#I chose to draw this above sleeping

[creepy-can]

Can I give Laughing Jack a hug? QwQ

The chubby koala has spoken.

[milfsloverblog]

Deliver Us From Evil

Part 2 : Sloth (part 1 here)

Lucifer Morningstar x Nun Reader

A/N: Finally back after taking a silly little break for my silly little mental health! I chose to update this fic first because that’s what sparked my imagination and that’s how I’ll be working from now on. I hope you’ll enjoy this second chapter with Lucifer still as devilishly tempting as ever!

You often found solace in the quiet moments of the convent, the soft rustle of fabric and the gentle creak of old wood creating a rhythm that lulled you into a comfortable state of mind.

Each evening, after the chores had been completed and the prayers said, you would retreat to your small room, enveloped in the dim glow of a single candle, its flickering light casting shadows that danced along the walls.

But this night was different. The air felt heavy, thick with an unnameable energy that tugged at your consciousness. You sat on the edge of your bed, the worn mattress cradling you as if urging you to relax, to surrender to the weight of the day. Your book lay forgotten on your lap, the words blurring into an unintelligible haze as you fought against the wave of fatigue that washed over you.

Just as you began to succumb to the pull of sleep, a whisper grazed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Little one,” came the familiar voice, smooth and intoxicating.

You jolted upright, eyes wide, and turned toward the corner of your room where the shadows danced in the flickering light. There they stood, illuminated by the soft glow of the candle, mischief and allure blending on their face. Their presence filled the space with an electric tension that made your heart race.

“Angel,” you breathed, feeling both relieved and apprehensive. “What brings you here?”

“I sensed your struggle,” they replied, gliding closer, their movements fluid and graceful, like a predator approaching its prey. “You toil so hard, yet here you are, allowing weariness to claim you. You should indulge in rest, little one.”

A part of you longed to succumb to their words, to allow the weight of the day to melt away completely. Yet, the voice of duty echoed in your mind. “I must prepare for morning prayers. The other sisters—”

“Will manage just fine without you for a little while.” They interrupted, their voice dripping with temptation, coaxing you like honey flowing from a spoon. “Consider this a gift, a reprieve from your obligations.”

You bit your lip, uncertainty curling in your stomach. There was a certain charm in the Angel’s presence that made it easy to forget your duties. The way they moved, with a confidence that seemed to draw you in, made it difficult to resist. You glanced around the room, half-expecting to see the familiar faces of your fellow sisters, but the solitude only heightened the allure of their offer.

“What do you propose?” you asked, your curiosity piqued despite the instinctual urge to resist.

Lucifer leaned closer, their eyes glinting with mischief, their breath warm against your skin. “Join me in a moment of indulgence. Cast aside your worries. Let go of the burden you carry. What harm is there in a little rest?” Their voice lowered, almost conspiratorial, drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

You hesitated, the guilt of the thought weighing heavily on your conscience. But as you met the Angel’s gaze, the weariness inside you felt justified, as if they understood the weight of your struggles more than anyone else.

“I suppose I could spare a few moments…” you conceded, your voice barely above a whisper.

A sly smile curled on their lips, and in that instant, the atmosphere shifted. The dim candlelight flickered, casting shadows that seemed to dance in rhythm with the excitement that coursed through you. They gestured toward your bed, an invitation wrapped in sin.

“Then allow yourself to surrender,” they purred, their voice a soft caress that enveloped you. “Let me help you forget the world outside.”

As you lay back on your bed, the sheets cool against your skin, you felt a strange mix of guilt and relief. The Angel settled beside you, their presence intoxicating, pulling you deeper into a state of languor. The scent of them—something warm and sweet, like summer nights and honey—filled your senses, and your heart raced in response.

“Close your eyes,” they whispered, brushing a lock of hair away from your face with a feather-light touch. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

With a flutter of your lashes, you obeyed, feeling the tension in your body slowly dissipate. The soft sound of their voice wrapped around you like a warm blanket, guiding you into a dreamlike state where your worries faded and the weight of duty lifted.

“Just breathe, little lamb. Feel the heaviness of your body, the way it craves rest. Do you not deserve to feel free?”

You could feel their words weaving through your mind, wrapping around your consciousness like tendrils of smoke, urging you to relax. You allowed your thoughts to drift, the gentle caress of sleep beckoning you closer.

“But what of my prayers?” you murmured, even as your body betrayed you, sinking deeper into the bed.

“They will wait for you,” the Angel assured, their voice a sweet melody that soothed your frayed nerves. “For now, let yourself be still. Embrace the beauty of sloth, for it is a sin like any other—an indulgence, a retreat from the demands of life.”

As your eyelids grew heavy, the last remnants of resistance slipped away. You felt yourself surrender to the comfort of the moment, the embrace of sleep wrapping around you like a shroud. The air thickened with desire, and you felt a warmth radiating from the Angel that made your heart race.

“Goodnight, little one,” they murmured as your consciousness faded, leaving you in their captivating grasp.

Time slipped away in a haze of warmth and softness, the boundaries of reality blurring as you floated in a serene state. Every worry, every fear, faded into the background, replaced by a soothing presence beside you. You could feel the Angel’s energy, a palpable force that wrapped around you like a cocoon, urging you to let go, to indulge in the sweet embrace of sloth.

In the quiet of your room, the candled flickered like a heartbeat, casting playful shadows on the walls. You could feel the weight of the day retreating, replaced by a languid sense of comfort. You were enveloped in the warmth of the Angel’s presence, and you felt your breathing slow, each inhale a delicious act of surrender.

“What are you doing to me?” you murmured, half in a dream, half aware of the seduction at play.

“I’m merely showing you what you deserve,” they replied, their voice a sultry whisper that danced in the air between you. “You’ve spent so long attending to the needs of others, it’s time to indulge in your own desires. Don’t you wish to feel liberated from your duties, even if just for a moment?”

The question hung in the air, tantalizing and intoxicating. You did wish for that freedom; it felt like a balm to your soul. The thought of casting aside your obligations, even for a fleeting moment, stirred something deep within you. You felt a warmth pooling in your belly, igniting a spark of rebellion against the rigid expectations that surrounded you.

As if sensing your thoughts, the Angel shifted closer, their body pressing against yours in a way that sent shivers down your spine. The heat radiating from them was intoxicating, a delicious contrast to the cool sheets beneath you. You could feel their breath against your skin, sending tingling sensations racing through your body.

“Relax,” they urged, their voice low and hypnotic. “Let me take care of you.”

You wanted to resist, to remind them of your vows and your duties, but the weight of their gaze held you captive. It was as if they could see right through you, past the layers of habit and devotion, into the depths of your yearning soul. You felt exposed, yet safe in their presence—a paradox that both thrilled and terrified you.

“What do you want from me?” you whispered, the question laced with vulnerability.

“Only what you’re willing to give,” they replied, their fingers brushing against your arm with a delicate touch that made your breath hitch. “I want to show you the beauty of letting go, the ecstasy found in surrendering to your desires.”

Your heart raced, and you felt a flush creeping up your cheeks. It was dangerous, this dance you were engaging in, but the temptation was so sweet. The thrill of disobedience sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, igniting a fire you had long suppressed.

“You deserve this,” the Angel continued, their voice wrapping around you like a silken thread, weaving a spell that was impossible to break. “You’ve worked hard, and the world has demanded so much of you. Allow yourself this moment to bask in pleasure without guilt or shame.”

As you lay there, you felt a flicker of doubt—a reminder of the life you had chosen, the vows you had taken. But then Lucifer’s fingers trailed down your arm, igniting a trail of heat that made your pulse quicken. The sensation was overwhelming, drowning out the whispers of guilt that tried to intrude.

With a breathless sigh, you abandoned yourself to the moment, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to be enveloped in their warmth. You felt their presence beside you, a comforting weight that promised safety and indulgence.

“Just breathe,” they murmured, their voice low and soothing. “Let everything else fade away. Focus on the sensations, on the comfort of the sheets, on the softness of your skin.”

You obeyed, taking a deep breath as their words washed over you like a gentle tide. You felt the last remnants of your hesitation slip away, leaving only the sweet thrill of surrender in their place. The pull of the convent, the expectations, and the demands of your life faded into oblivion, and in that moment, you were free.

“Good,” the Angel whispered, their presence a warm light guiding you deeper into the embrace of indulgence.

And as you surrendered to the night, the embodiment of sloth smiled. Lucifer savoured the slow unravelling of your resolve, knowing that another sin had been nurtured, with five more to go.

————————————————————————

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[roosterforme]

How Old Are You? | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob only gets one birthday every four years. When his wife, Molly, realizes it's almost Leap Day, she throws him a party any nine year old would love. And it's the perfect celebration for a thirty-six year old, too.

Warnings: Fluff, adult language, implied smut, 18+

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC!Molly (this story accompanies The Curveball)

Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Bob was half asleep in bed, post orgasm, when the weird conversation started. "So technically you're about to turn nine? Even though you'll be thirty-six? Is that right?"

He cracked his eyes open again as he watched his wife stretch her arms above her head, her nipple piercings glinting in the soft candlelight that had their bedroom aglow. She was nibbling on her lip, and he could practically see her mind working.

"Yeah," he answered cautiously. "Why do you have that expression on your face, Mo? Like you're plotting something scary?"

"I've never plotted something scary a day in my life!" she told him before leaning down and gently biting his bicep. "I was merely considering what I should get you for your special day."

"I don't need anything," he replied quickly, remembering the naked cowboy statue wearing glasses that she gifted to him last year.

"Well," she said, drawing out the single syllable. "That's where I think you're wrong, Bobby."

"Molly, I don't even want anything." Then he had an idea that he hoped would throw her off. "How about you get some pretty new barbells or rings and let me play with them?"

She rolled her eyes. "That would be a gift for me."

He shrugged as she draped herself across him. "Kind of for both of us when you really think about it."

Her soft lips found his jaw as she whispered, "But it's not every day you turn nine, Coach Cute Glasses. You deserve an extra special treat."

He shook his head in exasperation and said, "I'll really be thirty six though."

"Not according to the calendar." She kissed him sweetly before climbing over him to get out of the bed. "I'll go check on Charlie and Flora one last time before we go to sleep." Bob watched her slip his discarded undershirt on and smooth it down over her gorgeous body, perhaps a little more filled out now that they had two kids.

He reached for her hand and said, "Mo, we really need to sell the condo and get a bigger place. They can't share that tiny room forever."

Even though she told him all the time that she loved the condo and didn't want to leave it, she was finally starting to come around. "I think I'm ready to admit that you might be right about that, Uncle Bob."

"Really?" he asked, jolting up in bed.

She nodded and hummed. "Yes. Besides, your birthday party would be a lot easier to plan if we had more space to accommodate all the guests."

Bob groaned and flopped back down again, and Molly removed his glasses for him. "I don't need a birthday party," he insisted. "I just want a nice, quiet evening with you and the kids. Maybe your sister, Ev and Bradley, too, but that's it."

"We'll see," she replied before leaving the bedroom with a wicked smirk on her face.

----------------------------

"Can you get to my sister's house by noon on your birthday? For your party?" Molly asked as she watched Bob feed a mashed up banana to their one year old daughter. 

"I thought we ended that discussion with us both accepting the fact that I do not need a birthday party."

"Yeah... it's too late for that," she replied easily as she and Charlie both ate their own dinners. Molly's favorite hobby was keeping her husband on his toes. She figured his life would be sad and boring without her in it, and since he chose to be with her, he must have a deep-seated love for nonsense. She always made sure to bring it out for him, especially for his birthday. 

He gave her a stern look. "It's just a small party, right?"

"Sure, Bobby."

"I don't believe you."

"Oh come on," she whined. "This is your first real birthday since we met!"

She knew he would crack. He gave her what she wanted the vast majority of the time anyway, but when she whined for something harmless, it was always hers. 

"Fine."

And with that single word, Molly executed the most epic ninth birthday anyone could ever have. She called the vendors. She ordered the piñata. She invited the guests. She procured a balloon arch. And on Bob's birthday, her own sister and brother-in-law were looking at her with shocked expressions from their back deck when she started setting things up at eight in the morning. 

"I thought this was going to be a small party?" Bradley asked as he watched her assemble the red and yellow balloon arch. 

Molly just laughed. "That's just what I told Bob. I lied. The pony should be arriving soon."

"Pony?" gasped her sister. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard. Did you say a pony is arriving?"

"Yes," Molly said, speaking a little louder now to make her point. "How the hell are we supposed to have a cowboy birthday party without pony rides?"

Then Everett came tearing out onto the back deck, still in his pajamas, shouting, "Someone is bringing a horse around from the driveway!"

"See?" Molly asked as the pony and handler appeared in the backyard. "Ev is excited. He has good taste."

"He's ten!" Bradley snapped as he went running across the yard. "Is this thing going to tear up the grass that I spent months watering so it looked this nice?" But as soon as he saw how excited Everett was to pet the cute animal, Molly knew her brother-in-law would be on her side. It was just her sister glaring at her now.

"Whatever you mess up out here, you need to clean up. That includes the horse poop!"

"It's just a pony," Molly assured her, although the animal was a lot bigger than she expected. And yes, it was actually pooping. "It's fine. It'll be fine."

She was hoping it would be fine.

--------------------------

When Bob buckled Charlie and Flora back into their car seats in his truck at Myers park, he checked the time. It was almost noon. "Oh god," he groaned as he opened the driver's door. He had no idea what to expect, but the text from Bradley about how he was going to need help filling in the hoof prints in their yard next week had him on edge.

"Birthday party!" Charlie cheered from the backseat as Bob pulled out onto the main road. Molly had been talking about it so much, their son kept saying it over and over.

"That's right," Bob told him calmly. "But I'm pretty sure Mommy went bananas over the entire thing."

"Nana!" Flora crooned before she burst into tears. He should have known better than to mention her favorite food right in front of her like that. So he drove to his sister-in-law and brother-in-law's house with one delighted child and one who was crying hysterically. When he pulled down their block, there was absolutely nowhere to park, and there was a horse trailer parked right in front of the house. 

