#I started to like it better before the balancing

[snowballseal]

How they react to you having a lot of tattoos

LaDS X Reader

Anon Request: I was curious if you would be willing to write the boys reacting to a partner with a lot of tattoos? I feel like MC is pretty covered up and as someone with full sleeves and a large back piece, it’s always interesting to see how people react to seeing them.

Note: Y’all killing me with these fun requests 🥺 I love this. I only have a few minimalist tattoos, but I want MORE. Thank you for the lovely request, anon. The scenarios were fun to think of.

Word Count: who’s to say 🤷about 1000 each

---

Rafayel

The first time Rafayel sees your tattoos is when you go on a date to the beach. You’re not even thinking about it as you change in the bathroom. When you decided to become a hunter, you knew you would have to cover up your tattoos. The policy, while being outdated in your mind, isn’t all that bothersome since you prefer to wear long sleeves anyways.

So it never occurred to you that Rafayel had never seen the full expanse of the ink on your body.

Which is why, when you step out and his eyes go impossibly wide as he looks at you, mouth dropping open, you’re first and foremost confused.

“What?” 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you feel an inkling of insecurity curl in your chest as you look down at your two-piece. It’s nothing immodest, just a blue bikini that you thought was cute and also met your standards for support. It’s a little frilly, but a part of you thought he’d love that. 

“Do you not like it? I don’t uh, I don’t have anything else to wear…” Your voice comes out uncharacteristically meek.

That seems to snap Rafayel out of his daze. The artist shakes his head, the tips of his ears going positively red, as he still can’t rip his eyes from the lines decorating your skin. He reaches out, tracing the gentle petals of a flower on your waist.

“How come you’ve never shown me these, cutie?” He asks, voice touched with awe.

Oh. Heat creeps up your neck. So that’s what he was on about. You glance down at your body. You suppose it is a little jarring. It’s not like you’re covered head to toe, but you’re definitely a well covered canvas. Both of your arms have partial sleeves that curl up around your shoulders and continue along your collarbone. A large collection of flowers adorns the right side of your waist, traveling down your hip and turning into a pattern of vines down your leg. You have a few other ones, some silly, some heavy with meaning.

“Sometimes I forget I have them,” you admit a bit bashfully. Rafayel gives a low hum and your breath catches as his fingers continue to trace the lines on your waist, his touch warm and ticklish. “I’ve had some of them since before I started training.”

“I have to say, I’m a bit jealous that another artist has touched your body,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something low. His hand slips around your waist, drawing you closer so he can trace his lips over the intricate ink on your collar bone, ocean eyes glinting up at you with something possessive yet overflowing with adoration. “But even I have to admit this is beautiful work. Befitting my queen.”

Your cheeks go warm. As red at the tips of his ears. There’s something so reverent about his touch and it makes your heart flutter wildly, but you’re all too keenly aware that you’re still in public.

Not that it stops you from poking the fish.

“Would it make you feel better to know my newest one is for you?” You ask, reaching to touch his cheek with a teasing smile.

Rafayel’s face lights up. He draws back immediately, looking over your tattoos like an eager child until he spots the fresher ink on your left leg. You stifle a giggle as he drops to his knees, fingers curling around your ankle to pull your leg off the ground so he can get a better look. 

“Rafayel!” You bark out a laugh, balance stolen away. It forces you to lean on him just so you don’t fall over. “Geez, I could have just sat down, you know!”

“This is for me?” Rafayel, oblivious to your complaints, grazes his fingertips tenderly along your skin.

Shaking your head, you give his hair a playful fuss, “Yes, you impatient fish. It’s not done yet, but it’s about us.”

It’s the beginnings of an ocean scene. A beach circles right above your ankle, depicting the silhouettes of two younger kids, their hands clasped in a promise. As the ink continues up your leg, it transforms into what looks like a night sky, but instead it’s water, swirling lines of blue and purple, full of schooling fish, one in particular standing out, bright red among the cool tones. A familiar symbol. And on the back of your calf swims a graceful looking figure, reaching for the light, edges blurred between fish and man and water.

A lump forms in Rafayel’s throat as he touches the red fish, a familiar warmths spreading across his chest as the same symbol glows faintly. Seeing it on you fills him with an emotion he can’t quite explain.

“You do realize what this means, right?” Those ocean eyes flicker up to you. They glint like dark pearls, iridescent and beautiful, yet carry a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch.

“I do,” you answer unwaveringly.

Rafayel’s lips pull into a small smile. He never expected someone to do something like this for him. Though, of course you would. And it’s beautiful.

“It’s a stunning piece,” he murmurs eventually, leaning forward to press a kiss to your knee, right above the ink, his hair tickling your thigh, “Though I still think the canvas is the most beautiful thing of all.”

A snort escapes you and you bite your lip, heat rushing back to your cheeks, “You’re ridiculously corny, Rafayel.”

“I know.” His smile shifts into a wolfish grin as he stands up, scooping you into a hug. You squeal as he spins you around, holding on tightly despite knowing he’d never drop you. It’s only when you’re positively red that he stops, his mirthful eyes watching your face. “It’s worth it if I get to see this face. I swear, cutie, if you do more things like this, I might become unbearable.”

“You never could,” you giggle and loop your arms around his neck, “Though, I was thinking maybe next time, you could come with me?”

Rafayel raises an eyebrow, “Oh? You want to get matching tattoos? I’ll admit, I’ve never considered it…but if it’s with you, I can’t think of anything more fitting.”

“You’ll have to design it, of course,” you hum, tone turning a little more excited, “Oh, I can’t wait! It’ll be so fun! We can do it the next time I take a break, and after swimming season, obviously.”

Leaning in, Rafayel gives you a short kiss, laughing against your lips, “Anything you want, my lady. As long as it’s with you, I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

---

Zayne

The first time Zayne sees your tattoos is when you reunite at Akso. You’re not sure how long it’s been, having only seen him every so often at Grandma Josephine’s for dinner. All you know is that he’s been busy, and is now one of the most remarkable young doctors in Linkon.

And also your new primary care physician.

“Knock knock.” 

You rasp your knuckles lightly against the door to his office, eyes lingering on the nameplate displayed prominently beside it. A strange sense of pride swells in your chest. To think, your childhood best friend would reach such heights.

“Come in,” Zayne calls, voice as aloof as ever.

You slip into his office and let the door shut behind you. The doctor sits at his desk, flicking through a file on his tablet. You hesitate on the edge of his peripherals, not sure exactly what to do or how to act. It’s been a long time since you two have been truly close, not since- But you’ve missed him.

A lot.

“My apologies, my previous surgery ran longer than expected so I am still collecting your records.” You blink, his voice drawing you back out of your thoughts. “You may take a seat if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

Maybe you’re the only one who feels weird about it. He seems completely unaffected, like you’re a normal patient, ever the professional. You awkwardly drag a stool a little closer to his desk, just far enough to not seem weird and so it doesn’t feel like you’re looking over his shoulder.

After the silence goes a tick too long, you can’t help but break it, fingers fiddling nervously with your sweater, “How have you been, Doctor Zayne?”

A faint smile ghosts across his lips. You haven’t changed one bit. 

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. Work has become quite constant, so I’m afraid I haven’t been able to accept many of Josephine’s dinner invitations.” His eyes dart over to you briefly before focusing back on his screen. “You look like you’ve been doing well since we last saw each other.”

“I have,” you chirp, anxiety easing up a bit, “I’m really close to being finished with training and finally joining the Hunters Association. You should try to make it to dinner this week though! Grandma really misses you. She talks about you all the time.” You falter, cheeks warming a little. “...We’re all really proud of you, Zayne.”

Zayne’s fingers freeze against the tablet. An indecipherable look crosses his face, but he schools his features quickly and gives you a small smile.

“Thank you…you both have always been so kind to me,” he murmurs and finally turns to face you, “I’ll try my best to make it to dinner this week.”

Your face lights up, excitement sparking in your eyes. “Okay! I’ll let her know! She’ll probably make all your favorites. They haven’t changed, right?”

Zayne shakes his head, and you can’t help but kick your feet giddily. It’ll be nice to catch up. You have so many questions, and also so many stories to tell from your training days.

“Now that those plans are made, shall we proceed with your exam?”

“Right, right.” You almost forgot that’s what you’re here for. Nerves coming back, you shuffle on top of the stool. “What do you need me to do?”

“First, if you would remove your jacket, I’ll take your blood pressure and listen to your heart,” he instructs, voice settling back into something professional and neutral.

As Zayne turns away to fetch whatever tools he needs, you make quick work of taking your jacket off. The room is a little chillier than you expect. You wrap your arms around yourself to chase away the goosebumps that erupt across your skin. Your eyes stay glued on Zayne though, watching as he pulls a stethoscope and blood pressure monitor from one of his drawers.

“Do you usually do exams in your office?” You ask offhandedly.

“Not usually. As a cardiothoracic surgeon, I don’t often conduct general exams,” he hums, cleaning off the blood pressure cuff with a sterile wipe.

“Am I special or something, then?”

“With the rarity of your protocore syndrome, I thought it would be most effective to handle your care myself, yes. Though if it makes you uncomfortable we can-”

Zayne’s words cut off as he finally looks back at you. Surprise flickers across his face.

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, though you don’t know why. Is there something on your face? A stain on your tank top? You glance down, finding nothing of the sort.

“What? What is it? Do I have something on me?” Your hands flicker up to your face, but you don’t feel anything.

Zayne blinks and shakes his head as if coming out of a stupor. The lightest blush warms his ears.

“My apologies. I just wasn’t aware you had so many tattoos.”

Oh. Holding out your arms, you look over the expanse of ink on your skin. You guess it’s a lot. It has taken you a few years, but you’ve effectively covered your arms and shoulders in art. Most of it is florals, with small, meaningful symbols or items hidden in the foliage. You also have a few others, though they’re covered by your clothes.

“I guess you wouldn’t have seen them,” you hum thoughtfully, “I wear a lot of long sleeves to Grandma’s dinners. And work requires us to cover them up.”

“They’re quite intricate.” He sets his tools aside, drawing his chair closer to you. His hand reaches for your arm, but pauses, his eyes darting up to yours. “May I?”

“Go for it,” you whisper, feeling a little bashful now that his attention is focused solely on you.

His fingers graze your wrist lightly, as if he’s scared to press too hard. You watch as he silently turns your arm over, taking in every minute detail of your tattoos. He lingers a little longer on the small, anatomical heart at the center of it all, surrounded by gentle jasmines. They’re incredibly well done, even he can see that, and they all look like they were done some time ago.

Something melancholic and sentimental settles in his chest.

“I remember when you were just a little girl, crying over her popsicle…You truly are all grown up now, aren’t you?” His voice is thick with something you can’t quite pinpoint, his touch turning impossibly tender as he traces the lines up your elbow.

Your heart flutters a little too wildly for your likings. “You’re all grown up too, mister chief cardiac surgeon. That’s a lot bigger than some tattoos.”

Another smile pulls at his lips, breaking his impassive facade.

“These have all healed well, though,” Zayne says, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes as that strange emotion recedes, “You must have taken good care of them, and that alone is an impressive feat for you. That’s how I know you’ve grown up.”

A mock gasp escapes you and you pull your hand away to press it against your chest. If only to break the contact so he doesn’t notice your racing pulse.

“Doctor Zayne, I am deeply offended at your insinuation,” you insist vehemently, “I am a responsible person, soon to be an amazing hunter! I know how to take care of myself.”

“Says the woman who walked on a sprained ankle for a week out of pure stubbornness.”

“How was I supposed to know it was sprained?”

“I told you it was.”

---

Xavier

The first time Xavier sees your tattoos is after a mission that doesn’t go quite right. You come home with a bandage wrapped around your shoulder and chest, and the added instructions to change the gauze once a day. Which, of course, you can’t do yourself.

“Xav?”

Xavier glances up from where he’s sitting in the sun, a book long forgotten in his lap. Those sleepy blue eyes land on you questioning. You shuffle awkwardly in the doorway, a roll of gauze in your hand.

“Would you help me real quick?” You mumble, a soft blush warming your cheeks, “I can’t uh, I can’t change them myself.”

“Of course,” he hums immediately, standing and stretching languidly, much like a cat. “I am at your service, my lady.”

“Thanks,” you sigh, shoulders sagging, which sends a twinge of pain down your arm.

It was a nasty cut. You had been so focused on fighting one wanderer that you hadn’t noticed another smaller one appearing behind you. It was your fault, and thankfully it didn’t hit anything serious, but it was in just the right place to make moving your arm difficult.

Xavier silently leads you back into the kitchen. Taking the bandages from your hand, he pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit. You do so carefully, not wanting to jostle your body too much. The hunter sets the gauze aside and kneels down in front of you, his fingers finding the hem of your sweater and pausing, placid blue eyes turning up to you in question. 

Ever the gentleman.

A tiny smile pulling at your lips, you offer him a small nod. That’s all he needs to pull it off, his hands moving slowly, with the utmost care. Thankfully, the room isn’t too cold, the setting sun pouring through the window and warming the space. The fabric musses your hair as he slips it over your head, and you instinctively reach up to fix it.

Completely missing the way Xavier’s eyes go wide as he looks down at you.

There aren’t a lot of things that catch the hunter off guard. But the ink covering your skin certainly does. Even with the bandages, he can tell it’s expansive, curling around your shoulders, dipping down your upper arms, painting the entirety of your back. It’s reminiscent of Starry Night, hundreds if not thousands of strokes forming delicate lines that follow the natural curves of your body, flowing so beautifully that they practically beg his fingers to trace them.

