#And then the orb starts talking and its like

[lesbianherald]

Hi! Just curious. What exactly is that you didn't like about Viktor's arc? I've seen a few people saying the same thing and idk if I'm missing something or I'm just too over the moon about him that my brain has gone smooth haha.

oh no oh no i'm probably going to write like a whole dissertation about this I am so sorry I'm literally cracking my knuckles I have so many thoughts and not all of them I'll even get to articulate here.

Saying this upfront: you aren't smooth-brained for disagreeing with me or liking it. I want to say that outright as I'm a very opinionated person and I am going to state my very strong opinions very plainly.

That being said : I genuinely feel like season 2 needed like... character writing 101 for a lot of these characters, especially the two characters whose names start with a 'V'. I'm so serious if one of my students brought in a story like this, I would (gently) take it apart.

If you don't want to read the whole thing I'm about to unleash, the crux of it is this for me:

Throughout the course of the season, it's very hard to discern how many of Viktor's decisions are his own. He lacks the baseline autonomy that's necessary for satisfying development. The magic of the hexcore becomes a shiny distraction that makes meaningful development impossible. Additionally, season 2 forgets so many of the themes and threads they explored with Viktor in season one explicitly in terms of class and his position on war and weapons manufacturing.

And, like almost everything in season 2, these issues are compounded because his story is done at a pace that's completely lightning-fast and prioritizes the wrong things.

Here's my thesis:

How Does a Man Like Viktor Become the Machine Herald? Arcane's Answer: Magic orb or vague sadness or something idk.

Harry Lloyd said in a season 1 commentary somewhere that one of the main appeals for Viktor is knowing who he is in the game and wondering how you take a man like him, who is so kind and has people's best interests at heart, and see him slowly become the machine herald.

I agree 100% that this is part of the story's appeal for players. And it would be a delight and surprise for non-players.

We... get that very juicy premise ripped from us. We don't see him making decisions grounded in the character they set up in season 1 at all, really. And its very unsatisfying seeing him be rendered a mere victim of circumstance with vague attachments to his past self.

This is not necessarily a complaint about arcane herald vs machine herald (I did not play league and am not attached to the lore) but a complaint that a lot of what happens with Viktor in season 2 seems very unattached to his psychology.

Christian Linke himself said (and I forget where, so I am sorry if I'm paraphrasing terribly) that part of the question he wanted the audience to ask with Viktor is how much of this is really him? Bluntly. That is incredibly silly. It's such an important question that it makes all other interesting questions one might have about him really hard to parse.

That's not compelling. That's a mistake. That's not rooted in character anymore but a vague magical orb.

Here are some questions that would have been more interesting for us to ask, Christian.

How does his desire to tamper out human emotion prompt him to do the unspeakable? What leads him there?

How far is he willing to go to take away human pain and suffering?

Is his version of pacifism really, in actuality, a form of violence?

Will his connection with others be enough to bring him back to his humanity? (this is a question we were not prompted to ask, and if we were, it would have made the final scene (which I love regardless) a lot more satisfying.

What is the root of his hunger for power? How much of his quest is a hunger for power and control over others (rooted in a fractured and tragic sense of self)? and how much is it rooted in his desire to help? Where is that line?

Any of these questions or any other questions we could enjoy exploring with Viktor become tampered with and weakened by the fact that a vague magical entity is controlling him in a vague and unrelatable way.

In short, 'How much of Viktor is still Viktor?' is a far less interesting question than. 'how is Viktor going to act, change, and learn? ' We are forced to ask the first at the cost of the second. He clearly is not fully himself this season.

The Dropping of Themes and Traits

Season 1's exploration of Viktor was multi-layered and fascinating. I feel like we got to see the establishment of a kind-hearted, sometimes awkward yet quite funny, passionate scientist.

I don't feel we see much of any of this in season 2. The stupid fucking orb overrides a lot of the traits we've come to know and love. This would have been cool if done with an ounce of care, understanding, or autonomy.

In season 1, we see Viktor in a position of powerlessness over and over. We see Viktor ignored and looked down upon by those in power both for his disability and, crucially, for his status as a Zaunite.

We're introduced to him as someone who is desperate to prove himself and carve a place for himself. He knows he's brilliant. And he knows he can help people with that big brain of his. That's all he wants. And he wants to make his mark (something I theorize is rooted in his loneliness as well as his ambition)

(Side note: I find a lot of the debate on whether or not Viktor is insecure a little silly because you can be both confident and insecure. He's incredibly secure in his abilities as a scientist, but I fully do believe he places all his worth on his work because he's not as confident in other places - represented visually by him trying to point out his boat when Sky is looking at him in the flashback. A 'don't look at me look at what I've made' type thing.)

Anyways. Viktor is willing to risk his position as an assistant and, honestly, his position at the academy and in Piltover as a whole to help Jayce. This is not just because he's 'lol so chaotic' or whatever. This is actually quite calculated. He knows he will get nowhere in Piltovian society without bending rules, because Piltover was not built for people like him.

"Do you think it was my life's ambition to be an assistant?"

But even in taking that huge step for himself, his new role is complicated.

We see him sit through meetings where his people are talked about like burdens. We see his closest (and honestly only) ally and partner speak over him in meetings and overrule his desires and wants when it comes to the future of hextech in massive ways. We see Jayce call all Zaunites 'dangerous' (I love jayce... don't shoot me please. But we do often forget that this does canonically happen and what makes Jayce so incredible is that he grows from this point)

The moment on the bridge directly causes him not to tell Jayce about what he's doing to himself. Jayce apologizing right after doesn't matter so much as it reinforces one of Viktor's fears: he is alone.

We see his illness, !!!!caused by Piltover's oppression!!!!, take over. We see him and Jayce grow apart. We see the way his loneliness impacts his desperation and the way his desperation impacts his loneliness and we see the way he's so damn afraid and just wants to live. We see how much he wants to help people, and how even though he's tried so hard he never got to achieve that because the limits of this society just don't allow for it.

Season 1 Act one is Viktor taking action for himself. season 1 Acts 2 and 3 are a brutal reminder that no matter how hard he works. No matter how hard he claws. He will always be who he is. And that makes him Powerless in this society. I honestly find it a really compelling storyline in terms of the 'bootstrap theory' and debunking that - but a different topic for a different time!

At the end of the season, he's able to gain a huge amount of power - speaking at the council about freeing his city - through Jayce's platforming and allyship. But at the end of the day it doesn't matter, because what the council is doing is too little too late - people in Zaun are too tired and too hurt - and he gets caught in the crossfire.

Despite all this, Season 2 does not engage with Viktor's being a Zaunite outside of the fact that he returns to Zaun first. But the themes explored related to class and power are gone - as they are with everyone else really.

It makes sense to me that one of the first things Viktor would do when granted a new body and new power would be to go and try to help people in Zaun, but the ambiguous mechanisms of the magic inside him, the immediate divorce with Jayce, and the bizarre way he goes about it don't make this land.

And even the return is rendered sort of meaningless. Where is the personal connection to this place? Why are we given no details related to his past here? Why doesn't he return to somewhere more personal for him?

He speaks in this cold, unaffected monotone. This healing ability seems to be the 'recursive impulse' - so him finally getting to help people just like he wanted feels rooted so much in the arcane influence it becomes murky and strange.

This is more nitpicky, and I'd be okay with it being ignored in the right context - but another aspect of his character that gets dropped is his work as a scientist. His desire to help people not through magic, but through invention. This would have been fascinating. (They try to keep this alive through vague allusions to 'look at what I've created' blah blah but again, so much of it is all ORB)

What inventions would a fully autonomous Viktor who decided to leave Jayce and return to Zaun of his own fruition create? Would they toe the line between inventions of progress and inventions of destruction?

Guess we'll never know!

Speaking of weapons. Let's talk about weapons. Let's talk about Viktor's vehement opposition to weapons not being explored within the context of his relationship with Jayce or outside of the rule that there are none allowed in the commune - which becomes quite meaningless when he agrees to work with Ambessa. Yes - he saw those blueprints on the table. But that's all we get.

Also, the fact that Jayce just unquestionably builds hextech weapons in the finale, and they're used as a good thing and a way to fight off Noxus, makes me want to claw my own hair out. Like - my themes ! Not my precious themes !

Let's also talk about him working with Ambessa. There's no build-up to that decision, not near enough character work to make that believable and considering the way the plot is written elsewhere, I fully believe this is a huge part of the problem of the writer's room dropping the issue of class. The idea that Viktor, the character that they set up, would ever willingly work with Ambessa is laughable. There are so many other ways he could have gotten to the hexcore in his fully evolved form, easily bested Jayce, and evolved. And they did absolutely nothing in the writing of season 2 to make that an interesting or satisfying choice.

An arc is only an arc if there is substance between point a and b. There's no substance here. There's vague orb. There are little glimpses of the pain he's in because of his separation from Jayce. Teeny tiny allusions to him trying to shut down his emotions. That's simply not enough.

You cannot bring a character who values choice and autonomy, whose been made to feel so powerless and is empathetic, to "choice is meaningless" without a deep study of his psychology and pain. Viktor taking away the autonomy of others, inhabiting their bodies. Being super chill with it. Okay. Coo.

Where does his desire for evolution even come from? For real? Because they seem to mistake Viktor's ambition with his desire for perfection, which is something that was never really... brought up? It could be believable that he felt this way. But where were the signs of this? Not just in season 1 but in season 2. He always wanted to help, not make humanity perfect. Because this is grounded in so little emotional logic I assume we're supposed to be satisfied with the idea that magic orb + machine herald form = ??? this ??? like ??? why???

If he wants to create a world where nobody can feel pain or complex emotions of any sort anymore, which is not psychologically where he was at the end of season 1 at all despite all he went through, you have to give us an event (ideally multiple) in season 2 that could break his mind this badly. Jayce killing him could have been this, but it happened so fast and was executed so impersonally that it doesn't work. He doesn't really acknowledge it happened the next time they see each other. Which... would probably be important to do... again emotional logic where?

His entire speech about humanity at the end of episode 6 feels like it's trying to be a catalyst. But it also feels... incredibly generic and impersonal. It felt written to play over a flashy montage of all the other characters fighting. Not for Viktor. If this was Viktor's moment where he finally snaps, we should probably focus on Viktor. And, of course, it doesn't help that he has this odd monotone this whole time, as if he's not fully in control of himself (this is not a rip on Harry Lloyd at all. He did what he was told and did it very, very well.)

Because remember. They wanted us to ask this. They wanted us to ask how much of this was orb. I think because they knew on some level they could not create a compelling enough story to get viktor where they wanted him to be for some reason without orb. That none of this would make sense without the vague spice of the arcane. And guess what it still doesn't.

Becuase people will not relate to a vague arcane influence. Connect to it. We would want to see what actually in his life made him become this. What in his psychology outside of magic orb made him do this? They provide vague tastes of this in the same way La Croix flavors its drinks.

Brought Back Wrong Can Work: Here's Why This One Didn't

I also really hate the trope of killing off characters only to bring them back. And back again. And... again. Because guess what. It takes one of the core elements of the human experience - death- and cheapens it. This for sure happens with Viktor the second time he dies.

But what i do like about bringing someone back from the dead is when you consider how doing so can bring someone back wrong. Or changed.

But because the orb is so impersonal. So bland. Such a vague sinister force that has very little to do with character, it doesn't... work. It doesn't hit. Viktor doesn't really grapple with being brought back from the dead against his will in a meaningful way.

Timing

You can see concepts of a plan, if you will, within this story. I can see how Viktor would naturally go to the undercity after waking up changed with new healing powers. But it happens way to fast. So bizarrely. I can see how he would build a society like this (of course, the power of that is dulled because orb and by the fact that we don't see it happen). I can see how the pain of being rejected and left behind by the only person who made him feel like he wasn't alone (Jayce) could have lead to a category 5 'make me evil' sort of meltdown.

Becoming the Herald, asking Singed to begin the transformation, is the only true time in this show in act 2 (before his final moments) where it feels like he's making a choice for himself. But again, we get so little time with him. To see his emotions. To elegantly point from that moment with Jayce to Viktor's need to transform and in doing so rid himself of emotion (something that they did not expand on enough ) Like oh my god, how much more satisfying would it have been to see Viktor torn apart by his own emotions - in his own viktor way - and to have singed offer him a way out of his pain - and then have viktor take it. There are certain things that should be obvious.

But It's both the timing of and the structure of the story - how quickly we cut between plotlines - that makes this really hard to follow. That makes moments that could be something feel rushed and sloppy.

Let's Talk about Sky

Viktor's guilt over sky was absolutely reasonable to explore, but it was not.... all that haunted him. To make Sky the sole guide/companion to him in the astral/arcane headspace I found to be a bizarre and honestly kind of offensive choice.

Amanda overton said she was used as a "Jayce substitute" essentially. And... why? Literally why. Why would you write a character whose sole deal is having an unrequited crush on a man only to bring her back to be 'the embodiment of his guilt and loneliness' as well as a 'substitute' - it feels... icky to me? Just in a writing women and especially women of color point of view? And it didn't feel true to Viktor's character either.

I think if we actually got to know sky better in season 1, this would have worked because it would have been obvious how different she was, how she was a product of his mind or the hexcore or whatever (the lore being vague here doesn't help...)

Plot Twist because I keep hating on Orb: They Could Have Made The Orb Really Cool

Here's the thing. Magic influence on its own can be used to write extremely compelling plots. Walk with me.

Imagine Viktor wakes up. Immediately knows something's wrong with him. That something inside him is toying with him. Making him see things (visions of not only sky, but maybe his parents, Jayce, Heimer). He wakes up earlier in act 1. Despite his anger, he stays with jayce in order to better understand himself and his powers. All the while, he is haunted by whispers and visions of the hexcore. What if it whispers to him of his own insecurities and failures?

What if Things with Jayce are tense. Jayce has to admit to making weapons again, in an argument leading to more haunting visions from the hexcore offering him an out: emotional numbness. You would never have to feel again Viktor. If you let me in fully, you would never have to be alone again. You'd be more powerful, Viktor.

Imagine Viktor is there during that attack ambessa orchestrated. That he has the horror of witnessing Jayce wield his hammer in a genuine attempt to defend himself and the people he loves. He sees first hand how hextech is being used for destruction in a way that horrifies him.

Imagine him being accused of being a part of it because he's a Zaunite - humiliated in some way. Publicly. Imagine the emotional trauma of this resulting in a falling out so devastating he embraces his visions of the hexcore - gives into the numbness. And only then leaves. With the hexcore... he feels better than he has in years. He hopes he can give the gift of this to others. Now he is under orb influence, but now the way he's gotten there is more satisfying to me at least.

Now imagine him fighting the orb influence in key moments. Imagine the color in his eyes coming back. Imagine Viktor's relationship with the arcane being more of a dance than a vague entanglement. Imagine its influence haunting him in the same way Jinx's visions haunt her. Imagine it being personal rooted in his character.

Old Man Viktor

Listen. I am the old man Viktor connoisseur. I love him. I love the idea of him. I wrote a whole fic about him, during which I had to spend a lot of time with the story. It's sort of... very much impossible to make much sense of?

I'm not mad at the fact that it's an obvious retcon. Honestly, because I think from a storytelling perspective, it worked a lot better than most of the decisions they made this season.

But I'm not a fan of (shocking) how little time we spend with him. How little chance we get to understand his motivatons. And also. What the fuck he said to Jayce to make Jayce's first line of action killing him? In my fic, I made it that Jayce needed to shoot Viktor to get the hexcore out, so he could communicate to viktor without influence. But that felt like heavy lifting I shouldn't necessarily have to do for something so important. It also doesn't feel like a compelling or satisfying question to make your audience have to wrestle with.

The Final Scene

Want to say upfront I am not one of the people who did not like Jayce's speech.

I was quite moved by it. And aside from the perhaps out of place mention of the illness brought on by Piltover which I can understand the criticism for, I felt it was beautiful. (I am disabled btw)

That being said. I think i'd be a sobbing mess on the floor if the themes Jayce is presenting in his speech were more present throughout season 2. Because we really don't see this enough - the desire for perfection.

I'm also not one of those people who thinks Viktor's insecurities weren't present in season 1. To me, they were and were obvious, but not enough in his motivations and actions in season 2 to make Jayce's speech land like it could.

I really loved Jayce's arc in season 2. Him immediately embracing Viktor after he woke from the goo was surprising but felt right. But I wish they had more genuine conflict rooted in their conflict in season 1 that would allow their final moment to land even harder.

I really liked the final scene, and it made me an emotional mess. But weirdly, I'd almost like it as a short film removed from the context of the season two, which says just how little Viktor's arc this season contributed to the moment.

Final Thoughts

I'm so sorry I went so in-depth. I just love him as a character and feel he was very much not done justice.

We can attribute some of this to the lack of time. But when you know you have a lack of time, you need to write with that in mind instead of trying to do it all. And ultimately, I found a lot of scenes this season a waste of precious time. They had so many characters alone contemplating something intangible or alone and trapped for episodes. They didn't plan this with the care and precision needed to pull it off.

I also want to note that I know I say here a lot that there's a lot they needed to make "more obvious". This is not because I'm stupid. But when you're a writer, you need to know what to highlight and what you can leave vague so you leave your audience exploring the right nuances and asking the satisfying questions.

Anyways umm. The end. Holy shit, I'm so sorry I wrote so much.