"Oh, no. No no no. Molly, no," he whispered. When he got closer, he saw the massive banner hanging on the porch that said Happy Birthday, Cowboy Bob. He had to squeeze his truck into the driveway behind the familiar blue Bronco while he gaped at the sight before him.

"Horse!" Charlie screeched. He wasn't wrong. There was some sort of pony walking around the backyard with Everett perched on top of the saddle wearing a cowboy hat. "I want the horse!"

"Okay," Bob told him as he shook his head and climbed out of the truck. He walked around to the back of the house with one child in each arm, and thankfully when Flora saw the pony, she stopped crying, perhaps out of fear. 

"Bob!" Molly shouted over the classic country music that was playing as she popped out of the enormous rodeo themed bounce house and ran to him. Literally everyone he'd ever seen in his life seemed to be here, and they were all wearing cowboy hats. Everyone from work was here. Like everyone. Cyclone was wearing a cowboy hat and drinking a beer. Bob thought he saw the doctor that Molly worked with who delivered both of their children. His parents and both of his sisters were here. His niece Piper was taking a turn riding the pony. There were indeed hoof prints in the yard.

Then Molly was somehow in his arms along with both kids, and she was kissing his neck as she said, "Happy birthday," in a voice that would have been a lot more appropriate for their bedroom. 

"Mo," he said, shaking his head. "There's a pony. It's making Bradley look constipated." 

She just rolled her eyes in response. "He'll get over it as soon as I offer to watch Everett for a few days over spring break so he and my sister can go away and do nasty stuff to each other."

Bob just smiled down at her and said, "You told me this would be a small affair."

"I guess I lied. Oops. Come say hi to Phoenix." She dragged him up onto the deck where Natasha took both kids from him with a kiss to his cheek, and then Molly was yanking his shirt over his head.

"What are you doing?" he asked, standing there in his undershirt with his glasses askew. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, she was pulling another shirt over his head. It said Birthday Cowboy, and there was a number 9 that looked like it was shaped out of rope.

And that's when everyone started hugging him and running around to get him drinks and chat with him. Mickey was wearing cowboy boots and a cow print vest. Maverick was teaching the kids how to line dance. Bradley's scowl had started to ease up since Everett seemed to be having the time of his life. 

"Happy birthday, Uncle Bob," Everett said when he walked over. He hugged Bob and added, "Your birthday party is my favorite birthday party ever, and I can't believe it's in my yard!"

"Thanks, Ev," he replied with a laugh as he watched Molly and Flora dancing with Javy. "It is pretty cool."

"Happy birthday, Bob," his sister-in-law said, handing him a card. "You can open it later. We got you opening day tickets for the Padres. Also, I'm so sorry that my sister is so chaotic, but you should have known what you were getting into when you started dating her."

Bob accepted another kiss on his cheek. "She really can't be stopped once she gets going." 

"It's a waste of time to even try. Might as well sit back and enjoy the show."

He did, and the looser he got, the more fun he started to have. He pet the pony while Piper rode around on it. He smashed open a cowboy piñata with one of Everett's baseball bats. He jumped in the bounce house with Charlie and Everett, and Bradley even joined them.

"I'll help you fix your yard next week," Bob promised as Everett did a backflip. 

Bradley just laughed and said, "It's hard to be mad about it when Molly just wants everyone to have the time of their life. You're very lucky. Also, I don't know how you deal with her on a daily basis."

Bob laughed, too. "Sometimes I just take it one hour at a time."

"Get ready for cake!" Molly shouted, and it took five people to carry out the biggest sheet cake he'd ever seen in his life. It was cow print and decorated with boots and spurs, and said Happy 9th Birthday, Cowboy Bob!

After he blew out the nine candles he reached for Molly. "Thank you," he whispered, kissing her softly. "I didn't know I needed a ninth birthday party, but I guess I really did."

"You're only a kid once, Bobby," she replied, smiling against his lips.

"You do know I'm actually thirty-six, right?" he asked, pulling her snug against him as her sister started to cut up the cake. 

"Not according to the calendar," she responded, patting him gently on the cheek. "Your mom and I had a lovely conversation about how terrible you look for your age."

He tried not to smile, but it was useless. "I'm actually having the best day, Mo."

"I knew it all along."

---------------------------

Both kids were sound asleep as soon as Molly tucked them into bed. Charlie went on a sugar high and then crashed, and Flora was played with and held by seemingly everyone at the party. They would probably sleep for a solid twelve hours. Which was good, because Molly wanted to give her husband the rest of his birthday presents. 

She found him in their bedroom where he was opening up the cards he got with a soft smile on his face. "You have so many friends," she told him, and he turned to look at her. "Everyone loves Bob Floyd."

He actually blushed which made her want to rip all of his clothing to shreds and have her way with him. He shook his head slightly and said, "Everyone loves the amazing Molly Floyd and her beautiful imagination."

"Bobby," she moaned softly, taking the card from his hand and wrapping her arms around him. "Tell me more about how amazing I am."

He laughed and whispered, "You threw me the equivalent of a kids' ninth birthday party, just because you could. My dad participated in the pie eating contest. My mom learned how to line dance. Bradley almost popped a vein in his forehead. It was wonderful."

She sighed in contentment. "In four more years when you turn ten, we'll be in a bigger house, and we can host your party there. But we'll have to wait and see if you're still into cowboys or if your interests change, Kiddo. Now will you please open your present from me? And put on your cowboy hat? I've always wanted to suck a real cowboy's cock."

Bob grinned. "Molly, you suck my cock when I'm wearing my cowboy hat all the time."

"But you've never had assless chaps before."

Bob let out a strangled sound, and when he opened the box that was wrapped in cowboy paper, there were in fact assless chaps inside. "Please, please, please put them on," Molly moaned. "God, I feel like it's my birthday."

As soon as she started whining, he always gave her what she wanted. It was impossible not to. Five minutes later, Bob was standing in the middle of the bedroom wearing the chaps, his birthday shirt, and his old cowboy hat. Molly was panting and biting her knuckle, already obviously raring to go down on him, which just made him harder.

But she took a step toward him and then stopped, a devilish smirk on his face. "Now wait. I'm having a bit of a moral dilemma with you in that shirt. How old are you again?"

"I'm thirty-six," he replied blandly. 

"You sure about that, Cowboy Bob?"

"Molly! I'm thirty-six!"

"Okay, okay. Just checking," she said, reaching for the bottom of his shirt. "But let's just remove this anyway."

------------------------

I had a blast revisiting these two! I'm so deeply in love with Molly. I hope you enjoyed Bob's birthday celebration. Thanks for reading! And thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[slut4thebroken]

Jason’s Dirty Secret

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Dark pervert!Jason Todd × innocent Batgirl!reader

Summary | When Jason gives in to his urges, they only get worse.

Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, lowkey misogynistic!Jason lol, non con pic taking, non con groping, non con oral, non con use of sleep meds, non con come eating, non con recording, everything in this in non consensual, cause she is unaware lol, adopted siblings, but like... he doesn't think of her that way and neither does she.

Words | 2k

Notes | I don’t even know man. I think I blacked out when I wrote this

Ao3 link | <3

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He doesn’t know how it happened. But all of a sudden it just quickly grew into a weekly routine, then a daily routine. Sometimes you would go out on patrol on days that he stayed home. So he used that time to go into your room. 

It started out simple, looking through your underwear drawer, every once in a while pocketing one to rub his dick with later. But he quickly became bolder. He’d walk in your room, then pull his pants down below his balls to free his cock and use your panties to wipe the precum beading at the tip, so it would indirectly touch your cunt. Or he’d position your pillow on the edge of the bed and rut against it, like he would if it were you under him. He had to refrain from coming on it though, not wanting it to stain and draw attention. So he settled for just smearing precum on it. 

Sometimes he’d even jack off to completion in your room. He’d go through your laundry hamper to find your panties from the previous day and put them against his face to smell you, then stroke his cock with them before bunching the fabric over the tip and coating them in his come. 

When he eventually was not as easily satisfied from that, he set up a few cameras. He put one in the light, right above your shower, and another in the vent, aimed at your perfectly placed bed, but it also pretty much showed your entire room. Whenever you got back from patrol or finished training, he’d rush up to his room and wait in front of his open laptop, his cock already hard and leaking in his hand. 

He watched you on the screen as you took off your slutty workout clothes and put them in the hamper before making your way to the bathroom. The first time he watched you shower he was completely focused on the sight of your nude body, but the second time he watched was when he got the idea. After you left the apartment, he walked in your room and jacked off the way he normally did, using your pillow or underwear, but stopped when he neared his orgasm. He headed to your bathroom and grabbed your body wash, then opened it and resumed fucking his fist. 

It’s almost like you fucking wanted him to do this since you chose a body wash that was the exact same color and conistancy as his come. So you can’t really blame him. He debated jizzing in your face wash too, but even he’s not that cruel. The next day, he watched you shower, almost immediately coming when you rubbed the body wash over every inch of your skin. 

He doesn’t even know how this idea came to him, maybe in a dream, but he wanted to do more with his come. The first time it was easy. Alfred made cinnamon rolls the day before and you took some home, so he decided to be a nice big bother and bring you one for dessert while you were studying. He stopped by his room and it didn’t take him long to come while he thought of what he was about to do. 

“Come in.” You muttered when he knocked on the door. He walked in, closing the door behind him, and you didn’t even glance up from your textbook, chewing on your pen as you read. 

“How’s the studying going?” He asked, taking a seat on the edge of your bed, near you. 

“Terrible. But I feel better now that you’re here.” You said, turning to him with a wide smile on your face. 

“I thought you could use a dessert break.” He returned your smile and held the plate out to you. 

“Oh that looks amazing.” You said, taking it from him and immediately digging in. The first bite you had no reaction, other than an exaggerated vulgar moan that made his cock twitch, but the second bite, you paused and furrowed your brows. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, jeans becoming painfully tight. 

“I don’t know, it just- it tastes a little funny.” You said, trying another bite. 

“Maybe Alfred messed up something this time. Do you want me to get you something else?”

“No- no, it’s okay.” He knew you would say that. “It’s not… bad. It’s just different I guess. More salty?” 

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure.” You gave him a small smile and continued eating, making small talk that he couldn’t focus on as he watched. Somehow this was hotter than the idea of you swallowing his come after he fucked your throat. Maybe because you were unaware. 

Maybe, he thought with a scoff. More like definitely.

The next time he put it in your tea. He already knew exactly how you take your tea so he just added the milk and extra sugar to balance out the saltiness, then stopped by his room, making sure to hurry so it didn’t get cold. 

You were studying again when he opened your door. You gratefully took the tea and started complaining about an upcoming test you had, but he wasn’t listening. He couldn’t. Not when you took a sip, then immediately started chugging it. 

“This tastes so good, what’d you do?” You asked, barely pulling away from the cup to speak. 

“Nothing special.” He shrugged. “I made it how I always do.” You bought it and continued drinking until the mug was less than half full. “You like it?” He asked, cock throbbing. 

“I love it. Thank you, Jay, this was just what I needed.” You smiled, setting down the mug to get up and give him a hug. You pressed your body against his, making his hips flinch forward, but if you noticed, you didn’t say anything. 

“You’re welcome, princess. You ever want more, I’ll happily make it again for you.” He tried to hide his smirk with a smile as pulled back. 

The first time he put it in your tea, he stupidly brought a spoon to mix it. The second time though, he decided to forgo the spoon all together. He came in the drink, then without giving it another thought, used his own dick to stir it. It was weird at first, especially because he was still hard, but he did it, then watched the way you gulped it down, letting out a low, satisfied moan at the taste. Was putting his dick in tea with milk and sugar a bad idea? Maybe… But any and all consequences would be worth it. 

It became an obsession, trying to put it in anything he could, and you never once questioned why some of the food he made tasted weird. When that wasn’t enough anymore, he came up with more ideas. 

You’d started taking this pill to help you sleep, only on school nights though so you’d be able to get a full eight hours, and he knew he couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste. The first time he came into your room while you were sleeping, he was cautious- never moving too suddenly or making any noise. He didn’t want to take too much of a risk so he just lifted your shirt up enough to show your tits, then fucked his fist, making sure to come in his hand. 

The second time though, he decided to be a little more bold. He was still trying not to make any sudden movements and he said your name throughout it to make sure you were still asleep, but he lifted your shirt and pulled the blankets down so he could see your panties and bare tits. This time he came on your chest, then grabbed your underwear from the laundry basket to wipe it away. As he was doing that though, you stirred, making him freeze. He waited a few seconds after you stilled again to finish wiping your chest. 

He knew he had to make sure you’d stay completely knocked out so he decided to take matters into his own hands. Along with his come, he put something in your tea that should keep you dead asleep for a few hours. You drank it eagerly, moaning at the taste, making his cock throb. When your eyes started to grow heavy, he waited only a few more seconds before lifting you and carrying you to your bed. If you asked, he’d say you fell asleep and he just wanted to make sure you’d be comfortable. That’s why he changed your clothes too. Once you were completely bare on top of the sheets, he groped your tits, paying extra attention to your nipples as they hardened easily, making him smirk. 

Suddenly moving away from you, he took his clothes off impatiently, then kneeled over your torso. He let his dick rest on your sternum, then pushed your tits together and started fucking them. You didn’t even stir, you just stayed completely still. When precum started beading at the tip, he released your breasts to grab his cock, then wiped his arousal over your lips. As he stared at your pink and now shiny lips, an idea formed. 

He gently plugged your nose and you just barely shifted before you instinctively opened your mouth letting him slide in as he released your nose. He fucked your mouth slowly, trying not to go too deep. He wasn’t sure if your gag reflex would work the same while you were unconscious and he didn’t want to risk you throwing up on his cock. 

He neared his orgasm much sooner than he would’ve liked and he let himself come in your mouth with a low groan. You let out a muffled sound, only moving a tiny bit underneath him. When he pulled back, your head lulled to the side and his come started flowing out of your mouth onto your pillow, but he paid no mind to it. It’ll dry before you wake up. 

He got up and grabbed your underwear, putting it back on, making a mental note to start with that next time. When he picked up your pajama shirt, he debated just leaving you bare but that would make you suspicious so he did his best to put it on you without getting any of his come on his hands. When he did though, he just wiped it off on your cheek. 