And as always with you, Xavier has a startling lack of self-control.

You blink at the feeling of his fingers grazing your uninjured shoulder. His touch is so light, you could almost mistake it for a breath. Almost like he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, voice twinged with concern as you try and twist to look at where his touch lingers against your skin.

“Stay still,” Xavier orders gently, and you freeze, brows arching in confusion. Realizing you're panicking a little, the hunter leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, offering a soft explanation, “You never told me you have so many tattoos. I simply want to appreciate them.”

“Oh.” Your nerves fizzle out, replaced with an embarrassed tinge of excitement. So that’s what this is about. “I forgot I haven’t shown you them yet. I guess I’m so used to them that I forget they’re there, especially since I have to cover them for work.”

Xavier shifts behind you, fingers following the lines over your shoulder. They bleed into a wash of color, dark blue and purple and pink splashes across your back. A small planet of light sits between your shoulder blades, numerous stars dancing around it. His touch lingers on the planet, a flicker of light spilling from his fingers as his evol reacts unprovoked.

“What made you choose this?” He asks, voice wavering imperceptibly. 

“I’m not sure,” you hum, shrugging your good shoulder, “I’ve always liked space. My grandma used to take me to the planetarium a lot when I was young, and I used to have dreams about it, of floating between planets and exploring the stars. I always felt drawn to this one planet, it was so pretty and it looked like it was made of light, but I could never reach it…”

Philos.

Something twinges in Xavier’s chest. How strange. You don’t remember the planet, that’s for certain, yet some part of you was still connected to it. To your home. To him. All this time…

“It’s beautiful,” he all but whispers.

Heat tinges your cheeks. That’s not usually what people say. It’s not for everyone, you know that. It’s a lot of ink, but you dreamt for so long about getting it. Still, most people usually just make offhand comments, not exactly rude, but not exactly compliments either. Like, oh that must have hurt a lot. Or, you must have saved a lot of money, huh?

Never beautiful.

And yet Xavier traces your ink with what almost feels like admiration. It makes your heart flutter with an uncharacteristic shyness, shoulders jolting up to your neck.

That’s when you remember your injury.

Letting out a low hiss, you drop your shoulder quickly as pain sizzles down your arm. Both of you had practically forgotten about it, caught in the moment. Xavier’s brow furrows again, an apology floating past his lips as he draws his fingers away - much to your disappointment.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, offering him a weak smile, “I just pulled it a little funny. We should probably check it, though.”

“Alright, I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs as he reaches for the edge of your bandage.

“...Thanks, by the way.”

You’re not sure what exactly you’re thanking him for. Helping you or his sweet reaction to the art decorating your skin. Maybe both.

And Xavier must know. He leans down, lips ghosting over your shoulder is an adoring kiss.

“Of course, my star.”

---

Sylus

The first time Sylus sees your tattoos is, of course, on the night you attend the auction. There’s no hiding the ink covering your body when you’re wearing a dress, after all. If anything, though, you think they’ll help you fit in a little better in the N109 Zone.

And you love the reaction Sylus gives you when you step out into the foyer.

For the briefest moment, his eyes go wide. Shock, perhaps the rarest emotion you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing on him, flashes behind those carmine eyes. In an instant, it disappears though, hidden with his usual cocky expression, one of his fine brow ticking up in amusement.

“I’ll admit, sweetie,” the man hums, “You’ve surprised me.”

You flash him a cat-like grin, satisfaction burning deep in your veins, and give a little theatrical spin, “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

Hardly a single part of your body remains untouched by ink. Most of the designs are artistic. Flourishing lines twisting and curling around your muscles, strangely reminiscent of the form his evol takes. They form a network of delicate webs across your body, sometimes forming shapes, sometimes with words written along the fine linework. 

It’s hauntingly beautiful. Sylus can’t help but let his eyes slowly rove over your form, taking in every detail. They’re like a map, and his fingers are itching to explore every part of you, to see just how far the ink slips below the hem of the dress. A dress which he bought for you yet can’t be bothered to even notice now, not with such a dazzling sight set before him.

“Who knew the kitten would turn into a tigress at night,” he murmurs, voice going low and teasing as he slowly circles around you, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Your boldness wavers. 

Sylus always seems to have that effect on you. Like a lamb straying from the herd and being found by the wolf. Prey before a predator starved, maw open and hungry, as if he could consume you whole. And all you can do is hold your ground, even if your legs shake, like that little lamb’s.

“Careful, Sylus,” you whisper, trying to appear unshaken by not following him with your eyes, despite the unease you feel not knowing exactly where he is, “This tiger has claws.”

You feel more than hear his presence come up behind you. A shiver traces down your spine when his breath skates over your ear, warm and far too intentional. In the same way, his fingers trace reverently down your arm, following the path of your ink, until they can intertwine with yours and draw your hand up to his lips.

“And that’s how I prefer you.” His voice is low, a mere rumble against your skin as he kisses your knuckles. Another shudder. “After all, it would be a shame to declaw such a beautiful creature. Even if she likes to scratch.”

God, you hate him.

You hate that it takes everything in you to rip yourself away from his enticing warmth. You hate that your heart is racing against your ribs, like it’s trying desperately to escape. And you especially hate the absolutely smug grin that plays on his lips (and the fact that you want to kiss it so badly).

“You’re teasing me,” you breathe unsteadily, putting space between the two of you.

Something dark flashes in his eyes, “Whatever do you mean, sweetie? I was merely giving you a compliment.”

“Then you give weird compliments,” you fire back, arms wrapping around yourself. “It sounds more like you’re making fun of me.”

Sylus pauses. Those ruby red eyes narrow on you thoughtfully, his lips pressing into a thin line. A tick of silence. Then his expression smoothes into something almost soft, and he takes a few measured steps towards you. Long fingers graze your palm again. A question.

And you give in far too easily, not fighting as he intertwines your fingers once again. His other hand skirts along your exposed shoulder, following the lines of your tattoo as they fade at your neck. You’re frozen under the sudden tenderness of his touch, your pulse racing against his fingertips.

“My apologies, kitten. That wasn’t my intention,” he murmurs, eyes boring into yours with an unnerving genuineness, “I simply meant that your tattoos are...befitting of your character. You are truly…” He looks you over once more, his gaze leaving a tantalizing heat in its wake. That dangerous smile curls his lips again. “Captivating.”

You inhale shakily.

No one has said something like that to you before. Not that you can remember, at least. It would sound cheesy from someone else, but from Sylus? The intensity of his tone leaves you feeling as unsteady as your heart. Lightheaded.

All you can do is blink up at him, eyes wide and doe-ish. No smart retort or comeback. Your mouth, in fact, feels remarkably dry. It fills the man with a touch of pride, rendering you so speechless.

Not one to let you stay dumbfounded for too long, though, Sylus lets out a smooth chuckle and taps your chin, “Careful, sweetie. If you look at me like that, I might just think you’re falling for me.”

Which of course works. Because he knows you better than you know yourself.

“I am not!” You squawk, face going up in flames. “You just surprised me, that's all! I didn’t know you were capable of such niceties.”

Sylus grins, drawing away as you swat at his hand, “Then it seems that we’re even.”

You scowl at him. So not fair.

“Now, would you like to accompany me to this auction, sweetheart?” He offers his arm. You keep your pout up for only a few seconds before giving in and slipping your hand around his elbow begrudgingly. Sylus hums in amusement, leaning in to press a ghost of a kiss against your cheek. “Looking like this, you’ll have no trouble getting the results you’ve been searching for, tonight. You’ll be the perfect distraction, my dear.”

“Well then, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

---

Not gonna lie, Sylus' was probably my favorite. In my head I was kind of picturing the tattoos that Anthony Padilla has (from smosh, yes, sue me), and I just think he would totally call you a tiger since he likes calling you kitten.

Hope y'all enjoyed!

I'm really feeling some angst next possibly...

[frozenjokes]

deeply infatuated with them. so much so that you guys can have the full ficlet as a treat. And yeah he wears that dumb fuck lab coat to bed of course he does. he’s also a socks in bed wearer and if you don’t think so we will be dualing at dawn.

zombiecleo and the worst found family in the world vvv

Ow. Ow.

Mosquitos, deer flies, horse flies, bugs, Cub was being ravaged by bugs, he really hadn’t considered the bugs when he’d started this journey. In the Wisconsin northwoods you breathed them, all sorts, but the deer flies were his worst enemies, drawing blood even through the thick layers of.. well, moss didn’t feel like an accurate descriptor. It looked a little like moss, like life had reached toward the sky and captured the stars, brilliant and twinkling and everything good. But moss didn’t have teeth. Sculk did. Cub liked that about it. Whether it hurt more or less than the flies, that was up for debate, but the sculk was consistent, familiar, everywhere, and the flies were in his way.

But with all the bugs, there was some reprieve. Afterall, another source of food meant less of those teeth under Cub’s skin. Less pain, though, somehow, he still managed to miss it.

Sculk was alien. It was not supposed to be here. But it wanted to be.

Sculk was a parasite. So was Cub.

Ow- Fucking- stupid ass dumbass fucking-

Cub jolted awake with a screech, being shaken- dragged out of bed, the monster on his neck- he was falling, a bear- a black bear had got him, he was being dragged through the woods by a black bear- fuck- what bear was it you where you were supposed to play dead? Cub had thought the brown bear, there weren’t brown bears in Wisconsin- He tried anyway.

He realized the floor was not dirt. The paws awkwardly dragging him along weren’t black or brown. Momentarily stunned, he heard Cleo cackle through the darkness.

“Scar- Scar! What are you doing? Wait- No no- No! Scar!”

Cub had the wind knocked out of him as his kidnapper attempted to jump onto Cleo’s bed, his stomach slamming into the mattress before he was unceremoniously dragged all the way up over a howling Cleo. Briefly Cub was released, to which he cautiously began to move until the sheets were pulled so hard underneath him that he fell off balance, only to be grabbed by the throat, then shoved head first underneath.

Cub needed a second to breathe, utterly shocked he was still alive. Then a large weight fell on top of him, and breathing became a little harder. The weight began to purr.

“Scar.” Cleo gasped, sounding just as shaken as Cub felt, though not nearly as dazed. The purring ceased briefly, then began again, Cleo’s bewilderment remaining unanswered. “What- Why?” they tried again, which Scar seemed more receptive to.

“Easier to watch when you’re close together. This is better. Efficient. Safer.”

“We- We don’t need to be watched, Scar. We are safe. This room is safe. There is literally nothing in here that can hurt us.”

“That RenKing is awfully suspicious. It’s watching me.”

“He’s not on! He can not turn on by himself, we are fine.”

“What else lurks in the shadows, Cleo? You never know, you never know. One minute you’re safe, the next minute a hawk has swooped out of nowhere and grabbed your kitten, you gotta be careful, you gotta sleep together. It’s the best way to do it, it’s the best way.”

“I can not argue with you about this right now. Is Cub even alive?”

“He’s wriggling.” Cub was indeed wriggling. He wasn’t even uncomfortable per se, there was something deeply mollifying about having a large weight directly on your back, and he slept face down anyway, so this wasn’t a huge issue. Just adjusting.

“Let him go, Scar.”

Cub was a little offended by the implication that he could not get Scar off by himself- Scar was at least half his weight! “I’m fine.”

“He’s fine,” Scar parroted.

Cleo sighed, long and strained. She said no more. With enough passage of time, Cub stopped going to sleep in his own bed, since no amount of arguing was going to stop Scar from dragging him out of it every night. Though, out of all of Scar’s disruptive quirks, this was not something Cub minded all too much. He liked Cleo’s company, though he was relatively certain Cleo did not enjoy sleeping in a full bed nearly as much. Well, Cub definitely took up more room, but it wasn’t like she had slept alone since Scar had invited himself to sleep at their feet anyway.. then their legs.. then their stomach.. then their chest. Maybe this was always the next step. Cub wouldn’t be surprised if Scar had been planning it from the start. Oh well. No skin off his back.

uh if you like this there’s more of it on ao3 here’s a link

[buckgasms]

Doctors barnes and Rogers drabble where reader is contious about her after birth body?

Well this is very very sweet indeed 😍 thanks for sending this in 🩵

Also I have never been pregnant so forgive me if the recovery time is unreasonable 😭 it is fiction after all 😘

They'd be so good at making you feel better and more secure as well.

I feel like they would make a point of saying positive things about your body, like how amazing it was that you had carried their little nugget and how proud they are of you.

Little comments about how soft your skin is, how you are still glowing, things like that, making you fizz with pleasure.

Maybe they find you one evening, after your bath, standing half dressed in front of a mirror in the bedroom you all share. Your face is tight and scrunched up as your hands skim over your tummy and breasts. Then you turn and look at your bottom, which has grown in a way you don't particularly enjoy.

They come in and ask you what's up, but you don't really register them until Steve wraps his arms around your body, hands drifting around your waist. "What's going on sugar?" He says softly in your ear, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You shrug and look at him in the mirror. "I just don't feel like myself yknow? I don't think I'm as sexy as before..."

Bucky scoffs in the distance pulling the sheets down on the bed and fluffing up the pillow. "Honey, have the last 10 months taught you nothing?"

Steve chuckles as you grunt, his hands drifting across your skin, warmth spreading where his fingers touch. You turn your head to nuzzle into his neck, enjoying his kisses.

"We find you very sexy sugar... Look at these pretty tits hmm, all full and sensitive? And your thighs all soft and pillowy, just wanna lay my head there for hours..."

You giggle and moan as he gently squeezes your sensitive breasts, making you grip his wrists. As he gently pinches your nipples you whine, the pleasure going straight to your core.

