack. His dark, intense eyes, like pools of midnight, followed your every move across the kitchen. You stood on the other side of the bar, gracefully loading dishes into the dishwasher, unaware of his captivated gaze.

Chan's eyes traveled slowly, appreciatively over your figure, drinking in every curve and contour. The soft kitchen light cast a warm glow on your skin, accentuating the gentle swell of your hips and the elegant line of your back. He particularly loved how you looked in your current attire - form-fitting black leggings that hugged your legs and a snug sports bra that emphasized your toned arms and shoulders. The contrast of the fabric against your skin was mesmerizing, and Chan found himself entranced by the subtle play of your muscles as you moved.

As always, Chan's thoughts drifted to the future he envisioned with you - a future where you were his wife and the mother of his children. You had discussed this at length, both agreeing that marriage was a shared goal. You were the center of his universe outside of work, and he yearned to spend the rest of his life with you.

What he hadn't confided in you was the intense physical reaction he experienced when imagining you pregnant with his child. The mere thought of it sent a rush of heat through his body, his cock hardening almost instantly. He fantasized about the moment of conception, of filling you with his seed and watching your body change as it nurtured new life. The possibility of you carrying his children ignited a primal desire within him that was both thrilling and overwhelming.

Chan's cock twitched noticeably in his boxers as he sat eating his cereal, lost in these vivid daydreams. The movement of the spoon to his mouth became automatic as his mind wandered through scenes of domestic bliss and passionate encounters.

"What are you thinking about?" Your sweet voice cut through his reverie, bringing him back to the present moment. Chan's eyes met yours, and you could see a whirlpool of emotions swirling in their depths - desire, tenderness, and something deeper, almost reverent. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to compose himself. The cereal in his mouth suddenly felt dry, and he had to take a moment before he could respond.

"Just thinking about our future together," he said softly, his voice husky with unspoken longing. The words seemed inadequate to express the depth of his thoughts and feelings, but he wasn't sure how to articulate the intensity of his desires without overwhelming you.

You couldn't help but notice the intensity in Chan's gaze. It was a look you'd seen before, but never quite this potent - a mixture of love and something deeper, more primal. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your heart rate quicken in response. Your mind raced, considering the implications of his words and the heat in his eyes. Slowly, almost unconsciously, you found yourself drawn to him, your feet carrying you around the bar as if pulled by an invisible force.

As you reached him, you wrapped your arms around his neck, the familiar gesture feeling charged with new meaning. Chan turned slightly on his stool, allowing you to stand between his legs. Your hands slid over his bare back, feeling the warmth of his skin and the subtle flex of his muscles as you pulled him closer. The air between you seemed to crackle with tension.

"What exactly about our future are you thinking of?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren't sure if you were ready for the answer, but you couldn't stop yourself from asking.

Chan's eyes darkened perceptibly at your question, the rich brown depths now resembling molten chocolate. He pulled you closer, his large hands settling on your hips with a grip that was both gentle and possessive. The heat radiating from his body enveloped you, making you acutely aware of every point of contact between you.

"I'm thinking about us," he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke. The low timbre of his voice sent shivers cascading down your spine. "About making you mine in every way possible." His grip tightened slightly, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your hips. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, matching the frantic rhythm of your own.

"As in getting married?" Your skin prickled at the way his hands gripped your hips possessively, his fingers digging into the soft flesh just above the waistband of your leggings. The warmth of his palms seeped through the thin fabric, sending a shiver up your spine. Chan's eyes smoldered as he leaned in, his lips barely grazing yours, the ghost of his breath hot against your skin.

"More than that," he whispered, his voice low and husky, the vibrations of his words sending tremors through your body. His dark eyes, usually warm and gentle, now burned with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. "I'm thinking about starting a family with you, about watching you grow round with our child." His hands slid to your lower back, his fingers splaying wide as he pulled you flush against him. The hard planes of his chest pressed against your softer curves, and you could feel the rapid beating of his heart echoing your own frantic pulse. The evidence of his arousal pressed insistently against your stomach, hot and hard even through the layers of fabric separating you.