“Jay?” You mumbled, yawning and rubbing your eyes as you walked into the living room a few hours later. 

“Hey, princess. You passed out on me, what happened?” 

“I dunno, I just got so tired. Did you carry me to my bed?” You asked, sitting next to him on the couch. 

“Yeah. And I changed you into your pjs so you wouldn’t have to sleep in your jeans.” 

“Oh.” You looked down at your body, seemingly just now noticing what you were wearing. “Thanks, Jay.” You said, hugging his arm and leaning your head on your shoulder. 

He could only wait two days before he had to do it again. You drank his come and the drug, then fell asleep on the couch, letting him carry you to your room. He made quick work of undressing you, then opened your legs and sat between them, not even bothering to do anything other than unzip his pants. Despite his eagerness, he wanted the first time he touched you to be something you remember, so he fucked his fist, gaze trailing all over your body. 

He came with a moan, painting your cunt with his seed and letting himself rest for only a moment before grabbing your underwear and putting it back on, keeping his come in place. It soaked through the fabric relatively quickly, so he grabbed his phone from his pocket and took a picture, making sure to get your tits in the frame too. He pocketed the device and righted his clothes before getting up to put your shirt back on, already thinking of what he was going to do next. 

[thunder-point]

Phumpeem au

hello have we all considered any kind of phumpeem soulmates au because, of course, i think the "once i become of age, everything i scribble on my skin appears on my soulmate's body as well" trope fits them so well.

just imagine: they become of age the same year, but phum is first. and for those months that separates them, peem is helplessly hit with little messages that make him want to rip his hair out, blow after blow. because the first time his soulmate writes to him, it's on his palm. letters small, unsure and so wobbly peem can barely make out the words. but he does. he does and he can't breathe for a few minutes after.

it reads "find me whenever you want, but please just like me. like me like me like me" his soulmate doesn't write often. but when they do, it's not 'hello', it's not 'i guess you're still not of age yet because you're not responding', it's not 'what's your name' or 'tell me things about yourself'

it's just every heart-wrecking piece of vocabulary ever created.

it's 'it hurts. i hope i'm the only one hurting so often. please take care of yourself'

it's 'i hope someone told you you're loved today. you deserve it. you deserve it even when i feel like i don't. even if we share this same soul.'

it's 'i'm sorry for hurting you. i feel like i'm hurting you sometimes. i just want to talk to you but i don't know how.'

it's 'are you reading me? can you see me? sometimes i feel like not many people can see me on this earth.'

it's 'i hope you like hugs. i hope you'll hug me until i can't breathe. please. please.'

and mostly it's just 'please like me. please don't find me lacking. not you.'

his soulmate writes them at the darkest of hours, and they're always wobbly, always without steady contour. and peem has understood from the first ever message that the ache in his gut is not his. not really. it's his soulmate's. it's the half that seems to tremble every time they seeks peem so ruthlessly.

when he becomes of age. he doesn't know what to do. his soulmate hasn't said a thing in two weeks. no more shattering messages that are whispered on peem's skin like a plead. peem can't find words to answer to everything ever revealed to him. to a pain he can't understand but can feel.

so he draws. he only draws. the first ever doodle he paints on his skin is a chibi version of himself hugging a shaded figure tightly to his chest. right in the center of his palm, where his soulmate chose to begin everything.

hours later, when he looks down at his palm, he stars quivering from within. because the paint is smeared. but it's not because of sweat. it has droplets peppered all over, as if someone cried over it freely. not peem's tears.

right under it, the same wobbly writing appears 'you are so talented. I'm sorry for ruining it. please don't stop.'

peem's tears join right after. q finds him sobbing into his elbow in a corner of their art classroom.

he never stops. he never fucking stops. he draws everyday. every morning, even if he's late for his first year of university, he opens his paints and doodles the most trivial of things on his palm, always in the middle of his palm. he mostly doodles himself, because he wants his soulmate to know him more and more. he doodles himself drinking coffee, because he loves coffee. he draws himself painting. draws himself bickering with q's chibi version, the bubbly letters 'this is my annoying best friend, you'll like him. he's the most caring person I've ever met.' right above it. he doodles peem's friend's sleeping on top of each other on his bed, and writes 'i hope you'll join the pile one day.'

he doodles the cats he sees on the streets 'i like them. what animals do you like?' he doodles characters from his favorite shows and books and bands. his soulmate answers them all hesitantly, after hours. like he doesn't know if he should, if he can.

but he never stops saying 'pretty.', 'talented.' never stops scribbling little, trembling 'thank yous' around peem's drawings.

most of all, peem just draws himself hugging the vague figure of his soulmate. because he likes hugs, he adores hugs and he'll give his soulmate hugs in every shape and form.

then one day, peem draws an annoyed version of his chibi's face, along with the words 'i met the most annoying person today.'

he didn't think much of phum at first. phum is annoying and cocky and nothing like his soulmate's meek writing, the ache that follows it. he and his deal get on peem's nerves. but also he seems like he can't escape phum. he can't stop seeing layers and layers of the guy. can't stop his initial annoyance from dissolving, watering down.

one time, he scoffs, mostly as a joke, as a taunt. 'i bet your other half is as much a handful as you are.'

but phum didn't rise to the bait, like he always does. his whole face mellowed, instead, voice the shiest it's ever been as he curls his palm to his chest and whispers, 'my soulmate is the most gentle soul I've ever met, even if he's my half.'

and peem is. he's shattered. mouth dry and shocked and strangely shattered. because what do you mean even if he's my half, what do you mean phum's so besotted it drips off his face like liquid paint.

weeks pass, time goes by and peem finds himself hurting for more reasons than one. because he's starting to yearn differently than before. because he feels no longer halved, but pulled in three different directions. he still draws for his soulmate daily, still feels warmth right in the middle of his chest when he receives his soulmate's words, no long so full of desolation, but mostly reactions to peem's doodles.

but there's a heat that engulfs him whenever phum is around. consuming and maddening and most of all, confusing. peem should not feel like this for someone who doesn't have the right to leave ink on his skin. he shouldn't. he should stop his heart from beating so desperately. he shouldn't because the first words his soulmate ever said were 'please like me like me like me' and peem can't go and break that unspoken promise of liking his other half until they both fade away.

yet his feelings are growing and glaring, and he finds himself grasping at delusions that do him no good.

peem finds himself trying to sneak looks at phum's palms, just for a glance, for an ounce of hope that perhaps the yearning is not so unfounded. that phum's moments of undiluted softness, so unexpected but somewhat familiar, are a sign from fate for peem to look, search, discover.

it's ridiculously hard to look at this man's palms, and that shouldn't give him such expectations but it does. because phum wears oversized stuff like he has something to hide beneath his sleeves. he keeps his hands curled nearly all the time, like he's protecting something.

[to be continued]

YEA WELL. I'm writing this one for ao3 so I'll stop here because it's already a very long post of me rambling. Many questions to be answered. Does Phum know before Peem does? For how long? How does Peem find out? Hmm.

[mononijikayu]

toothbrush — nanami kento.

At times, Kento thought that you should just sleep here, rest here until you had enough rest. The idea of waking up next to you, of starting his day with your presence beside him, filled him with a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. He wanted to cook you breakfast, to share a leisurely morning with you as the sun rose, painting the room in soft hues of gold and pink. The simple pleasure of a shared meal, of casual conversation over coffee, seemed incredibly precious.

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!

WARNING/S: alternate universe - canon convergence, ceo! nanami, rated 18 and above, explicit content, strangers to lovers, one night stand, p to v sex, lirting, seduction, romance, humor, fluff, comfort/no hurt, mention of alchohol, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, depiction of drinking and alcoholic drinks;

LISTEN: toothbrush by dnce

NOTE: i chose the youtube lyric video of the song because that's how i imagine reader leaving nanami and the thoughts of the song is just nanami waking up to you leaving. the ending of in bed together, that's how the ending is. anyway, just one mroe and side 700 is going to be complete and i can write ashes of love again. thank you for being patient with me!!! i love you~

masterlist

kayu's playlist — side 700;

HE REALLY DIDN’T DO THIS MUCH. Nanami Kento sat at the corner of the dimly lit bar, nursing a glass of whiskey. He untied the knots of his tie, loosening it slightly as he savored the quiet moments, the noise of the world fading into the background, replaced by the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. It was a rare evening where he allowed himself to unwind, to escape the relentless demands of being a CEO.

He sighed, taking another sip of his drink, feeling the warmth spread through his chest. The bar was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where he could forget about the spreadsheets, board meetings, and the constant pressure of making decisions. Here, he could just be Kento, not Nanami Kento, the powerful executive.

You slid onto the barstool beside him, your presence drawing his attention. He glanced at you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than usual. There was something about you that intrigued him, something that made him want to know more. Your eyes met, and a smile played on your lips as you introduced yourself.

"Hi, it’s nice to meet you," you said, extending your hand with a warm smile.

Kento looked up from his drink, his eyes locking onto yours. There was a brief moment of hesitation before he took your hand, his grip firm yet gentle. "Kento," he replied, his voice smooth and deep. "Nice to meet you."

The simple exchange seemed to spark an immediate connection, a current of electricity passing between you. His eyes lingered on yours, and you noticed the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. You slid onto the barstool next to him, feeling an inexplicable ease in his presence.

"I haven't seen you here before," you remarked, trying to ease into the conversation. "Do you come here often?"

Kento chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, not really. Just needed a break from the usual routine. How about you?"

You nodded, swirling the drink in your glass. "It's one of my favorite spots. There's something comforting about the atmosphere here. It's a nice escape."

He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "I can see that. Sometimes, it's good to step away from everything, find a place where you can just... breathe."

You smiled, appreciating his sentiment. "Exactly. So, what do you do when you're not finding solace in dimly lit bars?"

He leaned back slightly, a small sigh escaping his lips. "I run a company. CEO life isn't exactly a walk in the park."

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. "A CEO, huh? That's impressive. Must be pretty demanding."

"It is," he admitted, his eyes meeting yours again. "But tonight, I'm just Kento. No titles, no responsibilities. Just... me."

There was a vulnerability in his words that caught you off guard, making you see him in a new light. "Well, Kento, it's just nice to know we feel the same."

The conversation flowed effortlessly from that point, each of you peeling back layers of your lives. You talked about your passions, your dreams, and the little things that made life worth living. He listened intently, his eyes never straying from yours, as if he was genuinely interested in every word you said.

As the night wore on, the bar around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little world. The flirtation became more pronounced, the touches more lingering. When your fingers brushed against his while reaching for your glass, a spark ignited, sending a thrill down your spine.

"It's nice, drinking here beside you," Nanami confessed, his voice low and sincere. 

“It was nice to have you with me too.” You leaned in closer, your breath warm against his ear as you whispered something that made him smile—a rare and genuine smile. 

“I should say the same thing.” He smiles at you, holding the rim of his own glass. “You make me feel like something nice after a long day.”

"Oh, you have no idea how good it is, to know you.." you said, your voice a little softer, "I didn't expect to have such a good time tonight. It is…rare. To find someone interesting.”

"Neither did I." Kento replied, his gaze intense. "But I'm glad I came. Meeting you... it feels like a breath of fresh air."

The sincerity in his words touched you deeply, and you found yourself leaning closer, drawn to him in a way that felt both exciting and inevitable. "Do you want to get out of here?" you asked, your heart racing.

His eyes darkened with desire, a smile tugging at his lips. "I thought you'd never ask."

The walk to his place was filled with anticipation, your fingers brushing against each other as you navigated the quiet streets. When you finally reached his apartment, he opened the door and led you inside, the atmosphere charged with unspoken promise.

The rest of your time sober was blurred into a haze of shared stories, laughter, and fleeting touches. Eventually, he brought out some wine. And another one. And it was all tipsy from then. The decision was made in a heartbeat, a shared understanding passing between you. You wanted to experience ecstasy. You could see it in each other’s eyes, trembling with want. With relief. With desire.

The things that followed was a whirlwind of passion and intimacy, a connection that felt both new and familiar. You let him take you to bed, one kiss pulling you harder than gravity in itself. You found yourselves lost in each other’s magnetic pull, exploring every inch of skin, every whispered word. When you finally fell asleep, it was in his arms, feeling a sense of belonging that was as unexpected as it was welcome.

The heat burned off your skin, as flesh echoed on flesh with passionate warmth. You didn’t notice it but you couldn’t help but let your heels dig into the center of his lower back, moaning against him. He liked it a lot, that you were doing all you could to pull him closer, deeper — more of him into you. It was a greedy little desire, but he couldn’t help but let his throat rumble with approval, feeling your tender hands press harshly against the depths of his own hot skin. You were such a little thing, fitting in the confines of his body’s wholeness. 

You couldn’t help it, but you were a wanton little thing. It was just what Kento needed. It was the way you were pushing and pulling —- arching your back at the perfect angles, ripping his back apart with your sharp bright, colorful nails with his own flesh and blood. He wanted to drown in each harmony of pleasure from your lips. It felt like the song of heaven to him, calling out to him as he dug deeper and deeper towards the crevices of your pleasures. 

But Kento thinks it still isn't enough for him. But somehow, it was all he wanted. At times it was just right. And all at once, it's too much to bear. It was a semblance of emotions, of pleasures that he had never explored before. There was so much depth to fucking you. Layers and layers to how you suck him in, to how you take him in. To how your cunt just lets him make a home inside of you. To mold your womb to his shape. And you egg him on, over and over with your delicious incoherent pleasure–ridden screams. 

Your pretty doe eyes are dangling across the space as he switches position, pulling your legs just right up the small of his back. You yelp as he enters you deeper. He settled himself, kneeling on the bed, and leaned forward. You whimper, your eye rolling back further as you become more fucked out.  He couldn’t help but be pleased with himself. There was nothing that you can think about. Nothing else mattered, other than him and this pleasure.