Bucky circles round and stands in front of you, enjoying the view. Your eyes already feel glassy and your legs shake under Steve's touch and Bucky's stare.

"If you feel up to it sweetheart, we could show you just how sexy you are..."

You nod slowly, nibbling your finger and leaning further back into Steve's broad chest. Bucky slowly kneels down, hand brushing along your thighs, tickling behind your knees until he's kneeling at your feet.

You gasp as his lips start pressing along knee, moving with gentle purpose up to your inner thigh. He drifts from one leg to the other until he's kissing right across your tummy and down over your mound.

Steve isn't idle as you both watch Bucky, his fingers still pinching and pulling at your nipples, teeth grazing over the shoulder, occasionally pausing to suck bruises on your shoulder.

You are guided to lift your thigh over Bucky's shoulder, your balance steadied entirely by Steve's hands and body. You emit a whine when his lips connect to your soaked heat, licking at your folds and sucking gently while you wobble above.

"Does that feel good sweetie?" Steve whispers in your ear and you nod, but ever the boss he tuts. "Come on baby, tell Bucky, tell me how good it feels..."

"S..sgood...ah..fuck" you whimper and shamelessly grind on Bucky's face. You can feel his smile against your skin before he pulls away, quickly rubbing his thumb against your clit. His mouth and beard are shining from your wetness and you can't help but burn from embarrassment.

"She taste good?" Steve asks and Bucky nods, curling his finger ever so gently within, making you buckle under the sensitivity. "So fucking sweet. You wanna go?"

Decisions were made around you and Steve carried you to bed, but this time Bucky settled behind you, hooking his legs around your ankles, holding you open for Steve.

Always so serious, he inspected your heat with professional vigour. Bucky used his fingers to spread you open for Steve, who came in close, breath teasing you and making you shudder.

"Please... Please Dr Rogers..." He chuckles as you giggle. "Such a tease."

But he waste no more time before delving in. You hadn't realised how sensitive Bucky had made you until Steve was licking and sucking at you with precision, wringing every bit of pleasure from your shaking body.

"How do you feel honey?" Bucky whispers in your ear, hands back to teasing your breasts. "Do you feel sexy now? Do you understand what you do to us? How much we fucking love you, and want you?"

You whimper as Steve slides a careful finger into you and curls, your whole body twitching against Bucky's restraint.

You repeat 'yes' over and over. Whether it's to Bucky's question or the pure pleasure coursing through you but in a few moments you are crashing into your peak, crying out as the pleasure spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

After a while you have barely moved, but Steve has indeed placed his head on your thighs and rubs soothing circles on your tummy. Bucky is still holding you tight in his lap, stroking your hair and pressing kisses to whatever skin he can reach.

"You gotta know sweetness, how perfect you are. So beautiful. But we are always happy to help if you need a reminder..."

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, specially not from the house next door. "

Warning: (oh my Lord, where do I start? 🤭) Smut, smut, and smut! Slapping, dirty talk, sloppy oral sex, licking, nipple and chest worship, fluffy, name calling, asking for consent is sexy! 😋

A/N: Hi everyone! I said I would be back earlier than usual (please don't get used to it 🙏). Usually, my weeks are busy with work, but since I had to stay home, I managed to organize the story faster. Just heads up that there is smut, and yes, things happen quickly. I had already warned you 🤷‍♀️. It's not the first smut I've written, but it is the first one I'm posting. Am I a little embarrassed? Yes, but whatever. I hope you enjoy it and that it turns out great. Have fun 😈.

Previous chapter

Chapter 4

A deep, pleasurable sound escapes my throat as his mouth presses against mine. It feels like I’m finally taking a breath after holding it for far too long.

His tongue doesn’t wait for permission to invade my mouth; it slips in between my lips, entwining with mine, sucking and biting, dominating me in a dance that leaves no room for hesitation. A low growl escapes his throat as I tangle my fingers in his hair, reflecting on all the times he provoked me, fully aware of the effects he has on me.

My hands move instinctively, pulling him closer, fingertips grazing the hard planes of his abdomen until there’s no space left between us. His warm skin glides under my palm, and I dig my nails into his back. Contrary to what I expected, he doesn’t retreat or complain; instead, he bites my lower lip and his hands slide from my waist to my buttocks, squeezing me firmly, exploring every inch of my body. He delivers a sharp slap to my ass, the sound echoing in the room making my panties grow even wetter. Oh God, I’m going to hell.

His thigh presses between my legs, and before I can fully grasp his intentions, I pull away from his face to catch my breath. He grips my hip tightly, rocking me gently, sending waves of warmth to the pit of my stomach–a sensation so intoxicating that it consumes me entirely. Inadvertently, I start moving on my own, using the tips of my toes for balance and his shoulders for leverage. I’m so lost in the sensations, using his smooth skin and warmth for my own pleasure, that I’m blindsided when Jungkook suddenly lifts me onto his lap, never breaking the kiss.

I let out a small, surprised squeak as he lays me back onto the bed. The shock intensifies when the towel slips away, leaving us both breathless. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, and almost involuntarily, I avert my gaze to the ceiling. I hear his laughter beside the bed, and curiosity gets the better of me; I peek at him. His body is sculpted and strong, broad shoulders adorned with dark tattoos that only amplify his allure. I try to look away, but it’s nearly impossible.

My eyes wander to his erect member–large, its head the same color as his pink lips. The sight of his trimmed pubic hair stirs a mixture of desire and unease within me. My heart races, feeling as if it might burst from the intensity of it all. Jungkook doesn’t give me time to gather my thoughts; he crawls towards me on his knees, capturing my mouth with his once more.

“You’re blushing,” he remarks with a proud smile, slipping his hand under the cotton blouse I’m wearing. I gasp as his fingers trail over my stomach, teasing my navel. “Take off your shirt; I want to see you better.”

“Jungkook…” I moan weakly, feeling his tongue glide from my jaw to my collarbone. He uses his teeth and lips to suck on my skin, and my thoughts scatter, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it all.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Come on, take it off. I want to see you naked.”

“I... I don’t know. I’m nervous.”

“Will you let me do it for you?” he asks, his tone understanding, as if he senses the tension radiating from me but finds it enticing. I nod in silent agreement. He studies my expression for a moment, biting his lower lip, pushing back his damp hair.

His right hand returns to my waist, this time with a gentle touch, his fingertips gliding over my stomach as if I were made of glass. I swallow hard as he slowly begins to lift my blouse. My skin is exposed, and my breasts finally liberated, illuminated by the bright light of the room. Embarrassment floods me, and I instinctively cover my nipples with my arms. My breath quickens, and in the back of my mind, I picture my mother; a shiver of guilt running down my spine, twisting the moment into something fraught with apprehension, as if I’m committing the greatest mistake of my life and only just now realizing it. Jungkook notices my distress, his jaw tightening; he bites his lip again.

“Everything is okay, love.” he assures me softly, brushing his thumb over my hand.

I nod, inhaling deeply and closing my eyes. I think of everything and nothing all at once. I want this. Just for once, I long to embrace the madness that will make this moment unforgettable. I crave the fear and anticipation tingling down my spine, the very sensation coursing through me now. If I tell Jungkook to stop, I know he will. I sense his attentive gaze on me, the care and concern in his eyes. This realization boosts my confidence slightly, as I notice that though I am inexperienced, I have ignited the same desire in him; he is just as tense, just as full of longing as me. He may not be scared, but he is undeniably affected, all because of me. Feeling a bit bolder, I relax my arms against the bed, creating space for him to look at me more closely.

His fingertips, which had been resting on my waist, now explore my stomach, tracing an imaginary path to my full, sensitive breasts. I roll my eyes in pleasure, surprised as his mouth, slick and warm, finally envelops my engorged nipple, his tongue caressing in a way that drives me wild. A soft moan escapes my lips, and I instinctively lift my hips, seeking relief. Jungkook only smiles, pulling my nipples together with his hands, gazing at me like I’m the last meal of his life, emitting satisfied groans with each suck, reveling in my helplessness.

I writhe on the bed, gripping the thick fabric beneath me. It feels so good. So good that I want to cry. A little scream escapes me when he nibbles with his teeth, sending an electric thrill straight to my core. My body pulses, my entrance aching for more stimulation. I whimper, unsure of how to relieve the tension building inside me.

“You’re just so delicious,” he murmurs to himself, and if I weren’t so close, I’m sure I wouldn’t have heard it. “I can smell your sweet scent from here.”

I can’t respond, completely spread out on the bed, clinging to the sheets for dear life. I sigh and close my eyes, nodding in disbelief at my own eagerness, drenched and dripping. I can almost feel my desire trickling down my thighs, saturating my panties. He chuckles, teasing my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Can I take off your pants?” he asks, planting soft kisses along my neck. I nod again, but he only watches me, not moving. “I’ll only take them off if you ask nicely.”

“Jungkook… please,” I plead in a hoarse voice, desperation threading through my words. I just need him to touch me.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he asks, that devilish grin returning, as if he knows the turmoil he’s causing me and relishes in my struggle. I whimper, frustration bubbling beneath the surface, but he remains still.

“Please, touch me.”

“I'm already touching you,” he teases, pushing some hair behind my ear. “Tell me where you want me to touch you, and I will.”

“I’m embarrassed,” I admit, covering my face with my hands in shame. I hear a soft chuckle from Jungkook. “Please, I just need you to touch me.”

“Do you want me to touch your pussy?” he asks bluntly. I gulp, my face heating and my heart racing. I nod, trembling in anticipation. “Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes… please.” His head nods in agreement, almost as if he finally feels pity for me and is about to grant my last wish.

His long fingers slide down to the waistband of my pants, pulling the fabric down slowly, as if savoring every second. My panties follow, leaving a trail of my excitement connecting the wet fabric to my core, so thoroughly soaked. I shiver at the cold air of the room. His gaze burns into me, observing my vulnerability without shame.

“You’re so beautiful. So perfect,” he says, his eyes locking onto mine. I know he means it; I can hear the sincerity in his voice.

My heart races in my chest, naked before a man for the first time. I can hardly believe the situation I’ve put myself in. My foggy brain, clouded by pleasure and desire, reaches out to his face. My thumb glides over his cheek and lips, a gentle caress, when I realize I haven’t shared an important detail with him.

“Jungkook… I’m a virgin,” I confess in a whisper, afraid that this revelation might change everything. His dark eyes widen slightly, probably from surprise, but he doesn’t judge me or treat me differently. He waits for me to continue, respecting the silence as I gather my thoughts. “I’m sorry... but I don’t feel ready for sex... in fact, I feel like I’m already doing something crazy just being here with you.”

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks gently, his fingers brushing my thigh.

“No.” The word escapes my lips firmly, surprising even myself, a hint of fear lurking beneath my resolve. “Is there something we can do without... well, penetration?”

“Of course,” he smiles. His lips return to mine; our kiss deepens, tongues playing together. “I can lick your pussy if you want.”

“Oh.” My voice falters, unsure how to respond. The first image that flashes in my mind is from when I was fourteen, when a friend confided in me, in the school bathroom, about her experiences with her boyfriend. I remember feeling shocked and terrified, vowing I would never do something like that. My cheeks flush; my mind races with conflicting thoughts because now, in this moment, it doesn’t seem so absurd.

“Do you want to try? I promise you’ll love it,” he assures me, his nose trailing along my jawline. My skin prickles with anticipation as he lowers himself over me.

"I-I do,” I stammer nervously. I freeze on the bed, fingers entangled in his hair as his head moves side to side. My body is completely exposed to his mouth, and there isn’t a single spot he doesn’t linger over. His hands find my breasts, massaging them, his short nails grazing my areola.

“Do you like it when I tease your nipples?” he asks, creating a series of soft sucking noises as his mouth releases from my body. I nod, moaning softly.

“I really do,” I admit, my voice weak and foggy. He’s being so good to me that I can’t help but respond.

Jungkook smiles faintly, continuing his exploration, kissing his way down my body, his lips grazing my stomach, circling his tongue on my skin, igniting shivers and goosebumps. I can’t help but bounce on the bed, lost in the sensations. I hear his muffled laughter as he notices my trembling.

“Open your legs for me?” he requests, his warm hands caressing my thighs. I feel embarrassed and shy, tossing my head back against the bed, unsure of how to respond.

“I’m ashamed,” I admit, frustration bubbling beneath the surface, but I know if I want the pleasure I’ve read about in my romance books, I must be honest with him.

“Y/N…” he murmurs my name, dragging his lips along my hip. He suddenly bites down on my sensitive skin, almost making me jump off the bed again. “You’re so good to me… you’ll cum so beautifully. I promise. Just let me see you.”

“I don’t know…” I whisper hesitantly, the desire coursing through me, battling against my fear.

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do: put my pillows under your head,” he suggests calmly, excitement evident in his tone. I search for his pillow among the bedding chaos and raise my head as he adjusts it, expanding my field of vision.

“Now I’m going to turn off the light and switch on the bedside lamp. Tell me if that helps.”

Jungkook quickly rises and walks to the switch. My face flushes even more as I see him grab his member, long fingers tracing its contours, massaging it gently, groaning softly as he looks back at me lying on the bed before the light goes out. The only illumination comes from the full moon shining through the window. Jungkook approaches me again, flicking on the blue-tinted lamp without haste. I’m captivated, feeling more at ease. My fingers slide almost instinctively over my thighs, pinching my warm skin. I let out a soft moan, feeling shy for being alone.