[artwithsydney]

If I was on star trek I would have done numbers because of my baby doll eyes tiny waist and C cups and they would have put so much makeup on me And they would have shaved my eyebrows off and airbrushed every shot and they would have kept shooting the same angle of my face every time. And they would have given me a huge wig. And they would have given me a bunch of sparkles. And they would have given me lifts. And they would have said my god what a stunning creature... And they would have said now look like youre really kissing william shatner

[what-is-it-to-be-pk-esque]

My partner finally finished BG3 but has no idea that his ending was actually bad cause he was a pro-Vlaakith githyanki who rode off with Lae'zel but got NO EPILOGUE where Withers points out y'all died im 😭😭😭

they have no idea what happened with Gale or anyone else (who was still alive) after flying away 🙃🙃🙃

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hello!! If you’re still taking requests I’d love to see a Nanami x Reader fic where the reader is pregnant but doesn’t realize yet but I’d like showing OBVIOUS symptoms and for Nanami to start to catch on to them, I don’t know if that’s like weird? 😭 Also I hope you’re doing good!!

THIS. IS. EVERYTHING.

Yeah, we're doing this right now

Nanami realizing you're pregnant before you do

Pairing: Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,2k

Synopsis: well, basically the request above hehe

Warnings: I mean, reader is pregnant lol, fluff fluff fluff, Nanami is just the greenest flag I can't, please tell me you enjoy this as much as I do, I LOVE THAT MAN

Lately, everything feels… off.

It's subtle at first. Mornings are harder than they used to be, a strange kind of sluggishness that lingers in your limbs no matter how much coffee you drink after waking up. Your back aches at the most random times. And don't even get started on the nausea that strikes out of nowhere, leaving you clutching the bathroom sink with trembling hands.

But, still, it doesn’t cross your mind - not at first.

Nanami’s been noticing though. He’s always been perceptive, sharp in the way he observes the world, but lately, his focus seems to rest more on you. It starts with the small things: a subtle glance as you push your breakfast away with a grimace, the way his brow furrows when you wince, pressing a hand to your lower back. He doesn’t ask you about it immediately, and you’re grateful for that. Nanami doesn’t rush things, never has. He knows you well enough to wait until the right moment.

Today, however, something is different.

It’s a quiet Saturday morning. You’re both in the kitchen, sunlight streaming through the curtains in soft beams. Nanami’s making coffee, his movements precise as always, while you sit at the kitchen table with your hands wrapped around a cup of ginger tea. You’ve been craving that instead of coffee these days, the rich scent of the brew turning your stomach in a way it never used to. To be honest, you’ve never been a tea drinker your whole life.

He’s noticed that too.

You yawn, stifling the sound behind your hand as you stretch in your chair. There’s a strange heaviness in your body, and the thought of going back to bed, even after a full night’s sleep, is oddly tempting. It’s the third time this week that the idea of a nap has crossed your mind before noon. You blink hard, forcing your eyes to focus, and turn to Nanami, who’s watching you over the rim of his cup.

“Are you feeling alright?” he questions, his tone neutral but his eyes searching.

“Yeah, why?” you respond, but your voice lacks its usual energy.

Even to your own ears, it sounds tired. You clear your throat and offer a small smile, hoping to brush off the question as well as the wave of concern that starts bubbling up your chest all over again.

“I’ve just been a little out of it lately, that’s all.”

Nanami places his cup down on the counter, his gaze never leaving your face.

“You’ve been ‘a little out of it’ for a while now, darling.”

There’s a weight to his words, a quiet concern that has your defenses rising instinctively. You sit up straighter, forcing a more convincing smile this time.

“I’m fine, really. Just tired. It’s probably work.”

It’s true, to some extent. Work has been stressful, the usual demands piling up, but this exhaustion feels… different. It’s deeper, sinking into your bones in a way that no amount of rest seems to fix.

Nanami doesn’t say anything right away, but you can feel him assessing you. His silence is almost louder than words. You know he won’t push you to talk, but his patience, the way he waits for you to come to your own conclusion, can be just as insistent.

You sigh, leaning back in your chair and rubbing at your eyes. There’s no way you’ll get out of this situation, not when your beloved boyfriend sits opposite of you with his calm but demanding orbs staring straight through your soul.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m coming down with something?”

It’s a flimsy excuse, and you both know it. But before you can think of anything else to say, a wave of nausea hits you hard and fast, making you lurch forward. You press a hand to your mouth, eyes wide as the world tilts just slightly. Oh god, not again.

Nanami is at your side in an instant, his hand on your back, warm and grounding.

“Hey, hey… breathe,” he murmurs gently, his thumb rubbing small circles against your spine.

“It’s okay. Just breathe.”

You close your eyes and focus on the rhythm of your breathing, counting each inhale and exhale until the nausea begins to subside. Slowly, you sit back, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. The embarrassment is hot on your face, and you can’t quite meet Nanami’s eyes.

“I’m fine, Kento”, you mutter, though you can tell it sounds unconvincing.

Nanami’s hand is still on your back, his touch firm yet gentle. He doesn’t say anything, not yet. You know he’s waiting, giving you space to figure out what’s going on. But even through your haze of denial, a part of you knows the truth is starting to unravel.

“Does this happen often?”

His voice is calm, but there’s an undercurrent of something more. Something you can’t quite place.

You swallow hard, not sure how to answer.

“It’s just been the past couple of weeks,” you admit quietly.

“I think it’s stress. Maybe some kind of stomach bug?”

Nanami’s brow furrows slightly, and he crouches down beside your chair, his eyes searching your face with that same quiet intensity.

“Are there any other symptoms?”

Your mouth opens to say no, but then you stop, thinking back over the past few weeks. The tiredness, the nausea, the strange sensitivity to smells, your shifting moods - small things you’d brushed off or tried to ignore. But now, all at once, it feels like they’re adding up, slotting together in a way that you hadn’t considered before.

You glance down at your hand, the one resting on your stomach, and something inside you clicks.

Oh.

Oh.

Nanami must notice the shift in your expression because his hand stills on your back.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice low and steady.

You swallow hard, the words catching in your throat before you finally manage to speak.

“I think… I might be pregnant.”

There. You’ve said it. And the weight of those words hangs heavy in the air between you, a truth you hadn’t been ready to acknowledge until now.

Kento doesn’t react immediately. His expression stays calm, though you can see the flicker of something in his eyes - surprise, perhaps, or maybe something more. Did he already suspect this? Is this why he pushed you to think about your symptoms further? Slowly, he straightens up, standing in front of you now as he takes a deep breath.

“Are you sure?”

You shake your head, feeling a little lost.

“I’m not. I… I hadn’t really thought about it until just now.”

The truth is, you hadn’t considered the possibility at all. With everything going on - work, life, the general busyness of existing, it hadn’t crossed your mind that this could be the reason behind everything you’ve been feeling.

But now that it’s out in the open, you can’t help but wonder how you missed the signs.

Nanami’s hand gently cups your chin, tilting your face up so that you’re looking at him. His gaze is steady, calm in a way that grounds you, just like always.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions yet,” he says quietly.

“But if you think there’s a chance…”

You nod, your throat suddenly tight.

“Yeah. There might be.”

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The air between you feels thick with unspoken emotions, a quiet understanding settling between you. Nanami steps closer, his hand moving from your chin to cup your cheek instead, his thumb brushing against your skin.

“We’ll figure this out,” he murmurs, his voice soft.

“Together.”

The sincerity in his words washes over you, bringing with it a flood of emotions you hadn’t realized you were holding back. You blink, your vision blurring slightly as you reach up to cover his hand with yours.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nanami’s expression softens, and he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I know. But whatever happens, we’ll face it together. I promise” he mutters against your skin.

You nod, your heart swelling with a mix of fear, uncertainty, and something else, something warmer, softer. You aren’t alone in this. No matter what happens, you have your boyfriend by your side, steady and unshakable.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours again.

“Do you want to take a test?” he asks, his voice careful, as if he’s gauging your readiness.

You hesitate, biting your lip.

“I… I don’t know. Maybe? I mean, I guess I should, right?”

Nanami nods, but he doesn’t push.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

The idea of taking a test feels overwhelming, like it would make everything real in a way you’re not sure you’re prepared for. But at the same time, the uncertainty is starting to weigh on you, the not knowing gnawing at the edges of your thoughts.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you try to gather yourself. When you open them again, Nanami is still there, watching you with that quiet patience you’ve come to rely on so much.

“Okay,” you say finally, your voice trembling just a little.

“Okay. I’ll take a test.”

Nanami squeezes your hand gently, a reassuring presence beside you.

“I’ll go get one,” he offers, his tone calm and matter-of-fact, like he’s suggesting something as simple as picking up groceries.

You nod, feeling a little more settled now that a decision has been made.

“Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

He leans down, pressing another soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back.

“I’ll be back soon.”

With that, he grabs his keys and heads for the door, casting one last glance over his shoulder before he slips out into the hallway.

Once he’s gone, the quiet of the apartment feels almost too loud. You sit there for a long moment, staring at the cup of tea in front of you, your mind racing with thoughts you can’t quite hold onto.

Pregnant. You might be pregnant.

The idea feels too big, too surreal to grasp, and yet it’s there, lingering just at the edge of your awareness. A part of you is scared, terrified of the changes this could bring. But another part, a part you’re only just beginning to acknowledge, feels something else. Hope, maybe? Excitement? It’s hard to tell.

All you know for sure is that everything feels different now, that your whole life will be turned upside down if this test comes out positive.

When Nanami returns a short while later, test in hand, you take it from him with trembling fingers. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you a small, reassuring nod as you disappear into the bathroom.

The minutes that follow are some of the longest of your life. You pace back and forth in front of the sink, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for the results. The silence feels deafening, and all you can do is focus on your breathing, trying to keep yourself calm.

Finally, the time is up. You glance down at the test, your breath catching in your throat as you read the result.

Positive.

You stare at it for a long moment, your mind struggling to process what you’re seeing. And then, slowly, the reality starts to sink in.

You’re pregnant.

With shaking hands, you open the bathroom door to find Nanami standing just outside, waiting. He looks up at you, his expression calm but expectant.

“Well?” he asks quietly.

You swallow hard, your voice catching in your throat as you hold up the test.

“It’s positive.”

For a moment, Nanami doesn’t say anything. His eyes flicker to the test in your hand, and then back to your face, his expression unreadable. And then, slowly, he steps forward, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle, grounding embrace.

“We’re going to be okay,” he murmurs against your hair.

“You’re going to be okay.”

And somehow, with his arms around you, you really believe him. Maybe you will be able to work this out. After all, you have none other than Kento Nanami by your side, right?

“Kento…”, you begin, the flood of sniffs and wild emotions now slowly but surely calming down.

“What is it, darling?”

“Did you…did you know?”

He sends a small smile your way while gently stroking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I couldn’t be sure. But after seeing you like this for a couple of weeks now, I had some suspicions”, he admits quietly.

You let out a huff.

“I can’t believe you realized it earlier than I did.”

“You are my life, (y/n). I notice every little thin about you.”

“And now you’ll be the father of a child”, you breathe out.

The words still feel strange while rolling off your tongue. Kento Nanami will be a father – the father of your child.

You are pregnant.

This is real.

“And I couldn’t ask for a better mother for my child.”

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

@hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut 

@mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0

@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife 

@coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain 

@risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

@ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

@sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world

@oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr @ryumurin

[awrkive]

Idk I must have some problems I need to talk about with my therapist, but I NEED the #3 lmao

summary: jungkook is usually a nice guy from the way he interacts with other people – but the only exception comes to you. and you can't figure out why.

w/c: 3.5k

note: aurkayyyy general consensus says write # 3 and that post got 40 likes idk so here it is ig.. unedited cos its 3am but also i tried my very best awrkive nation 😞💔 under the cut cos its long asf for a drabble crying

People always gravitate to you. You have this sort of unbreakable and contagious energy around you that just pulls people right into your orb – your classmates in middle school through college, your cousins, even the cashiers at the cafes you like visiting downtown every here and there. 

And it is why Jeon Jungkook from your Environmental Science class baffles you. Because while everybody in the lecture hall – even prof Nam – likes to give you a smile or even just a nod of acknowledgement when you walk in, he does the total opposite and will just do about anything to avoid you. 

It had been during the first week of the term when you realized this fact. When Jungkook seemed to have abhorred the idea of sitting next to you because somebody had “stolen” his seat. 

Of course he knew the fact that you technically could not “steal” a seat in college – there are no such things as assigned seats in college, after all – so you had kindly offered the empty chair beside you, then, but he just looked at you with his knitted brows, like he couldn’t believe you had asked him that in the first place. 

In the end, he chose the free seat at the back of the hall – even though as far as you know him, he’s the type to like sitting in the front rows to engage with the class better. 

However, that did not deter you from trying to befriend him. In fact, it just made you want to get closer to him more. 

You like Jeon Jungkook. Not romantically, of course! You just like the fact that he is extremely smart and listen, he seems nice. The girls always have something good to say about him, and he’s friends with one of your closest friends, Namjoon – whose judgment you trust most of all. He’s acquainted with most of the people you know and you’ve seen him interact with others – he’s charming and doesn’t exactly look broody and uninterested when he’s with them. 

So when Prof Nam partnered you both in a presentation for your final requirement for the term, you were over the moon to have been given the opportunity. 

“__,” Jungkook calls, but you’re way too busy admiring the strands of his hair that had now been dyed to gold – a contrast to his previously dark brown locks. It’s mostly hidden from the beanie he’s wearing. Something you’ve noticed he’s been wearing a lot these days even though it’s not that cold. 

You think it’s because he’s not too keen on getting attention for his newly dyed hair.

Jungkook calls your name one more time, and this time it snaps you out of your trance. 

“Hm?” You look up, blinking at him – only to be met with his knitted brows again. At that all too familiar look by now, you frown slightly, knowing the tell-tale signs of his annoyance. 

“I’ve been asking you about biofuels for the past two minutes.” 

“Oh!” Your eyes widen for a bit, quickly looking at your iPad. “Uhm… it’s here…” you slide your device over to his direction and he’s quick to read over your work. With him seated beside you, it’s easy to get a waft of his cologne – and you don’t even think it’s cologne in the first place. It just seems like his natural smell – like fresh laundry. Downy or something. 

Ever since you started working on the project, you’ve been going to cafes and the library to work on it – for at least an hour – and you’re starting to get accustomed to everything Jeon Jungkook. He’s smart – and that’s a given – but he also smells really good; that’s what you noted specifically.

But most importantly, he’s dyed his mid-length hair blonde. And he looks different but somehow… really handsome. With his prescription glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, you just can’t help but to look. 

“Where is your citation for this?” He says, pointing to a certain part of your work. 

At that, you grow anxious. Jungkook’s really serious about his academics. And even though he looks distracting with his blonde hair right now, you can’t help but feel a bit nervous. 

You’re not dumb or something! You’ve survived three years of college just fine – you’re just not the likes of him, or Namjoon, for that matter. But you do well for yourself. 

But Jungkook, reading over your work with furrowed brows, you can’t help but second-guess yourself.

Especially when the next thing you can say is just, “Oh, uhm… I thought citations would only be after every four sentences?” 

“Did you not read the instructions?” Jungkook says. It’s not harsh but there’s a certain lilt to it. A bit pointed that you visibly recoil. As if noticing you do that, Jungkook clears his throat and looks right back to your iPad. With a tone that considerably sounds gentler to you this time, he says, “You should put a citation every three sentences.” 

“Okay…” You say. You look at Jungkook and you give him a tight-lipped smile when he meets your gaze. “I’m sorry.” 

His gaze lasts longer than necessary – he almost always doesn’t really look at you but this time he does, and just when you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, he peels his eyes away from you and turns to his computer, not saying anything. 

You sulk in your seat, revising your paper while Jungkook acts like a stranger beside you again. 

“Kook…” you say after awhile. You watch as Jungkook visibly stills at the nickname. Nonetheless, he hums, but he doesn’t stray his eyes from his laptop. “I really like your hair.” 

Nothing. 

“Kookie…” This time, you poke at the material of his purple hoodie. “I said I like your hair.” 

He doesn’t budge. 

When you make a move to poke him again, he finally says, “I heard that.” 

You turn back to your google doc with a pout. 

You don’t know what you’re expecting from him. A thank you, maybe? But that would be unlikely for him to say to you. He’s just always so quiet around you. Annoyed, irritated—

“Thank you.” 

At first you don’t quite catch it, but you kind of got the gist. Unbelieving, you turn to him with a confused look. “What?” 

“Isaidthankyou.” 

But it was spoken so fast that you just grew more puzzled. 

“What…?” 

“Nevermind.” He says, hacking away on his laptop again. 

You pout the whole time writing your paper. 

———

You’re just about to approach Jungkook to talk about your recent development for your project when somebody beats you to it first. 

It’s Han Hyorin from the same class. You made friends with her from another minor you’ve had in the previous semester and she was a really nice woman – sort of similar to you. A big ball of sunshine, all smiles and cheerful and full of energy. It’s why you clicked instantly a few months ago. 

But that’s also why it surprises you when you see her talking animatedly with Jungkook and him listening to her attentively – smiling and laughing. 

Certainly not his vibe when you’re the one in conversation with him. 

Listen, you’ve been so accustomed to his behavior to you all this time that you just don’t mind it now. But for the record, you just thought that maybe – he just can’t quite level up to your energy. You’re too bubbly and he’s too… calm. And you get that! You certainly don’t hold it against him. 

But as he catches a glimpse of you his mood turns completely different, no longer smiling ear to ear. It makes Hyorin stop speaking, turning her body to look at your direction as well. 

“Oh, hi __!” She greets, grinning. “I was just talking to Jungkook here.” 

“Hi, Hyorin.” You wave at her, mirroring her smile. You walk towards them, hugging your iPad tight to your chest. “Hi, Jungkook.” 

He just sends you a timid smile. 

Weirdly enough, it makes your heart twinge. 