Your breath caught in your throat as the implications of his words sank in. The idea of carrying Chan's child, of starting a family together, sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. A warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading outward until it felt like your entire body was tingling with anticipation. You pressed yourself closer to him, your fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of his neck as you pulled him down to you. Your lips met his in a passionate kiss that conveyed all the love, desire, and anticipation for your shared future. His lips were soft but demanding against yours, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a hunger that made your knees weak.

As you broke apart, breathless and flushed, Chan's eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. His pupils were blown wide with desire. "I want to make you mine," he whispered, his voice thick with desire, rough like gravel. "Right here, right now." Without waiting for a response, he lifted you onto the kitchen counter, the cool marble a stark contrast to your heated skin. His hands were everywhere at once, sliding beneath your sports bra, calloused palms rough against your sensitive flesh as his lips claimed yours once more in a searing kiss.

Your body instantly reacted to his touches, his heated kisses sending jolts of electricity through your nervous system. You arched into him, your hands pulling him closer, your nails dragging over the taut muscles of his back. The thin fabric of his t-shirt did little to mask the heat radiating from his skin. Chan's large hands kneaded and pinched at your nipples, the sensation bordering on the edge of pleasure and pain. With a swift movement, he finally pulled your bra off, the cool air of the kitchen making your nipples pebble instantly. "You're saying… you want to cum inside me," you breathed, more a statement than a question. Your voice was breathy with desire, barely above a whisper as he kissed feverishly down your neck. His lips traced a burning path along your pulse point, pausing to suck and nibble at the sensitive skin where your neck met your shoulder. The sensation sent sparks of pleasure straight to your core, making you moan softly and tighten your legs around his waist.

Chan's lips curved into a sensual smile against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Yes," he growled, his voice low and husky with desire. "I want to fill you up, to make you mine completely." His hands slid down to your hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of your leggings as he looked up at you, eyes dark with passion and longing. "But only if you're okay with that." His lust-filled eyes watched yours, waiting for your response. You could see the raw desire burning in his gaze, but also a hint of vulnerability, a silent plea for your consent. You knew if you said no, he would stop immediately and wouldn't be disappointed or act disrespectfully towards you or your decision. The thought of his unwavering respect for you, even in the throes of passion, made your heart swell with love.

As you sat there, perched on the cool marble countertop, you found yourself growing wet at the idea of Chan cumming inside you for the very first time. The possibility of carrying his child sent a thrill through your body, igniting a primal desire you hadn't known existed. You were on birth control and knew that you likely wouldn't become pregnant, but it thrilled you either way. The mere thought of Chan's seed filling you, of the potential life it could create, made your core throb with need. Your skin felt electrified, every nerve ending alive and hyper-aware of Chan's proximity.

You bit your lip, your heart racing with excitement and anticipation. The air between you felt charged, crackling with unspoken desire. "Yes," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper as you pulled Chan closer. Your fingers traced the contours of his face, memorizing every line and curve. "I want that too. I want all of you." Your fingers tangled in his hair, reveling in its silky softness as you kissed him deeply. The kiss was passionate, almost desperate, as if you were trying to pour all your love and desire into this one moment. Chan's hands tightened on your hips. A low groan escaped him, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours as he pressed himself against you. The heat of his body set your skin ablaze, every point of contact between you feeling like a livewire.

With practiced ease, Chan lifted you off the counter, his strong arms supporting you effortlessly. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as if to ensure he couldn't escape. Not that he showed any intention of doing so. His lips never left yours as he carried you towards the bedroom, the urgency of his desire evident in every hurried step. You could feel the rapid beating of his heart against your chest, matching the frantic rhythm of your own. The journey to the bedroom felt both endless and far too short, each step building the anticipation to an almost unbearable level.

As he laid you gently on the bed, his eyes roamed over your body, drinking in every inch of you. His gaze was a heady mixture of love and primal hunger that made your breath catch in your throat. The intensity in his eyes made you feel simultaneously exposed and cherished, desired and adored. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he began to slowly peel away your remaining clothes. His fingers trailed along your skin as he removed each garment, leaving goosebumps in their wake. The cool air of the bedroom kissed your newly exposed skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Chan's body. Every touch, every look from him felt like worship, as if he was committing every detail of this moment to memory.