“Jungkook... Please come,” I ask, hearing another laugh escape him as his body finally sinks onto the bed. His weight settles into the mattress as he positions himself between my legs, pushing my knees apart, leaving me utterly exposed. The blue light casts a calming glow, one I hadn’t felt before, allowing my body to relax even in this vulnerable state.

“Better?”

“Much,” I assure him, closing my eyes waiting for his touch, which comes directly... there.

I follow his movements with my head on the pillow, excitement building as I watch what he’s doing to me. His index and middle fingers gently part the folds of my clit, his thumb brushing against it delicately. A high-pitched moan escapes my lips involuntarily, the kisses and caresses igniting my sensitivity. I can feel the urge to orgasm building with just one of his fingers. He circles slowly before plunging into my entrance, searching for my essence, then returning to tease my sensitive spot. My body writhes, muscles tensing. I’ve never orgasmed before, not even alone with the fantasies my books provided, but now, with him, it’s as if I’m on the brink of something monumental. Jungkook is perfection incarnate. Oh, my God.

“Your clit is perfect, so small and swollen,” he whispers in my ear, lowering his body until he’s completely lying down. His breath dances over my stomach, sending shivers through me. “I can’t wait to taste it.”

“Jungkook…” I moan, reaching for his dark hair. I can’t form any more words as his lips find my vulva. My body contracts, warm liquid spilling from my entrance. I open my mouth, eyes closing in bliss. “Oh! Jungkook!”

His fingers part my delicate lips, exposing me further. His tongue glides between my folds, rubbing my pulsating clit. I tremble and convulse, hips undulating for more contact, biting my lip to suppress the urge to scream his name. His lips envelop my swollen bud, his tongue swirling in slow, tantalizing motions, pushing me deeper into delirium. I can no longer think or reason, my eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

To heighten the pleasure, two of his fingers–ring and middle–enter me gently, sending me spiraling. I moan and sigh, knowing I won’t survive this intensity much longer. He quickens the rhythm of his mouth, pushing his fingers deeper, working me with deliberate care. I watch in sheer delight as he drives deeper inside me. It doesn’t hurt at all; I’m so wet that he slides in effortlessly, a pleasure so overwhelming it feels almost fatal. His fingers curve inside me, searching for a spot I didn’t even know existed, but that sends me into a state of pure bliss.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” he asks, voice thick and darkened with desire.

I nod, pushing his head back to my vulva again. I don’t want him to talk. I don't want him to stop. He chuckles and licks my clit again, withdrawing his fingers only to plunge them back in. Suddenly, I feel something different—a warmth spreading through my body, a tension building within me. Whatever he’s doing is working. His fingers go in and out, massaging a magical spot that sends waves of pleasure coursing through me.

“That’s it! Just like that…” I whisper, trembling, growing wetter. The warmth in my belly intensifies, and my eyes well up with tears, feeling the relief and pleasure approaching. “Don’t stop! Please…”

He doesn’t stop; on the contrary, he grunts against my intimacy, adding a vibration that stirs my very soul. His saliva drips from my pussy onto the already messy sheets, creating an erotic scene that would have embarrassed me before, but now I can’t care less. Not when I’m so close. Not when I feel this way, on cloud nine. My moans grow louder, fingers gripping his hair, urging him closer.

“I’m going to… Jungkook!” I gasp, breathless, my hips moving instinctively. His fingers match my rhythm, sloppy fingering inside of me, creating an erotic melody that echoes through the room with every thrust. I erupt with a force I never anticipated, surprise flooding me with no warning. My brows knit together, my legs clamping around his head. My heart races, feeling warmth spread through me, every nerve ending alive with pleasure. Sweat coats my body, and the ecstatic sensation fills me completely.

I collapse back onto the bed, my muscles going limp, tremors subsiding until Jungkook finally pulls his lips away from me. His chin, mouth and cheek glistening with my excitement.

“Fuck, Y/N!” he curses, climbing over my stomach and grasping my neck to kiss me again. “Are you okay?”

“Humm,” is all I can manage to mumble, gasping for air, pulling him in for yet another deep kiss.

I taste myself on his tongue, a vivid reminder of everything that just happened. Even though embarrassment washes over me, I don’t care. I wrap my weak legs around his waist, pulling him on top of me. I circle my arms around his shoulders, my breasts pressing against his chest. He growls and moans softly near my ear, and I’m so addicted to him, to his taste and body, that the previous orgasm has done nothing to quell my desire to be near him.

“It was so good,” I confess, genuinely happy to indulge in such madness and not regret it afterward. This is one of those moments that etches itself into your memory, one you know you’ll never forget, no matter how much time passes.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he chuckles, pride evident in his voice as he takes in the state he’s left me in.

As I look into his eyes, I brush a strand of hair from his forehead. I touch the metallic piercing with my fingertips, feeling the coolness against my skin. “Do you want me to touch you?” the question slips out, almost shyly.

“You really don’t have to. I’m fine,” he replies, his voice low.

“But you are… I mean…” I argue, glancing downward, involuntarily. His member rests between us, hard and a reddish pink, almost painful to behold. I feel a pang of sympathy; his grunt morphs into a deeper moan when my thigh brushes against him accidentally. “Doesn’t it hurt? I mean, doesn’t it?”

“It hurts a little,” he admits, brushing a strand of my hair back with a smile. “But you don’t have to force yourself to do anything. I’m fine.”

“But… what if I want to?” I question, my face burning with embarrassment. My breath quickens and becomes erratic.

“Do you want to?” he asks, and for the first time this night, he seems just as shy as I am. I nod silently. If I’m here with him, I want to explore everything that comes to mind. I know we may not have another night like this. Maybe I’ll be a spinster forever, never experiencing what I’m feeling right now again. A voice in my head urges me to savor this, even if just for a few hours, to pretend nothing exists except for the two of us. “Alright, then you can touch me.”

“Can you lie down? I think that would be better,” I whisper, feeling uncertain. I don’t look confident or sexy at all, I’m painfully aware of it, but the fear of making a mistake looms over me. Jungkook complies, leaning back against the bed and adjusting the pillow I was using under his head. I sigh, assessing his body. He looks like a god, glistening with sweat, muscles taut beneath his soft, pale skin.

The truth is, I have to restrain myself from touching him with unbridled desire, and for the first time in my life, I wish I had more experience for this moment. I nervously bite my lower lip, formulating an idea. I start with his mouth, brushing our lips together lightly. His warm breath mingles with mine as I cup his cheek and kiss him. I go slow, feeling my heart race faster. I run my fingers through his hair, tracing his neck and chest, amazed that I can touch him however I want.

“Do you want to sit on top of me?” he asks, locking eyes with me. His dark gaze captivates me more and more.

“Can I?” I ask quietly. His eyebrow raises, and he chuckles.

“Of course you can! It’s what I want the most,” he says, gripping my hips. He pulls me close, and I open my legs, accommodating him between them. I sit on his lap, resting my hands on his stomach. “Are you sure about this? Do you really want to do this?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Then I’m all yours,” he assures me with a warm smile, holding my waist. The thought that, even if just for this moment, he is mine to do with as I wish, sends shivers down my spine.

I focus on his member, knowing that, like me, he must be more sensitive there. A drop of precum leaks from the tip, and I use my thumb to wipe it, spreading the liquid around his length. Jungkook’s face contorts, his eyebrows knitting together, almost as if he’s in pain, but I know it’s purely pleasure. I grip him more firmly, examining his smooth, delicious skin. I thrust slowly, studying his reaction closely. He writhes and moans again, gasping for air. I feel exhilarated just watching him.

“Use your pussy to wet my cock,” he whispers, instructing me. I feel heat rise in my cheeks, not quite understanding his words. He just smiles, pulling me closer and lifting me above his member. “Like this... just like this. Now go back and forth. Make my cock nice and wet.”

“L-like this?” I ask, moaning, feeling a fire ignite within me every time I rub against him. I don’t know who’s enjoying it more, me or him. I pull my hair back and place my hand on his chest, rolling my hips.

“You’re so wet…! God!” Jungkook groans, rolling his eyes.

One of his hands slides down to my butt, squeezing and massaging, and an involuntary smile escapes my lips as he seems just as lost in pleasure as I am. A strong, unexpected slap lands on my right side. I moan in surprise but don’t stop moving my hips, feeling my creamy essence coating him with each thrust. Jungkook growls, biting his lower lip, gazing at me with an intensity that would terrify me if it weren’t for the situation.

“Can you cum again like this?” he asks, gritting his teeth. I can only nod uncontrollably, using the head of his cock against my button. I lower my body a bit, seeking a more pleasurable angle; my legs burning from the intensity of the movements. “I’m gonna cum too, fuck! Keep going… Don’t stop, please! Don’t fucking stop!”

“Jungkook…!” I gasp, kissing his neck, on that mole I always wanted to taste. He moans louder, tightening his grip on my waist in a way that I know will leave marks by morning. My tongue trails over the lobe of his ear, sucking and creating a path of saliva down to his nipple. His growl deepens, and he thrusts against me, creating a rhythm I can’t bring myself to halt.

With every movement, the sound of skin against skin grows louder, filling the room with a symphony of sloppy and slick sounds as our bodies connect. The heat in my belly rises, and my clit throbs with urgency. I whimper and lower my head, fully aware of what that means. My heart races, and my legs move faster, using Jungkook’s slick member to reach climax once more.

“Oh my God! My…” I whisper, feeling the sensitivity peak. Jungkook holds my head in place, eyes locked with mine, an electric connection that’s utterly intoxicating. My muscles move on pure instinct; I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. Everything explodes again, as powerful as the first time. My body contracts, my essence flows, but I don’t dare stop, knowing that Jungkook is close too, teetering on the edge.

“Please Jungkook, please.” I plead in desperation, my voice shaky. His skin prickles, and his body flushes. Despite my inexperience, I know the effects I have on him are as powerful as his on me.

He growls hoarsely, eyes closing. His flushed face contorts, breathing halting for a moment. He curses under his breath and groans until he finally releases, soaking my belly and his own with a long, shuddering orgasm. His moan is breathtaking, his mouth opens, hands gripping my body. He exhales after a while, face sweaty, pupils dilated. The most beautiful sight I’ve ever witnessed. I can’t help but laugh, collapsing weakly on him.

“Holy shit, it’s been ages since I’ve cum like that,” he admits breathlessly, wrapping his arms around me.

“I have to tell you something…” I lift my chin, trying to catch a glimpse of his face. I smile awkwardly, but determined to be honest. “Those were my first two orgasms ever.”

“Really?” he asks, raising his eyebrows in surprise. I'm shy, nodding my head. His piercing catches the blue light, so captivating that I can’t help but reach out to touch it again. “I guess I’m really good, then.” he jokes, proudly.

“No, you're not,” I roll my eyes, laughing along with him. His chest rises and falls beneath me, moving my head gently. My ear rests over his heart, so close I can hear every rapid beat, lulling me into a state of calm. “I really want to sleep.”

“Me too,” he whispers tiredly, running his fingers through my hair. I moan softly, savoring the affection. “Before you sleep, you should use the bathroom.”

“I don’t want to,” I grumble. My legs feel like jelly, and my body is completely spent. There’s no way I can get up from this bed, even though I know I’m a mess, all sweaty, dirty and smelling like him.

"Alright," he chuckles at my stubbornness. "Do you want some water? I can also bring a wet cloth to clean you up."

"Yes... please." I close my eyes even before he fully rises, slipping into a state of blissful unconsciousness, utterly exhausted from our night.

My mom is gonna kill me.

Ask for a TAGLIST in the comments.

@ane102 @joonwater @ttipa

[marvelstoriesepic]

Latte (He)art

Pairing: Barista!Bucky x Coworker!College!Reader

Summary: Your sweet coworker at the café you work at part time is the only thing able to brighten your day. So it’s only practical that he always ends up in the same shift as you.

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: Reader having College stress; mentions of a single mother (not reader); some coffee is spilled; Bucky is a sweetheart; Bucky is worried

Author’s Note: This little piece is written for @elixirfromthestars writing challenge. I actually planned to write this a month earlier but life got in between lol. Here it is now. I dearly hope you enjoy what I made of your lovely prompt.

🤎Coffee Cup🤎 “So we’re swapping our cups, and after a while, we’re swapping a glance. And I can think nothing better than starting the year with a drop of romance.” -Anthony Lazaro

Masterlist

The windows of the coffee shop receive more of your attention than the assortment of pastries you’re supposed to prepare to showcase behind the counter.

It’s fifteen minutes before Bucky’s shift starts and your belly flutters at the thought of seeing him again.

The early morning sun filters through the windows, offering a soft glow that casts warm beams of light to sweep across the floor and catch the glistening frosting on the cinnamon rolls. Their sweet, spiced aroma laced with hints of vanilla and brown sugar wafts through the air.

However, your gaze is more drawn to the street outside, scanning the road for a short mop of chestnut hair.

You like to snag shifts before the classes of your day start, relishing in the early morning hours and being satisfied with getting some work done before studying. But in the two and a half months since you started working at ‘Barnes Brown Beans’, you had come to recognize Bucky seems to prefer working in the morning as well. So, he actually may be the main reason.

Also, you’re usually, coincidentally - or so you tell yourself - paired with him anyway.

You’re grateful for this job. The shop’s close proximity to your university makes it an easy commute and the wages are fair. That’s a blessing in itself. But more than that, it was George and Winifred Barnes, the owners, who initially made it easy for you to love this job.

Winifred had greeted you with sweet enthusiasm at your job interview for a part-time job, making you instantly feel more at ease. After asking a few routine questions and warmly assuring you that the position was yours, she shifted the conversation to your studies with genuine interest and asked if you were good with balancing work and university life - a mother's worries.