“Anyway, are you two gonna work on your project? Sorry for keeping him up, if that’s the case. I’ll be off then.” Hyorin says as she picks up her bag. She looks at Jungkook once again, saying, “I’ll send the link to you later, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook only nods before Hyorin walks out of the lecture hall.

You watch her disappearing back before you turn to Jungkook. “I didn’t know you guys were friends.” 

He shrugs. “We talk sometimes.” 

“Ah.” You nod. 

“Anyway, you got my text, right? Hoseok said it’s too crowded at 556 right now. And my laptop’s dead so I can’t use it either. Left my charger at my place,” he says, starting to put his stuff in his backpack. 

“Yeah, I got it,” you say, stepping out a bit to let him out of his row. You follow beside him when he begins to walk. “Well, where should we do the project?” 

You see Jungkook wince. “I have no choice but do you mind if I just suggest my place? I have a roommate but he’s not around this time. Or we can just call it off for today and resched.” 

You blink at him. “Your place?” 

He arches a brow. “Yeah. Is it okay? Do you have something else in mind?” 

Shaking your head, you look straight ahead. “It’s fine.” 

“It’s just a three minute walk from the campus. Do you mind?” 

“Nope.” 

“Alright, then.” 

——— 

Jungkook thinks you’re strange today. 

You’re usually so full of stories. Never ran out of things to say. His silence never deterred you from sharing something and even though Jungkook would deny it to you and to all his friends – he actually secretly enjoys your blabbering. Finds most of them funny.

But right now, you’re all quiet on your iPad and notes, focused on doing your work. The last thing he’s heard you say something was when you commented earlier, “This is a nice place,” when you stepped inside the threshold of his and Taehyung’s apartment.

No comment about his hair. Or his hoodie. Or the stupid occasional, “You look handsome today.” that makes his heart perform backflips against his ribcage and makes him all nervous that he can’t really look straight into your eyes for the rest of your interaction.

He finds it strange that he finds you strange today. He should be… happy about this right? He always tells his friends that you’re too… loud when they ask why he doesn’t seem to like you. For the record, he does not not like you. Jungkook just thinks you’re too much. 

Or that you make him feel too much it drives him insane.

“Are you alright?” He breaks the ice after a few minutes. He couldn’t help it. This isn’t like you at all. At this point, you should have already told him twenty different stories that includes your breakfast and the bird that keeps knocking on your window every 5am. By this time, you should have already asked him if he likes your outfit or some stupid shit like if he likes your nails. 

For the record, he likes all of them. Your blush pink nails and your pink skirt that stops above your thigh, exposing your smooth thighs that Jungkook always berates himself not to look at. You always wear skirts. He hates them. 

He hates that he doesn't really hate them. At all. 

“Huh?” You turn to look at him, blinking. Meek and pouty and puzzled. You look so cute it confuses the hell out of him. 

“I asked if you’re okay.” Jungkook says, leveling his voice. Lest he gives himself away. What would he give away, though? That he’s weirdly worried about your silence? That he’s starting to think maybe you’re getting fed up with his constant avoidance of you and you’re starting to realize he’s a shit person and he doesn’t deserve any of your time? 

That he’s putting way too much meaning into this? 

And what for? 

“Oh,” you utter. A bit taken aback. You nibble on your bottom lip and Jungkook tries hard not to focus too much on the way your gloss makes them look so plump. You had pretty lips. Jungkook’s not that prideful to admit that. Just to himself, though. “Yeah. I am fine. Why do you ask?” 

He clears his throat. “Nothing.” 

You look at him with furrowed brows but don’t really say anything further. “Okay.” 

When you go back to working in silence simultaneously again, Jungkook finds himself not being able to focus on the words of the journal article he’s reading. There’s a sentence to it he’s been going right over and over again. Everytime he reads it, it’s like the point just crosses right over his head and his efficacy in the language degrades every single time he repeats it internally.

All the while, you’re still quiet. 

And Jungkook’s had enough. 

Why weren't you saying anything? 

“__.” 

“Hm?” When you tilt your head to look at him, Jungkook nearly falls over his bed. You’re across the room on his computer desk while he’s on the mattress. 

God, you are so unbelievably beautiful without trying it makes his head ache. 

“Are you –uh. What’s with you today?” He finally asks. He watches as your face contorts into an expression of confusion once again, which he can’t really blame you for feeling the way. 

“What’s with me today?” 

“You’re just…” he tries to find the right words. “Quiet.” 

You don’t say anything for a while that Jungkook was about to take his words back. 

“Oh… I’m just not feeling well today, I think.” 

His brows furrowed. You looked perfectly fine today. You were your usual sunshine shelf when you stepped in class – all big grins and pretty laugh Seo Jihyun as usual was trying too hard to get your attention beside you all day. 

“Really?” He asks. “Do you need something?” 

It takes you by surprise. But you recover fast. “No, it’s fine.” 

“We don’t have to do this today if you’re feeling under the weather.” 

You laugh. And Jungkook thinks that’s a win. He thought he wasn’t getting any of that for today. 

“It’s fine, thank you, Jeon.”

Jeon?! Jeon, like his surname? 

He chooses to ignore that. But then a few minutes passed and he spoke again. God, he couldn’t stand any of this.

“How’s the bird?” 

“The bird?” You parrot back. 

“The bird at your window.” 

“Oh!” A flash of recognition goes through your face. “That. Well – as usual it knocked on my window again.” you giggle and it’s the first time Jungkook feels a little light ever since you entered his place. 

Good. This is good. 

“I didn’t know you’d remember that.” You say, giving him a small smile. 

Jungkook feels his cheeks burning so he had to look away. “You tell me about it everyday.” 

There’s a pout he can feel you’re sporting when you say, “But I thought you don’t care.” 

Jungkook frowns at that. 

But he realizes… he gets it. He doesn’t exactly show the opposite.

When he looks at you, your eyes are solemn and your downturned lips look so sad that it makes him feel like shit. 

See. This is why he’s always confused when he’s with you. You make him feel so much all at once and he can’t quite put it. 

“You tell me a lot of stuff everyday.” Is what he settles with. 

“Fair.” You say after awhile. “But uhm…” 

“Yes?” Jungkook immediately says, intrigued. You’re about to speak when his phone rings. You both look at the small device lying on his bed. When Jungkook picks it up, the caller ID says Han Hyorin. “Sorry, I’ll just pick this up.” 

Pressing on the green icon, he hears Hyorin’s voice at the end of the line. 

“Hey, Kook,” 

“Hi, Hyorin. What is it?” 

“What was your student email again? I can’t really find it on the roster.”

Jungkook recites it and then that’s the end of the conversation. He finds it strange because she could’ve just texted him but anyway, he turns to you again after the call ends. 

“Who was that?” You ask curiously. 

“Hyorin.” 

You still in your seat. Then nod. 

You don’t say anything again. 

And that stretches into another few minutes that Jungkook is once again confused. When he looks right over to you, you’re all up in your device. 

He stands up from the bed, leaves his laptop on the mattress, and then walks right over to your direction to stand behind the chair you’re seated on. Ducking down a bit, he peers over your shoulder to see what you’re doing. 

“You’re almost done?” 

When you turn back, your faces are so close to each other that his swivel chair creaks a little when you get taken aback. Jungkook steps back. 

“Yeah. I think so. You?” You say, looking up at him. 

Jungkook runs his fingers through his hair, inserting his hand on his pockets as he looks straight ahead on your screen. 

“I’ll finish up later.” 

You nod then turn back to your iPad. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows meet once again and he sighs. 

“__,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you mad at me?” 

You turn to him so quickly. “What?” 

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asks because he can’t take any of this anymore. You’re so… distant. And it makes him feel like he’s on edge. “You’ve been so quiet since we got here. I want to apologize if I did something wrong. But even if I didn’t, then I’m still sorry.”

Jungkook watches as your lips part, surprised to hear the words coming out of his mouth. Jungkook’s not the one to shy away from apologies – if he’s done something wrong, then he makes sure to take accountability. 

It’s different when it’s with you, though. He knows he isn’t exactly his nicest and his best to you… but it’s his complicated feelings that get in the way. He doesn’t know how to handle them. He doesn’t know how to handle you. 

“N-no!” You say. “You didn’t do anything.” 

He sends an arched brow your way. 

You shake your head vigorously. “It’s just… uhm… I thought…” 

“You thought…?” 

You look away, and it’s the first time Jungkook sees you seemingly shy. 

“I thought you’d like my company more if I didn’t talk much.” 

Now Jungkook’s just perplexed. 

You. ibble on your bottom lip before you say your next words. “I know you don’t exactly like me that much – that you’re just putting up with me because of this project and all that, but I really like you. Uhm. As a friend. I’d like to be your friend but I’m realizing now that I’m probably just annoying you with all of my blabbering and it’s unfair to you that I just keep on imposing myself on you even though you make it very clear that you’re not keen on befriend—” 

“__?” 

“— hm?” 

“Stop that.” Jungkook says because he can’t bear to hear you say things that aren’t the least bit true at all. “It’s not true.” 

“Which part?” you pout.

Jungkook would like to wipe that off your face with something. Like his lips. And that thought sends him into overdrive. He needs to get a grip of himself, seriously. 

“Everything.” 

What he doesn’t expect is for you to just frown. 

“You’re a liar.” 

“What?” 

You burst. “Well, for one– you always avoid me! You don’t even greet me in the hallways. And even in the same class you don’t smile at me or anything and the only time you ever acknowledge me is when we do this stupid project and okay I get it, you only like bubbly girls when they’re Han Hyorin, but why not me?”

Jungkook, puzzled, asks, “How’d Hyorin get into this?” 

Your shoulders deflate. “I don’t know.” 

“Can you—” Jungkook inhales a sharp breath. He closes his eyes before opening them back again. “Can you listen to me?” 

You plop back down on the chair with an indignant huff. Jungkook lets out a low chuckles but you only glare at him. 

So goddarn cute, he thinks to himself. 

“You’re just… you’re just too much okay?” He sees the way your face falls and he nearly punches himself for how he worded it. “Wait no– that’s not right. I meant, you’re just – you make me feel a lot of things, __.” 

“Things?” 

“Yeah. You confuse me.” 

“Why?” You look so confused it melts Jungkook. 

“I don’t know how to explain it either. Just that… you need to know I don’t not like you. I like your little blabbering. I look forward to your breakfast stories. I like your nails. I like your skirt. And I like your new apple pencil case.” 

Jungkook watches as your face turns soft. And suddenly, you have that million dollar grin again on your face. 

“Really?” 

“Hm.” 

You squeal and the next thing he knows you’re onto him, arms wrapped around his neck, locking him into a hug. 

“We’re friends now?” 

Jungkook takes the opportunity to encircle your waist around his arms, noting the size difference. And how easy it was for him to snuggle his nose subtly into your hair to smell your sweet shampoo and perfume in that position. 

You always smell so good. 

“Friends.” 

Jungkook doesn’t really think he can take both of you as just being friends, though.

[mondaymelon]

— pocky for the malipo ⭑.ᐟ

⟶ ( kinich x gn!reader )

— in which... hey, does this even count as a kiss...?

— speedran this filler post for pocky day + kinch's birthday.. its single day too LMAO the coincidences are simply uncanny ..

— starts out w mualani + kinich for context , fluff !! reader likes sweets,, ...tw... use of the word orbs..

“awwww, c’mon!! it’ll be fun, i promise…”

mualani jumps up and down vigorously, her expression slowly growing more and more dejected. “the traveler told me all about it- this otherworldly tradition, y’know, with those little sweet stick thingies, they even gave me a box! it’d be a reallll big shame to waste ‘em, and wouldn’t it be super cool to do?”

recently, mualani had grown very invested in the idea of some date called “pocky day.” these sorts of random hyperfixtations happened just about every other day, but this time the obsession lasted a linger longer than most, all because of some eavesdropping on the traveler, who offhandedly mentioned it in some conversation… anyway, now that the day itself had arrived, 11/11, she was more excited than ever.

“just onnncee..! pretty please, kinich… xilonen? sharky??” seeing that no one here was willing, except for sharky, who wagged his tail in approval, mualani let out a wail.

kinich stared at her with a tired gaze, sighing slowly. “well, i don’t see how-”

“oHHH my aRCHONS, kinich, how are you so BORING?? when i contracted with this stupid guy, YOU, i thought itd be a little more fun than rotting in a cave ALLL day long but APPARENTLY not!!? live a little uGHHGH, you emo little ‘oooohh look at me im so distant and mysterious’ shut UPPP…” ajaw popped out of nowhere, face red and pixelated hands waving back and forth angrily. “c’mooon, surely you aren’t stupid and blind enough to see that this is the literally PERFECt opportunity to smoochy smoochy kiss kiss that one person you've been OGLING with those  big ORBS of yours huh????”

kinich opened his mouth to say something, but then paused. mualani watched with bated breath, squeezing sharky in her hands in anticipation, eyes sparkling, gaze screaming “oh????”. 

“...well… i guess… hmph, even someone like ajaw makes a point sometimes, huh…?” kinich coughed into his fist sheepishly, a barely noticeable blush dusting his cheeks. “though, i’m not ‘ogling’ them at all, ajaw- it’s- well, i’m just observing them. for a commission.”

“suuuUUUReeee palllll, whatever you say- YOU REALLY DIDN’T THINK I’D SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT, DID YOU??? BLABLABLA LALALA I’m RIGHT AHAHAHH THATS RIGHT IM RIGHT IM-”

kinich swatted ajaw out of the air, in the way one would with a buzzing fly. he flew through the air, disappearing into the horizon with a sparkle.

“...ahem. mualani, i’ll be heading out now.” kinich turned around calmly, as if he hadn’t just committed battery. "if i may, could i get one of those ‘pocky’ you were talking about? i’ll repay you.”

"hehe... no need for repayment, just tell me how it goes later!" mualani, smug and beaming, handed over one of the boxes.

..and so the time had come.

"kinich?" glancing up from your work, you flashed him a smile. "what's the matter?"

well, it wasn't as if the saurian hunter didn't see you out often- he did. this little nook you had in the scions of canopy was, as kinich put it, "on the convenient way back" for all of his missions, and so the male found most evenings swinging by (pun intended).

no, him coming wasn't the issue here. but kinich had been uncharacteristically.. avoidant of your gaze. for the past five minutes he had been there, arms crossed and leaning against the door frame like they do in those inazuman light novels, he'd been staring at a crack in the floorboards. and to make matters more concerning, he had something strange in his hands too: some sort of box that he kept flipping around with his fingers.

"hey. kini'. we're both not great at words, so just tell me and get.. well, whatever it is. you wanna say over with." at the mention of his nickname, kinich perked up, clearing his throat.

"ah, that..."

ohh, so there was the problem. the eerily quiet atmosphere was because ajaw wasn't present... pause, now you were even more worried. kinich had somehow gotten ajaw off his ass?? unthinkable????

"is it an emergency? fuck, are we all going to die? tell me this type of thing earlier, kini', i need to pack all my-"

"what? no- i, mualani.. she, no, there's this holiday, today. the traveler mentioned it, and i thought it'd be fun to try out.. you like sweets too, so. here." kinich unearthed some sort of... stick? was he really trying to feed you sticks? c'mon now, you weren't that stupid-

"i can read your gaze. it's not like that. here, it's chocolate, just- hah..." kinich sighed, eyebrows pinched together, wearing the expression of someone watching everything go wrong. "give it a taste?"

you eyed him skeptically, before taking the stick out of his hands and taking a bite.

"...sweet."

"yeah?"

"not a stick."

"...yes."

"...give me another."

"not so fast, we need to play the game first." kinich took one of the sticks and put it into his mouth, all of a sudden looking a lot more... guilty? you couldn't quite pinpoint the expression on his face, something you'd been doing with a 30% success rate (the highest any natlanian had ever achieved). "whoever gets the last bite wins."

"...i'm just supposed to. eat the other end?"

"what, you can't?" the slight teasing edge in his voice reminded you of ajaw (just the slightest) and you immediately became exponentially irritated.

"hah, who said that? bet."

"..."

oh, so now he chose not to break eye contact.

"...a-hey, we're getting a little close, aren't we.."

"...if you wanna break it off, lose."

"...fuck, you-"

you grabbed him by the cheek, pushing yourself forward and, admittedly, forcefully touching your lips against his. whether by the suddenness or whether by the fact that you two had, well, "kissed," the esteemed malipo kinich let out what sounded like a sputter and fell backward, hands barely catching him from falling to the ground. sitting himself down, he looked up at you with flushed cheeks, mouth slightly open, and the edge of his lips smudged with chocolate.

"bleh. i win." sticking out your tongue, you motioned with your hands. "the whole box, it's mine now. winner takes all, or whatever they say in mondstadt."

kinich's gaze was observant, and under it you felt your face slowly begin to warm, realizing what you had just done.

"not so fast." kinich stood back up, recomposing himself in a matter of seconds.

"one more round. you caught me off guard."