With tender care, Chan leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss that spoke volumes of his deep affection. His warm breath mingled with yours, sending shivers down your spine. His hands, calloused yet gentle, explored your body with reverence, his fingertips tracing every curve and dip as if committing them to memory. The feather-light touch of his fingers left a trail of goosebumps in their wake, igniting a slow-burning fire beneath your skin.

You arched into his touch, your body responding instinctively to his caresses. Every point of contact between you felt electric, charged with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. As his hands mapped the contours of your body, you felt a profound sense of being cherished, loved, and desired. The look in Chan's eyes as he gazed at you was one of pure adoration, making you feel like the most precious thing in his world.

Chan's eyes locked with yours, filled with an intensity that made your breath catch. "I love you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. You returned his gaze, feeling the depth of your connection. "I love you, Chan," you replied, your voice equally tender. In that moment, you both felt the strength of your bond, looking forward to the future you would share.

Chan slipped out of his boxers, allowing you to see how hard he was for you. His strong, muscled body was ready, every inch of him taut with desire. The sight of him, fully exposed and aroused, sent a shiver of anticipation through you. Your eyes roamed over his form, taking in the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen, the powerful lines of his thighs, and the unmistakable evidence of his arousal.

He moved towards you with a predatory grace, his eyes dark with passion. As he reached the bed, he paused, giving you a moment to appreciate him fully. The anticipation built between you, the air charged with electricity. Your breath caught in your throat as he finally joined you on the bed, his skin hot against yours as he covered your body with his own.

Chan settled between your legs, his hard length pressing against your wet folds without entering you yet. The anticipation made your breath hitch, your body trembling with desire. A soft, satisfied sigh escaped your lips as he slowly rolled his hips, teasing you with the promise of what was to come.

His lips found your skin, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. The warmth of his breath sent shivers down your spine as he moved lower, his lips caressing the sensitive skin of your neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair, encouraging him as he continued his sensual exploration.

Chan's mouth traveled further down, his kisses becoming more heated as he reached your chest. His tongue darted out, tasting your skin, as his hands gently cupped your breasts. The combination of his touch and the warmth of his mouth made you arch into him, a soft moan escaping your lips.

The anticipation built with each passing moment, your body aching for more. Chan's eyes met yours, dark with passion and love, silently asking for permission to continue. You nodded, pulling him closer, ready to fully connect with the man you loved.

Chan's lips pressed into yours, kissing you slowly as he very gently entered you. The sensation of him stretching your walls made you gasp softly against his mouth. He paused, allowing you to adjust to his size, his eyes never leaving yours. "You feel amazing," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "So wet for me, baby."

As he began to move, setting a languid pace, Chan's lips brushed against your ear. His warm breath sent shivers down your spine as he murmured loving words. "You're perfect," he breathed, punctuating each word with a gentle thrust. "So beautiful, so precious to me." His hands caressed your body reverently, as if mapping every curve and contour.

"I love you," Chan whispered, his voice filled with adoration. "I can't wait to build our future together." His words, combined with the feeling of him moving inside you, made your heart swell with emotion. You wrapped your arms tighter around him, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every inch of his body against yours.

Chan's movements were slow and deliberate at first, savoring every moment of your intimate connection. His eyes, dark with passion and love, never left yours as he gradually increased his pace. The room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure - soft gasps, breathy moans, and whispered endearments mingling in the air.

With each thrust, Chan seemed to be pouring all of his love and passion into you, his body expressing what words could not fully convey. His strong hands caressed your skin, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. The muscles in his back flexed under your fingertips as he moved, a testament to his strength and control.

The air around you grew thick with the heat of your bodies, the scent of your mingled sweat and arousal creating an intoxicating atmosphere. Chan's breath came in short, hot puffs against your neck, punctuated by soft groans of pleasure. Your bodies moved in perfect synchronization, finding a rhythm that built the tension between you to dizzying heights.

As Chan's pace quickened, the bed creaked softly beneath you, adding to the symphony of your lovemaking. The sheets rustled with each movement, cool against your heated skin. Every sensation seemed heightened - the brush of Chan's lips against your collarbone, the gentle scrape of his stubble on your cheek, the delicious friction where your bodies joined.