It didn’t take long for her to start gushing about her children. She explained to you how her son, Bucky, had been helping out at the coffee shop ever since high school. Instead of pursuing college, like many of his peers and his best friend Steve, he chose to stay in New York to help manage the family business. “I’m sure you two will get along well” she had said with a kind of knowing grin you couldn’t make sense of.

She even shared with you that his little sister, Rebecca, always had a burning passion for studying architecture abroad. Unfortunately, the Barnes simply couldn’t afford a college education for both children, so Bucky decided to step up, taking on more responsibility at the shop so his parents wouldn’t be overwhelmed and relieving them of some stressful work, allowing his sister to follow her dreams.

She spoke with so much love and gratitude she held for her son, it almost made you tear up. She mentioned that Bucky never once showed resentment or regret for the path he chose.

Instead, he took pride in his role, and you could see it too. During your brief time working with him, you noticed how he carried himself with a quiet determination. There is genuine joy in the way he treats customers, always kind and attentive, and he always puts so much care into every small detail of his work.

He also loves to tell you about the exams his sister passed, and the friends she made; pride in her success evident when he speaks about her.

You admire him. He’s selfless, hardworking, and full of heart.

So it’s just logical that his parents gave him so much responsibility early on and made him part of the management.

You don’t mind that one second though, because he takes his authority incredibly seriously and usually shows up for his shifts earlier than he needs to.

It’s why your gaze is drawn to the panes of glass at the front once again.

You got in at 7 today, getting enthusiastically greeted by George - as he told you to call him on your first day - and tasked with the usual morning routine. So, as he disappeared into the small office room at the back of the shop, you had started prepping the food equipment and putting it on display.

The shop wouldn’t open until 8, so you still had some time to breathe before the morning rush would start, but you always feel some kind of gratitude at the way George lets you handle yourself at the front while waiting for Bucky to arrive at 7:30 to help out.

Admittedly, you didn’t get that much done yet, caused by the thought of seeing Bucky walk in through the door at any minute.

You saw him just 4 days ago at your last shift, but the giddy anticipation is all the same and you only have three and a half hours with him today before you have to leave for your classes.

The buttery, sweet, and slightly nutty smell of the freshly baked croissants you’re currently rearranging wafts from the trays and reaches your nostrils, but gets ignored the second you hear keys jiggling outside, and your attention snaps to the door.

“Morning doll!”

Bucky’s smooth voice comes through the door with him, cheerful as always as he greets you with a charming smile, and your chest flutters. A rush of cool air hits your exposed skin from outside, but his grin is warming you back up quickly.

You fumble with the croissant in your hand, but recover in time and throw him a smile of your own, hoping you’re able to mask the excitement you tried to hold in all morning.

“Morning, Bucky,” you greet him back sweetly, turning your attention back to the pastries, pretending to focus on your task at hand.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Bucky pulls off his coat and then makes his way over to you, hovering over your shoulder, while putting on his apron. You try to hide the way your hands get a little clammy in the see-through gloves you’re wearing while touching the food.

You tend to the fruit danishes, their glossy, golden crust filled with rich cream cheese and topped with plump raspberries, blueberries, and apricots.

Carefully placing each in its designated spot, you only manage to breathe a little easier when you feel Bucky move over to the coffee machines, their steady hum filling the quiet space as Bucky busies himself.

“Smells amazing, doll,” he calls over his shoulder and you can hear the grin in his voice.

You let out a soft laugh, glancing at him briefly before putting your head back around. “Didn’t make them, Bucky,” you explain, tone playful but modest.

Brewing coffee and clinking mugs are the only sounds you hear before Bucky’s hum reaches your ears. “Maybe you should,” he states, teasing laced with a hint of sincerity. “Bet they’d be gone in seconds.”

You’re grateful that Bucky isn’t in your line of sight because you feel heat creeping up your neck, coloring your cheeks. Your laugh is a little breathless, a little more insecure than you intended.

A few weeks ago you had casually mentioned your love for baking when Bucky had asked about your hobbies, and ever since he loved to bring it up every once in a while.

“I don’t know about that.” You try for nonchalance, but the blush doesn’t leave your face.

“Gotta give yourself more credit, doll,” he replies easily, his words wrapped in that effortless charm of his. You hear some more clinking of cups as he makes one for himself, just like every day. “Want coffee?”

He asks every time. You decline, like every time. Though he never fails to ask.

And it never fails to make your morning feel just a little bit brighter.

****

Watching Bucky create his latte art has become one of the highlights of your day. There is something mesmerizing in the way he moves, pouring the steamed milk with such precision and focus as if each cup would get graded by an artist.

You’ve noticed how much care he puts into it, the way he pauses before finishing, always needing it to be perfect.

You can tell when Bucky isn’t quite satisfied, like right now, as he holds up the cup that looks flawless to you. But there is a twitch of his mouth, a slight hesitation in his hand as if he’s debating whether to start over or risk making it worse with one more pour.

It’s adorable, really. To you, they all look perfect, but he holds himself to a standard that’s somehow both admirable and endearing.

Today, Bucky was the one already there when you arrived at 8 am, along with the first customers of the day.

The scent of fresh coffee had filled the air as you stepped inside, a soft murmur of conversation around you setting the tone for the morning rush.

He was stationed behind the counter, together with one of your coworkers, Peter. It didn’t escape your notice that Bucky caught your eye immediately, flashing you that warm, easy smile even before acknowledging Mr. Nakajima, a frequent visitor.

It was a small gesture but it excited you nonetheless.

Mr. Nakajima, or Yori as you’d heard Bucky call him, now sits in his usual corner, peacefully sipping his tea; his quiet presence a constant in the shop.

The older man always seems content to watch the people go in and out of the shop, observing the ebb and flow of the crowd, wrinkled hands wrapped around his cup as if savoring the warmth.

Bucky often took time to sit with him when things were slow, sharing long and comfortable conversations that seemed to be meaningful. There is something about the way Bucky treats Yori that tugs at your heart.

It seems, that right now Bucky is comfortable with leaving Peter and you to attend to the ebbing crowd as he makes his way to Yori's table and slowly lowers himself in front of him.

You deliberately turn away although there isn’t much to do for you right now since the morning rush is over and Peter attends to the only customer in the shop right now. So, you mindlessly wipe down the counter, not because you’re not interested, but if you spend any more attention on the guy you might get overwhelmed by the awe he arises in you.

The way Bucky smiles when he talks to the old man, the way his face lights up with that blinding, heart-stopping grin - it has a dizzying effect on you. And the laugh he lets slip every so often, low and full of warmth, makes it hard to concentrate on any coffee orders.

Bucky stays at Yori's table for a while. Every now and then you make out his face turning in your direction, lingering a little but you stay focused on your work.

“Y/n?”

The sound of Peters's voice makes your head snap over to him, blinking in expectation.

“Sorry, uh, you seemed a little distracted for a sec,” Peter says with a shy laugh, scratching the back of his neck, eyes flickering not so subtly over to Bucky.

Alright, maybe you have looked a few times. Whatever.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, doing your best to ignore the knowing grin spreading across Peter's face. Thankfully, a girl around your age approaches the counter, saving you from the growing awkwardness. You flash her a smile and focus on her order.

More customers start to stream in, the café again beginning to buzz with activity. Bucky, noticing the crowd building up, excuses himself from Yori’s table with a friendly pat on the old man’s shoulder. He steps back behind the counter, his easygoing demeanor never faltering as he joins in beside you. You share a quick smile.

Working with Bucky always makes it fun in some sense, time slipping by too quickly. Before you know it, it’s time for you to head out for your first class of the day.

You step away from the counter, untie your apron, and grab your things, already feeling reluctant to leave Bucky’s side.

“Already time to go?” Bucky asks, turned in your direction, his voice carrying that familiar deep drawl. There’s a slight disappointment laced in his tone, that doesn’t escape you.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “first class is-“

“History,” he finishes for you, without missing a beat.“I remember.”

You hadn’t expected him to recall such a small detail about your schedule, surprise registering on your face. But you quickly push out a smile, nodding at him, your heart doing a little somersault.

“Hold on,” he insists quietly, already moving to snap up a to-go bag and carefully placing a croissant inside. With a casual grin, he holds it out for you to take. “On the house.”

This isn’t the first time Bucky has given you something to go, insisting you take it as a gift. But it never gets easier to accept his small acts of kindness. You hesitate, not making a move to take the bag and Bucky’s smirk only deepens, playing the same game you’ve had before.

“Take it, doll,” he drawls, dangling the bag in front of your face with a playful glint in his eye. “Can’t let you go to class hungry, now can I?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes with a smile tugging at your lips, and snatch the bag from his hand with mock annoyance. “Fine, but this is the last time,” you warn, rather weakly it seems, considering the way Bucky leans against the counter with his arms crossed, smirking at you in an amused manner.

“You know it’s not. Can’t fault me for taking care of you, doll. You haven’t eaten anything all morning.”

His words are casual, but the way he says it, the unspoken concern that lingers, makes giddy warmth rise in your stomach, spreading to your face and heating your skin.

You hope it’s not that obvious, so you just sigh again, dramatically, and exaggerate an eye roll as Bucky lets another cup get filled with coffee, eyes remaining on you, a chuckle fleeing his lips.

You make your way to the door of the shop, knowing you’d just pay him back by slipping some money into the tip jar when you’re in earlier than him.

“And no leaving dollars in the tip jar, sweetheart,” Bucky calls out behind you, the smug amusement clear in his voice. “Ma told me about that.”

Busted.

You turn you head with a faux helpless look, which only sends him into a fit of laughter, the sound rich and full, echoing through the shop, and your heart bursts, ignoring the people standing in the line wearing looks between confusion and annoyance. Laughing quietly yourself, you let the warmth of the moment fill you up, then quickly slip out the door before the flustered grin on your face can betray you any further.

With the door closed, the sounds of the café seal off behind you and you find yourself lingering just a second longer than the last time.

****

“Girl, I’m telling you, that’s nothing! I accidentally made a girl’s latte with cow's milk although she’d ordered oat. Chased her down the street like a lunatic, I mean she could have had an allergy and whatnot. Turns out it was just a preference and she didn’t mind. Talk about embarrassing.”

You chuckle along to Gina’s story, dusting the cappuccino in front of you with a sprinkle of cinnamon, scents mingling together.

Regina - or Gina as she prefers - is always someone you enjoy working with together. She’s incredibly open-minded and carries that vibrant energy you need to get through the day. She’s got a few years on you but never fails to make you laugh.

While brewing coffee and selling them, she loves to tell you about her little boy, Nikita. You’ve seen pictures of him on her phone and he’s adorable with puffy cheeks, dark curls, and dark green eyes. He must have those from his father.

You know she is a single mother and you admire the way she takes it with pride, finding peace in her situation and insisting that she and Nikita are better off without his father.

You’ve also come to find out that 'Barnes Brown Beans' wasn’t the only job she had but that George and Winifred are so much fairer than her other boss, being supportive and trying to give her shifts that accommodate her schedule so she could pick up Nikita from kindergarden early enough to still have time with him every day.

Another thing that makes this job so valuable.

Earlier was a brief lull in the crowd, allowing you and her to chat. The conversation had drifted into the realm of embarrassing work stories. You shared one of your own, recalling how, in your first week, you had prepared a to-go coffee. You felt that nervousness that comes with starting a new job and as you tried to slide the cup over the counter to the customer, your aim had been far too enthusiastic. The cup sailed past the edge, spinning gracefully through the air before landing in the trash bin.

You hoped that perhaps nobody really saw what happened besides the slightly perturbed man in front of you. But since you shared this shift with Bucky and he always seems to have an eye on you, of course, he was a witness. You remember the way his laugh had erupted, uncontainable, filling the air behind the counter. He had leaned against it for support while you stood there, cheeks burning.

He didn’t make you feel bad though, helping you remake the coffee and almost sheepishly adding that the same thing happened to him once. Only, in his case, it was a porcelain cup. And it didn’t land in the bin. The image of it crashing to the floor, shattering into tiny pieces as coffee splattered everywhere, was enough to make you feel a little less embarrassed.

“Something funny?”

The familiar voice catches you off guard and you look up from the register. Sure enough, Bucky is strolling up to the counter, hands casually tucked into his jacket pockets and that handsome grin on his face that always causes your stomach to do flips.

“Bucky?” you ask, a soft, confused laugh escaping you. You feel your heart jump in excitement and try to tone it down. He wasn’t supposed to come in for a few more hours, and you had already resigned yourself to the disappointment of missing him today. You’d seen the shift schedule last week and the realization was like a cloud casting a shadow over your mood.

So, seeing him standing in front of you only makes a smile stretch wide without even thinking.

“I think you’re a little early,” you assess, voice light as you ring up the girl standing at the counter. Handing her the cappuccino, you glance back at him, the small transaction barely registering as your attention stays fixed on Bucky.

His grin only widens as he shrugs with a kind of faux nonchalance, letting his gaze sweep across the room. His smile stays in place, even as he steps aside for a middle-aged man approaching you.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he teases with that signature edge of playfulness that always gets to you.

As you start to prepare the man’s coffee, you can feel Bucky’s gaze on you, watching your every move. It’s a weight you’ve grown fond of - his silent observation that makes you more aware of yourself, in a good way.

You flash him a quick smile before refocusing.

“Also had to know how that exam went,” he adds casually, leaning in just a little, but you’re aware of that curiosity his voice always carries when he asks you about college. Or anything about your life, really.