(a/n) and then reader and kinich smoochy smooch smooch kiss kissed and single day was no longer single and happy birthday kinich really did become happy for kinich fuck when am i going to find me a partner <- has unrealistic expectations

context notes!! :

ajaw purposefully left kinich alone so that he could do his.. idk if you can call it flirting. pocky game w you. best wingman ajaw we all cheer (in reality he was tired of seeing kinich act all lovey dovey whenever you were around and found the tension suffocating so he decided to take matters into his own hands)

taglist (comment to be added / send in an ask on my sb): @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu-archive, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader, @fiannee, @aether-darling, @aioniela, @avensuersa, @dainsleif-when-playable, @umiloa, @intpessimistic, @keiiqq, @intpessimistic, @eutopiastar, @matcha-mintea

[finsplurtz]

ruined vanilla — izuku.midoriya

— dom ! male.reader x sub ! Izuku midoriya

— contents : izuku gets turned into a bdsm lover , argument turns into crazy sex or smth… short loll , deku does pee himself uhm. Begging and yay

warnings : there is a PISS KINK in there so be wary…

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

thinking about vanilla!izuku with like the kinkiest partner ever

He was scared shitless during first time sex with you but you made sure it went smoothly and gently and slowly with the most care in the world…

Well now you can’t take that away from him

Izuku is SO vanilla, he loves slow passionate sex filled with kisses and quiet praises, sweet quiet moans as you both make a mess on each other…..it’s so SOFT HE LOVES IT

He always passes out with a smile on his face just happy as hell and you swear you gain an extra 10 years of life because he’s SO CUTE

but you’re the real freak and can’t help but wonder what he’d be like all overstimulated and crying n shi

You’ve got issues BUT ITS OKAY

Izuku is too scared to do anything more than vanilla sex, toys? Absolutely not, one time you brought it up while in the act he shed a couple tears and gave you the saddest eyes you just… YOU HAD TO PUT THE FUCKING TOY AWAY

dirty talk. deeearrrr loooorrrrrdd he will be tears, he’d hate it so much he just wants LOVE nothing negative.

“I wanna make ya feel better…vanilla is sooo boringgg” you whine to your green haired boyfriend who giggles and kisses you knowing you’d never go against his word, his cute faces save him and he knows they are your weakness. He’s got nothing to worry about

One argument goes down and you give him the time of his life

Hands tied, legs spread, cock buried deep inside his twitching hole and a small vibrator stimulating his cock at the same time. Tugs and slaps to his nipples that make him jolt and whimper breathlessly.

He’s whining and can’t say anything, the ball gag in his mouth preventing him from speaking. His eyes can barely stay open, he’s looking at you with begging glossy green eyes, flushed face it’s all so much. You can’t help but want to keep him like this all night:(

His dick is twitching from how much he’s already nutted lawl and his prostate was so sensitive, your dick barely touching it has him squirming and crying.

“what…too much, dear..?” You hold back a grin and wipe his tears away. Everything muffled, you look at his saliva coated ball gag and let out a small chuckle.

“I’ll take this off. Only if you admit you were wrong, and apologize.” You bring your hands over to the back of his head where you played with the buckle.

He’s biting the ball and glaring at you.

“Hm. Too bad.. I really wanted to kiss you” you sigh and bring your hands back down to his hips where you held him tightly, fucking into his used up hole.

He moaned and cried, you notice he started to get a bit more violent and looked back at his tear filled orbs. You pull the gag forward letting him speak, “y-yn st..stop it..! I need to p..nghh..” he looked down at his dick that vibrated due to the toy, he’s stuttering and you caught on.

You wrap your hand around the base of his dick, thumb at the tip. He screeched and moved around telling you to stop.

“It’s alright, izu. You can go” you can’t take your eyes off his pathetic face, biting your lip at his expressions. He gasped as he stopped holding his piss in, panting all exhausted. He’s embarrassed and his breath is hitching, the vibrations don’t stop and it’s starting to hurt.

“Augh..~! Yn please I’m..I can’t..!” He bent over trying to cover his lower half.

You still hadn’t let go of the ball and watched as he looked up at you with his big green eyes. “well?” You grind up into him, your dick hitting that spot again. He rolls his eyes back and groans, “please yn..? I’m sorrrry…I won’t..do it again..~ so p..plea..” you pull the gag down getting it off him.

He’s sighed in relief as you took the mini vibrator off.

“I’m not finished yet…just lay there in your mess, yeah?” You coo, his dick twitching at your nasty voice.

Before he passed out while you were pounding into him restlessly, his back was arched and he gripped the sheets till his knuckles turned white. His legs trembled like crazy, the last thing he remembered were your rough kisses and bites on his soft skin.

He woke up in your arms, he felt so refreshed it was brazy he just looked at your resting face and touched it gently. He kept thinking back to how you treated him and as dirty as it sounds he kept giggling and squealing to himself thinking about it

he was scared it’d hurt or just be scary but noooo he turned into a real FREAK

After that day you guys had sex that was way more intense, he became a slight brat and you loved it lol! He’s so cute I love his green locks

a/n: writers block will not keep me away from deku

[therantsofawriterrr]

LOOKIN' AT YOU GOT ME SAYING NONSENSE...

Overview: JJK men and their filthy mouths in bed.

Pairings: Gojo Satoru × Reader, Geto Suguru × Reader, Nanami Kento × Reader, Fushiguro Toji × Reader, Sukuna × Reader Word Count: 3.7k

TW: MDNI. EXPLICIT SMUT UNDER THE CUT. Unprotected smut (wrap it before you tap it, people), breeding and creampies, dirty talk, overstimulation, clit play, breast play, pussy slapping (Nanami), cockwarming (Toji), choking (Sukuna), belly bulge (Nanami), spanking (Geto), marathons, pet names, tell me if I missed anything!!

A/N: Hello, this is pretty much my first explicit smut post, that too a jjk one so, um, bear w me if something doesn't make sense, or just any other mistakes.

☆ GOJO SATORU: a quickie before sleep? more like a marathon

"Shhhhh, it's alright, now, baby," He said, his knuckles white as his fingers tightened around the frame of the bed, his pretty cock bullying its way into your puffy folds for the second time that night. "Fuck, fuck, fuckk, don't go squeezing me like that, sweetie-" he gritted out, his jaw clenching as he pinned you with a look, the tips of his white hair tickling your face.

"I'm trying to hold back here."

You weren't supposed to be awake at 11 in the night. You were supposed to be asleep, so that you'd be able to wake up the next morning

His accusative voice made you keen as you arched your back, walls pulsating around him as he groaned and bit his lower lip, hips stuttering forward as you squeezed around him again.

"God, you make it hard to wait," he gritted out, a smirk forming in his face as even through the haze of pleasure, he caught the dirty pun.

"Then- oh!- don't, Satoru," you choked out, feeling so full, so wet, you could feel it flow down to pool onto the sheets, making them messier than they were.

That made him pause, as crystal blue orbs looked down at you, granted, they were more blown out, and you could barely spot the blue rings around his blown out pupils. "What'd you jus' say, sweetheart?"

He sounded absolutely stunned. He always let you adjust a little to everything during sexy times, be it his cock, fingers or mouth. Never had you made such a needy request. And yet, here you were.

You, on the other hand had grown a little shy, a pink blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bit your lower lip, crying out in surprise when he suddenly pulled his hips back and snapped them back into you.

"Don't get shy, now, darling," he cooed, grinding his hips against yours.

"I told you to-" you were cut off when he hit a particularly sensitive spot, your nails digging into his shoulders. "To not hold back."

It was like something snapped in him as he bent down to give you a deep, sweet kiss, his hands sliding down your sides to lodge themselves on your hips.

You keened when he started setting a pace as he lapped at the sweat on your neck. "This what you wanted, baby?" he asked, stretching your arm above you, intertwining fingers, hitting your sweet spots with every thrust. "Yeah, it is, isn't it? Ugh, you feel like heaven."

You kept babbling about how good it felt as he got quicker, reeling back till his tip stayed and then pushed back in, all at once, making you see stars.

"So tight," he panted. "How're you so tight after everything I do to you?"

His thumb drew circles on your clit, groaning at the way you squeezed his hips between your thighs.

"Yeah, just like that, honey. Just like that. Have me just where you want me, hm? Asking me to not hold back like it won't make me absolutely ruin you, but that's exactly what you want, isn't it?"

He put pressure on your clit, biting his lip as he looked at you, all splayed out as your cunt bulged around his length.

"Such a pretty pussy. Taking me so well," he cooed and you screamed your release, your eyes rolling back into your head as wave after wave of pleasure wracked your body. Your nails left angry marks on his pecs, which he'd admire later. Currently, he was admiring the filthy white ring created around his cock because of your orgasms.

"My girl looks so perfect when she- fuckfuckfuck!- when she cums..."

He bit on the juncture of your neck as his warm cum fills you up as this time he shook, almost collapsing on top of you. He slowly set his weight down upon you, burying his face in your neck as you both came down from your highs.

You ran your hands through his pretty white hair, causing him to purr, the sound traveling through your bones when he pressed his lips to your pulse point. You also felt him get hard while still inside you, as you continued doing it.

After a few minutes, he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes carrying the same, if not more heat.

He brushed away the stray hair sticking to your forehead, giving you a wolfish grin.

"Round three?"

☆ GETO SUGURU: netflix? nah, just chill.

"Suguruuuuuuu," you moaned, your back tired of keeping that perfect arch.

"Hush, now, baby," he said, landing a rough hand on your backside, admiring the hand print he left. "Patience."

Your loud whines echoed in the room, shadowing the music and dialogues of your favourite show on Netflix that was going on.

You'd told him explicitly that you'd watch the episodes this time. No distractions. No prying hands. But Suguru had never been able to help himself when it came to you.

"We're supposed to be- oh goddd- watching the show, Suguru," you choked out between moans.

"You think I'll be able to focus on that shit with you looking like this?" He breathed out, a hand running up your side, not even bothering to take off your, no, his shirt. Your panties were already halfway down and you knew he wasn't going to take it off fully.

He was in the mood for some nastiness.

"You wear my shirt and some skimpy panties, and expect me to focus on something else, baby?"

As a hand cupped one of your breasts, the other held his cock at your pretty hole, thrusting home easily in one swift stroke, thanks to his teasing that had started fifteen minutes into the new episode.

"Don't- ngh- put this on me, Suguru," you choked out, as he starts grinding into you, testing the waters.

"No?" he said, folding himself over you, his bare chest pressing against your half-naked back, his other hand creeping up your side to cup your other breast. He toyed with your nipples, tweaking the hard peaks and pressing on your sweet spot just right to make you go blank for a few seconds.

"It's hard for me to do anything else when you're there, anyway, baby," he cooed into your ear. "You can be wearing a gown or a bikini, I'm distracted either way."

You let out a long drawn-out moan as he stood up, fisting your shirt in one hand as the other lodged itself on your hip. He started snapping his hips against your ass, admiring the jiggle of your skin.

You bit your lip as he hit the right spots at every thrust, your fingers curling around the edge of the couch, as he pulled you back to meet every one of his thrusts. The wet thwack! thwack! thwack! of his delicious jabs rendered you speechless and thoughtless, as your mind started turning into mush.

"What's this?" Suguru asked as he leaned back down to kiss the back of your neck. "You already going dumb, baby?"

His lips kissed their way up to your shoulder before he hooked his chin onto it. "We're just getting started, honey."

The words made you let out a high-pitched whimper and in response, his hand crept up to your head, wrapping his fingers in your hair and pulling it back, his hips not stopping their onslaught.

Using your hair and hips as leverage, he made you thrust against him making you let out downright pornographic noises. You could feel the smug smirk as he stared at you. The shine on her body because of sweat made him salivate as he wondered how he got you, a goddess of a woman to give him her heart and trust him with it.

"Pretty little thing," he murmured, his voice almost lost due to the noise in the room. "All mine, hm?"

His lips curled up to a smile as you nodded rapidly, a hand of yours going behind to clutch his wrist.

"Say it while we finish, will you, sweetheart?" he ordered breathily, throwing his head back as his abdomen clenched, all while your pleasure mounted more and more. "I want to hear those words from your sweet mouth."

"I'm yours," you said, your head falling forward as your eyes rolled back into your head. You repeated the words throughout his thrusts, which got sloppier and harsher and screaming it when your ass stuck to his abs, his hand tight around your hip as you both came.

He choked on his breath, almost falling on you at feeling the tight hold of your wet, gooey walls on his cock as he spurted his seed into you. He drove his fist into the velvet of the couch, seeing white in front of his eyes as he moaned out loud with you.

When he finally came back to his senses, finding you panting softly, he pulled his semi-hard cock out of you, softly turning you over, and hooking an arm under her knees and the other under your back, paying no mind to your panties which fell to the ground.

"And I'm yours," he murmured into your forehead, pressing a small kiss to the soft skin. "I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too, Suguru," you whispered back, remembering it because you knew that the way he'll fuck you will be anything but loving.

TOJI FUSHIGURO: game night luck

"Stay fucking still, will ya?" Toji growled into your ear as his fingers twitched on the buttons of his controller.

You couldn't help but squirm as his cock sat inside of you, throbbing in time to your clenching cunt. You whined, bouncing yourself up and down a bit.

He smacked a hand down on your thigh, glaring at your needy, trembling form. "You interrupt me again and I'll have to punish you, doll."

You tried your best to stay still. After all, you were the reason for this situation. You'd begged and teased your boyfriend so much, he'd made you sit on his cock, ordering you to stay still till he finished his game.

You'd always thought cockwarming would be an easy task. That if you did it with Toji, he would ultimately be the one to give in first, to fuck you hard and fast like the beast he was.

But, here you were, impatient as you buried your face in his neck, resisting the urge to lick at his pulse point.

He bounced his thigh a bit as he got to the end of the game, making you gasp. You bit your lip against a whine, only nosing at his pulse point, which made his cock twitch inside her.

"Yes! Fuck, yes!" He yelled as his game ended on a good note, raising his arms above his head in a cheer, before he leaned back, hands going behind his head as he smirked at you.

"Alright, pretty," he said, his voice coming out in a pleased rumble. "Ride me."

You immediately started bouncing on top of him, feeling him hit your sweet spot. But it wasn't enough as you set your hands on his shoulders and moved faster, but it wasn't as overwhelming as it usually was as you looked at him with a pout and whined.

Toji mimicked your whine, not moving to do anything. "What?"

"Wan' more," you slurred, leaning into him as you moved, tempting him with your bouncing tits.

He hummed thoughtfully, a hand cupping one of your breasts and squeezing, playing with the flesh.

"You gotta be more specific, doll," he said, both hands now playing with your tits, alternating between pinching your nipples and groping them.

You decide you've had enough. Leaning forward, you give him an open-mouthed kiss.

"Fuck me," you whispered against his lips, making sure to squeeze around his thick, throbbing cock.

He grunted, his hips thursting upwards involuntarily, before he smirked.

"That's my girl," he rasped, getting into a comfortable position before settling both hands on your hips, lifting you up and pulling you down roughly.

He set a fast pace, slamming you down on his throbbing dick, making you scream and squeal with every thrust.

"Such a good little girl," he said with a groan, fucking, no, using you, like you were nothing more than a toy that he used to masturbate with. "Warming my cock like a good little slut should. This little pussy is just made for my cock, isn't it? Just made to be fucked again and again."

You cried out at the filth spewing out of his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders as his lips wetly kissed up your neck. His hands went south, cupping your ass to pull you up and drop you down on his cock. His teeth digged into your skin as you threw your head back, body feeling like jelly as he manipulated it to his will.

Your spongey walls started pulsing and he smirked, grinding you onto him, a hand slapping your breast. "Hold it."

Your eyes snapped open as you looked at him, pleading and whining as he slapped your breast again.

He hummed in response, delayig his orgasm as well. He pressed his palm at the small of your back, pinching a nipple at the same time he whispered, "Cum for me. Now."

Both their orgasms were unleashed together, Toji holding you still as he pounded his warm cum into you, prolonging your orgasm as much as possible.

"Seems like you're my good luck charm, doll" he said gruffly, a hand curling around your nape to pull you into a sloppy kiss.

"We're going to have to do this every week."

RYOMEN SUKUNA: unexpected discoveries

One thing about fucking Sukuna was that he strictly abided by three-to-one rule, even though it was more like five-to-one or more with him, thanks to his stamina and the fact that he lost his goddamn mind over you.

For example, currently, he had just made your legs shake with his tongue and lips, licking and sucking your clit. It was the fourth orgasm of the night, and you knew that finally, you'd be getting to feel his girthy cock inside your wet, dripping folds. He'd had you on your hands and knees for so long, your back was starting to ache.

So, when he pulled your knees back for you to fall flat on your stomach, you were thankful. His hand came down on your ass before kneading it, staring at your docile form with a smile. He admired the filtered rays of sunlight that made your body sparkle, before lifting your hips up just a bit and positioning his cock behind you.

"You ready for me, brat?" he asked, his gravely voice sending shivers up your spine. He grinned, not even waiting for an answer, slapping his veiny member against your pussy once before thrusting into you all at once, leaving you to bury your scream into the pillow.

His eyebrows furrowed as he ground his tip into that one mushy spot that had already been abused by his fingers earlier that night. Then, he lied down on top of you, every inch of his taut muscles touching your soft skin.

His hand curled around your neck, bringing your face up as your hands tightly curled into pillows.

"Did I tell you to hide your noises, pet?" he growled into your ear as he started thrusting into you, pulling just a few inches out and and pushing it back in so fast, your already thoughtless mind was going even more dumb. "Y'know I need to hear you, don't you?"

Your moans turned into screams as his rapid thrusts sent you into a haze of pleasure. "That's my girl, screaming out like a bitch in heat, hm? Keep making those noises, let everyone know who's making you feel so good."

Even though your moist insides were giving him the pleasure he needed, he found the position to be a bit uncomfortable. He absentmindedly wrapped his arm around your neck, pressing on the sides of your neck before a little sense invaded and his hips paused.

"Shit, darling, you alri-" he cut off on an involuntary moan as your walls pulsated and tightened around his cock.

He turned his head to blink at you in surprise, looking at your cheeks tinted with red. "Did you... like that, pet?"

You bit your lip, too embarrased to say anything when he tightened the hold on your neck, making your pussy throb again. "I asked you something."

"Yes," you breathed out. You felt the big puff of exasperation that Sukuna let out before he ordered, "Speak up."

"Yes," you affirmed. His eyes immediately had the excitement of a kid in a candy store.