Chan's lips found yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he drove deeper. You could taste the salt on his skin, feel the slight stubble on his jaw as he kissed along your neck. His movements became more urgent, his breathing ragged against your ear. You could feel him swelling inside you, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. "I'm close," he groaned against your neck, his voice strained with desire. "Are you ready for me, baby?" His words sent a shiver down your spine, the low timbre of his voice igniting a fire in your core.

Your body tensed with anticipation, every nerve ending alive with sensation. The feeling of Chan inside you, filling you completely, was almost too much to bear. "Yes," you breathed, pulling him closer, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist. Your heels dug into the small of his back, urging him deeper. "Chan..” you moaned his name like it was the last thing your lips would ever say. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, your hearts beating in sync as you both teetered on the edge of ecstasy. The air around you felt electric, charged with the intensity of your shared passion.

With a final, powerful thrust, Chan buried himself deep inside you as he reached his climax. You felt the warmth of his release coating your walls, triggering your own intense orgasm. Your body shuddered with pleasure, your inner muscles clenching around him rhythmically.

Waves of ecstasy washed over you both as you clung to each other. Chan's face was buried in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he chanted your name like a reverent prayer. "Oh god, (Y/N)... (Y/N)... (Y/N)..." His voice was hoarse with passion, each utterance of your name punctuated by a shudder of his body.

Your own cries of pleasure filled the room, mingling with Chan's deep groans. The sensation of his pulsing length inside you, combined with the flood of his warm seed, intensified your orgasm. Your nails dug into his back as you arched against him, your body trembling with the force of your release.

As the initial intensity of your climaxes began to ebb, you both remained locked in a tight embrace, bodies still joined intimately. The air around you was thick with the scent of your lovemaking, your ragged breaths slowly returning to normal. Chan lifted his head to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with love and satisfaction.

With a deep sigh of contentment, you both held each other close, basking in the warmth of your shared affection. The room was quiet except for your soft breathing as you enjoyed the peaceful moment together. Chan gently stroked your hair, his touch tender and loving.

You snuggled closer, feeling completely at ease in Chan's embrace. The intimacy of the moment made your heart swell with love and contentment. A question crossed your mind, and you couldn't help but voice it. "Chan, what if our lives change dramatically in the future? Are you ready for that?"

Chan's eyes softened as he pulled you closer, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. "Whatever happens, we'll figure it out together," he said softly, his voice filled with reassurance. "Your happiness and our relationship come first, always. We can adjust our lives and schedules if needed, but right now, let's just enjoy this moment.”

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[kquil]

REGULUS BLACK | HOLD HER PART 2

SUM. : Regulus sees a glimpse of his future with you and it's all he needs to give in

TAGS. : sunshine reader x grump regulus ; regulus is in denial ; pandora lestrange being the ultimate bestie ; james is in denial too ; james is not a shipper ; reader is precious ; regulus finally gives in

LENGTH : 2k

PART 0.5 | PART 1

Today was a shared class in Divination. Regulus doesn’t see much use for the subject, the antithesis of his divination partner and close friend, Pandora Lestrange. She was a whimsical being with curious mannerisms but that was why Regulus found her so refreshing to be around. She points out what isn’t always obvious and never judges anyone for anything. For those traits alone, she’s the only person he’s been able to talk about regarding you. 

After the fiasco at the courtyard following your bogart lesson, it’s become incredibly obvious to Regulus how attached he’s become to you. And vice versa. Over Lupin, you had gone to him for comfort. He was the one to wipe away your tears, he was the one to lovingly pet your hair, he was the one to whisper sweet reassurance into your ear, he was the one who held you tight until your shaking figure calmed and you were no longer sobbing helplessly into his shoulder. 

“You like her,” Pandora had declared, matter-of-factly after the event. He had gone to her, unable to fully articulate his feelings and needed guidance from someone who wasn’t naturally disparaging. “As more than a friend,” Pandora elaborated further when her brief answer didn’t satisfy him, sending the youngest Black brother spiralling. It was a reality he had been actively denying in an attempt to distance himself from you. His family were dangerous people and so were his forced associations – he didn’t want to burden you with that type of peril. 