You huff out a small laugh, ringing up the man’s order and sliding his coffee across the counter before turning your full attention back to Bucky. “Wasn’t as hard as I thought it’d be,” you answer him, a hint of relief in your tone since you had been stressing about this exam for weeks. “I think I did okay.”

Bucky leans against the counter now, propping himself up in that relaxed way of his, eyes never leaving yours. You’re glad you get to talk to him, glad that Gina attends to the only current customer right now and you have a second with Bucky, but the unknown power his gaze holds over you threatens to overwhelm you.

“What’d I tell ya, doll? Of course, you did great. Smartest girl I know.”

You snort, but your heart races. He always seems so sure of your success, having this confidence in you, that you feel you lack sometimes and it makes warmth pool in your gut. “Well I guess I’ll have to thank you, then,” you reply, smile present and voice light but the gratitude is real.

His scent - a mix of something warm and clean, almost earthy, and his cologne - cuts through the usual aroma of coffee beans and pastries. It’s grounding and you have to remind yourself to focus as you move toward the coffee machines.

“Do you want coffee?” you throw over your shoulder, fingers already hovering over the buttons.

Bucky straightens up in your peripherals and you make out the shake of his head with that soft smile on his face. “Don’t wanna keep you from work. I’ll make it myself, thanks doll!”

The door to the café swings open and three girls walk in together, laughter filling the room as they make their way over to you. Bucky’s movements snap your head back to him as he casually slips behind the counter, stepping up to the coffee machines and you head back to the register, keeping awareness of his presence as always.

Since Bucky’s shift doesn’t start yet, he stays lingering behind the counter and engages in conversation with Gina when he notices you getting busy again. From where you stand you can hear snippets of their conversation - Bucky asking about Nikita and when he gets to see him again.

You never realized they are that close but the thought of Bucky caring about that little boy instantly heats your skin. There’s a softness to imagining him in that role, and you can easily picture how good he must be with kids.

After all, you’ve seen it before - the way his face lights up when he catches sight of children toddling along beside their parents, the way he bends down to their height, engages them in little conversations that always leave them giggling or grinning from ear to ear. It’s endearing and really no wonder that every child he talks to seems to adore him.

But what really tugs at your heart, what causes a flutter deep in your chest, is the subtle way Bucky’s attention keeps drifting back to you.

Even in the middle of his chat with Gina, you can feel his gaze lingering on you. There is a quiet fondness in the way he watches you go about your work, always wearing that soft expression.

It’s not like he’s checking if you’re doing your job right - nothing about it feels critical or scrutinizing. Instead, it’s as if he’s simply enjoying observing you, absorbing the way you move through your tasks, as though he’s eager to learn all the little details that make up your routine.

And surprisingly, it doesn’t make you as nervous as you might have believed. If anything, there is something soothing about his attention, like a silent reassurance you never knew you needed.

Occasionally, throughout your shift, Bucky strikes up conversations with familiar customers - frequent flyers whose names he already knows by heart. You catch bits and pieces of their easy small talk, but even then, his eyes always find their way back to you.

And every time you meet them, your heart swells with hope that perhaps the reason he came in early for his shift might be you.

****

Your week has been nothing short of overwhelming and frustrating - packed with assignments, papers to write, and facts to memorize. To top it off, a fellow student had yelled at you for breaking his pen, and you still remember that disappointed glint in your professor's eyes after failing to give him satisfying answers in class.

It feels like you are constantly juggling everything at once, and somehow, the balance has tipped entirely.

Sleep has become a rare luxury, replaced by caffeine-fueled study sessions that stretch into the early hours of the morning.

As you walk to the café for your afternoon shift, a heavy sigh escapes your lips, the exhaustion settling in your bones.

You rarely work afternoon shifts, but this one fits perfectly behind your friday classes and you have been too swamped the rest of the week to pick up any shifts at all.

Your pace is slower than usual, feet dragging slightly on the pavement. There is no real need to hurry today. Normally, your steps would quicken as you approached the café, that familiar, sweet sign with its three big B’s always managing to lift your mood.

But today the excitement isn’t there. Not when you know Bucky has the day off. Without him there, the urgency to get to work just isn’t the same.

But, thinking about it, it might be for the best that Bucky is not around today. You can’t imagine you look all that appealing right now, with dark bags under your eyes - the kind that no amount of concealer could hide. Your skin has that worn-out, dull shimmer to it - the kind that no amount of caffeine could mask.

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in a shop window as you pass and wince slightly. The fatigue shows in your features, and for a moment, you’re thankful that this day won’t include the possibility of Bucky catching sight of you in this state.

You’re partly relieved to have a shift where you can simply focus on getting through it without feeling self-conscious. There is no need to hide how utterly drained you feel because you really couldn’t care less how your appearance would affect your customers. You just need to make it through these few hours, go home, and hopefully, finally get some rest.

You pull open the door, gathering what little composure you can muster. The all-known blend of rich coffee, baked pastries, and warm, cozy air greets you as always, along with the chatter from the packed room. It’s busy, as expected for this time of day, but the environment surprisingly helps ground you as you weave your way through the crowd, slipping between patrons.

Your eyes catch Winifred at the back, her beaming smile a quick but comforting sight before she disappears behind the office door with a wave.

Side-stepping two men chatting near the line, you get a clearer view of the counter and freeze - feet refusing to continue.

Thanks to the work schedule you know who your coworkers are today. Peter was assigned, as well as Wanda, a nice, but slightly odd girl with a thick accent and laser-like focus on her task.

You had prepared for them both. But it isn’t Wanda standing next to Peter behind the counter.

It’s Bucky.

Your heart jumps into your throat and you’re not sure if it’s because of the surprise of seeing him or because of how unprepared you feel in this exact moment. You didn’t even check your hair in a car window before entering.

He’s here - on his supposed day off - laughing with a guy on the other side of the counter as he works the espresso machine, his movements smooth and practiced; no surprise there. His presence is so casual and effortless that you find yourself thinking your tired eyes might have looked at the wrong day on the schedule and perhaps you aren’t even supposed to work today. Though Winifred wasn’t at all surprised to see you.

Your head spins at the simple thought and yet a ripple of warmth shoots through you at the sight of him, making you momentarily forget just how drained you are.

While every fiber of your being wants to feel self-conscious about your tired eyes and the imperfections on your skin, craving to stay hidden between the line of people, the longer you watch him work, it gets overtaken by something else.

That same old lightness that seems to follow him wherever he goes and sticks to you when you’re near enough, soaking into your veins and filling them with energy. You can practically feel them fizzle.

You would have liked to linger in this moment just a little longer, but it’s cut short abruptly when he spots you. His polite smile brightens instantly, eyebrows moving up slightly as his eyes lighten up.

You flash him a smile in return, though you can feel it wobble at the edges, probably more sheepish than anything else. Maybe it even comes off as a grimace with the exhaustion weighing on you, but you quickly break eye contact and resume walking.

For a moment, you make out Bucky’s hand pausing mid-motion, hovering above the counter before he slides a to-go cup to the waiting guy on the other side.

Passing by, you can feel his gaze trailing after you, burning softly against your skin, a quiet but intense presence that follows you even when you’re not looking.

You busy yourself with dialing in for the shift, wrapping your apron around your waist, doing your best to shake off the fatigue and the flutter that Bucky’s unexpected presence elicits in you.

From behind you, you catch the sound of his voice, though it sounds a little distracted, asking the next customer to repeat their order.

You glance back, quickly greeting Peter as you pass, but your focus is drawn to the pastry case, where a small woman waits for service. You keep your hands moving, bagging up her choice of pastries - two croissants and four scones - but make out Bucky’s head turning in your direction a few times.

You steal a glance at him from the corner of your eye, noticing the slight furrow in his brow as he works. He’s a little slower now, less sure in his movements than when you first walked in. It’s subtle, but you can tell his focus is slipping. Something about his energy has shifted.

Minutes pass and the three of you stay busy with the steady stream of customers. You remain behind the pastry case, preparing the treats for the eager crowd. In between transactions, you notice Bucky taking a step in your direction, hesitating each time like he wants to step closer but keeps pulling himself back at the last second.

He returns to the register every time, tending to the next person in line, but there is an urgency in his movements now. His hands got quicker again, fingers tapping impatiently against the counter as he waits for the coffee to brew and his gaze falls back to you every so often but you avoid it.

Another few minutes tick by and you begin to settle into the rhythm of the shift when a sudden shout rings out from the front.

Your head snaps up, eyes locking onto the group of people stepping back from the counter hastily, startled by the splash of coffee that arcs through the air.

The cup that had caused the commotion clinks against the counter, slipping in Bucky’s hand and his other one shoots out to hold it steady before it can meet the ground alongside the coffee that was in it moments before.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Bucky exclaims, his voice thick with frustration as he shakes his head at himself, wiping the spilled brown liquor from his hands. He quickly puts away the cup and apologizes again to the man it was meant for and the crowd of people who got startled.

The customer, a guy who looks to be in his mid-twenties, holds up his hands in a placating gesture, clearly not bothered by the accident. His jacket sleeve is stained with coffee, but he brushes it off with a casual shrug. “No worries, man, really. Nothing happened, you’re good!”

Bucky doesn’t seem to relax. You can see the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders are still tight as he remakes the drink with stiff, almost mechanical precision. You’ve never seen him so rattled but then again, he has been unfocused ever since he saw you.

Work continues steadily for the next half hour, with the rush of patrons finally starting to taper off. The café gradually empties, the throng thinning out until only a handful of people remain, some of them sitting in booths going on with their conversations.

You catch sight of Bucky leaning in closer to Peter, murmuring something you can’t quite make out. Peter nods, and without another word and a small pat on Peter’s shoulder, Bucky steps back from the counter.

This time, his hesitation is gone as he strides over to you.

He stops beside you, eyes on your profile. “Hey,” he speaks softly, voice low.

You finish helping a boy, thanking him for the tip before turning to Bucky with a small smile.

“Hey,” you reply, voice matching his softness but quieter. You turn your attention to the young girl in front of you, requesting a cookie. Reaching for a bag to tuck the treat inside, you continue the conversation, though your eyes stay focused downward.

“Didn’t expect to see you here today,” you comment, sensing his gaze on you.

“Yeah, uh, I took Wanda’s shift,” Bucky responds, his voice a little more tentative now. You notice him shuffling slightly beside you, standing up straighter.

He offers no further explanation as to why he picked up the shift, and you don’t feel the energy to ask about it. For some reason, the simple act of bagging a cookie while talking to him feels like a juggling act your tired brain isn’t quite up for.

So all you manage is a noncommittal hum in response.

The girl leaves with her cookie and Bucky stays beside you, solid and unyielding in his gaze. It presses on you like a weight as the moments pass.

Your stomach flutters uneasily when you realize there’s no line left to distract you, no excuse to stay busy.

You move automatically, reaching for the paper bags, rearranging them with a bit more force than necessary, trying to give yourself something to focus on, something other than Bucky’s eyes burning into you.

“Are you okay?” he asks finally, slowly and lowly, as if the question is something private meant only for you. It is. You feel the shift in his tone, the way he leans in slightly as if he needs a sincere answer to his sincere question.

It pulls your attention to him and you reluctantly lift your head, your heart twisting at the sight. Bucky gazes down at you with an expression far more serious than you’ve ever seen. His blue eyes, usually filled with a glimmering light when he looks at you, hold an amount of concern that seems to have an impact on his stiff muscles.

“I’m fine, Bucky,” you declare gently, smiling at him in hopes it’ll reassure him, though even before the words have left your lips completely, you felt it wasn’t entirely convincing.

Bucky studies you a moment longer. His eyes trace your features, dark brows hanging low, but you don’t take your words back.

Then, after a pause he lets out a long drawn sigh, hanging his head in defeat. He obviously doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t push it. The concern in his eyes remains but he lets it go, stepping back from you slowly.

He walks over to the coffee machines, deliberately trying to feign casualness. He grabs a cup and turns the familiar button after checking if Peter needs some help at the register, the whirring sound of brewing coffee filling the brief silence between you.

“You want some coffee?” he asks, like clockwork - just as he does every time you work together.

Without thinking, you open your mouth to decline, as usual. It’s almost muscle memory at this point, your automatic response. But then, mid-through, you pause. Another shot of caffeine can’t hurt. You can use the energy to get home safely without passing out after this shift.

The cup fills, steam rises, and Bucky turns to you when you take too long to answer.

You hesitate for a beat, then shift your gaze away, feeling a little awkward. “Yeah, I’ll take one,” you decide, stepping beside him to grab yourself a cup, eyes not moving to him.

But before you can reach for one, Bucky’s hand wraps gently around your wrist, halting you. The touch is light, but enough to make your pulse quicken. “Hold on,” he remarks, his voice filled with concern rather than confusion. “You never want coffee when I ask.” His intense eyes search your face again.

“If you always expect me to say no, then why do you keep asking?”

Bucky doesn’t respond immediately. He just keeps looking at you, quietly pleading for honesty. “That ain’t the point,” he softy counters but his voice carries insistence. “Something’s wrong.”

You sigh. God, you’re tired. You really need that coffee and you’d certainly feel terrible for getting annoyed at Bucky. He’s just trying to figure you out. He cares. That thought alone presses against the wall you’ve been trying to maintain all day.

Gently, you pull your wrist from his loose grip, and he lets his hand fall back to his side, though his gaze doesn’t waver.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Damn, that came out hollow. “I’m just a little stressed,” you add when he starts to shake his head, “and I could use a cup. It’s just coffee, Bucky.”