"My little brat loves being choked," he mused

He started thrusting his hips again, setting the same rapid pace, except this time, he was choking you in a headlock.

"You've probably been wanting me to do this to you, haven't you?" he murmured right by your ear, making you choke out a whimper as your belly coiled up, that familiar feeling coming back. "Filthy little slut just wanting to be choked while she's being fucked dumb."

"You should've told me, pet," he scolded, his other hand curling around the side of your waist. "Y'know I'm a filthy asshole, so why hide it from me?"

That made you cry out, one final squeeze of his arms around your throat making you see white as your mouth opened up in a silent whine, his thrusts getting deeper and sloppier as he came with you.

Your legs were shaking by the time his orgasm passed, as he manhandled you onto your back, pushing your legs back till your knees touched your breasts, and sliding his cock against your slit.

"Now," he announced, his firm, curious tone, getting the attention of your tired mind. "You're going to tell me everything that you've been wanting me to do to you."

There was an evil glint in his eyes at the next words that were uttered out if his mouth.

"And I'm going to do it all to you."

KENTO NANAMI: famous last words

"That's my girl," Nanami purred, a hand sliding down to press the bulge that his cock had created in your stomach.

You couldn't help but throw your head back with a cry, using his shoulder as a support. Your husband had you both kneeling on the bed with your back to his chest, as both, a reward and a punishment.

One hour and fifty seven minutes prior, you'd sent a risky text to him, not knowing that he was in a meeting. He'd almost abandoned the important business deal and driven home to you, to fuck your brains out, but had managed to control himself till he'd gotten home, eager to see you keep your promise.

He'd spent his time wisely, teasing and edging you with his hands and mouth, punishing you for causing the distraction, even though it was unintentional.

The bastard just loved to rile you up.

"Now," he said, his hand sliding down south, his middle finger ghosting over your clit. " What was it that you had said?"

You gulped audibly, pussy clenching in both fear and anticipation. It made him hitch his hips upward with a grunt, his hand slapping your clit in retaliation.

"Tell me, love. What do you want me to do?" He asked, rubbing lazy circles on your inner thighs with his thumb. " Or would you rather just be like this?"

That made your breath hitch, grinding on his cock as you said, "I want you to fuck me dumb."

The statement made him smile victoriously. "Whatever my wife wants."

You cried out when he started pistoning into you, his thighs hitting your ass. The position you were in gave him easy access to your deepest spots, his. lengthty cock hitting them at every thrust.

Nanami was sure he was in heaven. Your wet pussy was wrapped tightly around his cock and your beautiful, almost melodic noises were right by his ear.

"Such a good girl for me," he murmured into ear, his free hand wrapping loosely around your throat, a finger pressing on your pulse point. "Taking whatever I give like a good wife should, hm? Sending me those filthy words while I'm working hard so that I can get home and have you keep your promise."

You, however, were not able to think of anything as your husband gave you exactly what you asked.

His hand slid up to cup your chin, before plunging two fingers into your mouth. Your eyes were on the ceiling, lost in the haze of pleasure, and he smiled as your tongue coated the digits in saliva.

"Filthy slut," he whispered, making you whine as his thrusts got sharper. The pads of his fingers pressed on the back of your tongue, causing your eyes to roll back into your head, leaving only the feeling of him everywhere.

He took his fingers out to glide them down to play with your pebbled nipples, tracing your areola before flicking your nipple, his lips sucking a hickey into the skin on the juncture of your neck.

Feeling utterly overstimulated, you tried to run away, making him wrap the arm around your waist, just to start pounding into you harder, pulling his cock out almost his whole length out before pressing all of it back home. Two fingers started to draw small, fast circles on your clit, making the tension coiling in your lower belly even tighter as your noises got louder.

"Cum for me, my love," he said, his tender voice a contrast to his actions, slapping your clit again to make you scream as he finally let you cum, pussy gushing around his cock.

He hissed at your the grip, his thrusts got hastier and messier as he groaned roughly, your shorts of his cum filling you up.

He fell on top of you, making you moan out as you felt some of his cum trickle it even as he was inside you. He buried his face in your neck, pressing featherlight kisses as he got fully hard again.

A deep, sudden thrust made you squeal in surprise, his mouth near your ear again.

"I'm not done yet, love."

Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated ❤️

[munsonsreputation]

i can't talk to you when i'm like this

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [2.1K]

warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, established relationship, reader has a history of shitty ex's, steve accidentally makes reader cry, a lot of angst regarding past relationships (feelings wise), steve's shitty childhood & terrible dad (brief), fluff at the end (yes because i am a softie)

summary: steve never raises his voice at you, but the first time he does, you can’t find it in yourself to tell him what's really bothering you when you’re seconds away from breaking down.

You hate how the tears coming springing to your eyes the second Steve raises his voice a little too loudly beneath his already apparent annoyance.

Your brain blanks out the second it bellows against the walls and comes hurtling down to your eardrums. It feels like glass shattering in a million different ways, cutting you open and killing you with a thousand cuts.

He’s frozen in front of you, blinking with a look of oblivion on his face because he’s waiting. His arms still held wide open after he asked a question: one that was posed with a tone too sharp for your liking.

“Why are you making it such a big deal?”

His usually sweet and gentle tone was long gone, or at least that’s how you heard it. Instead, it dribbled with irritation and resentment meshed all in one. The kind that sounded like he was fed up and wanted nothing to do with you anymore.

He was just trying to do a sweet thing by picking you both up some coffee and yet here you were starting an argument — you always had to ruin a good thing.

Your teeth dig into your gums, trying to find any way to hold off on the waterworks that you know are about to pour any second now. Cloudy orbs shoot down to your bare feet, trembling against the floorboards while you excuse yourself from the kitchen.

“I’m g-going to the bathroom.”

Your voice is delicate yet not the kind that Steve knows like the back of his hand — the one where you keep it so quiet like an oath when you whisper you love him when you think he’s asleep and no one else is around to hear it.

This time the oath is broken, cracked, just like your voice, torn at the seams between fear and panic. Its edges are frayed and tattered, and its tenderness that is usually formed out of affection is long gone as it cuts through your chest and causes your back to heave as you walk away.

He knows he messed up.

It’s stupid. You shouldn’t be so worked up over the barista leaving her number on Steve’s cup. But you are. You’re worked the hell up and you want him to understand why it is such a big deal to you.

It’s upsetting because you shouldn’t be this wound up and insecure. You know Steve would never even dare to dial the numbers left on the cup, let alone remember the name she left on there. He’s head over heels in love with you the same way you are with him — yet you just don’t get it.

You don’t get the way this makes your insides turn and the thoughts to start whirlwind in your head. At first you were just upset about the number, maybe even just mildly irked — but then the second Steve’s voice came to you like that… that’s when you entirely forgot how to even tell him how you felt.

Now you just felt stupid for making it such a big deal and turning it into this.

“Breathe….” you murmur to yourself jaw trembling as you try not to tense.

The tears finally roll when your back collides with the bathroom door and your shaky fingers lock it shut. Your heart feels like it’s on fire, one that consumes your entire being and engulfs you in the bluest blue instead of the blazing red.

The only thing keeping you from collapsing is the door that’s holding up your weight and it’s not long after that the person you love yet are avoiding is on the other side making it more difficult for you to attempt to make it seem like it’s not a big deal.

“B-baby… I’m so sorry.”

The apology comes in an instant, and you could almost feel his breath hitting your neck from behind the wood. You know it’s genuine…Steve has never ever made you cry. You feel now like you’ve taken everything out of proportion — you should’ve just giggled and said ‘oh that’s cute! too bad you’re my boyfriend!’

All of the things you wished you would have said play in your mind like punishment for the way you’ve acted. How you know you’ve turned the tables on him and made him look like the bad guy when he was far from that.

He was just shocked to come home and hand you your favorite drink only to be asked about the barista he barely gave his attention to. Your accusing voice after he did something nice wasn’t something he was expecting.

Your throat tightened, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to cover it up and make it seem like you weren’t upset. You shuffled from the door, towards the sink, turning it on yet making no move to put your hands under the water.

“I’m fine! I—I just had to wash my face!” You lie, trying to cover your tracks as if Steve doesn’t already know it.

There’s been times when things have upset you, not things that Steve has done, but things that life throws at you and most of the times you hate how wound up you get. Without failure, you sneak away, just wanting a moment by yourself to cry without anyone feeling bad for you or asking questions because they’ll never get it. They don’t understand that the littlest things can trigger something inside of you to completely shut down from the rest of the world.

No one gets it… but Steve does.

“Baby,” His voice is stronger this time, yet tender, “please, can I come in? I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Your fingers finally come in contact with the frigid water, dabbing the droplets over your eyes attempting to get them to settle instead of looking like you were just crying. There’s a sniffle that comes from you as you clear your airways and a pathetic smile that you press onto your face to try to hide how you’re really feeling.

The water shuts off and you’re opening the door, cutting his apology off altogether.

“I’m fine, Steve!”

Your voice isn’t swaying even with the volume it carries and neither with the faint laugh you give him when you meet face to face. Your lashes still bear the droplets of salt and your cheeks tinted red with the path they’ve traveled down.

He can feel the pain in your voice and see the wobble of your chin as you hold back everything inside. He hates that you feel like you have to mask how you’re really feeling when, in actuality, you should be furious at him for what he did.

“Baby,”

Sadness joins his concern, and he doesn’t bother to hide it — he’s not sure he can when his eyes leak the same emotion, “Baby, you’re not fine…I know you’re not fine.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes unconvincingly. “I literally am, babe… it’s cool. Everything is fine.”

He knows that now you’re trying to reassure yourself rather than him. Trying to play it off and make it seem like everything was okay. Like he’s just supposed to accept it and let you hold everything inside like torture when that’s far from what he wants.

Your attempts to brush past him are futile when his hands come out to hold your shoulders, his fingertips kneading your tense skin. He can feel the blood rushing from under your clothes and it’s not the kind of warmth you usually carry — you are blistering and if he looks hard enough, he can see the way your chest is trying to level itself out as you hold back.

It takes everything in you to not draw your eyes away from his because you don’t want him to know that you’re still feeling it. Feeling stupid and at the same time nothing at all because you don’t know what to feel anymore. There’s a whirlwind of emotions and none of them you can put a finger on because you’re just lost.

You just don’t want him to think you’re crazy… like you reacting to him raising his voice like that was something that would daunt him away.

One of his hands stops its movement on your skin, raising up to your cheek and cradling you gently. There’s a crease between his brows and his eyes seep with regret and guilt. His lips part and the words that leave them come in whispers and fragility — croaks and cracks guiding them.

“Everything isn’t fine… I acted like an idiot and raised my voice at you. I’m sorry baby, I—I never meant to do that on purpose. It just came out, but that isn’t an excuse.” He shakes his head at himself disappointingly because he knows better.

Steve was far from perfect in his own eyes, but he knew better because all his life if there was one person he didn’t want to be like, it was his dad. The dad that used to scream at his mother, and scream at him, and scream at the world when everything went wrong, and didn’t know how to talk if it wasn’t screaming.

He’d never forgive himself if he made you feel that way or even became a smidge of what his father was. But it wasn’t him who he was blaming for this — this was all Steve himself, and he knew that. Accountability needed to be taken from himself because the only person he was hurting was you and it was going to be okay.

Not in the heat of the moment, not ever.

You hadn’t even noticed you had tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, the faint taste of iron trickling onto your tongue when you realized you were biting down on the skin too hard trying to stop yourself from crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby, please just—just tell me how to make it better.” His voice pleads and reasons, wanting to make it right with you anyway he could.

You close your eyes, letting the tears fall as you feel his thumbs wipe them away. He’s done this times before, wiping away your tears that had spewed from another’s doing. Never did he ever think he would be the cause.

“I-it’s nothing… it’s stupid, I’m stupid and dramatic.” You swallow thickly, sniffling and twisting your fingers in your hand to fight off the lingering feelings.

He shakes his head. The obvious look of disapproval for your words covers his face because this was far from your fault. Sure, he was bewildered about the whole incident, considering he didn’t even know the number was left there until you brought it up, but for him to not know how to convey his frustration better was the real issue at hand.

Not the accusation, not the stupid number, not the oblivious girl who left her number: it was him, Steve’s idiotic actions that got you both here.

“Stop, don’t talk to yourself like that.” He insists, staring deeply into your eyes, searching for a reason why you were blaming yourself,

Your jaw shakes roughly before a sob rips through your mouth. Tightening your eyes to try to get the tears to stop, yet they don’t cease no matter how hard you try. Frustration builds inside of you because you should be over it by now. The fact that he apologized and was here trying to comfort you should be enough.

But something inside of you won’t let it die. The silence is filled with the memory of his voice shouting at you and the face that he stared back with.

“I—I don’t want you to think there’s something wrong with me.” You croak, covering your face and turning away from him to save you the embarrassment.

But he strays to where you are, sticking beside you with a comforting hand resting on your back, “Sweetheart, nothing is—”

You sob one more, this time with a grunt that is direct to yourself. Stomping your foot against the cold tiles, your hands come down to grip the edges of the counter tightly. Your reflection in the mirror is only half of what you feel, and when Steve steps behind you, all you can see is guilt, but at the same time patience knowing he’s ready when you are.

You try your very best to at least keep your sobs at bay just enough for you to speak through them and for him to understand.

“You’re not gonna wanna be with me anymore knowing I can’t—I can’t talk to you when I’m like this! I don’t know why, but I can’t… it makes me feel stupid, like I’m crying over something so tiny and now I’ve totally forgotten why we were even arguing in the first place.”

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head and reaching in front of you to bring your hair back and away from your face. His eyes keep yours in the mirror, watching at you with such a gentleness that even now doesn’t falter.

“We weren’t arguing. I was just dumb and raised my voice when you were asking me about it.”

You move your sights from his to the bottom of the sink, shaking your head, “No, b-but I shouldn’t have reacted like that and made you look like the bad guy when yo—”

Your voice is traveling faster than you can think, spewing out words so hastily like you have to make him understand that it’s not his fault, but yours. It takes your breath away, hiccuping and coughing between a sob that leaves your mouth and bobbles in your chest.

Steve’s instantaneously rubbing your back, shushing you and trying to get you to calm down knowing you going on and on like this wouldn’t do you any good. He understands that you feel a lot of things very deeply and sometimes it isn’t an easy task to get them all out at once: he knows it and he’ll spend forever with you until you got it all out.

“Hey, hey, baby, c’mon… breathe,” He coos, his palm never stilling on your back feeling the deep breaths in and out, watching the tears fall down your cheeks and drip onto the counter.

It’s a kind of scene he hates to see, the one he wishes he could take from you and shoulder instead because watching you in such a state breaks his heart more than he could imagine. And this time it stings a little more knowing that he not only cannot shoulder your pain, but was the one creating it this time.

“Talk to me, please. What’s going on? Why’re so you upset at yourself and not at me?” He begs, trying to get a glimpse of what you’re feeling so he knows where the root is.

“B-because… I made it such a b-big deal.” You hiccup.

When you swipe angrily at your eyes with a ferociousness, that’s enough to make Steve step in and take it from here now that he knows where you’re coming from. A warm hand comes down onto your shoulder, pulling at you just enough for you to face him completely, weakly hanging your head low not knowing if you were strong enough to see him just yet.

“You didn’t make anything a big deal. I promise, we’re okay.” He whispers quietly, cupping your face in his hands, and bringing you face to face, “You’re not stupid and I could never think that you were. You’re human honey. It’s normal for you to be upset by things.”

“B-but I…I don’t want you to think you did something wrong—“

He stops you with a shake of his head. “But I did. I did something so wrong. I yelled when I shouldn’t have, and I made you feel like shit.”

Steve desperately needs you to know it. That this was his fault and no one else’s. That him making you feel like crap was the worst thing he could have ever done, but he was willing to man up to it and try to make things better, and at the same time he would understand if you wanted nothing to do with him after this.

Still, even after his words, you’re somehow even angrier at yourself, mind blaring at you for being such a dramatic person for making him go out of this way with all of this. That this was surely your fault and yours only, and if you didn’t take it off his plate, it was just something he would use against you one day to realize that he didn’t want to be with you anymore.

It’s what they all did — held it over your head and made you feel like you were wrong for feeling how you felt, so instead it was best not to feel anything at all. To hide it away and hope that being noncombative meant that everything was going to be okay and it wouldn’t give them a reason to run.

“I-it’s my fault—” You pinch your eyes, gulping back a cry as you shake your head in his hands.

His brows pull together, eyes squinting at you, not completely understanding why you’re doing this.

“Hey, stop, it’s not your fault. Don’t do that. Don’t take the fall for me,” Steve assures you with a sternness to his soft voice, continuing to wipe the seeping tears.

Somehow you can’t let it go, “But—”

“But nothing.” He starts, his voice composed yet unyielding in his tone.

He can’t stand it, clutching your face a little firmer, hoping that you would peek your eyes open to see him because he desperately needs you to. The second you do, your face twists again with heartache, praying that he would just let you go and walk out already, because by now, he probably thinks you’re insane — there’s no way he’s not thinking it.

His lips part, trying to find the right words to say, needing the perfect ones to get through you because he hates how you won’t let him take the fall, the one he so rightfully deserves to come crashing down on. You are everything to him and in some ways the feelings that you feel hit him right in the heart, and right now is no different, but there’s a wall between you both and his only goal is to knock it down completely.

“I—I don’t know why you feel like you have to protect me, but I promise you don’t.” He whispers, watching as you try to calm yourself, little sniffles going in and out and broken cries leaving your mouth.

His thumbs rub back and forth across your cheeks, soothing your withering skin. Slowly but surely your cries die little by little, eyes fixed on his, trusting that he means everything that he says, because Steve isn’t like the others — something that you should’ve known judging from his character alone.