The weight of him was crushing you whole, as though there was nothing but that pleasurable oblivion. He was quite a muscular man, after all. Yet you couldn’t care much, despite the fact that he was heavy on top of you. Or the fact that it feels as though he's going to spur you out of air, suffocating you with pleasure. You were a masochist in a sense. You told him that. You want him to crush you. And each moan begging him to go faster, to push deeper over and over —- it confirms it all.

Kento allows his lips to thank you with tender blossoms against your flesh. But in that moment, he buries his head against your jaw, his ragged raspy moans rapidly marking every inch of skin with his brutal, hot kisses. One after another, it was an experience. Your neck with his brutal kiss of his teeth, leaving metallic essence against his lips as you wail against him. You feel a trail of sweat pouring out with your sweet tears, his hot breath making your skin burn harder than ever before. 

You couldn’t see straight anymore. But you didn’t care. Not even when your eyes roll back inside your head, as he pistons into you harder and harder. His grip on you gets tighter and tighter as your toes slowly curl against the small of his back. Drool falls against the side of your lips as you let Kento’s hands rest against the small of your ass, gripping as tightly as he could. Your breath gets stuck in your already dry throat. You were close again. You don’t know how many times this man has made you cum. But you know that he was too good. It was all too good.

The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intensity that leaves you gasping for air. Every thrust, every movement pushes you closer to the edge, and you cling to him as if he's the only thing grounding you. The world outside ceases to exist; it's just you and him, lost in this moment of raw passion 

Your nails dig into his back once more, leaving traced marks that he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, the way his breath hitches over and over again and his grip tightens on you tells you he likes it, to keep doing it. He liked being marked by you. And he hopes there’s more times like this. He hopes he can keep getting marked by you like this. His rhythm never falters, each roll of his hips sending waves of pleasure through your body, making you shudder and moan his name.

"Kento," you gasp, your voice a mix of desperation and ecstasy. He responds with a low growl, his lips finding your ear, whispering words that send shivers down your spine. “‘bout to c-come…oh! oh! m-more….more! Please!”

His eyes looked at you, dark with pleasure. “Then come, honey. Let me feel you sweeten my cock like that.”

You're teetering on the brink, the intensity building until it feels like you might burst. His pace quickens, and you feel the tension coil inside you, ready to snap. With one final, powerful thrust, you come undone, your body convulsing in his arms as you cry out in pleasure.

He follows soon after, his body tensing before he collapses on top of you, both of you spent and breathless.  You could feel the heat of his cum overflow inside of you. There was too much. And he doesn’t yet pull out. And you didn’t want him to, still locking your legs against the edge of his back. For a moment, you lie there in a tangled mess of limbs, the only sound in the room your ragged breaths and the pounding of your hearts.

Finally, he lifts his head, his brown eyes meeting yours. There's a softness there, a look that tells you this was more than just a physical connection. You smiled exhaustedly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, and he returned the gesture, his fingers gently caressing your cheek with all the tenderness in the world.

"You're incredible." he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. You smile against his mouth, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the heat of the moment and everything to do with the man holding you. “Truly.”

As you both drift off to sleep, still wrapped in each other's arms, you know this is just the beginning of something extraordinary.

He didn’t think he’d wake up alone. The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room. He groaned quietly, shifting slightly as his eyes adjusted to the bright echo of the sun against him. Nanami Kento thought it was quite a spectacle to wake up alone, with the bed beside him empty.

He sat up, the events of the night before slowly flooding back. His clothes, usually primly put away, were scattered and tattered across the room. He looked at them for a moment before sighing, his head slightly pounding from the drinks. Usually, it was Kento who left before the sun came up. When he took his pleasure, it was transactional, devoid of any emotional connection.

Last night was different. It was only one night, but he couldn’t help but feel as though he wanted more of you. The way your touch had ignited a fire in him, the way your laughter had filled the room with warmth—those memories clung to him now, in the stillness of the morning.

He ran a hand through his tousled hair, glancing around the room. The sight of your note on the nightstand caught his attention. He reached for it, his fingers trembling slightly. The simple message, " Call me up, sweetie ;) " brought a faint smile to his lips. He traced the words with his thumb, feeling a strange mix of hope and uncertainty.

Nanami wasn't used to this feeling, this longing for something more than a fleeting connection. The thought of you lingered in his mind, your touch, your smile, the way you had made him feel alive and vulnerable all at once. It was intoxicating, and he wanted more of it, more of you.

He stood up, gathering his scattered clothes, the remnants of a night that had left a profound impact on him. As he dressed, he couldn't shake the memory of your heels digging into his back, your breathless moans in his ear, the way you had looked at him with such intensity. It was imprinted on his mind, an indelible mark that he couldn't ignore.

Fully dressed, he picked up his phone, staring at your number. He hesitated, his thumb hovering over the call button. For a moment, doubt crept in. Was he foolish to think that this could be something more? But then he remembered the way you had pulled him closer, the way you had whispered his name with such need and desire.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. For a moment, the loneliness of his existence seemed to lift. He folded the note and slipped it into his wallet, a spark of anticipation igniting within him. The day ahead seemed a little brighter, the promise of your next encounter lingering in his thoughts.

He couldn’t wait to save your phone number.

He’d have to find a way to charge his phone.

Besides, looking at the clock, he’s pretty late.

And a CEO shouldn’t be late for his own meetings.

WHEN HE MEETS YOU AGAIN, KENTO IS ENAMOURED. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about you since that morning, the memory of your touch and the warmth of your laughter haunting him in the best way possible. The days had stretched on, filled with his usual routine, yet every moment seemed tinged with a new sense of anticipation. And now, standing here, seeing you again, he felt a surge of emotion he hadn't expected.

The bar was a cozy haven tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city, its warm, dim lighting casting a golden glow over the polished wooden surfaces and vintage decor. The air was filled with the soft hum of jazz music, creating an intimate ambiance that made it feel like a world apart from the chaos outside. The scent of aged whiskey and fresh citrus mingled in the air, adding to the inviting atmosphere.

You sat at the bar, your presence effortlessly captivating. The dress you wore was stunning—a sleek, deep emerald green that clung to your curves in all the right places, shimmering subtly under the soft lights. The neckline was modest yet alluring, and the fabric seemed to flow like liquid as you moved. Your hair frames your face perfectly, and a touch of red lipstick highlights your smile, adding a hint of classic glamor.

Kento's heart pounded in his chest as he made his way toward you, each step bringing him closer to the person who had so unexpectedly turned his world upside down. The usual confident air he carried felt slightly shaken, replaced by a nervous excitement that he hadn't felt in years. As he approached, his eyes were glued to you, everything else in the bar fading into a blur. The clinking glasses, the muted conversations, the soft jazz—all of it became mere background noise.

You spotted him, and a slight smile played on your lips. It was a smile that held both warmth and a hint of mischief, a smile that made his pulse quicken. He could barely tear his gaze away from you as he slid onto the stool next to you.

"Hi," he greeted, his voice betraying a hint of the nerves he felt.

"Hi, Kento," you replied, your eyes sparkling with recognition and something more—something that made his breath catch.

For a moment, he simply drank in the sight of you. The way you held yourself, the way the dress accentuated your figure, the way your eyes seemed to see right through him—it was all he could do to remember to breathe.

The bartender approached, breaking the spell momentarily as Kento ordered a drink. But even as he spoke, his attention never wavered from you. He couldn't help but notice the way the bar's golden light played on your skin, giving you an almost ethereal glow.

"You look incredible," he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

"Thank you," you replied, a pleased flush coloring your cheeks. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

The conversation flowed as easily as it had the first night, but there was an added layer of familiarity now, a deeper connection that had been forged in the time since. The flirtation was more pronounced, the touches more deliberate. When your fingers brushed against his, he felt a jolt of electricity, the same spark that had ignited between you before.

Kento couldn't focus on anything but you. The way you laughed, the way you tilted your head when you were thinking, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you were passionate about—it was all mesmerizing. He found himself hanging on to every word, every gesture, completely lost in

"Kento," you greeted him warmly, your eyes sparkling with a mix of surprise and delight. "I was hoping you'd call."

"I couldn't stop thinking about you,if I’m being honest." he admitted, his voice softer than usual. "I just had to see you again."

You smiled, and the sight of it sent a rush of warmth through him. "I'm glad you did."

As you talked, the conversation flowed effortlessly, just as it had that first night. There was a connection between you that felt almost tangible, an invisible thread drawing you closer with every word. Kento found himself captivated by the way you spoke, the way you laughed, the way your eyes lit up when you shared stories about your life. He felt a deep sense of admiration and curiosity, wanting to know everything about you.

The evening passed in a blur of conversation and laughter, the bar around you fading into the background as you became lost in each other. Kento couldn't remember the last time he had felt so at ease, so completely himself. With you, there were no pretenses, no need for the carefully constructed walls he usually kept up. You saw him for who he truly was, and that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

When the night began to wind down, he found himself reluctant to say goodbye. The thought of returning to his empty apartment, to the solitude that had once been his comfort, now felt unbearably lonely. As if sensing his hesitation, you reached out, your hand gently brushing against his.

"Would you like to come over for a drink?" you asked, your voice filled with a hopeful note.

He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "I'd like that."

The walk to your place was filled with a comfortable silence, the kind that speaks volumes without needing words. Once inside, you poured two glasses of wine, and the conversation continued, growing deeper and more intimate as the night went on. Kento found himself sharing things he had never told anyone, opening up in a way that felt both terrifying and liberating.

As the night turned into early morning, he realized just how much he had fallen for you. It was more than just physical attraction; it was a genuine connection, a bond that felt rare and precious. You had seen past the façade he presented to the world and embraced the man underneath, flaws and all.

When it was finally time to say goodnight, you stood close to him, your eyes searching for him. "Kento," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity, "I'm really glad you called."

As the conversation continued, the air between you grew charged with anticipation, a palpable energy that seemed to crackle with every passing moment. Kento found himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the magnetic pull you exerted over him.

Leaning in closer, he could feel the heat radiating from your body, the warmth of your presence enveloping him in a comforting embrace. His heart raced in his chest as he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, almost hesitant kiss.

There was a softness to the touch, a delicate intimacy that spoke volumes without a single word being uttered. In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still, the world around them fading into insignificance as they became lost in each other.

The kiss was gentle yet charged with an underlying passion, a silent acknowledgment of the undeniable connection that had blossomed between them. And as Kento pulled back, a faint smile gracing his lips, he knew that this was only the beginning of something extraordinary. And seeing your face, how wonderstruck you were — he knew you knew it too.

 "So am I." he murmured against your mouth, feeling a sense of contentment he hadn't known he was missing.

You smiled, blush echoing across your face. “You’re a good kisser, you know that?”

Your compliment sent a warm flush creeping up Kento's neck, a rare display of bashfulness from the typically composed CEO. He chuckled softly, the sound tinged with genuine appreciation as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of self-consciousness. "I suppose practice makes perfect."

There was a hint of amusement in his tone, a subtle acknowledgment of the unexpected turn their conversation had taken. Despite his usually reserved demeanor, he found himself enjoying the playful banter, relishing in the easy rapport that had developed between them.

“I’ll see you soon, then. I, uh…..have to go home.”

“Have a safe trip home, lover.”

As he walked home, the memory of your kiss lingering on his lips, he knew that this was just the beginning. Meeting you again had changed something within him, opened up a part of his heart he had long kept locked away. Kento was enamored, and for the first time in a long while, he felt truly hopeful about the future.

He dreams of you all through the night.

Your smiles are ever so warm only for him.

And your bright eyes are full of love for him.

When he woke up, he realized what it meant.

Nanami Kento was truly captured by you.

THE NEXT TIME, YOU STAY WITH HIM IN HIS BED TILL MORNING. He didn't want you to leave just yet, didn't want you to rush and slip away from his fingers before sunlight. You had finished a fiery session of lovemaking, one of the many rounds of passionate obsession with each other. The intensity of your connection was almost overwhelming, each encounter leaving both of you breathless and yearning for more. You had done this over and over, whenever you saw each other — and more regularly these past few weeks.

As you lay there, bodies entwined and hearts beating in sync, Kento's thoughts wandered. He watched you as you drifted off to sleep, your face serene and content. There was something profoundly beautiful about these quiet moments, a sense of peace that contrasted sharply with the fervent passion of the night. He gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek.

At times, Kento thought that you should just sleep here, rest here until you had enough rest. The idea of waking up next to you, of starting his day with your presence beside him, filled him with a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. He wanted to cook you breakfast, to share a leisurely morning with you as the sun rose, painting the room in soft hues of gold and pink. The simple pleasure of a shared meal, of casual conversation over coffee, seemed incredibly precious.

Kento's mind drifted to the little things that signify a deeper connection, a merging of lives. He imagined you leaving a toothbrush here, a small but significant symbol of permanence. It was a step towards belonging, towards fitting into each other's lives in a tangible way. He pictured you having a drawer in his apartment, a space carved out for you in his world. These thoughts were filled with longing, a desire for something more profound and enduring.

He wanted that with you. He wanted you to start leaving your things here, to make his place feel like a shared home rather than just a temporary haven. The idea of your belongings scattered around his apartment — a hairbrush on the vanity, your favorite mug in the kitchen, your scent lingering in the air — filled him with a deep sense of contentment. It was more than just physical intimacy; it was about creating a life together, about building something that went beyond the confines of the bedroom.

As he lay there, holding you close, Kento realized how much he wanted to make you his. He wanted to be the person you came home to, the one who shared your joys and your sorrows, your everyday moments and your grand adventures. He wanted to be the anchor in your life, just as you had become in his. The thought of you being a permanent part of his world was both exhilarating and terrifying, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

He gently kissed your forehead, his heart swelling with affection. More than you probably could ever know, he wanted you to be his, to share a future together. As the first light of dawn began to filter through the curtains, he held you a little tighter, hoping that this moment would be the start of something lasting and beautiful.

In the quiet stillness of the morning, with you nestled in his arms, Kento felt a profound sense of hope. For the first time in a long while, the future seemed bright and full of promise. And he knew that, whatever happened, he wanted you by his side.

Kento held you close, savoring the warmth of your body against his. He had never felt this kind of connection before, this blend of deep affection and raw desire. As the first light of dawn began to filter through the curtains, he made a silent promise to himself: he would make sure you knew how much you meant to him, how deeply he cared for you.