You see the muscles in his jaw tighten and his hand comes up to run through his hair.

“It’s not just coffee, darling,” he sighs. There’s a pause in which he assesses you again, then he continues. “Alright. Don’t take this the wrong way, doll. You know you’re a beautiful gal, but… you look like you’re about to drop dead.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. It looks like tiredness comes with an attitude, because your mind foregoes the part where he called you beautiful, only hearing the other side.

“Well.” You draw out the word. “If you don’t want me to drop dead, then let me have some coffee.” There is a bit of edge to your tone you hadn’t exactly intended, but you’re too tired to smooth it out. You also don’t wait for him to respond, quickly reaching for another cup and pressing the button before Bucky can grab your arm again.

Bucky stays quiet for a moment, watching you with those piercing blue eyes that seem to see right through your walls. He doesn’t look angry - just worried.

As the coffee pours you hear him take a breath. “Alright,” Bucky says quietly, almost under his breath. “I’m sorry, Y/n,” he adds after a short pause. Firmness, sincerity, and perhaps an amount of regret are all wrapped in his tone.

He used your name. You haven’t heard him say your name since the first time working here. And never with that much conviction.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just… worried.” His voice softens even more, it sounds almost pleading and he takes a quick glance back at Peter, who was busy attending to the few patrons mingling about, before refocusing on you, his hand brushing over his hair. “I’ve seen you stressed before. Like when you kept going on about how worried you were for that exam. I watched you go through the stuff you had to learn in your head while remaining so incredibly focused and sweet during work. I admire that, Y/n. I must’ve told you a thousand times you’d ace it, but you wouldn’t believe me.” He chuckles lowly, sheepishly, and he licks his lips, before continuing. His gaze leaves you, mind seemingly far in his memories.

“Or your first day here. You were so nervous about making a mistake. You asked so many questions, were so interested in everything. I kept thinking about you all day. Every day, really.” He took another deep breath. It comes out a little unsteady and his eyes quickly flicker over to you, not quite meeting your own, but still searching your features.

“But this… this is different, and- I don’t know. I don’t like it. Hate it, honestly. Seeing you like this.”

His words hit you deep. The genuine concern and sincerity in his tone make your chest tighten, throat closing up and you feel yourself losing your breath as he takes a small step closer, eyes now fully on yours again. The nerves in his voice that had been there are gone now. Because he’s sure of what he says next. It’s clear in his tone.

“But, sweetheart, even through it all, you still manage to be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Drop dead gorgeous, honestly.”

You let out a surprised huff of laughter, partly because it’s easier than acknowledging and processing the meaning of his words. Heat creeps up your cheeks and all you feel like doing is bolt out of the door at the other end of the room but your feet are rooted to the spot. Perhaps, the floor would just give away and you’d fall deep down into the unknown.

That still would be kinder than standing in front of Bucky right now after his heavy confessions, feeling too vulnerable under his soft gaze.

You’re not able to meet his eyes, dropping your head. You know he is still looking at you. You don’t have to feel it to know it. That gentle expression, the reassuring smile - like he’s silently conveying that everything’s okay.

“Let me make you feel better, yeah?” Bucky’s voice is barely above a whisper, gentle, yet filled with intent. He gives you a moment, letting his earlier confessions sink in, before taking hold of the now full cup that is meant for you. Your eyes widen slightly when you see him grab the can of freshly steamed milk, an almost eager smile tugging at his lips.

“Are you pulling your latte art on me?” you ask with a light laugh, some of the tension in your chest loosening. There is a little bit of a teasing note in your voice now, your heartbeat beginning to slow.

“Sure am, doll!” Bucky grins proudly, lifting the cup higher. His brow furrows in concentration as he carefully pours the milk with a steady hand, his tongue briefly poking out as he narrows his eyes to get the design just right. You had seen him do this many times before but never for you.

The precision and dedication he’s giving to something as simple as your coffee makes your heart swell. You’re the one watching him now with a soft smile, utterly mesmerized by how serious he’s taking it.

You take a glance at the other cup - the one Bucky had made for himself and an idea hits you. Steam still rises from the liquid inside, the scent of fresh coffee meeting your nose.

You look around the counter, spotting the milk pot Peter had just set down and, without a second thought, you pick up Bucky’s cup, ready to return the favor. You lift the milk and begin to pour.

“What are you doing, doll?” Bucky’s gaze stays fixed on the cup in his hand, but his smile is beaming, curiosity lacing his words.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that,” you retort, your voice playful as you guide the milk with careful precision, weaving your hand in the practiced motions until you’re satisfied with the design.

Bucky’s chuckle is warm and soft and for a moment, it feels like the world shrinks down to just the two of you, the quiet intimacy cutting through the noise of the ebbing café.

Bucky finishes his work and sets the milk pot back down. There is a slight hesitation in his movements as he hands over the cup for you, a touch of nervousness creeping into his stance. You smile up at him and offer the cup in your hand to him. His hands are a little clammy as they touch yours. You swap coffees.

Your mouth falls open as you take a glance down into the cup. In the creamy white foam, a delicate rose is perfectly etched, its petals spiraling gracefully outward. Surrounding the rose are tiny, intricate hearts, floating around the bloom. The detail is so mesmerizing that all you can do is stare at it.

“This is incredible, Bucky,” you breathe out, voice filled with amazement. When you look up, he’s already watching you. He’s breathing deeply and his smile is in place. But there is also something in his eyes he doesn’t try to hold back - pure adoration, shining clearly like he just can’t hide it anymore.

He holds his own cup carefully, as if it’s something precious, something fragile, as if even the tiniest movement would mess up the heart in white swirling in his cup. Though, you feel like the simple heart pales in comparison to the masterpiece he’s created for you.

“It’s beautiful,” you say quietly, a hint of shyness in your tone. You feel a tiny amount of embarrassment but Bucky just keeps smiling, so warm and incredibly fond, that any hint of insecurity melts away.

“Learned it for you,” he admits it softly, his words slipping out like a secret he’s been holding onto for too long. Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening slightly before you look back down at the cup, tracing the design over and over again with your gaze.

“I love it, Bucky. I love these little hearts,” you address admiringly, almost dreamily.

Bucky is beaming above you, and although he shakes his head softly, his smile never leaves his face. He takes in a deep breath, seemingly needing to compose himself and looks down at his own cup, at the heart in it.

“Well,” he vocalizes, affection surrounded by a playful edge, “my heart’s bigger.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Don’t flatter yourself, Barnes. It’s the only thing I know how to do.”

He chuckles, that vibrating sound, that always makes your chest feel lighter. “I can teach you,” he offers, his bright blues looking deeply into your eyes, so full of affection that it makes your breath catch for a second.

And in that second - because that’s all it takes - everything shifts. For the better. Always for the better, because it’s hard to feel anything negative when Bucky smiles at you the way he does.

“you deserve

the kind of love

like hot coffee between your lips

that loves you gently

but makes you bold

and gives you life between the sips”

- a.b.

[skuntank]

Cynthia keeps awful sleeping habits and if left to her own devices will mosey off to bed once the sun starts rising but I think Diantha deserves to get some shit too.

Sure she goes to bed before Cynthia so by comparison she looks like she's doing a hell of a lot better but the woman has so little free time for herself by the time she gets home that her concept of self care is fucked

She gets more hours of sleep than Cynthia, but at least when Cynthia is staying up till ungodly hours she's usually doing things that nourish her emotionally (.... For the most part) like hyperfixating on research and special interests

This is another way I think they can balance each other out I think. We all talk about Diantha getting Cynthia to go to bed at a decent hour, but I think Cynthia deserves some credit in helping Diantha take time for herself and allow herself some self care

[the-exsalarymans-wife]

Coke in the Midas Touch

This is my first ever attempt at writing for the JJK fandom, specifically for my favorite 7:3 ratio sorcerer, Nanami. So, I hope I did the character justice. (This is also my first attempt at writing smut after having many years of reading it, so please be nice).

Summary description: Nanami Kento, after having left the Jujutsu society in exchange for a normal job as a salaryman, encounters the new hire at work who slowly becomes the object of his affections the more that she becomes the office scapegoat; Villian!Nanami.

Disclaimer: Please keep in mind that I am not Japanese, nor am I an expert in Japanese work culture. So, if there are some things wrong, or inaccurately portrayed, I do apologize.

Content warning: use of Y/N, reader insert is afab and referred to as such, sexual themes, sex between characters, violence between characters, adults being overgrown children and should behave better at their grown ages but they don't, toxic work culture, pawa-hara culture.

WC: 12.7 K (it's a novel, I'm sorry)

Minors Do Not Interact

When Nanami Kento first laid eyes on her, he thought that she was unassuming. 

On her very first day of work, he remembers that she was stood at the front of the office with the associate manager of the sales department, making the standard introduction of any new hire.

“Hello! It’s a pleasure to meet you all! My name is Y/N! I will try to do my best! Please take care of me!” Which was then followed by a full 45 degree bow at the waist. 

He noted that her eyes were bright and filled with some semblance of hope. Nanami also cynically wondered how quick it would be for the corporate overlords, demanding deadlines, and lack of work-life balance to crush her spirit. 

He had only been at this company for the past two, almost three, years, but he was already jaded to begin with. 

She was assigned to be under his supervision for the training period, which Nanami found to be somewhat irritating. It wasn’t anything against her, he just knew that he wasn’t exactly the nicest person in the office, nor did he have the patience to deal with new hires. Somehow, they always ended up under his direct supervision for training purposes. Maybe it was his superior’s way of tormenting him given the fact that he refused to engage in the locker room talk that the male employees would have about the female staff or that he didn’t partake in the after work get-togethers at the local bars where they would all drink themselves silly. Or maybe it was his superior's way of letting him know that he was doing a “great job” by giving him more tasks, because they knew that they could count on Nanami to do proper work. 

Nanami would like to think that it was the latter. However, he knew better than that. 

“Your desk is located over here, by Nanami-san. He’ll be the one that will assist you with your orientation period.” She’s led over by the associate manager to the empty desk that sits beside Nanami. “If you have any questions, refer to him. He’s been at the company for the past several years and has done a fine job of it.”

Nanami gets up from his desk to greet them as they approach. “You speak too highly of me, Akiyama-buchou,” Nanami rebukes, attempting to remain humble. His eyes fall from associate manager Akiyama to the new hire. “Nanami Kento. Pleased to meet you.” He bows. 

She bows, holding a box of items. “Pleased to meet you!” her voice chipper.

“Now, before I leave, do you have any questions for me?” Akiyama asks her.

She shakes her head. “No, sir.”

“Alright, well, I’ll leave you to it, then.” He promptly turns away, heading to his desk that was sectioned off in his own private office, leaving both Nanami and the new hire.

Alone. Somewhat.

Together.

She turns to face Nanami, placing the box of personal belongings on her desk, a small smile still on her face. “So…what should we get started on first?” 

And thus, began a somewhat tentatively professional relationship between Nanami and the new hire. Every time she saw him first thing in the morning when the both of them were coming into the office, she would be quick to greet him with a cheerful: “Good morning, senpai!” that would be followed with vigorous waving. She always attempted to make conversation with him whenever she could, included him in small talk with other coworkers around the office, got him coffee whenever it was her turn to do the coffee runs even when he didn’t request anything or want anything in particular (and she wouldn’t allow him to pay her back for going out of her way). When the days would end, if she were to cross paths with Nanami while on they’re way out, she would give him that same vigorous wave while saying: “Have a good night, senpai! Get home safely!” 

Nanami wasn’t entirely too sure if she wanted something out of him or if she was just this nice all the time. Given, however, his previous experience with seeing the worst out of humanity and in the dealings of curses and cursed energy by proxy as a jujutsu sorcerer, could one really blame him? 

Then again. Would it be too terrible for him to consider that maybe, just maybe… that out of all the shitty people in this world… that there was at least one good person that existed to make up for it? 

Maybe he was getting ahead of himself.

~

“Good morning, senpai!” Nanami was greeted by her in the break room while he was getting a cup of coffee from the communal coffee machine. 

Nanami glances over his shoulder to look at her. “Good morning.” He keeps his responses short. 

There’s a small silence that follows between the two of them, the only sounds being the steady drip of the coffee machine and the whirring of the employee communal refrigerator. For Nanami, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was actually welcome. 

“Nanami-senpai.”

He turns to face her, holding the cup of coffee in his hand, staring at her quizzically. 

“There was talk…about wanting to go out after work for drinks, and I was wondering if-”

“No, thank you. I’m not interested.” Nanami’s response is immediate, as if he doesn’t have to think twice about it. He’s beyond accustomed to rejecting the offers to spend time with his co-workers outside of work. 

The next words die in her throat as soon as she hears Nanami’s dismissal. A sinking feeling of dejection fills her chest as Nanami rejects her offer, but she’s quick to push the feelings aside, trying to not let them deter her mood.  

“May I ask you something?” Nanami can sense the hesitancy in the question, almost as if she were afraid to ask it. 

“Sure.” 

“Forgive me if this is too forward, but why is it that you never care to partake in festivities outside of the professional setting? I mean, I’ve seen you reject offers from other colleagues around the office, higher-ups like Akiyama-buchou, and even offers from Fumiko-senpai! And she’s one of the prettiest women in the office!”

Nanami squints his eyes in confusion. “Wait, how did you hear about that?”

“She talked about it one morning while she was at the copier with Aiko-senpai. I was within earshot of their conversation. She seemed pretty upset by it.” 