“If I do something that makes you upset or sad, you should be able to voice that, not keep it in. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t tell me when I’ve done something wrong. I—I want you to feel safe and okay around me, enough to know that my love for you isn’t gonna change, just because you bring something up. You have every right to be upset, and angry, and disappointed, everything.”

He says it like he means it and you know it’s because he does. He lets every word hang from the stars as if he put them up there, and points them out just for you to know that they are there and true, because that’s all he ever wanted. For you to know that every word he speaks comes from his heart, and no matter how many times he needs to repeat it, he’ll do it over and over again, just so you know it’s real and until you believe them and know he won’t ever break them.

“Don’t ever blame yourself for me, please? I-I don’t want you to do that to yourself because I’m here and…and every time I fuck up or make a mistake, I swear I’m gonna own up to it and try to fix it. But I’m not gonna let you take the blame, okay?”

Being with Steve for so long still feels so new, especially when you know he isn’t like the rest of the boys from your past. He’s patient and kind with a big heap of understanding. Like everyone else in the world, he’s guilty of his own poor moments, but he’ll be damned if he takes that out on you or makes you feel like it’s your responsibility.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He murmurs, letting his hands fall away from your face, letting you decide what the next move is.

The tears that escape are more so in between the remains of the sadness being washed away with tears of love and gratitude. Your arms wrap around his torso, pulling yourself into him and burying your face into his chest where the tears soak through his chest. Without a second thought, his arms envelop you, rocking you both back and forth as he presses kisses on the top of your head.

It mends your heart not merely because he’s just sorry, but because you didn’t get plenty of sorries before. Left only with sweeping things under the rug and pretending like nothing ever happened — it never solved anything and never gave you much.

But Steve gives you everything and so much more.

A big chunk of you feels like you don’t deserve him because he seriously is the best person with an even better soul wrapped up into one and yet he chooses you — every day. He sees you through all the good and the bad and never makes you feel like you’re alone even when you could be a distance away when you’re right beside him.

When you talk too much, say too little, or sometimes say nothing at all — he’s there giving you a listening ear and comforting shoulder to lean on whoever you need it. And on the days when you can’t talk to him when you’re like this… he’ll wait until you’re ready and show you that he’s always going to be there every step of the way.

He’s everything you could have asked for and more.

You pull your face away from hiding, resting your chin up on his chest as you stared up at him.

“I’m sorry too. I—I shouldn’t have been so indifferent earlier and just told you what I was feeling from the get-go.” You sniffled, rubbing your hands over his back, smiling faintly when he nodded understandingly.

He knows that sometimes he might not quite get it, might not see things in the same light as you, but he would never try to dismiss your feelings. He would sit beside you through the storms and sunshines, knowing that he was learning more about himself and you with you in his life.

That because of you, the younger version of himself got to heal his deepest wounds and open himself up to a love he only through he could dream up. You were here making him a better version of himself, all while he was doing the same for you. Showing you that the scars and fears of your past didn’t have to live in the next person you met — that you could let it go and open yourself up to the love you deserved.

His love.

“I forgive you only if you forgive me,” Steve grinned, swiping away at the dampness on your cheeks.

You grinned, nodding up at him. “Of course, I forgive you.”

“I love you so much… nothings ever gonna change that.” He hummed, cupping your face, taking you all in for the person he loved so dearly.

You closed your eyes blissfully before a kiss was placed on your lips.

“I know, I love you too.”

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: hi all, I hoped you like this little one-shot/imagine... i had this one sitting in my wips for awhile and it was nearly finished but I didn't have the inspiration to finish it until now. I don't usually write angst bcs i am a fluff girl, but this concept just came to me bcs like a lot of people when someone raises their voice at me...i just freeze and i don't know what to make of it and i just start crying. i think steve would be super apologetic and i wanted to write this bcs i needed some stevie!comfort so yeah... i hope you all enjoyed!!!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

[seattlesellie]

i’m sorry but can we PLEASE talk about thigh riding🙏 it’s so underrated

mhmmmm :(( especially if it goes from sloppy makeout sesh to desperately rutting on ellie’s thigh & especially if she hasn’t even seen you go that desperate for her yet, because let’s say it’s only been a week of you dating or messing around.

an: i don’t know why this came out longish i swear its pure horny. btw it’s gamer!ellie 🎮🎀💗

can see this whole thing starting from a stare at her practiced fingers twitching and toying with her ps controller. safe to say it’d usually be a bit tedious to simply be an observer of someone playing a video game… not with ellie though, definitely not with ellie. definitely not with the way she cusses sharply under her breath, the way her palm goes to rest against your bare thigh as she switches up her in game gear, the way that cheeky tongue pokes out of her lips in concentration… you’d be distracted to say the least, nodding dumbly as she notes “y’see how i just did that babe?”

and just because you find it hard to concentrate and ignore the thick tension, filling the room with its obnoxious buzz — doesn’t mean she has it any easier, by no means, she can just mask it better… ish. your doe eyed stares, the way you whine silently as she loses, rest your head on her firm shoulder with a cheerful “yay ellie” as she wins… keep staring at her fingers (for some reason she might or might not pick up on, you do it a lot) — you render her a blushing taut mess, render her palms sweaty and slippery on the round plasticky ball of her controller.

however she masks it, and you don’t — and now you’re staring with those sparkly eyes, and the figures on the screen begin to mush together into one giant, pixelated orb. the corner of ellie’s mouth rises up to an involuntary smirk (that asshole), and she loosens her grip on the red controller. “need something? jheez, you’re staring” murmurs ellie, still teasing you like she did before you got together — except, now she no longer needs to hide her blush with a tilting of her face, because she knows you caught her already. plus, it makes her stomach stir with butterflies. “jus’ looking at your pretty face” says you — silently, sheepishly smiling and arching your brows. it’s so much fun to be able to actually tell her that, cause y’know — that’s your girlfriend now.

ellie chuckles, throwing the controller to the side, adjusting her body from a manspreading position to sitting criss crossed on the couch. she wipes her forehead with her forearm — a sign of nervousness? you lick your glossy lip, she’s so cute.

“you’re the pretty one” ellie notes.

you cock your head to the side, fake pondering. “if i’m the pretty one, what are you then?”

truthfully you’re so cute in your pj shorts, she doesn’t think she knows who she is anymore or if her name’s actually ellie. she sighs, huffing some air out of her cinnamon freckled cheeks. “the cool one”

okay… maybe, but she’s also just awfully gorgeous. you roll your eyes, “well,” — you throw your hands and smack them on your thighs, “i think you’re just pretty” — and she thinks you’re just stubborn.

“don’t think i’m cool?” she snorts, completely ignoring the compliment once again (as it makes her cheeks grow plum red and she’s hating that right now). she signals at the flat screen with her pointer finger, “you’re gonna pretend you didn’t just see me fucking that team up? i mean…” she keeps on yapping, your smack your lips and stare at hers. you’re not pretending to do anything, it’s not your fault you’ve been ignoring the game when she’s been toying with that plastic ball like you dream she’d toy with your—

“can you kiss me?”

you’ve interrupted her completely, but it pretty much seals the deal.

the back of your neck is being pulled by her right hand, and the string of your tank top is being pulled by her left one — not to undress, simply just to bring you closer. her lips on yours feel like heaven, a small gasp released by your mouth. she hums into the kiss, then pulls away. “knew you weren’t paying attention to me” ellie murmurs and it sends shivers down your spine. her voice is husky and cocky and ugh! you almost feel the need to let her swallow you whole. “was paying attention,” you insist, blinking like you’re in panic (or letting your lashes flutter to turn her on), “just not to the game”

“yeah?” she chuckles, caressing your half covered back with slow, up and down strokes. “what were you looking at then?” she questions with a cocky grin. you so want to kiss her again. “dunno”, you shrug innocently, slightly letting your bottom lip fall down into a pout. she so wants to kiss you again — so she does, murmuring a broken sentence of “ohmmmmph — you dunno?” into the kiss.

this time, the kiss is different. she slides her tongue inside of your begging mouth, letting it swirl and twirls over yours, pull it — goddamn, suckle on it with a horny grunt. you whimper, hiccup, cry almost, desperately seeking something more… a relief, to that dull ache that’s sitting or stomping between your legs — all because of a kiss and her grunt and that controllers ball you’re so damn jealous of…

“c’mere” she huffs, but instead of letting you come there, she forcefully grabs you by your waist, making you sit atop her lap. you’re both gasping, you wanna say something, but she kisses the corner of your mouth and… “ellie” is all you can whine, she responds with a squeeze to your waist. she kisses more, planting plenty of pecks to your scorching cheek, letting out shaky breaths to each and every one of your half whimpers half moans. she reaches your neck, and her tongues out again. she licks a long stripe, a confident one, but breaks it in order to look into your eyes and ask for your consent — it’s the farthest you’ve went so far.

“babe?”, she asks, your half lidded eyes and dazed look kind of tell her all she needs to know but she’s chivalrous.

“please” you whisper, nodding then burying your face in the crook of her neck. she grunts to that — jesus how pretty you sound when you beg, you have no fucking idea. another suckle on your neck comes, this time right at your pulse point, making the hairs rise and a clit thump. you let go of a choked gasp, holding on to ellie’s shoulders as she splatters open mouthed kisses on the flesh of your neck. you grab the back of her neck, pull on her bun. “fuuhuck” she exasperates, as if she’s the one getting marked and sucked on. quickly enough, because ellie misses your lips, she kisses you again with a whole lotta tongue.

you don’t even notice when or how you started grinding and rocking on her grey sweat’s covered thigh. in too much of a daze to notice anything at this point — you searched for friction.

she notices quickly enough though (obviously).

“whatcha doing, huh?” she lets her forehead kiss yours. your eyes are fully shut — to be honest, her question sounded like gibberish and the cotton material of your shorts was so thin. you don’t respond, you just… rut. she pulls slightly away, back straightening and leaning backwards, almost as if she was watching a play at the theater. she heavily breathes, scrunches her scarred brows and takes a look — takes a stare — at the way you seem so… concentrated, and horny, pouty and needy and it’s all for her or because of her. she almost places her hands on her head and leans back to keep watching.

her muscular thigh feels good — too good, you wanna bounce on it till you cum and leave a stain on her pants, you want her to bounce you on it — her, with her hands… where are her hands?!

you break right out of your trance, embarrassingly open your eyes and search for ellie… who’s leaning back, mouth agape and eyes coal black as she flexes her thigh. there’s a mixture of pure need and humiliation inside of your gut, but the latter evaporates as she mutters the following words;

“do that again”

[storiesfromafan]

Obsessed Pt1

A/N: it's finally here :) Forgive me if its not the best and a little rambly, I tried writing more for Mattheo this time around. And I know it will get better, hopefully. Set in Fourth year, because I have a fondness for a curtain Ball ;)

Pairing: Mattheo x Fem!Reader

Summary: obsession can be good, depending on the context. Being obsessed by food or music, not so bad. Being obsessed with someone, doesn't sound good.

How could one person haunt his mind, to the point it was every waking moment of the day? He was under your spell. Hook, line and sinker. But why? How? You were the opposite of him, as in he is evil while you are good. He is tainted, you are pure. He was smart but nowhere near as smart as you. He couldn’t understand his infatuation with you.

Maybe it was that pureness that drew him in. While everyone disliked the Slytherin, except for the females of Hogwarts fairing for his attention, you put the stigma about him aside and helped him when he needed it. In one moment of kindness, you were there for him. No hate in your eyes, or judgement, just concern and kindness stared at him.

No one had been so kind to him. Not his family, or his close friends. He didn’t entirely know what help was, or kindness or a caring touch. But before him a year ago, Mattheo Riddle for the first time was witnessing it from you.

“If I am hurting you, please tell me” you said softly, calming that matched your touch, he recalled.

“No, it’s fine” he had replied with a sigh.

With gentle hands you had wrapped the bandage around his arm, mindful to not wrap it too tight. All the while he had watched you closely, waiting for the usual look of dislike/distaste or a chorus of hurtful words that he was used to. Yet they never came. When you had finished you brought your (color) eyes back to meet his molten brown ones.

A soft smile crossed your dusty lips. “There, all done”.

The way you looked relieved mixed with pleased at your handy work, caused Mattheo’s stomach to flip in a good way. The way you smiled at him caused his breath to falter. He had seen you in the halls or in classes, but it was like he was seeing you for the first time. The quiet nerdy girl who was so much more. An Angel so kind, caring and pure. But here she was helping a literal demon, who only caused hurt, sadness and sin.

That night a year ago always playing on his mind. So much so, that Mattheo started to seek you out in a crowd or room. His eyes watching you every chance he could. A new addiction, obsession even. Mattheo was borderline stalker.

Sitting with his friends, Lorenzo and Theodore, both males at his side in full conversation. Mattheo did not partake in their conversation, nor was he giving it his full attention. Instead, his eyes rolled over those in the hall leading to Charm’s class, molten brown orbs looking for someone, for you.

Mattheo could feel the eyes of every female in the hall upon him, yet never paid them any attention. He did not even turn his gaze when a third-year girl came up to him with a love note, nor did he accept it. Both his friends laughed as the girl left, tail between her legs and tears falling from her eyes. Yes, it was heartless of him, but it was necessary.

He heard you before he saw you. Turning his head in the direction the third year took off, Mattheo’s gaze located you standing with your friends looking back from the hall they had come from. You and you friends shared a look, along with some quiet words, all the while a few other girls joined you all to no doubt fill in the blanks to what had happened.

Five sets of eyes landed on him, which caused Mattheo to turn back to his friends. Silently he hoped you hadn’t noticed that his gaze had been upon you. Risking a look from under his lashes, there was relief when seeing all five girls were back in discussion. Yet he noted that you were not talking like those around you. The way they spoke as if they sat on the edge a chair, along with animated movements, was rather comical. You on the other hand looked to be bored, as such talk was not enthralling, which he understood.

Gossip was not your kind of thing. One as good as you never spoke ill of another. Nor were you that mean, always doing what you could to help those in need. Being good also meant staying out of the gossip mill. Always proper, never stepping out of line that would lead to ridicule. You never spoke to males, unless required, so that you weren’t compromised in any way.

With their group discussion coming to an end, you and your two friends parted from the other two girls. You all moved down the hall in conversation. Briefly three pairs of eyes looked to Mattheo, who blankly looked at you all, his eyes linger on you just a bit longer, before going back to talking amongst themselves.

“Time for Charms” Mattheo stated moving to stand before his friends. Silently hurrying them up so he could follow you.

Both males groaned, reluctantly getting up from their spot. “What’s the hurry?” questioned Lorenzo with a stretch. “It’s only Charms”.

Ignoring Lorenzo’s question, Mattheo and his mates made their way to Charm’s class. Picking up his pace, Mattheo grew closer to you, leaving a person and a half gap. His eyes followed you, watching as you nodded your head to whatever your friend had said. When you turned your head, replying to your other friend. He took note of your profile, how your nose slopped down in completion. How your tongue would dart out to swipe over your lips, a quick way to moisturize the dusty petals of your lips. How bright your eye looked hearing your friends words.

You and your friends slowed down upon coming to the Charm’s classroom, entering after a few other students. Mattheo silently entered the room, watching you take a seat front row but close to the middle of the length of the table. Your friends taking a seat either side of you, some banter from them made you smile and laugh softly. He may not have been able to hear it, but seeing it was something to savour.

Theodore clapped Mattheo on the shoulder and gestured to the back row at the tablet across from you. It couldn’t have been more perfect, how fate was in his favour today. Sitting next Theodore, Lorenzo on said males’ other side, Mattheo got out the minimal supplies he needed for the class.

Eventually Professor Flitwick entered the room, the students before him quieting down, waiting for the Professor to address the class. Mattheo looked over to you, watching how you looked to the Professor. No doubt waiting with bated breath for an incline of what the lesson would be about. Ah, the Ravenclaw in you showing.

Mattheo half smiled only imagining what was going through your mind. Yet it was a place he would love to be a fly on the wall of. For you didn’t really show much, leaving him only guessing to what made the gears in your mind turn. Part of it was the need to learn, always needing to learn something new. Another part was the need to think of others, always thoughtful and caring.

Charm’s class was spent for Mattheo observing you. How excitement crossed your gorgeous face when Flitwick spoke of a new spell to be learnt. How you listened to his instructions, brows drawing together with every word the Professor spoke. How you concentrated when practicing the spell, the determination in your eyes to master said spell. Once confident with knowing it front and back, how you turned to one of your friends that struggled to get it. You had patience with her, but the joy that washed over your face when she got it, even made him smile.

As the lesson came to an end, every student packed up their supplies before leaving the classroom. Mattheo had planned to hang back and then follow behind you. Only his friends had other plans. He could have denied them but that would have led to them questioning him, which Mattheo didn’t want to answer. So, with one last look at you, he slipped out of the room in tow of his friends.

The rest of the afternoon and night was lackluster. The only time Mattheo had gotten to see you was at dinner, and even then, it was restricted. And the arrival of both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, which both schools entered in flare, was a distraction. Yet neither entertained Mattheo, though you seemed intrigued and curious. He could see it in the change in your facial features, along with conversation you had with those around you.

With the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament and all that, dinner finished and students, in a commotion over the tournament, made their way back to their common rooms or dorm rooms. With a final look at you for the evening, Mattheo reluctantly made the journey back to the Dungeons, and to the Slytherin house. He chose to return to his dorm, not feeling in the mood to idly chat with his friends and fellow house mates.