Kento's gaze softened as he watched you stir from your slumber, the gentle rise and fall of your chest accompanied by the faintest flutter of your eyelashes. It was a moment of quiet intimacy, one that he cherished more than he dared to admit.

As your eyes fluttered open, a sleepy smile graced your lips, and Kento felt his heart swell with affection. There was a warmth in your gaze, a softness that melted away the lingering traces of the night's passion, leaving behind a sense of tranquility and contentment.

Returning your smile, Kento reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch gentle against your skin. In that fleeting moment, surrounded by the hazy glow of morning light, he felt a profound connection to you, a bond that transcended the physical realm and delved into the depths of his soul.

"You're beautiful," he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. It was a simple statement, spoken from the heart, yet it held a world of meaning behind it. In your eyes, he found solace, a refuge from the chaos of the outside world, and he knew that he never wanted to let you go.

With a tender smile, you leaned into his touch, your eyes locking with his in a silent exchange of love and understanding. In that moment, Kento realized that he had found something truly special in you, something worth holding onto for a lifetime. And as he gazed into your eyes, he knew that he was ready to embark on this journey with you, wherever it may lead.

"Good morning," he whispered, brushing a gentle kiss against your lips. 

"Good morning," you replied, your voice soft and warm. 

As the warmth of the morning sun filtered through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft golden glow, the two of you remained entwined in a cocoon of shared affection. Each breath seemed to synchronize, a silent symphony of contentment that enveloped you both in its comforting embrace.

Reluctantly, Kento stirred from the languid embrace, his movements slow and deliberate as if he were hesitant to break the spell of intimacy that hung between you. With a soft sigh, he shifted his weight, gently extricating himself from your embrace and sitting up, his muscles protesting the sudden movement after the night's passionate exertions.

Stretching his arms above his head, Kento let out a low groan of satisfaction, the tension of the previous night's activities melting away with each satisfying stretch. Despite the physical exertion, there was a sense of peace that settled over him, a tranquility that he hadn't felt in far too long.

Glancing back at you, still nestled in the rumpled sheets, Kento felt a surge of affection wash over him. Your tousled hair frames your face like a halo, and the soft curve of your lips tugged at his heartstrings in a way that he couldn't quite explain. It was moments like these, when the world seemed to stand still, that he felt truly alive.

"I could stay like this forever," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. There was a tenderness in his touch, a silent promise of his unwavering devotion, as he allowed himself to be drawn back into your embrace, savoring every precious moment that the morning had to offer.

You smiled at him with the most beautiful smiles he’d ever seen. It was that sort of smile that had the power to light up the darkest corners of his soul, to chase away the shadows of doubt and insecurity that had plagued him for so long. It was a smile that spoke volumes without uttering a single word, conveying warmth, understanding, and an unspoken connection that transcended mere words.

As you gazed at him with those radiant eyes, filled with a mixture of tenderness and affection, Kento felt a sense of wonder wash over him. In that moment, everything seemed to fall into place, as if the universe had conspired to bring the two of you together in perfect harmony.

Your smile was like a beacon of hope, guiding him through the labyrinth of his own emotions and leading him towards a future filled with promise and possibility. It was a reminder that amidst the chaos of life, there existed moments of pure joy and unadulterated happiness, waiting to be embraced and cherished.

Unable to resist the pull of your magnetic presence, Kento found himself drawn closer to you, his heart swelling with a sense of gratitude for the serendipitous twist of fate that had brought you into his life. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your smile, he knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be.

"Me too." you whisper back to him, causing his heart to beat as he listened to your words reverberate in the morning quiet. "Being here with you? it's nice."

Kento's soul felt tender at those words, it was like he could live forever in that moment. He could feel that warmth spreading through his chest as he soaked in the sweetness of your sentiment. It was a simple statement, yet it held a profound meaning, resonating deeply within him.

"I'm glad you feel that way," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "Being with you... it feels different, in the best possible way."

There was a sincerity in his tone, a raw honesty that he seldom allowed himself to reveal to others. But with you, it felt natural, effortless even, to let down his guard and bare his soul.

As you lay there together, basking in the quiet intimacy of the moment, Kento felt a sense of contentment wash over him. In your presence, he found solace, a refuge from the stormy seas of life, where he could simply be himself without fear of judgment or expectation.

With a soft smile, he reached out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch light and tender against your skin. "Thank you for being here," he whispered, his gaze locked with yours, silently conveying a depth of emotion that words alone could not express. “Truly.”

"Of course," you replied, a smile gracing your lips as you looked up at him. "You make it easy."

His eyes softened at your words, a warmth spreading through him. "I was thinking," he began, glancing back at you, "how about I make us some breakfast? We can take our time, enjoy the morning."

Your smile widened at the suggestion, a spark of anticipation in your eyes. "That sounds perfect," you said, nodding in agreement. "I'd love that."

Kento felt a surge of happiness as he got out of bed and headed to the kitchen. He prepared breakfast with care, wanting everything to be perfect. As he worked, he thought about the future, about the possibility of you becoming a permanent part of his life. 

When the meal was ready, he brought it to the table, where you were already seated, wrapped in one of his shirts. The sight of you in his clothes filled him with a possessive satisfaction, a sense of rightness.

"Here you go," he said, setting the plates down. "I hope you like it."

You took a bite, your eyes lighting up. "It's delicious, Kento. Thank you."

He sat down across from you, watching as you ate. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and shared smiles. It was a glimpse of what life could be like if you were together, a tantalizing promise of happiness.

After breakfast, you both lounged on the couch, talking about everything and nothing. Kento felt a sense of peace he hadn't experienced in a long time. He wanted this, all of it. The mundane, the extraordinary, the quiet moments and the passionate ones.

As the morning wore on, Kento's thoughts kept returning to the idea of you leaving your things at his place. He wanted to ask you, but he didn't want to rush anything. Instead, he decided to show you how he felt through his actions.

"You know," he said casually, "I was thinking maybe you could leave a few things here. A toothbrush, some clothes. It might make things easier, you know, since you're here so often."

You looked at him, surprise and something else flickering in your eyes. "You want me to leave things here?"

He nodded, trying to keep his tone light. "Yeah. I like having you around. It feels... right."

You smiled, and Kento felt his heart swell with hope. "I'd like that too, Kento."

From that moment on, things began to change. You started leaving little things at his place: a toothbrush, a hairbrush, a few clothes. Each item was a small but significant step towards building a life together.

Kento cherished every moment with you, every sign that you were becoming a part of his world. He cooked for you, took care of you, and made sure you knew how much he valued you. And as the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, he realized that his feelings for you had only grown stronger.

One night, as you lay in his arms, Kento looked at you, his heart full of love. "I want you to know," he said softly, "that you mean everything to me. I want you in my life, permanently. Will you stay with me, not just for tonight, but for always?"

You looked up at him, your eyes shining with emotion. "Yes, Kento. I want that too."

At that moment, Kento knew that he had found something truly special. With you by his side, the future was bright and full of promise. And he was ready to face it, hand in hand with the person he loved.

A few days later, he sees that bright purple toothbrush.

Right next to his blue–green that had been lonesome.

He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them together.

It looks like you won’t be rushing out his door anymore.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

[experiment]: {2/2}

(I will refer to the Undertale versions by their names—Doctor Gaster, Sans, Papyrus, Undyne—and the Othertale versions by their nicknames. Shade, Color, Ivory, Sage.

I have the first part linked in the numbers if it’s hard to see.)

Sans rushes to tell Gaster, but he is not as excited as Sans thought he would be. He tells Sans to immediately go back and extract “the energy” before it does anymore damage to her body.

When Sans protests, confused because he thought this is what Gaster wanted, a frustrated Gaster explains nothing. Just tells Sans to go back and do as he’s told.

Sans can’t bring himself to tell Undyne the truth and ruin her happiness—so instead he tells her to get some sleep.

Undyne is disappointed because Gaster isn’t there, and worries about what if he comes back and she’s asleep—to which Sans assures her he’ll wake her up if Gaster comes back.

(It really seems like Undyne was attached a lot to Gaster. Wanting him to share in her excitement, feeling safe when he’s around.)

And then, of course, Sans extracts the energy from the girl’s eye when she’s sleeping.

He does it with just a hand. Painless and quick—the energy goes easily back to him before Sans dismisses it.

(If hands can give and take magic energy—perhaps also as a tie into to Gaster, the man with holes in his hands and “speaks in hands”—then perhaps that explains why Color needed physical contact with Ivory to reopen her eye.

He just chose to punch her lmao. Such as difference from their interactions in this short.)

This what we see if we slow it down the moment that the screen glitches. Because Gaster fell (jumped?) into the Core.

We see that what happened to Color also happened to Gaster—possibly creating a different version of Undertale the way Sans’ erasure created Othertale.

And above see Color over Sans. Perhaps this is him immediately after absorbing the souls. He appears to be bleeding from the eye and mouth—and the look on his face seems dizzy with pain and shock.

The glitch is enough to cause Undyne to wake up, confused and in pain. She asks Sans what happened, and he replies that he needs to check on someone—but when she asks who, he says he doesn’t know.

It appears the process of forgetting Gaster was immediate. After this, we get this scene where Sans finds a picture/drawing in the Core:

This makes me think that Gaster jumped.

Don’t forget written, his frustration and shame about his perceived constant failures, Sans seems concerned about him and him being alone, the way there’s this mystery mistake that Gaster did.

The way Gaster still seems to keep a distance from Sans even when the other reaches out, the seemingly increasing arguments between them, the way Gaster claims that the energy in the eye would damage Undyne’s body and Sans should remove it immediately—yet doesn’t go to do it himself or check on Undyne despite being shown to be an attentive doctor whose patients feel safe and comfortable with him.

The way he refuses to explain himself or what he wants to Sans, shutting down any attempt to connect or understand—ordering Sans to do as he’s told. The way the world glitches and Sans’ immediate thought is that he needs to go check on someone, despite not even knowing who he has to check on.

I don’t know. It seems to me that a stream of constant mistakes tore down Gaster with shame and guilt, one he couldn’t pull himself out of even when his experiment finally succeeded.

A lot of the relationship between Gaster/Shade and Color/Sans seems to be driven by anger and guilt and a sense of responsibility.

Sans seems to feel a responsibility to keep a look out for Gaster, but also seems to not want to intrude on his space and Gaster seems likely to avoid and snap at Sans—possibly because he may be a reminder of his failures.

It seems opposite in the Void. Shade seems to feel a responsibility to look after Color’s mental, physical and emotional health—and Color just seems too drained and at the end of his rope to even be able to attempt to reciprocate.

Gaster may have committed suicide (or intended to) by jumping in the Core, and Color has almost killed himself trying to escape the Void and only survived because of Shade.

It gives me the vibes that Shade is putting Color on suicide watch, and Color is irate about it because—unlike Shade—Color isn’t trying to die or wanting to die, he’s trying to escape. Or at least that’s what Color may be telling himself, and is lashing out verbally at Shade for stopping him.

Which adds yet another parallel to Color and Stage 1 Killer. Having their choice to die or attempts to self harm or attempts to escape taken away from them by others (Killer because someone still wants to use him, Color because Shade feels responsible for him and guilty and probably also doesn’t want to be alone in the Void and forgotten if he truly did write the “Don’t forget.”)

[moonydustx]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do Zoro, Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Crocodile, Mihawk, Buggy (Cross guild), Whitebeard, Izou, and Charlotte Katakuri x Reader where They are in a Disney/ Fairy tale Story? (I've been watching Disney lately, and it's living in my Brain-Free.) Also a bonus: They break out in a song number.~

Hi Hi! I think this was the most complicated request I've ever received and to be honest, all my drafts didn't get anywhere that was interesting to read. So, in order not to be left without an answer, but also not to deliver something terrible, I decided to change the format a little (and I really hope you don't hate me for it)

--

Even though her father (grandfather in this version) is against all this, our little mermaid wants to find the surface world (again, pirate world) and see all the wonders that await him. You'll make different friends along the way and, above all, collect incredible things like a certain hat along the way.

Luffy

Our Beauty and the Beast story is a little more troubled here. Instead of a beast cursed by the witch, we just have an evil-looking and somewhat threatening man who still hasn't found a reason to let anyone get close to him. When the right person arrives, he will definitely become someone lovable - even if it involves some fights, wars and everything that can prevent anyone from interfering in the lives of the two of you.

Crocodile, Katakuri

Living the best life, without growing up, without responsibilities, just him and his people living happily in Neverland and disturbing the life of the pirate who passes by. Despite trying to bring our beloved Peter Pan to the real world, you would ultimately understand that Neverland is the place made for him to be free.

Buggy

I know, I know it's not exactly a fairy tale. But, our beloved Puss in Boots would be just as stubborn, adventurous and showy as this one. His sword would be the sharpest and most agile of all the kingdoms, apart from all the flame that only he has.

Mihawk

Bonus point: in a universe where Cross Guid is made up of enemies and we are in fairy tales/animations, Crocodile would be the wolf in the second film.

This one would be Sleeping Beauty, I don't think we even need to explain why. However, this sleeping beauty here chose to sleep for days straight after being in battle and when you tried to wake him up in a kind way - aka, the kiss of love - he hated it, after all, he was in the best part of sleep.

Zoro (and I'd include Buggy here too, I can see him grumbling about it).

The world was just a small view of the tower his mother trapped him in and of course, his mother knows better. Until he found himself being saved by someone fearless, brave (a bit of a scoundrel) who took him from his cruel mother's clutches and took him to explore the world - and that includes the nearest bakery.

Charlotte Katakuri, Sabo (I mean, his parents were pretty shitty)

He would definitely be Mufasa and he would make us suffer terribly with his loss, but he would have been a great father. (and you can't tell me that Ace wouldn't be the son with the chaotic and adventurous spirit also known as Simba)

Whitebeard

Bonus:

He would have to put up with you singing Let It Go in any situation, but he probably wouldn't get angry about it. Except when you were in a more intimate moment and you said that the cold wouldn't bother you anyway (and of course, he would create little ice drawings for you in the winter)

Aokiji

We also have Snow White: dreamy, kind, fearless too. Instead of seven dwarves, he has loyal companions. Some are more serious and angry, but ready to help our Snow White here and other cute and funny eaters.