Ever since that day, owing to his whispers of protection, Regulus avoided you adamantly. It wasn’t easy, however. You didn’t make it easy. Being your precious, cheerful self, you didn’t antagonise him for his sudden distance. Whenever you would catch his eye, you would flash him a smile. It’s as bright and warm as he remembers – you haven’t changed at all in spite of his obvious avoidance. 

“You are conflicted,” Pandora whispers from beside him as the objectives for the lesson are laid out by their divination professor — they were to use their crystal balls to attempt looking into their partner’s future. The procedure follows the same steps as their previous lesson, where they were tasked with looking into each others’ past. There were only a few tweaks that needed considering for future sight so it was simple enough. “There’s no need to distance yourself from someone who brings you such peace, Regulus,” she smiles at him serenely, not a trace of judgement in her eyes as the professor finally allows them to commence their set tasks. 

“It’s for a good reason—”

“You aren’t protecting her,” Pandora takes the lead and begins the ritual as Regulus grumbles opposite her, “You only succeed in denying her and yourself happiness. It’s time to stop, yes?”

Regulus doesn’t want to answer regardless of her truthful observations, “Do you see anything about my future?”

With grace, Pandora allows the change in subject and focuses on her crystal ball. The two of them actively ignore a growing dispute occurring not too far from their table. The pair protests their tasks, questioning the validity of divination and doubling down on their claims of the subject being pointless once the professor makes his way over to interject. Regulus scoffs under his breath, eyeing the duo critically in his peripheral. 

“They’re only trying to divert attention from their own incompetence,” Regulus returns his gaze to Pandora, feeling apologetic over her needing to concentrate twice as hard because of the distracting background noise. 

Pandora hums in agreement but keeps her main focus on the crystal ball until she’s finally able to conjure up a light grey cloud. The achievement steals Regulus’ attention – he’s always been fascinated by his friend’s ability in the subject; she makes the practice more believable to the pale Slytherin and the lessons more interesting to partake in.

“What was that, Black?!” one of the temperamental duo snaps, having heard Regulus’ snide comment. It wasn’t appreciated and the tension in the air suddenly came alive with the heated rage emanating from their combative classmates. But Regulus pays his aggressor no mind; he kept his attention solely on Pandora and the ball, which now swirled with a stormy cloud compared to the previous light grey — it took the concentration of both people to make the task work and Regulus wasn’t going to put his friend’s efforts to waste. “Hey! I’m talkin’ to you—!” upset at being ignored so flippantly, the classmate reaches over and pushes their table. 

Suddenly, the crystal ball was flung off its stand, propelled by the forceful jolt and sent crashing to the stone floor. It was a majestic disaster with glass pieces sent flying across the cold stone as the stormy cloud from within the ball was released into the air in a screen of opaque, dark-grey smoke. All attention is on the emitted fumes and gasps can be heard about the room as the cloud begins to create a clear picture, painted in vibrant colours so that all witnesses had no doubts about what they were seeing.

The smoke formed the undeniable image of Regulus, only, this version of him looked a little older. But he had the same elegant nose, perfectly permed hair, steel-grey eyes and sharp features. It was, without question, Regulus. The only difference was his serene smile. It looked natural on this older Regulus’ face, his features appearing to melt into the expression as another figure emerged. 

It was you. 

“Merlin’s beard, is that their future?” Regulus hears a faraway whisper. It grounds him in the realisation that he might be seeing what his life entails with you in the picture. Unable to breathe or move, Regulus continues to watch what plays out before him like a man possessed. Because, maybe this had the answers. He can no longer deny that you were an important person to him. But will that entail withdrawn yearning or a shared warmth? 

Everyone watches as an older version of you appears before Regulus. You look so beautiful, mature and with an elegance that elevates your existing beauty. The way you look at Regulus makes it seem as if he had swiped all your troubles away; your beaming countenance conveys your carefree spirit while your smiling eyes convey a deep devotion to the Regulus you hold your hand up to cup the face of. 

Regulus watches as he leans into your touch, eyes closed and with a peaceful smile on his face. He says something, then you say something and you’re leaning up further so that your noses are touching and your lips are mere centimeters away from each other’s. His heart almost stops beating in his chest at this point. But you take it one step further by tilting your head and pulling the image of him into a deep, heartfelt kiss. Squeals of delight were heard throughout the room, mostly from the girls as the guys quietly gasped, unable to realise that such a contented version of their usually stoic Slytherin classmate could exist. 