He opted to lounging on his bed, mind running with thoughts of you as he read poetry. To be honest, Mattheo hadn’t been one for poetry but a few times he had seen you with a poetry book. No doubt it was light reading for you, but on some level he could see that you enjoyed reading it. So, he took to reading it himself, which he has come to like. Many poems would bring you to the front of his mind, the beautiful words speaking to him of you like no other could.

After reading a particular poem, Mattheo had an idea come to mind. It might be foolish and impulsive, something he may come to regret. But before really thinking about it, he moved to his desk and took out some parchment and a quill with ink. Picking his book back up, Mattheo looked to the page he had been on, writing the poem word for word.

Once satisfied with his handy work, he smiled contently. Without another thought, Mattheo grabbed his wand and enchanted the neatly folded parchment that had your name upon it. Then with a flick of his wand the letter was off, off it went into the night to its intended recipient.

Only once it was gone did the realization set in, and nerves now started to grow. Along with a raging storm of thoughts and doubts. Dropping his wand on his desk, Mattheo finally saw what he had done. The only good thing had been that he did not sign his name to the embarrassing moment of that he let his feelings get the best of him. Mattheo Riddle had just sent you an anonymous letter…

A/N: feedback welcome! Along with requests :)

[radio-fmm]

Kiss

Ace x reader

fluff drabble + fem reader

“Oh god, I don’t even remember the last time I was kissed” embarrassment and booze tinted your voice as you giggled at your hopelessness, the moon hanging high above you the only witness of your statement besides your dear commander and friend

Ace’s eyebrows jump in surprise, surely you were just being modest right? You were the most beautiful person that had crossed his path, funny, clever, easy at conversation and so unique; there was no way you didn’t had people begging for your attention and at least a peck, hell he’d give everything for just one kiss of yours

“You’re joking” your face drops, that natural shyness creeping its way to your cheeks making him regret his teasing tone

“Am not” you say now serious as you balance yourself on the edge of the ship, eyes looking at the bottom of your glass in regret or embarrassment? Ace couldn’t tell since his attention was being stolen by your pouting lips “Before becoming a pirate, I only dated this one guy,”- you trailed off, your tongue running lose and a sour taste spreading at the memory.- “He was not only my last kiss but also my first”

Ace stays silent clinging at every word that leaves your pretty mouth. You’d always restrained from talking about your love life whenever the crew bring the topic to the table, staying still and quiet as you listened attentively, claiming to never having anything important to say on the matter, and he now understands why

“Do you… love him still or…?” The idea of your heart belonging to someone else made him burn, nevertheless he would understand, after all, he wasn’t that big of a deal and in his eyes you deserved better

“Absolutely not”- it’s almost comical how you were quick to answer. -“I did love him I guess once upon a time, but he wasn’t a good lover” your eyes trail off again now to look at the ocean waves crashing below, there’s certain hurt that fills your atmosphere that has Ace’s mind reeling

He wanted to show you how you deserved to be loved, every fiber of his being burning at the thought of this stupid guy taking you from granted; you alway caring and thoughtful, witty and kind heart that accompanied your otherworldly beauty that had charmed him

So lost in his thoughts he doesn’t catch how he’s looking at you heavily, eyebrows angry with a frown that makes you take a swing of your drink already hating the course of the conversation

Your voice brings him back to earth “You must think I’m a loser”- an awkward laugh follows, hanging in the air as you wished you had more alcohol to down

“NO!” Ace practically screams, immediately feeling embarrassed as your big eyes gaze at him surprised- “I respect that”

The silence that follows his statement makes you want to crawl out of your skin before the ocean takes you away and spits you out on the opposite side of the grand line, too ashamed to even walk away and run from him you remain focus on the stars twinkling above the commanders head, alike the ones that paint his face

“But if you want to change that, I could help” your vision quickly falls on him, his freckles that you had recalled before being dusted in pink, his brown orbs patiently awaiting for a response as they trace every inch of you over and over

Your breath starts to pick up speed, your breasts peeking from your shirt when you take in air that you fight to keep in but it just escapes you. Your mouth stays agape as it struggles to concoct a yes or a no, only luring the man before you like a light house in the middle of the merciless sea. You wanted this so bad like nothing ever before, your heart that laid on the hands of the fire fist the moment your eyes met now being close to combust

“Yes, I would like that” a whisper could be louder than the words that had escaped you, landing right into Ace’s heart

He can’t believe it, his ears only understanding the yes that started your sentence as the rest died before he could make them out. He had been dreaming of you so long it was almost pathetic

Your eyes stay still taking in their favorite view of each other as he walks closer caging you in, his wide frame covering you like a warm blanket against the cold sea breeze. One of his hands travels to cup your cheek, immediately melting under his touch like wax over a candle. His face shows his hesitation, afraid you are already regretting this but you immediately reassure him by hanging by his neck, your hands grasping his raven locks making him hold in a shaky breath of pleasure

His head finally falls so he can meet your lips halfway as you reach up. The moment he delicately grazes the lips he had been staring at the whole night making hi mind buzz

Ace kisses you with much feeling, basking in the way your mouth fits in his, having to stop himself from losing control of his actions as to not scare you away. Eventually as you grow more confident after feeling acquainted with the way he kisses, you let go. It becomes urgent and greedy, breaths mingling as your mouths open so you can access more of each other, a dance of lips, tongues and yearning that numbs every other sense

However, you cannot kiss forever, so it ends as Ace steps back to allow you to catch your breath, an understanding sinking in both of you as you finally realize that the thoughts and feelings that plagued you also went after him

“Let’s do that again”

Masterlist

[teencopandthesourwolf]

read on ao3 HERE

.

“I'm good, Stiles.”

Stiles thinks about the times when, all too often, he himself says I'm good in that particular way, and thinks about how it actually means everything in his life is currently lighting up like a dropped match landing in a trail of gasoline.

In the space of a single heartbeat, he knows he would somehow harness the contents of an entire fucking lake to dampen down that metaphorical trail for Derek, murdering the thought of that lost little boy playing Hide-Go-Seek in Derek's pale eyes.

Only he isn't about to start talking about things being on fire. Not to Derek, not ever.

Instead he says, “I always had this rule, you know, where I’d flat out ignore a problem and wait for it to—and I used to swear to myself that this would actually happen—” His lips drag themselves up one side of his face as he sweeps an arm dramatically through the drizzling rain and the pressing twilight. “—just go away.”

He then allows his arm to fall unceremoniously to his side, and the sound of hand slapping khakis rings out through the sparse and quiet branches of the preserve's stripped bare trees.

“Okay.” Derek says the word with an infinitesimal shake of his head, looking as if he wants Stiles to stop talking.

Thing is, if Derek wanted Stiles to stop talking he would say Stiles, stop talking.

So, Stiles troops on.

“And it kind of worked, a little bit. For a little while, at least. ” He takes a hit of chilly November air. Releases it slowly, enjoying the crazy plume of breath-smoke it creates. “Until I met you,” he shrugs.

Derek blinks and it's a betrayal, giving away his hard-won secrets.

Stiles briefly wonders who else—who left in the world—would know this about the werewolf standing opposite of him. Stiles doesn't need to be a ʼwolf to know this stuff, not when it comes to Derek Hale.

He tries not to look at Derek's lips when Derek licks them before asking, “What are you talking about, Stiles?”

“Magick,” he answers, his feelings and other things shifting underneath the layers of his skin, crackling away like a hundred tiny Roman Candles traversing his bloodstream and manifesting as gooseflesh.

Rolling his hoodie sleeve, he lifts a cold hand between the two of them and allows a miniscule fraction of whatever beats like a heart at the earth's core to flow up through the ground and into his feet and up his legs and down an arm, warm and thrilling, to then spring free out of his right palm.

A small sphere of pure light around the size of a tennis ball now glows about an inch above his hand, kind of like an oversized firefly—and just as alive.

“Cool as fuck, huh?” Stiles mutters, basking in its incandescence, super-proud of himself. Then he gets to his point. “Deaton showed me how to harness my spark, yeah? But I would never have found it in the first place, if you hadn't followed Scott and I into the woods that day.”

Derek blinks again. His jaw ticks like a clock.

“Stiles, that's a little like saying one, two miss a few, ninety-nine, a hundred,” he deadpans, and Stiles can't help but bark out a laugh.

Then he steels himself for one anticipatory moment before daring himself to take a step closer to Derek.

Derek stays put.

“Doesn't make it any less true,” Stiles shrugs.

Derek just stares at him for a moment, before peering down properly at Stiles's little orb, for the first time since Stiles summoned it.

“You've been practising,” he says simply, his eyebrows doing their thing.

He's now staring at Stiles's effort as if he wants to sink his fangs into it, like you would a quarter to test if it's real.

“Is it freaking you out?” Stiles asks.

“No,” he answers flatly. “I think it's cool as fuck,” and he looks up at Stiles like he might want to keep looking.

Stiles wants him to never stop.

“Then here, you can have it,” he says.

He takes another step closer to Derek.

They are toe to toe, now, and still Derek doesn't bolt, nor pounce, nor warn Stiles off.

So, Stiles—really slowly—reaches for Derek's hand.

Derek lets him.

Stiles then transfers the light to Derek's palm, cupping his hand around Derek's to ensure it keeps hovering there. He directs their hands to Derek's chest, stopping right over his heart and flattening them both there, he and Derek watching as Stiles's spark dissipates into Derek's body, leaving behind a few wispy tendrils of light that Stiles guides back into himself with a couple of waves of his free hand.

“Now, whenever you're good, I can be right there being good with you, even if I'm not around,” Stiles says, and then he hopes and hopes when he asks, “Is that okay?”

Derek smiles, and it's the first truly happy-looking smile that Stiles has been privileged enough to witness blooming on that beautiful, beautiful face of his.

“It's better than okay, Stiles,” he says. “It's magick.”

.

unedited, soz! this is for @dontcallpanic (pip knows why) <3

.

...edited version now found HERE on ao3 if you want to drop me a comment xp

[ponderingmoonlight]

Kokushibo meeting another moon breather and falling hard

Pairing: Kokushibo x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,1k

Synopsis: You were supposed to be another killed demon slayer on his list, nothing but a girl he stumbled upon in the woods at night. But something about you is different. Something stops him from ending your life.

Warnings: Honestly none, a little bit of violence, a little bit of HEAT, this will get a Part 2 if you guys are interested so feel free to interact with that fic! <3

„Leaving again?“

You tilt your head to the side ever so slightly, your katana already lying heavy in your rough hands.

“I have no choice. The order comes from Ubuyashiki-sama himself”, you reply with low voice.

Out of instinct, your eyes wander to the shining orb above, the most faithful companion of your life. Countless innocent nights, you just sat on the grass and took in its beauty inch by inch. But at times like these, the moon being out also means that demons wander on free foot.

“Lucky bastard”, Sanemi mumbles under his breath.

You wouldn’t consider yourself lucky. Not when you know painfully well that all those demons where once humans with dreams, hopes and love filling their hearts. Not when your whole family drowned you with love and affection only a few years ago.

Until Muzan Kibitsuji decided to turn their heads against you by turning them into demons.

“I’ll be back before training starts.”

“You better live up to that.”

 Without looking back one last time, you begin your journey to the other side of this haunted land. If Ubuyashiki-sama called for a hashira, the matter has to be serious-minded. And while his crow didn’t deliver a lot of information about details apart from the place being a small village in the south, you know all too well what that means.

A strong demon, maybe one of the upper moons, even. And you, a hashira who was chosen to kill it.

Your eyes roam around the peaceful area, take in how beautifully the full moon lights up the trees around you. A truly remarkable scenery you try to enjoy as often as possible, even though working as a pillar keeps your mind and body occupied most of the time.

But you aren’t alone. An unsettling feeling starts spreading inside of your chest, the instinct of being watched out of the darkness becoming more and more urgent in your mind.

“Are you the one who is responsible for the destruction of the village nearby?”, you question into the dusk.

Destruction? Kokushibo can’t help but shake his head ever so slightly. As if he’d waste his time with something this minor.

The real question is, who are you? The way you walk and talk tells him more than urgently that you aren’t one of those average demon slayers, that you have to be someone special. A pillar, probably. He can’t help but take in your graceful sight, the way you almost float over the wet grass, your eyes lit by the moon oh so perfectly while your hands are tightly grabbing your katana in contrast.

You are beautiful.  Enigmatic, powerful, and captivating... truly mesmerizing. In his long-lasting life, Kokushibo stumbled upon countless of women.

But they never caught his attention like you.

“I came here to end your suffering”, you continue calmly, not even your hands shaking by the sensation of meeting a demon.

You must sense it, that he’s far above the average demons you’ve encountered before.  You have to feel his presence by the way you tilt your head towards his direction ever so slightly. And still, you don’t waver. Not even a little bit.

“Even if your skill level proceeds mine by miles.”

His eyes widen for a brief moment.

“Why don’t you show yourself, upper moon?”

It’s an instinct, an act out of trance. Kokushibo follows your word and emerges out of the darkness he found comfort in, his gleaming eyes now meeting yours directly.

The upper moon one.

You don’t allow your heart to skip a beat, force your mind to keep its focus. This must be the head of Muzan Kibutsuji’s army, the mightiest of them all apart from himself. The upper moon Kyojuro lost his life to was number 3. Weaker than the man standing in front of you, less dangerous than the man standing in front of you.

And you? You wouldn’t consider yourself stronger than Kyojuro was.

“I am forced to end your life right here and now”, you declare with a calm demeanor.

“You are too weak to even reach me”, Kokushibo replies automatically.

“I have no other choice but to try.”

He tilts his head to the side, watches like in slow motion how the neutral expression on your face hardens ever so slightly while you lift up your sword.

“Moon breathing, third form: celestial silence.”

You release a wave of soundless crescent blades like you always do, emerge him into confusion and darkness to prepare for your next attack.

“Moon breathing. You use moon breathing?”

You are barely able to escape the grasp of his arm that shouldn’t even be able to reach you by letting yourself fall onto the ground. Not even Sanemi is able to see through that curtain of silence, how was he able to react so fast?

A faint layer of cold sweat starts forming on your forehead, your fingers now grabbing the handle of your sword tighter. What did you expect from the upper moon one?

“Fourth form: Lunar precision.”

You can’t allow your thoughts to wander, need to focus on the way your sword feels inside your hands and the series of rapid, precise slashes that crush against his blade without mercy. Each strike is executed with meticulous accuracy, searing for any weaknesses.

But the man in front of you has none.

All it takes him is one minor slash to disarm you. With his other hand, he grabs your wrist tightly. Is he about to kill you? Will this be your last moment walking on earth? You can’t rip your now glossy eyes away from him, can’t even force yourself to look at the moon one last time.

“Who taught you that breathing technique?”

Your mind starts racing, brows furrowing ever so slightly. What is he talking about? And why are you not dead already?

“What?”, you breathe out.

With a swift motion, he puts his sword back in its sheath and grabs your other arm as well, now holding you so close that you can feel his breath dance across your face.

“Who taught you how to use moon breathing?”, he continues visibly aroused.

“I taught myself.”

Confusion, anger and shock roll over his face like a wave while his hands still keep you in place.

Impossible. This means that you mastered sun breathing as well. You, nothing but an average girl with eyes that make it easy to get lost in them. You with that basic sword that doesn’t show a single hint of your abilities.

Do you know what you’re capable of, that you might be a worthy opponent?

Or a mighty demon.

“You need to come with me.”

“Coming with you?”

Your heart now almost pounds out of your chest, arms instinctively fighting for what is dear life. If you go with him, you’ll die. What is his plan? Does he want to torture you, eat you alive? Your usual so collected mind starts falling apart bit by bit with every passing second.

“Stop attacking me”, he warns you.

You fight against his grasp even harder, desperately try to free you from the prison of his arms. You promised Sanemi that you’ll be back before the next training session starts, you promised Mitsuri to braid her hair in the morning. You made so many promises.

And now you might not be able to live up to a single one of them.

“Enough”, the man in front of you grumbles.

One well-placed hit. Then everything goes black.

Kokushibo’s heavy breath hangs in the air, eyes staring at your unconscious figure lying on the floor. He lifts your body off the ground as gently as possible, allows his eyes to regard your face up-close. You look so peaceful while lying in his arms, your features not showing a single sign of your fight earlier on. Apart from a single tear at the corner of your eye, you look flawless. He wipes it away with his index finger, watches how the moonlight reflects so beautifully in your perfect little teardrop. If he’d be able to caress your cheek one time, feel the softness of your hair only once-

He shakes his head ever so slightly. No, he needs to focus on what’s in front of him, needs to find out what lend you that power. Are you just like him? Are you maybe the only person on this planet who understands his silent suffering?

The second you open your eyes again, everything is still black. What happened? Are you at home? The demon…

Your eyes widen in an instant, dart around the poor-lit area in a haste. Where is the upper moon one?

“It took you quite some time to regain consciousness.”

His cold voice cuts through your bones with ease. There he sits, only a few meters away to your opposite. You swallow hard, scan your body for any injuries.

But you aren’t injured. Not even a single scratch decorates your skin.

“Why did you allow me to stay alive?”

To be honest, he doesn’t know. Muzan Kibitsuji made it more than clear that all demons are forced to kill every single demon slayer who crosses their path. Especially pillars like you. He stares at you without saying a single word.

“Are you going to kill me now?”

It is his responsibility to do so. Not even the fact that you use moon breathing should be enough to change that fate of yours, not when you’re a hashira, a dirty demon slayer. Again, he keeps his mouth shut.

When you open your mouth again, not a single sound escapes your dry lips. The countless questions that linger through your mind make it hard to form a logical thought. What are you supposed to do? Is there any way out of this? You need to fight, need to stay strong until you die.

“What do you know about moon breathing?”

“More than you”, he gives back.