Shanks (and yes Benn Beckman is our angry one in this one) ---

a/n: ok, I had more fun writing this than I thought I would

[dira333]

Choose yourself too - Itoshi Rin x Reader

Note: Soulmarks only appear after you pick/choose each other

requested by @shoulmate

"Do you have a soulmark?"

"I will not answer that."

Someone in the back of the room, someone groans.

His PR Manager rolls his eyes so hard they might get stuck that way but Rin hasn't made it this far in his career by being a people pleaser.

"With all due respect," the impertinent interviewer starts again, "Your relationship status has been vague at best for the last years. Your fans are longing for information and we feel that they deserve-"

"They deserve it?" Rin's looking at her now, hopes his eyes portray every single drop of hatred he feels for this woman. "Do you have a soulmark?"

"That's- That's private!" She rushes to defend herself.

"Ah, so you do understand that term? I will not answer that question and that's that. I'm here to play soccer not to answer questions about whether or not I'm still available. Which I'm not."

"I'm still single," Bachira pipes in from his left, directing all attention back to him. The tension in the room dissipates within moments of him chattering away.

-x-

"Long day?" You ask when he steps inside your shared apartment.

"You have no idea," Rin answers, letting his temple sink against your shoulder for a moment. He can feel himself recharge from touch alone.

"Watched your interview," you mumble, your breath moving the hairs in the nape of his neck. He shivers and your hand finds the spot, circling warm and safe over his exposed skin. You always know what he needs. He wishes he could say the same about himself.

From down the hallway, a gurgling sound alerts his attention.

"Go," you tell him, stepping aside to let him through, "Dinner's ready in ten."

-

"Hey little monster," he greets as he pushes the door fully open. His daughter's lying on her back, turquoise eyes locked on the mobile above her head, the little soccer balls dancing in the air. She waves her hands when he lifts her out of her bed and drools on his shirt with a confidence Isagi could only wish for.

"How are we feeling today?" Rin asks the little monster, chuckling when she almost hits him in the nose, "That great? Amazing. Mom's made dinner, you're hungry?"

She farts and he's quietly laughing now at her antics.

"What did I do to deserve you?" He asks her quietly when she's managed to grasp his thumb, sucking on it as if she's hoping for milk.

I tickles a little where he can feel her first teeth coming out. It tingles when she gnaws on the tiny soulmark. He has only one. Yet.

-x-

His head is resting heavy in your lap, his daughter sleeping soundly on his chest.

It could be a perfect evening if not for his restless mind.

Rin lifts his left hand, looks at the tiny mark on his thumb. It's a monster, the same oddly shaped lump he would draw as a child. He knows it resembles his daughter because he knows he chose her. Ever since the day he knew she existed.

"Do you want me to check again?" You ask. Your voice is soft and he can hear your book close, can feel your hand find its way into his hair. "Maybe I missed it last time..."

"I'm sure you didn't." He says even though it hurts him. Because he chose you, years ago and every day since, has even the ring to prove it, yet there's no sign of the mark he longs for the most.

But you have one, oddly placed on your chest, just a little left of your heart, the color of his eyes.

"Rin," you whisper, leaning down to press a kiss against his temple, "I know you love me. I don't need a spot on your skin to prove it to me. Although I think it would only be fair if it appeared on your ass or something similarly pathetic."

He can feel his lips quirk up into a smile. That's the effect only you can have on him. And your daughter, but that's just genetics at play.

"Maybe," you hum, "You need to choose yourself too. Accept yourself for who you are."

-x-

It takes him one more year, a heavy loss and therapy, but Rin makes it.

He can look into the mirror now without hesitation, can look at his flaws and his strengths and say, as honest as he's ever been: "This is me. I like me the way I am. But I'm still improving. Just watch me."

"Boop," his daughter makes in the bathtub, pressing her finger against his abdomen. She laughs, mouth wide open. "Boop," she makes again.

He picks her up and cradles her against his chest, filled with warmth and happiness, especially when you fall into their laughter.

"Hey," you suddenly say, "Did you notice that?"

"Huh?" He asks, lowering the little monster back into the warm water. "What do you mean?"

"You've got a spot there." You point to where he'd just been booped.

There, in the color of your eyes, is a soulmark.

[clairoscharm]

━ my pov of ellie iii

warnings : use of yn, lowkey self inserted uhh, using spotify cause the blend thingy but PLEASE BOYCOTT SPOTIFY GUYS !!!

cr : @idontgetanysleep & pinterest for the pics

ellie's taglist (lmk if u wanna be add / remove) : @ellstronaut , @dinaissoprettyoml , @julienology , @euphternal , @sapphhicslut

also chat, boop me !!

part i ⟶ part ii

DAILY CLICK

DONT BUY TLOU

WAYS TO HELP PALESTINE

⭐️ she’s the type of person who is not into pda that much (but you guys still do pda like holding hands/hand on waist or shoulder & some kisses here n there) BUT SHE LOVE YOU LOUD & PROUDLY!! 🍮 all of her social media bios would be something like “taken by @yourtag” or “e + your initial : ♡” or “i love my wife” KNOWING DAMN WELL YALL ARE NOT MARRY (yet… 😏) 🕯️ her page would be filled with your pictures / something that has you in it. and would caption like “she saw it first” or “yn chose it for me” like okay we get it ellie 🙄✋

⭐️ GUYS HEAR ME OUT!!!! she’s the type that would wait for you to get ready and be like “oh it's okay, i can wait. just make sure to be safe & look pretty f’me” LIKE HIHIRHEUDBSOANA 🍮 would let you do her hair (tiny braids !!!) 🕯️ she so corny guys i just know it

⭐️ omg few months or maybe even weeks of you two talking she would be asking you if you have spotify (boycott spotify guys!!) and ask you if you wanna do a blend, she just wanna know you better through your music taste 🍮 WOULD TOTALLY FREAK OUT WHEN THE RESULTS ARE ABOVE 80 “she’s my soulmate, i knew it” and do hand YES! gesture thingy (pls know what im saying (◞‸◟) ) 🕯️ why, just why, her gf had to live 34764482939 away from her!! (ellie is being dramatic but so real)

⭐️ WOULD LEARN YOUR FAV SONGS TO PLAY ON HER GUITAR AND SENT YOU VIDEOS OF HER PLAYING IT AND BE LIKE “for you, baby” or post it on her story and captioned (?) “for my girl @yourtag” 🍮 i know she makes a lot of playlists for you. started when you were her crush, then you were in the talking stage with her, then the two of you dating, then songs that reminded her of you

🕯️ SHE WOULD SING TO CLAIRO's SONGS WITH YOUU AND DANCING AROUND IN THE KITCHEN OR 3 AM TO THE SMITHS OMGOMG

⭐️ her home & lock screen is your picture, it doesn’t matter if the pictures of both of you tgt or just you. 🍮 matching stuff with you LIKE HELLO YES SHE LOVE IT !!!! immediately drop everything when you ask her if she wanna matches w you, per examples :

🕯️ she just a biggest simp ever!!! ⭐️ loveee calling you especially facetime, she just adore looking at your pretty face, your sweet smile & listen to your cute laughs every time ellie cracks a joke. 🍮 would cut & peel fruits for you, and you do it to her as well 🕯️ text you in 3 in the morning for her & you scolding her for not sleeping

⭐️ blurts out i love you one time and since then she just wont stop saying how much she loves you 🍮 since you guys are in ldr :(, ellie had to give you gifts & all that by giving you a package but the good thing is that you can keep the letters she wrote for you and the drawing she gave you as well !! 🕯️ HER FRICKING JOURNAL IS FULL WITH YOU..... not kidding...and some sweet details that she had noticed about you

⭐️ always tweeting how she wished she's with you and would diff tweet something like " 'if she wanted, she would', then WHY IS SHE NOT TELEPORTING HERE, NEXT TO ME, LAYIN ON MY ARM, WHYYY" (this is so me coded lol)

🍮 omg would do streaks with you to update abt each other's day and also locket

🕯️ timezone sucks so be ready to be wake to 99+ tiktoks ellie had sent you while you were sleeping. (you did the same thing too)

⭐️ movie night every friday !!

🍮 few years of ldr and both you & ellie had decided to moved in together

🕯️ would surprise you once in awhile and vice versa

⭐️ girly would treat the teddy bear that you gifted her like its her CHILD (it is)

🍮 ellie who loves you very dearly

🕯️ ellie is your girlfriend & also now, your roommate (hehe hinted)

REMINDER !!

that neil is a zionist and therefore dont buy his games, doesnt matter remastered or not !!!

before you leave, have you DONATE TO PALESTINE today? ITS FREE TOO !!

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hello I love your blog!

That being said woud really like to read your take on Harry's relationship with death and grief

And wich death do you think that impacted him the most

Thank you so much! I'm glad you love my blog!

I will warn this post mentions some suicidal ideation, mentions of self-harm, and a lot of Harry's grief methods and coping mechanisms, so be aware.

Now, Harry has a lot of grief in his life, and each death is one he reacts to differently, not only because of who dies but because his grief accumulates. So with every death, Harry is pushed closer and closer to his threshold. You kinda see this threshold in Deathly Hallows:

He could not draw breath. He could not bear to look at any of the other bodies, to see who else had died for him. He could not bear to join the Weasleys, could not look into their eyes, when if he had given himself up in the first place, Fred might never have died. . . He turned away and ran up the marble staircase. Lupin, Tonks. . . He yearned not to feel. . . He wished he could rip out his heart, his innards, everything that was screaming inside him. . .

[...]

The images of Fred, Lupin, and Tonks lying dead in the Great Hall forced their way back into his mind’s eye, and for a moment he could hardly breathe: Death was impatient. . . .

(DH)

Harry saw Fred die, and he was sure that was it. After Sirius, Dumbledore, Hedwig, Dobby, and even Snape, no one else should be able to die, and then he sees Lupin and Tonks are dead and his mind doesn't even know how he's supposed to handle all this grief. He actually can't process it at the moment. He feels so much pain and guilt because Harry blames himself for each and everyone that died. Even though they were adults who chose to fight on their own, he didn't force them, but he feels responsible for their deaths.

Even for his parents' deaths as I mention later. This is really a theme with Harry's grief — he always blames himself. If he just called Sirius in the mirror, if he just knew Occlumancy, if he just drunk the potion instead of Dumbledore. At points, Harry actually wishes he was dead instead of having to carry all his grief and pain:

And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them fall, his lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow hiding from his eyes the place where the last of Lily and James lay, bones now, surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.

(DH) - is it just me who feels like crying every time I read this quote?

Obviously, his parents' deaths affected how his life went more than any other death, but Harry never knew them. He never really grieved them growing up. He grieved the childhood he could've had. That above scene in Godric's Hallow is the first time Harry truly grieves for James and Lily themselves, not just as a family he could've had.

Cedric's death was the first Harry had to watch, and it was mixed in with a lot of other trauma. So, Harry doesn't really grieve Cedric, not really. He is sad he had to die, but Harry mostly grieves himself. He doesn't want to think about the graveyard and the nightmares. He comes off as somewhat numb to Cedric's death because they weren't all that close and Harry is suffering and has no idea how to process any of it, so he pushes all of it aside because there are other things more important.

Sirius, I think, is the death that hit him hardest. I mentioned how Harry's behavior changes after Sirius dies. Sirius was one of Harry's only support lines, and then he was gone. Harry's reaction to his death is the worst too.

He tries and somewhat succeeds in casting a crucio on Bellatrix. He has his outburst in Dumbledore's office that makes me want to throttle Dumbledore and hug Harry whenever I read it:

“Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human —” “THEN — I — DON’T — WANT — TO — BE — HUMAN!” Harry roared, and he seized one of the delicate silver instruments from the spindle-legged table beside him and flung it across the room. It shattered into a hundred tiny pieces against the wall.

[...]

“I DON’T CARE!” Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. “I’VE HAD ENOUGH, I’VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON’T CARE ANYMORE —”

(OotP)

After that, we see this grief in Harry's behavior. He becomes more reckless, more mouthy. In the first books, Harry does a lot to try and avoid unnecessary danger. From the end of book 5, Harry just doesn't care about himself as much.

Sirius is a character Harry grieves. He mentions Sirius constantly in the early chapters of book 6 and I think we see him grieving Sirius all throughout the final few books as more deaths just mount on top of his guilty consciousness as Harry keeps blaming himself:

And Harry saw very clearly as he sat there under the hot sun how people who cared about him had stood in front of him one by one, his mother, his father, his godfather, and finally Dumbledore, all determined to protect him; but now that was over. He could not let anybody else stand between him and Voldemort; he must abandon forever the illusion he ought to have lost at the age of one, that the shelter of a parent’s arms meant that nothing could hurt him. There was no waking from his nightmare, no comforting whisper in the dark that he was safe really, that it was all in his imagination; the last and greatest of his protectors had died, and he was more alone than he had ever been before.

(HBP)

Dumbledore is a weird one. Harry grieves Dumbledore for both what he was and what he wasn't rather than the man himself. Harry grieves not actually knowing Dumbledore and Dumbledore's perceived betrayal throughout the majority of book 7:

But he shook his head. Some inner certainty had crashed down inside him; it was exactly as he had felt after Ron left. He had trusted Dumbledore, believed him the embodiment of goodness and wisdom. All was ashes: How much more could he lose?

(DH)

He mourns losing the trust he had in Dumbledore, not just the man himself. He mourns no knowing if Dumbledore really cared for him. He mourns not actually knowing Dumbledore and he mourns the loss of the one man Harry trusted would save him — his last and greatest protector.

Unlike Sirius, Dumbledore is a person Harry has a more complicated relationship with, so his grief for him is similarly more complicated. Where he thinks of Dumbledore the idea and Dumbledore the man as very different things and he isn't sure which one of them was more honest. And he mourns not knowing.