It was at that moment that Regulus remembers Pandora’s earlier words: there’s no need to distance yourself from someone who brings you such peace. Regulus finally understands. All this time, he was being selfish. He was selfish by denying his happiness while simultaneously denying your happiness too. It wasn’t his intention but that was what he had been doing and the guilt that pinched at his heart was painful. How could he deny such a cheerful and innocent person something as wonderful as happiness? 

He was ashamed. But as he watched you and his future self embrace each other tightly before pulling away to look into each other’s eyes, something began to tug at the strings of his heart. It was a yearning, a craving, a desperate need to see you and hold you and pull you into a kiss he only plans to deepen and never pull away from.  

Future Regulus has his arms wrapped around your waist as your hands hold his face at either side, your fingers twitching in the temptation to comb through his inky, curled locks. It seemed like forever before you finally pulled away from one another and future Regulus leaned back to flick his wand, accio-ing a bouquet into his hands. 

With fond eyes, Regulus watches your future self’s reaction as if he were the one to bring you the flowers and not the future version of him. He savours the bright smile across your kiss-coloured lips and the little jumps you do. Cute. You always jumped like that to express your cute joy. It’s so incredibly endearing, no wonder his future self was entranced and fully committed to bringing you simple joys over and over again. The edges of the scene begin to fade as the cloud becomes lighter and lighter in colour. Eventually, the vibrant colours of the scene begin to bleach out just as you hold the flowers to your face for a shy smell of the blossoms. The image fully bleeds away just as everyone witnesses future Regulus bring your spare hand up to his lips, where he kisses your knuckles while his chin brushes against your wedding ring. All the while, his own, matching marriage band glistens on his ring finger. 

The class is silent as the professor vanishes the smoke completely and broken glass pieces with a flick of his wand. 

“50 POINTS TO RAVENCLAW AND SLYTHERIN!” everyone is jolted from their frozen states at the booming elation of their divination professor, “Congratulations on a successful future reading Miss Pandora and Mr Black,” he turns to the argumentative student from earlier and remarks somewhat patronisingly, “your pair could learn a thing or two from that,”

The gossip chain was immediately in motion after the class. By the time dinner had arrived for everyone, the entire school was privy to what had happened and Regulus was on the lookout for any indication that you may have heard the news too. 

“WhAT?!” James Potter’s incredulous squawk of disbelief was heard by everyone and Regulus had to bite back a smirk. Trust Potter to make things obvious – if James knows then you know too. “THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING! NOOOO!” James’ protesting sobs soon became incoherent as he slumped against the dinner table, those closest to him patting his back as others avoid his theatrics completely, wanting to have a normal dinner for once. Some things were coherent enough such as: ‘corrupted’, ‘married’, ‘please no’, ‘never let it happen’, and ‘not her’. All were expressed in varying degrees of distress and despair, as expected from someone who took it upon himself to adopt you as his baby sister despite the absence of any blood relation. 

For now, Regulus can wait, he can hold his tongue, and he can keep himself from reaching out and pulling you into a long embrace. He had yet to apologise for his pathetic behaviour – what was he thinking distancing himself from you, thinking it would keep you safe when that only leaves the two of you vulnerable and deprived of the future you had the potential to share. 

Looking over, he watches with fond eyes as you comfort James in a vain attempt to distract yourself from the gossip and becoming overly flustered. You’re too precious. He’ll allow himself one full day; he can, at least, keep himself away that long to help you digest what happened. 

Appearing to sense his lingering gaze, you look up and meet his eyes. As predicted, you’re immediately flustered and look away but not without trying to face him again and offer your usual warm smile. It’s as if you’re telling him it’s okay, that you’re okay with what’s happened and what it all means for you. You look adorable, so cute and sweet. Why do you have to look like that and torture him further?!

No… he can’t last a full day. 

He won’t even make it past the hour.  

navi.

A/N : why is it that I’m inspired at the most inconvenient times? I couldn’t go to sleep because I had this scenario stuck in my head until I finally gave up and decided to write it on the spot at 3am. It’s super cute so I hope you darlings like it too hehe~ 

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