He’s beautiful. Despite the unpromising gleam in his orbs and that number one than reminds you oh so urgently that this man is the highest ranked upper moon, you can’t help but let that thought sink in. There’s no doubt in the fact that he was once a truly handsome man.

The two of you sit opposite of each other, plainly staring in your faces without saying another word. You never felt anything apart from sorrow for those creatures, never allowed yourself to get lost in their features or to ponder about what they might have become. But this man…

“Did you use this breathing technique when you were still human?”

In the blink of an eye, the upper moon one draws his sword. Sparks fly, the air around you suddenly so hot that you almost feel like choking. What is that immense power of his? Are those…moons?  Out of instinct, you grab his arm. For support, to stop him? You don’t know anymore.

“Stop”, you cough out.

“Please…stop.”

He lowers his blade, his free hand now grabbing your back and pulling you towards his chest.

“I was the only user of moon breathing for countless centuries. Until you showed up”, he clarifies distantly.

“Tell me how you conquered sun breathing. Tell me how you taught yourself this technique.”

His face is only inches away from yours, forces your breath to get stuck in your throat all over again.

“It just happened.”

“You will come with me.”

He starts dragging you along with him, the unusual flaming touch of his hand almost driving you insane. Just a few hours ago, you were on a mission to free a small village from the cruel hands of a demon. What about those innocent people? What about those poor souls who might get slaughtered at this very moment? You can’t just follow him like a lost puppy.

“Only under one condition.”

Slowly, the upper moon one turns his face towards you.

“You set conditions?”

“Free the village I was assigned to from those demons or otherwise…”

With a swift motion you draw your sword and press it firmly against your very own neck.

“Or otherwise, I’ll make sure I won’t be able to answer all of your questions.”

You find yourself devoured in his arms and pressed against a cool stone wall before you finished blinking once, now staring straight into his dangerous orbs.

“I don’t negotiate with something like that”, he presses out.

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt @virtual-202 @blunderland

@strawberry784

[cofigelly]

ೀ SIX EYES

——————————————————————————pairing; college au!gojo satoru x reader

synopsis; you couldn’t help but notice a pair of wandering eyes during your 10am lecture

word count; ~2k words

contents; sfw, f!reader, no curses au, rich college student gojo, cocky/playful gojo, six eye/infinity references

notes; THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A QUICK LIL DRABBLE IDK WHAT HAPPENED? i <3 run ons and sentence fragments apparently

——————————————————————————

the first thing you noticed about him were his eyes.

well, technically, his eyes noticed you first.

in the midst of your monday 10am lecture (known for its lengthy, soul-wrenching talks about finance), you felt his sharp gaze pierce straight into your soul. it was a brief, quick glance — but it was an intentional glance, nonetheless.

you simply brushed it off. it must’ve been him zoning out, or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. that was until you caught him repeating the same habit again. and again. over the course of the next three weeks.

that same, hungry gaze, taking in every intricacy of your features. a look that felt like it set your entire body on fire, despite the icy blue hue his pupils reflected each time you returned a glance. his stare would only last a few seconds at most, but something about it felt so intense, so overbearing— it made hold your breath each time.

in all honesty, you didn't mind the attention. in fact, you kind of reveled in it — a handsome, 6'3 guy always ogling at you every lecture. it even had you thinking that maybe he was into you?

but that was at first. as more weeks passed, the more your ego shrank. 'is there something on my face,' you wondered, patting at your cheeks to search for some sort of makeup residue or food crumb, 'do i look stupid?' the large, echoey lecture hall felt evermore revealing as you struggled to find a way to shrink into your plastic-clad seat. but you couldn't hide, not from a stare like that.

paranoia getting the best of you, you slide your phone out of your pocket as you send a hasty text to your best friend, “bro who is this guy? he keeps staring at me EVERY lecture,” you send a 0.5x photo, clearly taken from afar.

just as quickly, your friend responds, “NO FUCKIN WAY is that gojo???” “who the fuck is gojo?”

you could almost feel her attitude burst through the text bubbles, “bro… GOJO. his family is literally loaded?? did you not see his dad surpass bill gates on the global ranking of billionaires?” that text takes you a little by surprise, alternating your eyes between him and the message upon your screen. “okay maybe it’s starting to sound familiar, but still. what’s he doing cosplaying as a broke college kid in my finance class?” you sigh as you continue to tap on your screen, “idgaf that he’s loaded it’s pissing me off that he’s staring at me like 🧿🫦🧿 every lecture.”

your friend reacts with a quick “haha” to your text before responding, “idk man maybe you just caught the attention of the richest guy on campus ;)”

you decided you’ve had enough after reading that text. you’re not about to feed your delusions this early on a monday morning. you’ll admit, he’s a good —no, stunning— looking guy, but you have no time to babysit a boy who was never taught that staring was rude. not to mention, this boy isn't even in the same tax bracket as you. 

brushing it off yet another time, you let out a deep sigh as you flip the page, copying your professor’s notes on the board.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

a whole month has passed and this gojo guy is growing more and more cocky with his stolen glances. he's not even trying to hide it anymore.

this fateful wednesday, as you walk into class, he immediately locks onto you. his bright blue orbs follow you from the door to your row, not releasing his gaze in the slightest after you settle into your seat. your grit your teeth in annoyance as you flip through your notebook pages. who does this guy think he is? it’s been a month and he hasn’t even procured the balls to say a single word to you. yet, he’s feasting on you like you’re his final meal on death row. 

the second the class is excused, you immediately beeline towards his seat — stopping in front of his leaning frame while he packs his bag. “dude, what the hell is your problem,” scowling at him as you approach, “i’ve seen you stare at me for weeks now and it’s getting straight creepy."

his ears perk at the sound of your voice, haphazardly zipping up the final pocket of his backpack. when he looks up, his eyes glint with a hint of mischief as he scrunches his nose in a grin — a grin that’s somehow even cockier than his stare.

“i’m just taking in the view, princess,” he jeers, delight in his tone. 

you stare at him incredulously as you take his confession in. so he really has been staring at you? “for one, i’m not your princess," you scoff at his clear disregard of your concern, "second, you might want to think again before you decide to stare at me one more damn time.”

he hums amusingly, shaking his foot in a steady rhythm, “you’re right. i might think about it again.” his grin is even wider now, “why, what are you going to do about it?”

“—look, i don’t know what you’re getting at,” your eyebrows furrow deeper, “but if you keep this shit up, this won’t be the last time you hear from me.”

briskly, you swing around, completely ignoring his bickers as you head straight out the hallway door. 

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

to gojo, everything you said on wednesday was music to his ears.

he strolled into the next lecture, on monday, with the same shit-eating grin on his face. ‘this wont be the last time he hears from you?' god, he hopes that was true. it made him wonder why he didn’t just stare at you harder in the first place.

everything about you captivated gojo satoru.

from the first day of lecture, he was already mesmerized — by the wafting scent of your cologne as you walked past his row, the way your head cocked to the side whenever you thought through a problem set, the distant clicks as you tapped the end of your pencil against your arm nervously.

he simply couldn’t help but steal that initial glance. he also couldn’t help but steal another one the lecture after.

and another. and another.

he knew he was getting ahead of himself, being so selfish with his dangerous stares, but you just had that effect on him. an effect that he's never experienced with anyone else. he bit back his pride when he couldn’t even approach you first, as he normally did with his prior interests.

there was just something so serene, so heavenly about you. he almost wanted to leave you undisturbed, opting to observe you from afar — not wanting to disrupt his delicate masterpiece from behind the red rope at the museum.

but the day you approached him changed everything. ‘how can someone so innocent have such a mouth on her,’ he chuckles to himself, taking his ipad and apple pencil out of his backpack before laying them flat on the table.

you were completely unlike his initial impression of you, much to his amusement. he prefers it this way —actually— he likes a girl who has a bit of a bite. besides, he finally has an excuse to talk to you and do what he knows best: get under your skin. metaphorically (and literally).

he glances at the door as he hears the familiar clanking of your keychain against your water bottle, more excited for the lecture than he's ever been before.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

there is no fucking way.

gojo satoru is now sitting in the seat directly next to your unassigned assigned seat in this 300-person lecture hall. the entire classroom is almost packed too. how early did he have to be to even get that seat? why is he in that seat? your thoughts are cut off as he waves his hand at you, muttering a short "yoohoo~," ushering you to sit next to him.

hell no. you still have no idea what he's playing at. is he stalking you? does he have some sort of ulterior motive? what if his scary billionaire family kills you, a dirty plebeian, for sitting so close to their perfect, trust fund baby?

you immediately switch gears, practically running away to find a new seat, catching a glimpse of his pout in the corner of your eye. you ignore him and situate yourself in the very front row, directly in front of the professor's podium. you let out a deep exhale as you unpack your notebook when you hear a loud shuffle next to you.

this guy has no shame.

gojo, in all his glory, happily claims the empty seat next to you —unloading the entire apple store (or so it feels like) onto the desk. "good choice, doll. more leg room up here," he stretches his long, lanky legs before crossing them — making sure his knee briefly makes contact with yours.

"are you serious right now— bro your entire apple ecosystem is getting onto my side of the desk," you scowl at him once again as you shove his macbook closer to him. "serious about what?" he mocks, that signature smile gleaming down on you.

"whatever this is? are you obsessed with me or something," you mutter the last part under your breath, but he takes note of you rolling your eyes at him. "hmmm," he taps his chin all philosophically, "if anything you're the one obsessed with me."

wow, this guy really is insane. you felt your eyebrow twitch in anger as you jerked your head up, "me obsessed with you? how does that even make any sense—" "you said you noticed me staring for weeks," he muses, still looking straight at you, "but you don't think i noticed you staring back?"

you scoff, "i was simply just returning your gaze; not everything is about you!” “untrue.”

after refusing to make eye contact, you finally meet his eyes. "i'm not gonna play this damn game with you, look—"

you've never seen him this close before. you've never seen anyone this close before, really. in this cramped lecture hall, with its seats compressed like sardines, it felt like he was only mere millimeters away from you. your breath hitched as the air seemed palpable, heavy. he was so close, but it felt like he was untouchable — almost as if an infinite void was cast between you two.

for the first time, he dropped that condescending smirk. he dropped the facade altogether. beyond the icy blue hues, his eyes glistened a shade that he only shows to you, a shade you've never noticed in all those times you two locked eyes. they were powdery blue — the same softness as the edges of the clouds in the sky or the frothy, tidal waves lightly crashing against the beach sand.

it made you wonder if it was physically possible for one person to hold so much power in just their eyes. a power that felt like three whole people, six eyes-worth, were constantly peering into every fiber of your being. except this time, it was intense in a whole different way, completely unlike before. the closest feeling you could think of was a warm oven, fresh after a batch of cookies — an inexplicable warmth in contrast to his icy appearance.

lost in each others' eyes, he parts his lips as if to finally say something—

"i would really appreciate if you two kept your eyes on the board instead of on each other," a voice boomed from the podium in front of you.

you both tense up, quickly spinning your bodies around to face the front as the snickers began to fill the classroom. you completely forgot about how close you were sitting to the professor.

you felt a tinge of heat start on your cheeks, creeping its way up onto the cartilage of your ears. the embarrassment was more than enough to shut you both up for the rest of the period, but you knew.

you knew you wanted to feel this way again.

——————————————————————————

final notes; i wrote this in my actual lecture hall instead of taking notes guys😎😎 (i am severely ill)

[teddybeartoji]

prince!dazai is the bane of your existence.

as his appointed knight, you are to keep a keen eye on him, which means you get to spend almost every single hour of the day with him.

he loves it, you know he does.

the gleam in his dark brown eyes when you greet him with a roll of your eyes is unmistakable, the lilt in his voice irritable as ever. you pull on the curtains and let the sun shower him in its warm light and watch as the man before you stretches himself across the bed – he reminds you of a spoiled housecat, his eyes falling shut as a dramatic whine falls from his lips, his back arching off the bed with a sliver of skin peeking from underneath his shirt and the bandages that reside under the soft material. it's barely an inch, but it catches your attention nonetheless.

you avert your gaze when he cracks an eye to glance at you with a sly, sleepy grin plastered onto his face.

the servants should be doing this – the morning routine. the curtains, the bed, the washing, the dressing up. it's should be their job, not yours. you're trained to kill, trained to protect, not to act like a damn maid.

and yet, here you are.

on the prince's wishes.

of course.

but you're mostly used to it by now. for weeks, you've been doing this – babying a grown man just because it's what he so wants. sure, his father tried to talk him out of it on your behalf but without it was in vain, as the prince stayed true to his own heart's desire.

every day, the prince waits for you to wake him. every day, the prince smiles all too sweetly at your annoyed looks. he truly does love it.

"good morning, my little knight!" his voice light as the spring sun that shines behind the windows. he pushes himself up into a sitting position, the big blanket pooling around his middle as he rubs his eyes.

"yeah."

your blunt answer doesn't falter his mood, if anything, it only eggs him on. "what's the schedule today, sunshine?"

turning your back on him, you move to pull apart the remaining curtains as well, and crack open a window to grace the prince with some fresh air. "breakfast, your highness."

dazai laughs quietly, his head falling to his shoulder as he stares at you. "and?"

turning to face him again, you grant him a fake little smile. the one he so very much adores. "let's take it one step at a time, yes?"

you're giving him room to mess with you.

just like now, he's taking his sweet time with the easiest task of the day – getting out of bed, and so you know if you tell him the actual things he has to do, he'll most definitely try to screw it all up for the sake of his entertainment.

he's bored out of his mind, that's why he's doing it.

he's read every book in the humongous library the castle has, he's played every move a person could ever possibly think of in a chess game against the various opponents he could find around the place – he's fucking bored, and you're the only one keeping him remotely sane in this stone cell.

dazai looks at you with his eyes low, mischief flickering in the dark orbs. you open the door to the bathroom, gesturing for him to finally start his day by washing up, so you could make the bed and ready his outfit. "please?"

that's the word you've had to learn over the time you've had to share with him. at first, you couldn't even stomach it. the magic word. the young man was relentless on coaxing you to say it, his irritable behaviour pulling at every nerve in your body. but when you finally told yourself that the reaction will only be demeaning at first, that the more you'd use it the more over it you'd get – it wasn't too hard anymore. you still have to convince yourself that you're doing it as a way for him to play along with you, not as a way for him to play with you.

you're above it. your job is to serve and to protect, a simple world won't wash down all of the punishing training you've had to go through. it's fine.

the smile he gives you makes your eye twitch.

but it does work.

dazai chirps as he pushes off the blanket, his feet plopping onto the wooden floor with a soft thud. he stretches again, he yawns again. a spoiled cat. he runs a hand through his messy hair, now making his way over to you with slow steps. you don't comment, you don't want to hear the quip he'll hit you back with, so you just keep your tongue and simply give him a small bow of your head.

he thinks it's very endearing. how despite the fact that he bothers you like nothing else, you never stop being a proper knight. that there still is a part of you that thinks of him so highly, no matter how much you might want to punch him in his beautiful face.

"don't miss me too much!" is what he says as he closes the door behind him. you scoff.

while he gets ready, you take the time to make his bed. with the rough hands of yours, you soften every wrinkle on the bedding and fluff up the pillows, so they'd be ready for him to rest his heavy head on them after the day. you set the blanket and then walk over to the massive walk-in closet, filled with the most expensive materials and the most beautiful colors.

he lets you pick the outfits and only whines about them for the point of whining, rarely ever having any real critique on his mind. you know his taste, you know exactly what he likes to wear, and in his mind, this is a perfect way for him to learn more about you too. you refuse to tell him anything anyway, so he'll take every scrap and crumb you offer him. what colors you go for, what type of shirt and pants – dazai's never been one to think about clothes so much, but in order to crack open your head and take a look inside, he'll do everything.

you're the book he's reading now. the one he's devoted himself to, the one he plans on deciphering and dissecting with his keen eyes.

by the time he steps out of the bathroom with a minty fresh breath and new, clean bandages, his little knight and his little outfit are already waiting for him by the bed.

he saunters closer, his hands locked behind his back. "white and blue for today, hm?"

"well, i am but a mere brute but the colors do look good together, no?"

you hold his gaze.

he hums with a smile. "they do."

dazai's brushes against you as he leans to grab the clothes and you try not to think about it. you watch as he disappears behind the partition, with only tufts of his hair poking out from the top as he moves around. you hear shuffling and a few hushed sighs as dazai struggles to keep his balance while putting on his socks. that's what you think he's having trouble with at least.

after a minute or two, soft footsteps draw your attention and you're met with the not-so-disheveled prince. "ta-daa!"

you click your tongue and take a step forward, your eyes dropping from his to his crooked collar instead. you reach out and he lets you.

eyebrows furrowed together, you work on the material of his shirt, the slanted fold tormenting your mind. you've been taught to keep things clean and proper, and so is the prince and still, in your company, he seems to forget his lessons.

"don't sell yourself short, my little knight." he purrs, his eyes glued to your focused expression. "you're definitely more than a mere brute."

teasing as ever.

"but of course, how could i forget... i am also a maid and a servant and a clown all at once." you wear the same fake-smile as before.

his grin grows bigger, the glimmer in his eyes brighter.

"see, you get it. no reason to put yourself down in front of your prince."

you inhale through your nose, your eyes closing at his mocking comment. pride blooms in dazai's chest at every reaction you give him.

brushing non-existent dust off his shoulders, you step from in front of him and point towards the door with a low hand. "well, my prince, shall we move to the dining room now then?"

flattery is as good with him as it is bad – you know your overly kind words will bite you back sometime later, but as long as you get him to actually do the things he has to do, you're fine with whatever. you've fought in battles, you've fought in wars, and so, an arrogant, smooth-voiced prince will surely not be the death of you.

he will not.