All of this is mixed up with his helplessness in book 7 and wishing Dumbledore had told him more to prepare him. All these frustrations affect the way he grieves. And, as we see, book 7 is Harry at his most reckless — because when Harry's in emotional pain, he throws himself into danger.

Harry's grief at Dobby's death is one that really stuck with me when reading DH, specifically this scene:

“I want to do it properly,” were the first words of which Harry was fully conscious of speaking. “Not by magic. Have you got a spade?” And shortly afterward he had set to work, alone, digging the grave in the place that Bill had shown him at the end of the garden, between bushes. He dug with a kind of fury, relishing the manual work, glorying in the non-magic of it, for every drop of his sweat and every blister felt like a gift to the elf who had saved their lives. His scar burned, but he was master of the pain, he felt it, yet was apart from it. He had learned control at last, learned to shut his mind to Voldemort, the very thing Dumbledore had wanted him to learn from Snape. Just as Voldemort had not been able to possess Harry while Harry was consumed with grief for Sirius, so his thoughts could not penetrate Harry now while he mourned Dobby. Grief, it seemed, drove Voldemort out. . . though Dumbledore, of course, would have said that it was love.

(DH)

Harry is right in saying grief drove out Voldemort more than love. Harry's magic is very intuned with his emotions and pushes Voldemort out on instinct. I believe this is a type of Occlumancy.

See, Occlumancy requires a clear and focused mind, Harry, not knowing how to process grief, turns to manual labor that causes him pain. There is the pain from his blisters, pain from his muscles, pain from his scar — and he relishes in that pain because it makes him feel numb. It clears his head and allows him to actually practice Occlumancy.

This is a kind of self-harm. Not a super obvious act of self-harm, but it is a kind of self-harm. Working himself to the point of pain and exhaustion so he won't feel it all anymore. Just like he shouted at Dumbledore at the end of book 5. We actually see Harry in this almost numb state in book 7 quite a bit.

His recklessness is a form of self-harm too, in a way.

As he followed Bill back to the others a wry thought came to him, born no doubt of the wine he had drunk. He seemed set on course to become just as reckless a godfather to Teddy Lupin as Sirius Black had been to him.

(DH)

As I mentioned a grieving Harry is much more dangerous to himself than a happy Harry. He's angrier, more reckless, and more prone to outbursts. He relishes in his own pain and danger in a way he hasn't before. Add that to his PTSD from everything else, and... god, I feel so bad for my boy...

Then we have all the deaths in the Battle of Hogwarts, of which Fred affected him most I think. But by that point, Harry is half numb.

The world had ended, so why had the battle not ceased, the castle fallen silent in horror, and every combatant laid down their arms? Harry’s mind was in free fall, spinning out of control, unable to grasp the impossibility, because Fred Weasley could not be dead, the evidence of all his senses must be lying—

(DH)

They're in the middle of the battle and immediately after this paragraph, Harry shouts at everyone to get down and away as more curses start flying and the Acrumentulas come in. He pushes everyone to act and to move because Harry has become so accustomed to grief and pain that by this point it's second nature to him to be in a state of pain:

Why was it so easy? Because his scar had been burning for hours, yearning to show him Voldemort’s thoughts? He closed his eyes on her command, and at once, the screams and bangs and all the discordant sounds of the battle were drowned until they became distant, as though he stood far, far away from them. . . .

(DH)

I mentioned in the past that all mind arts require a focused and clear mind. This state of numbness from grief Harry pushes himself into is what allows him such good control over his connection with Voldemort and when and what he sees from it.

Harry only lets himself start to grieve Fred when he sees his body again in the hall. And he doesn't want to grieve or feel, so he runs to Dumbledore's office to view Snape's memories. At that point, towards his own death, Harry's in the mindset where he's willing to do anything to not feel the pain and grief and guilt anymore, so much so that when Dumbledore asks him to die, Harry does:

And while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die.” Harry seemed to be watching the two men from one end of a long tunnel, they were so far away from him, their voices echoing strangely in his ears.

[...]

His job was to walk calmly into Death’s welcoming arms. Along the way, he was to dispose of Voldemort’s remaining links to life, so that when at last he flung himself across Voldemort’s path, and did not raise a wand to defend himself, the end would be clean, and the job that ought to have been done in Godric’s Hollow would be finished: Neither would live, neither could survive.

[...]

Terror washed over him as he lay on the floor, with that funeral drum pounding inside him. Would it hurt to die? All those times he had thought that it was about to happen and escaped, he had never really thought of the thing itself: His will to live had always been so much stronger than his fear of death. Yet it did not occur to him now to try to escape, to outrun Voldemort. It was over, he knew it, and all that was left was the thing itself: dying.

[...]

Dumbledore’s betrayal was almost nothing. Of course there had been a bigger plan; Harry had simply been too foolish to see it, he realized that now. He had never questioned that his own assumption: that Dumbledore wanted him alive. Now h saw that his life span had always been determined by how long it took to eliminate all the Horcruxes. Dumbledore had passed the job of destroying them to him, and obediently he had continued to chip away at the bonds tying not only Voldemort, but himself, to life! How neat, how elegant, not to waste any more lives, but to give the dangerous task to the boy who had already been marked for slaughter, and whose death would not me a calamity, but another blow against Voldemort.

(DH)

Not for a moment does Harry consider not dying. He mentions he wants to shout out, and wants someone to care enough to stop him:

He wanted to shout out to the night, he wanted Ginny to know that he was there, he wanted her to know where he was going. He wanted to be stopped, to be dragged back, to be sent back home. . . .

(DH)

But he doesn't shout out, because the only home he ever had was for a year at Godric's Hallow, and that home was six feet under, where Harry knows he should be.

Just, all of Harry's thoughts as he walks towards his death, to me feel like a reaction to grief. He heard Dumbledore's plan when he reached his threshold of pain and grief. It's why he doesn't consider another option if there's another way. He doesn't want there to be another way. He wants to live, but he also wants it to be over.

And in death, Harry considers staying:

Harry nodded and sighed. Leaving this place would not be nearly as hard as walking into the forest had been, but it was warm and light and peaceful here, and he knew that he was heading back to pain and the fear of more loss.

(DH)

Staying where it's warm and peaceful and there's no pain. But he chooses to return, he chooses to live, and I think that is such an important moment for his character and his journey with grief. It's the moment he accepts life is pain and decides he wants to live anyway.

[bones4thecats]

Hi, hope I'm not late to requests.

Could I request Jack, Jade, Trey, and Malleus with a s/o who likes textile design?

What If Their S/O Liked Textile Design?

Type of Writing: Request Name: What If Their S/O Liked Textile Design? Characters: Jack Howl, Jade Leech, Trey Clover, and Malleus Draconia Requester: Anonymous

A/N: The reader in this piece is stationed in Pomefiore, since I think it fit well with the prompt.

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🐺 Textile design? This is something that Jack has never heard of before, but he is willing to learn about

🐺 When you had first invited Jack to your dorm in Pomefiore so that you could show him the ropes of how this 'textile design' worked, he smiled and showed up right on time

🐺 He was pulled inside the room by you as you asked him what was one pattern that he loved or that reminded him of his home, in which he just said the snowy mountains was one thing he liked and reminded him of home

🐺 You smiled and sat down at your desk, using your pen to pull up another chair for your boyfriend to sit down on so he could observe without his legs hurting

🐺 Jack watched as you pulled up a drawing of mountains with snow on top of them in a cartoon-ish style and he chuckled as you nervously rubbed your neck, telling him that you had drawn this one night when you couldn't sleep

🐺 You then began the process of printing the design onto a blanket that you had found woven -and cheap- at Sam's and you adjusted your device above the fabric and began to code in the printing's location

🐺 Watching with his ears stiffly up and his tail slightly swaying with every decoration added by the machine, Jack would be lying if he said that he wasn't amused or enamored with how the machine printed such a pretty design on the thick material

🐺 When you said it was done and you held it up for him to see it, your boyfriend smiled as his tail swayed faster with each step closer you took. And you knew why that was happening; he knew you were gonna give it to him

" I hope you like your new blanket, Jacky. " " Thank you very much, my soulmate. "

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🍄 Jade knows about a lot more things than other merpeople when it comes to the surface. But when you mentioned textile design, Jade had drawn a blank

🍄 He had turned around from the mushroom terrarium and asked you to repeat what you had said before, and since he normally listens very well, you kinda chuckled at his reaction

🍄 You had brought him back to your dorm when Azul had closed Mostro Lounge for the day, due to some personal issues surfacing and how he would be busy that day. And let's be honest, who trusts Jade and Floyd with the Lounge?

🍄 When you practically shoved him into a chair of yours, Jade smiled and chuckled at your actions that were filled with excitement

" My, my, Y/N~ You really seem excited to show me this 'textile design' of yours. "

🍄 You had held out three different pieces of paper for him to chose, in which he lifted up a print of mushrooms in the woods and you pushed it onto a a piece of white fabric

🍄 Holding a small fragment of magic stones, you dropped them into the 'printer' and activated it, smiling as you sat down and held your boyfriend's arm as he chuckled and watched unwavering at the device's work

🍄 Once it let out a small beep, you jumped up and grabbed the fabric, holding it for the eel-mer to see. And he smiled, enjoying the observing picture of the mushrooms

" Wait- look at the back! "

🍄 When you turned the blanket around, Jade's eyes slightly widened, there was a small drawing of a mushroom with expertly labeled spots

" Aw, my dear~ You really do love me~ "

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🧁 Unlike most of the men at Night Raven College, Trey does know some patterns when it comes to clothing. It comes with the benefits of working with his parents and having a little sister (his brothers don't care enough about clothes)

🧁 When you and him were spending a lot of time speaking about things such as your likes and dislikes, he had caught you speaking of clothing patterns

🧁 While he wasn't shocked, as many Pomefiore members love learning about these kinds of stuff, he was slightly shocked at the amount of knowledge about textile design you had kept in your brain

🧁 He had asked if you could show him a piece you had made, in which you smiled and reached into your bag to pull out a small fabric keychain that had a tiny clover on a tray

🧁 As a man who loves puns himself, he laughed at the joke. His name was Trey, hence the tray, and his surname was Clover, hence the four-leaved plant on the rectangle of metal

🧁 Trey held the fabric item in his hands and looked at it with love as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, giving you a strong side-hug as you chuckled and flushed at his form of affection. He normally wasn't too fond of PDA himself

" I love this, Honey. Thank you for such a lovely gift. I'm sure this will stumble my sibling's minds when they see it. "

🧁 Laying your head on his shoulder as he placed the chain onto his bag, you smiled and replied with a 'no problem', making him rub his hand on your head, messing up your hair slightly

🧁 He was such a dork with you

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🐉 Malleus, as a royal, has studied many different things over his many years of life. Including types of fabric so that someone would not be able to trick him into wearing something damageable to himself

🐉 But, as we all should know, this poor guy does not understand technology in any kind of way. So he does not know what textile design is very well

🐉 So, when you had been taking a small walk with him one day and mentioned textile design, he had no idea what you were talking about. And, like Jack, Malleus is welcoming to the idea of learning how this stuff is made

🐉 Much to your enjoyment

🐉 You had mentioned your offer to show Yuu how people in Twisted Wonderland made the fabric design with magic, and that made Malleus smile and ask if he could observe as well

🐉 You just smiled and agreed for your boyfriend to watch alongside your shared friend, and when he arrived and watched alongside Yuu how you took a crystal and mixed it inside a tiny vial for it to work with the technology so the fabric could be made faster, he was meticulously astounded

🐉 Yuu was as well, but watching a powerful dragon fae's eyes just widen with sparkles at you working on something so simple for him to do was something that could make anyone chuckle

🐉 You had made two items, one being a small grim keychain and the other being a tiny version of a photograph of Malleus, Lilia, Silver, Sebek, and you during your last vacation from school

🐉 Yuu thanked you and left, dragging Grim behind him as the cat groaned and whined about going to meet with Ace and Deuce, as your boyfriend stared at the item and smiled gently, his eyes being filled with adoration and love

" Thank you so much for this, love. You have no idea how much this means to me. I knew I made no mistake choosing you as mine. "

[im-ovulating]

(A/n: Why did nobody tell me Rami Malek's back is this delicious?)

(First Ahk post go brr!!)

Word Count: 1,198

Summary- The morning after your first night as Ahkmenrah's wife

Warnings: Masturbation, Blowjob, Overall, just a soft yet horny morning

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Morning After: First Life! Ahkmenrah x Fem! Reader

---------------------

Sunlight filters through the thin fabric of the curtains, illuminating the room and with it, the dark of your closed eyes. It feels far too early to be this bright, though you know that's probably due to the lack of sleep you got during the night. The thought brings a smile to your face; remembering that just to your side is the love of your life. Your lover… Your soulmate… Your husband… Your Pharaoh.

The steady weight of him next to you paired with the heat radiating off of him and the memory of the night before has a different warmth curling in your core like a snake rearing its head back waiting for the right time to strike. It's believed that the Pharaohs of Egypt are living gods, half man, half god- direct connections to the Gods of the lands and skies. You already regarded Pharaohs as such, but last night only strengthened your belief in the ideology. There was no way a mere man should be able to move his hips in the way that the man next to you can.

The serpent coils hopelessly tighter as your mind wanders to how he coaxed you through orgasm after orgasm as though it were nothing. His hips, his fingers, even his tongue drawing you over the edge time after time until you could take it no more. Making you hold on just long enough for him to finish as well; his hot seed swarming your insides as if it didn't belong anywhere but deep inside of you. You clench at the memory of the possessiveness of his growl as he had stilled inside of you.

Your thighs tense and your breath hitches as your hand trails it's way to your heated core, lightly rubbing at the swollen bundle of nerves. The lingering sensitivity from the abuse it took just hours prior steers you closer to release quicker than normal. Your labored breaths are the only sound in the quiet of your bed chamber. Tighter and tighter the asp coils, in time with the meek whimpers that have started to escape you.

"Ra above... You are absolutely divine, my Queen." The serpent strikes, lashing out with such intensity your vision goes white and you have to slap your hand over your mouth as you cry out in pleasure. "Ahk~"

In your lust-induced state, you had failed to take note of your husband waking up just in time to watch you cream all over your hand. His voice pushing you into the euphoric arms of Hathor. Your release drips onto the pristine, white bedsheets as you catch your breath.

Ahkmenrah slides an arm under you to pull you to his chest. "What did I do to deserve waking up to such a spectacle?"

You finally open your eyes, unable to help the heat that spreads across your cheeks at his question. Mind still muddy with fading orgasmic haze, all you can muster is a hum as you wiggle deeper into his hold, your own arms wrapping around his waist. You can feel his arousal pressing against your naval, but he doesn't seem bothered enough to do anything about it. Instead, Ahkmen starts tracing seemingly random designs along your exposed skin, content to just lay with you; it takes you a second to realize that he's tracing the marks he left on your skin. Surely, beautiful shades of red and purple by now.

"Are you hurting?" His voice stays soft as he doubles around what you can only assume is a fairly sized mark.

The thought makes you proud; proud that he chose you to be the one to carry his marks, to rule by his side, to love, but also proud that you now have physical representation that you belong to him; no matter how temporary -they can always be replaced. You don't bother to try to hide how warm and fuzzy the notion of belonging to Ahkmenrah makes you as you place gentle kisses along his collarbone.

"I'm a little sore," you admit, nuzzling his neck, "but it's a welcomed ache, I assure you."

He physically deflates a little, his relief showing in the form of a reassured sigh.

"I'm glad," Ahkmen murmurs into your hair as he pulls you in tighter.

He shifts and you're made all too aware of his hard length resting against your stomach once more. He may be able to stifle his needs but you are not so patient. Wordlessly, you shift down, sliding between the silk sheets until you're face to face with his excitement.

"Love?" Ahkmenrah lifts the covers only to groan at the sight of you already looking up at him with big doe eyes.

He took such good care of you last night -this morning as well considering just the thought of him was enough to get yourself off to- so it's only fair that you take care of him now. Without breaking eye contact, you open your mouth to let your tongue slide against his already dripping slit. The noise that falls from his lips is absolutely sinful; shifting closer you take the dark tip of his member into your mouth, gently suckling on the head.

He sucks in a sharp breath as you start to take more and more of him into your mouth with each bob of your head. The corners of your lips turn up at the sight of your husband falling apart from just your mouth. His hands are fisting the sheets beneath him as ragged breaths puff from his slack jaw. His intense gaze is still locked on you.

Taking his still open eyes as a challenge, you double down on your efforts; hands bracing on his thighs, you take a deep breath and swallow down as much of his cock as you can before he hits the back of your throat.

All at once, his hand comes up to grip your hair as his head slams against his pillow. A guttural groan rips its way through his chest, deep and rough, that sends a shock of arousal through your core and has you slicking yet again. The sight of him has your eyes rolling back as you moan around his length.

The hand in your hair tries to pull you off as he warns you of his pending release but you push deeper, hollowing your cheeks and running your tongue along the underside of his phallus. There's a slight buck of his hips before his salty spend is filling your mouth and spilling out the corners. You pull off with a pop, opening your mouth to show him the fluid on your tongue before swallowing with a smirk.

"Gods, you're going to be the death of me, my love." Ahk pulls you up to press a searing kiss to your swollen lips.

"A death worthy for a Pharaoh," you tease when you separate for air, voice slightly hoarse.

His hearty laugh fills the silence of the room before he kisses you again. This time softer, taking his time to coax your mouth open as your bodies mold together, two puzzle pieces united at last.

"There's no other death I would prefer~"

[l0velylecter]

how the cod : mw ii men kiss you ( vol.iii )

— how would the men of call of duty : modern warfare ii kiss you, part iii

rating : m for mature and suggestive themes pairing : gender neutral reader /  könig ,  gender neutral reader / rodolfo parra tags : kissing, making out, fluff, smut goes as far as vague descriptions fandom : cod mwii warnings : cursing, suggestive themes, mdni (minors don’t interact)

01| You were under strict orders to remain impartial and detached from your patients while working as a military psychologist, and you had no issues with it until you had König under your care. In the end, you had to make the difficult yet rewarding decision to transfer him to another counselor. Initially, he was devastated when you announced your resignation, blaming himself for scaring you away. You had to put your hands across his face and tip-toe to let the panicked soldier know why you had made such a decision: ' König! I chose this not because I didn't want to be with you but to stay with you. I didn't want to be your doctor because I want to be together with you." You can see the gears in his head turning under his hood, his eyes lighting up behind the mask like lightbulbs. You expected your first kiss to be passionate: fueled by months of longing, yet even with your lips brushing against his, König could only screw his eyes shut timidly — hands shaking against your shoulders as he sloppily meets your mouth. What he lacks in experience, he makes up for in curiousity ; one-moment König is breathless and panting under your lips, and the next, he eagerly tries to keep up with teeth and tongue to learn. Putting his trust in your hands, he lets you take control most of the time, and when you're straddling his lap or leaning with both arms around his neck, König will have to stop in between kisses to hide his face — clearly overstimulated by how you're spoiling him with affection. And even when he's buried deep within you, he refuses to stay still, using his lips to catch the tears falling down your face to coach your body to relax and let him in ( because even if you were dizzy with pleasure, it doesn't change the fact that König's huge.) Through his chanting against your ear, you can feel how breathless and desperate the man was: ' thank you, thank you.' (Which is maybe why you can never get enough of König's kisses.)

02 | You know that being Alejandro’s neighbor meant that every once in a while, you are lucky enough to be rewarded with an invite to a post-mission barbecue in his backyard. You just didn’t expect the reward to come with an 'angel on earth' of a boyfriend. The man was the always smiling wallflower seated next to you — with Rodolfo's humility and composure: it was hard to believe that the man pouring you a glass of water could ever harm anyone. You can tell from your first kiss that he wasn't inexperienced, only very, very considerate. Gentle and easy-going, Rodolfo never rushes his kisses: always choosing your comfort above anything else. ' Is this okay ?' ' Do you like it ?' He never wants to kiss you until he has changed out of his dirty uniform and out of the shower, savoring each moment he gets to be domestic by pecking your forehead and peppering your cheeks. Even if you tell him you enjoy a bit of manhandling, Rodolfo never lets himself hurt you — always choosing to make love rather than fuck; thorough make-out sessions and aftercare are how you know you are more than loved. ( He won't stop apologizing once for biting your bottom lip and drawing barely any blood, promising to contain his excitement even if you don't mind.) Rodolfo would sit by the tub next to you to kiss down your arms, going up your neck, past your nose, and across each eyelid to wait for the water to run, not caring that he was running only on two hours of sleep because of a stakeout.

a/n : here are the soft boys !! <3 this is the end of the series, i didn’t include alex cause i don’t know how to write his character yet, i still need more research and brainstorming before including him cause i’m nervous like that ( lol but he’s growing on me i swear ) i hope you enjoy this xx

how the cod : mw ii men kiss you ( vol i )

how the cod : mw ii men kiss you ( vol ii )

[bright-side20]

Elain, Azriel and Lucien

LoA, Helion and Beron

First, let's recap the actual story of LoA because today, all the theories about her are based on headcanon, not on what is written in the book.

“She was still young—though she’d been married to that delightful male for nearly two decades. Married too young, the marriage arranged when she was twenty.”

"I heard "her family wanted internal ties to power, and that they didn’t give her a choice before they sold her to Beron.”

LoA had an arranged marriage with Beron, and apparently, she wasn't given a choice to reject it.

“Hybern attacked their estate. Her sisters bought her time to run. Not because she was married to Beron, but because they loved each other. Fiercely. She tried to stay, but they convinced her to go. So she did—she ran and ran, but Hybern’s beasts were still faster. Stronger. They cornered her at a ravine, where she became trapped atop a ledge, the beasts snapping at her feet.”

She was helped by her two sisters, who died during the war, to run away, but she was trapped by Hybern's beasts.

I said quietly, “You saved her. You found her, didn’t you?” A coronet of light seemed to flicker over that thick black hair. “I did.” There was enough weight, anger, and something else in those two words that I studied the High Lord of Day. “What happened?” Helion didn’t break my stare. “I tore the beasts apart with my bare hands.”

Until Helion rescued her. (Sounds familiar, huh?)

“You had—an affair after you rescued her?” “How long did the affair last?” I asked Helion shrugged. “On and off for decades. Until Beron found out. They say the lady was all brightness and smiles before that. And after Beron was through with her … You saw what she is.” “What did he do to her?” “The same things he does now.” Helion waved a hand. “Belittle her, leave bruises where no one but him will see them.”

LoA had a forbidden love affair with Helion until Beron found out about it and abused her, which he still does to this day.

“If you were her lover, why didn’t you stop it?” The wrong thing to say. Utterly wrong, by the dark fury that rippled across Helion’s face. “Beron is a High Lord, and she is his wife, mother of his brood. She chose to stay. Chose. And with the protocols and rules, Lady, you will find that most situations like the one you were in do not end well for those who interfere.”

LoA chose to break up with Helion and not let him interfere because of societal pressure. As a High Lord's wife with children, choosing Helion would have caused a big scandal and potentially led to war. Therefore, preferring to stay with Beron wasn't a free, unconstrained decision, it was a result of social pressure. In canon, for them there isn't a mating bond rejection, which doesn't even align because leaving Helion wasn't a choice to begin with. If you think otherwise, then your definition of choice is biased.

Now, let's draw parallels between LoA and Elain based on canon texts:

*LoA's right of choosing her partner was stripped of her by an arranged marriage.

*Elain's right of choosing her partner was stripped of her by the Cauldron's mating bond.

*LoA had two sisters who loved her fiercely.

*Elain has two sisters who loves her fiercely.

*Helion rescued LoA from the KoH trap and tore the beasts apart with his bare hands.

*Azriel rescued Elain from Hybern, and she kicked the beasts with her bare feet to free Azriel.

*LoA and Helion had an affair after this event until it was discovered by Beron.

*Elain and Azriel were about to kiss while her mate was sleeping on a level above, but Rhys stopped it.

*Helion couldn't interfere even though he loved LoA because she decided to stay with Beron. As a High Lord's wife, she is pressured by rules and protocols that would lead to very bad consequences if she chose Helion.

*Rhys told Azriel to stay away from Elain because Lucien, as Beron's son, has the right to invoke the blood duel. Elain and Azriel's relationship could jeopardize the alliance with the Autumn Court and potentially lead to war, so their situation is also constrained by rules and protocols.

The difference between LoA and Elain will be that Elain will not submit to societal pressure. She will choose to be with Azriel and face the consequences of her free will choice. Unlike Helion, Azriel will not care about rules and protocols. Similarly, unlike Beron, Lucien will not force Elain to be with him, especially when he learns that his mother was forced to endure an abusive relationship and leave Helion, who is his father.

Elain will be an example for any female whose choice was stripped from her under the pretext of societal pressure. Hopefully, because of Elain, rules and protocols that treat females as property will change.

[cocogum]

I really wish Ankama could just change Amalia's one-piece suit already cuz it's been more than a season now and she's still wearing one outfit.

Give my girl some kind of flashy or pretty outfit now that she's queen, don't just recycle her old outfit and add a cape to it in the manga! You finally have a way to change her design without the budget being in the way SO DO IT.

I don't care if you give her something that we've never seen her wear before, in fact, it would actually be a great breath of fresh air seeing her wearing anything that doesn't stick to her skin like that.

I get that she's supposed to be a royal and all, but she's still a sadida, so seeing her wear LAYERS OF OUTFIT TO THE POINT WHERE WE CAN'T EVEN SEE HER KNEES is really weird to me.

Like, I wouldn't mind if we saw her wear that outfit in one season, but if she's wearing the same thing for over two seasons, we're gonna have a problem.

There's no way Amalia, a fashionista and a shopaholic, still keeps wearing the same shit that she was wearing before she was queen. AND ON HER FREAKING WEDDING TOO ‼️‼️‼️‼️ It still bothered me that she wore her one-piece at her wedding like girl what are you doing? You're the type who LOVES wearing extravagances, especially when it's YOUR TIME TO SHINE.

Now that the animation budget isn't in your way, make her wear a leafy dress in the manga or a more refined version of her mother's dress, at least! You can even give her an improved version of her season 1 outfit and make her wear it whenever she's taking a break from her queen responsibilities and you can also show us some cute sleep dresses she could wear while sle-

....

What.

Emancipation??? Freedom of her feminity???

Tf do u mean by that.

LITERALLY WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT ⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

Are they implying we're never going to see Amalia show any more feminine traits????? Why!?!?!?!?

THERE ARE SO MANY REASONS WHY THIS EXPLANATION DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE.

For one, as I mentioned above, Amalia is the fashionista type and LOVES shopping. So much so, that she was even willing to fight off a shop owner in Bonta despite not having a single kama on her.

Two, she still loves to party, as said by Yugo in the Great Wave manga, so she would still have habits of shopping and trying out new outfits, which are, you know, FEMININE TRAITS ‼️‼️

Cathiane, what happened while you were drawing volume 1? Did Tot force you to keep her tomboyish bland outfit with Armand's cape? Who has you at gun point???

ANKAMA LET MY GIRL BE FEMININE AND SHOW HER SOME SKIN FOR CRYING OUT LOUD ‼️‼️

WHERE'S HER FASHION SENSE AT ⁉️⁉️⁉️

Taking out her feminity by claiming that it is "the emancipation of her feminity" doesn't make any sense because SHE'S NOT THE TYPE TO DO THAT.

I initially believed that the reason why she chose to wear this outfit in season 3 was because she wasn't in the right space of mind and did not feel like herself when her father was slowly dying and her brother was getting manipulated by a chicken.

But now that she's happier and feeling much better with Yugo, the only thing that she changed about her outfit was THE FUCKING LEAF'S COLOR IN THE FRONT.

This is criminal. It's literally illegal to be this bad towards her. Where's her creativity? Where's her feminity? She can still be feminine AND be a boss-ass bitch at the same time.

You can still show her maturity without feeling the need to make her wear pants.

Ankama, stop playing with my head. I need to see her wear anything else than that damned one-piece suit at least once. I don't care what the new outfit will look like, but seeing her semi-naked in volume 1 doesn't count.