I would have thought that she would have taken the hint by now, given the fact that this is the fourth time that she’s asked me out, and it’s my fourth time rejecting her, Nanami thought sullenly to himself. Nonetheless, he answers her question. “Listen to me, Y/N-chan, I’m not here to mix my personal life with my professional life. I’m simply here to clock in, do what’s expected of me for my role in this company, and clock out so I can earn enough money to make at least a decent living in this hellscape of a society. Nothing more, nothing less.”

She shrinks back just a tiny bit as he speaks, fearing that she may have crossed an unspoken boundary that he had set for himself.  She continues with her questioning. “And… What about what the superiors think? Doesn’t their opinion of you matter in the long run of your employment here? I mean… don’t you want to move up in the ranks?” 

“To be frank, I could care less about what they think. They already take up enough of my time here, they don’t need to take up anymore outside of my working hours. I hate overtime.” He turns to leave the break room, realizing how much time he’s wasted there in the breakroom, talking to her. He needs to get back to his desk.

“Nanami-senpai,” she says, almost bewildered. There was a hint of admiration behind it though. To her, he had a backbone that she could only dream of. 

He pauses at the door, his hand on the knob. He glances up at her over his shoulder, a somewhat cynical glint to his eyes. “To put it lightly, Y/N-chan, there are worse things out there than upset higher-ups simply because you told them ‘no’.” His mind flashes back to seeing the bodies of his dead friends on cold metal examination tables in the morgue room of Jujutsu Tech. The wails of curses and dying humans echo in his ears as he reminisces on his times as an up and coming Jujutsu sorcerer, but he doesn’t dare falter. 

She nods, her gaze landing on her hands that were intertwined together, digesting what he had to say. “I understand, senpai.”

There’s a pregnant pause before he faces the door again, his hand turning the knob on the door. 

“No… no, I don’t think you do, Y/N-chan.”

He opens the door to see Fumiko outside. He gives her a small polite smile and a nod before making his way around her to get back to his desk.  

Fumiko watches as he leaves, a look of longing on her face. She turns to look at Y/N and a surly look crosses her face. She enters the breakroom, heading to the coffee machine with an empty mug in her hands. 

The tension in the air was thick enough that either one of them could cut it with a knife. 

Fumiko didn’t say a word to her, but Y/N knew that in her heart of hearts that she’s done something terribly wrong to grossly piss one of her seniors off. 

~

At first, it started off small. 

Her orders were conveniently forgotten when the coffee runs or lunch runs were being made. Other office workers started to hand off their assignments to her, making her workload three times what it originally was supposed to be, making late nights a near constant for her. Anytime something went wrong in the office, to miniscule things like if if the copier ran out of ink and it wasn’t replaced as quickly as possible, to major things like if certain papers or documents weren’t delivered to another department in a timely manner, then she would be a scapegoat for the blame. 

She didn’t say a word about it to anyone, however. It’s not like she was in a position to be complaining about it. She knew that if she were to say anything, then she would be called “ungrateful”, “lazy”, and that “she should be lucky that any job decided to hire her on”.

Nanami noticed fairly quickly what was going on and found himself to be disgusted by the behavior of his co-workers. This wasn’t the first time that a stunt like this was pulled on the new hires. There was an old mentality that still existed of newcomers needing to “prove themselves” or “earn their place amongst their peers”. He honestly thought that this kind of stuff would have ended the moment that he graduated from secondary school and entered into the workforce, thinking that full fledged adults would learn how to properly behave and conduct themselves in a mature manner.

Needless to say, he was dead wrong about that. Some of them get even worse with old age. 

Though he's learned to separate his professional feelings from his personal feelings, it would be untruthful to say that the current behavior towards Y/N-chan didn’t bother him in the slightest. 

He minded. He minded a great deal, actually.

She was good. She was kind to others. She certainly didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. Frankly, no one ever deserved that kind of treatment no matter who they were. 

Nanami strolled into work bright and early one morning to find her hunched forward on her desk, completely passed out. He noted that there were papers that were scattered across the surface and that there was a pen still lodged in her hand. She must have spent the night here. 

He set his stuff down on his desk before turning to her and placing a hand on her shoulder to gently rock her awake. 

“Y/N-chan, you need to wake up,” he says softly. 

He goes to stand behind her chair and places his other hand on her forehead to help sit her up, hoping that the motion and change in position will help stir her awake. 

“Y/N-chan, Akiyama-buchou will be in shortly, you need to wake up so you don’t end up in trouble.”

There’s a solid minute that passes before Nanami hears a groggy: “Mmm… senpai?” 

He let out a chuckle before stepping back to sit at his desk. “Did you spend the night here last night?”  

“Mmhmm,” she yawned as she stretched out her arms well above her head and leaned up against her chair. “I had to finish up the final reports for the department quarterly review. They’re due at the end of this week.”

Nanami paused, then his eyes narrowed. “I thought that was Kakuta-san’s responsibility to take care of that,” he said, his voice a tad stern.

“Yeah, well… he asked me to do it.”

“He shouldn’t have.”

Y/N was silent for a moment before she started to organize the papers on her desk into a more orderly fashion. The next words come out small and downtrodden. “It’s not like I can say no to my superiors, Nanami-senpai.”

“Kakuta-san is not your superior, he’s your co-worker. He shouldn’t be passing off his assigned work tasks onto you. Matter of fact, none of these people in this office should be passing off their assigned tasks onto you.” He had a much more choice word to use for his colleagues but he bit his tongue. 

At this point, Nanami felt like he was scolding his own child rather than his junior.

You try telling them that, Y/N thought snidely to herself. She let his comments roll off her back. “Look, I’m almost finished with the report, senpai. It’s really not that big of a deal.” 

His gaze is hard. “You’re sure?” 

Y/N matches his demeanor, getting a little annoyed with his constant chastising. Her eyebrows slightly furrow as she sits up a tad taller, looking Nanami square in the eye. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me. I can handle it,” Y/N snaps. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work. I’ve already wasted enough time here.”

He watches as she busies herself with the paperwork on her desk, a sour taste remaining in his mouth, making him purse his lips together into a tight line. Nanami briskly turns away, not wanting to add further dissension to their discourse. 

~

Things went from bad to worse.

On the days that she was supposed to have off, she would be called into the office to work grueling hours, usually from seven in the morning until midnight, leaving her with little to no free time. Interactions with her co-workers and her superiors become more and more hostile. The shift of blame became a near constant everytime that she was in office, the accusations becoming increased in severity, some of which would have Akiyama-buchou scream at her in front of the entire office staff which, at times, would reduce her to tears. 

The mental and emotional stress was starting to take a physical toll on Y/N. The bags underneath her eyes were becoming darker, she had no appetite to eat anything, thus making some of her clothes start to fit a little looser. Her hair was starting to slowly come out in clumps and sleepless nights were starting to become the norm.

The anxiety and fear was starting to eat her alive, and Y/N was exhausted.

Nanami was silently noticing the events unfolding before him, and found the actions of his colleagues to be reprehensible. He’s grown to care for Y/N-chan. More than he would like to admit, but somehow she’s managed to worm her way into his heart. 

He tried finding little ways to combat the workplace harassment that Y/N-chan was facing. Tiny things, nothing too grand or extravagant that would draw attention. 

When Y/N-chan found herself swamped with work (realistically speaking, the work of others that they, continuously, passed onto her) and unable to leave her desk, not even to take a lunch break, Nanami would stop by the vending machines, leaving extra snacks on her desk when she wasn’t paying attention to the world around her. The mornings that he would find her passed out cold on her desk from pulling an all-nighter at the office, he would visit the little coffee shop across the street and “accidentally” order two cups of coffee instead of one. Just like the vending machine snacks, he would leave the cup at the corner of Y/N-chan’s desk for her to wake up to. When she would ask him about it, noticing that they were both from the same place, he would always say the same thing to her: “They accidentally gave me two. Rather than waste the extra on me, I figured that you would need it a bit more than I do.” which was then quickly followed by a “no, you don’t need to pay me back”. The times that Y/N would find herself alone in the office during the lunch breaks that the staff would take, Nanami would stay behind at his desk beside hers and silently eat his lunch. The days that he noticed she hadn’t brought any food with her, he would offer part of his lunch. It was second nature at this point, but she would always refuse, saying that she wasn’t hungry.

Whenever Y/N felt her emotions get the better of her, she would hide in the supply closet and take a moment to try and recollect herself. As a grounding point, she would try to think that her family and friends (what little she had of them) love and care about her, and other times, she would think of the small acts of kindness that Nanami would show towards her. 

She would be forever grateful for him. Even if she wouldn’t verbally say it out loud to him. 

At some point, though, the tension reached a head, and Nanami couldn’t idly stand by anymore. 

 One afternoon, Nanami was leaving a meeting room with the other department leaders when he heard a loud cry ring out in the office, ripping him out of his reverie. He whips his head up to see Y/N barge out of the staff break room and rush past him, tears welling up in her eyes, and a large brown stain covered the front of her white blouse that she was wearing. Alarmed, he watches as she runs to the women's restroom, the door slamming behind her. 

What caught his attention next was the sound of laughter that came from the break room. A sinking feeling of dread sat in his chest, before the subtle burn of anger began to ignite in his heart. 

His eyes narrow as he saunters towards the breakroom, finding both Fumiko and Aiko standing there, giddy as school girls. They became deers in the headlights as soon as they saw Nanami. 

He noticed that Fumiko was holding an empty mug with coffee dribbling down the side of it.

“I saw Y/N-chan run out of here. She seemed upset,” he muses. “What happened?” 

The two women stare at him like gaping fish, neither one of them saying a word. 

A beat of silence passes before he speaks again, his eyes locked onto them. “Something clearly happened.” 

The sound of the coffee machine brewing in the corner of the room catches his attention. Nanami glances at Fumiko and Aiko from the corner of his eyes, his gaze disapproving, before walking over to the coffee machine. The smell of a freshly brewed pot assaults his senses as he approaches. He raises a hand and gently presses two fingers to the side of the pot. 

It’s hot. Scalding hot, actually. 

“Judging by the behavior of you two, I’m going to assume that you intentionally spilled hot coffee on Y/N-chan’s front,” Nanami muses, as if he were speaking to himself. He turns to face them, leaning up against the counter. “Am I wrong?”

Silence. 

Nanami knows that neither Aiko or Fumiko don’t have to say anything to explain themselves. 

He lets out a loud sigh and raises a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “That’s what I thought.” 

After finally getting the answers that he needed, Nanami pushes off the counter, wasting no time to grab the first-aid kit as he exits the breakroom, heading towards the women's restroom.

Y/N is sitting on the toilet, her blouse pulled open as she applies wet tissues of toilet paper to the large burn on her chest in order to find some relief from the pain. 

She’s stopped crying, but now the feelings of embarrassment and shame are starting to set in.  

Leaning forward to hold her head in her hands with her elbows resting on her knees, all of the emotions that Y/N has been holding in for the past several months begins to boil over and comes to the forefront of her mind. The mistreatment from her colleagues and her superiors, the sleepless nights, the constant overtime (overtime that she was not adequately paid for, by the way), the endless workloads, etc. was laid out in front of her. 

Y/N never considered herself to be a downtrodden person, but having since been in this job, it was as if every single day she woke up with dread filling her chest. She tried to be a good sport about it, by trying to give herself some grace and the people that she worked with the benefit of doubt, and tried to rationalize their behaviors towards her. However, it was difficult to ignore the persistent hostility and how quick she was to be sold down the river whenever things went horribly wrong.

A lump rose in the back of her throat and tears began to well up in her eyes again. Her mind was beginning to create a snowball effect of everything that has happened ever since she started at this job. Her face crumbled, and the tears spilled over. 

A knock at the door brings her out of her mental turmoil. “Y/N-chan?” 

Nanami. 

“I have some burn ointment for you. I know it’s not much… but I hope that it will help with the pain.” 

Y/N grabs some extra toilet paper to wipe away at her face, and throws away the wet toilet paper that was stuck to her chest, before buttoning her blouse back up. She stands up and looks into the mirror, making sure that she was… somewhat presentable to her senpai. 

She cracks open the door and pokes her head out to see Nanami standing there with several packets of burn ointment presented in an open palm. 

“Thank you,” Y/N murmurs, reaching out to take the packets from him. 

“I’ll talk to Akiyama-buchou to see if you can get the rest of the day off,” Nanami says, letting his hand fall back to his side. “You clearly need it.” 

She looks up at him in worry. “N-no! That’s not-!” 

“Y/N-chan. You’re injured. You’re overworked. You need rest. I assure you that the office will not burn to the ground because you’re not in. I promise.” There was a tone of finality to his words. It was clear that there was no room for argument with him as Nanami had clearly made up his mind. 

A passive look forms on Y/N’s features before she nods once and disappears back into the restroom. 

What follows next are tense interactions and conversations had with others around the office as Nanami forcibly returned work assignments to those that had pawned off their work to Y/N. Those that protested were quickly met with an icy glare that shut them up immediately. 

The conversation with Akiyama left Nanami in a rather foul mood than he already was.

He straight up laughed in Nanami’s face when he said that Y/N would be taking the rest of the day off. 

“You can’t be serious! Since when do you actually give a shit about that little brat?” he guffaws. He looks like he’s about to start crying from laughing as if he’s been told the funniest joke in his life. 

Nanami doesn’t falter. His gaze is as hard as stone as he stoically answers, “The same way in which you fail to do your due diligence as a member of upper level management to ensure that the work environment that you create isn’t a hostile one. You’ve got the vindictiveness of a fourteen year old child. You’re pathetic, really.” 

Akiyama’s smug look quickly fades as Nanami speaks his piece, his face turning into a shade of dark red from being flustered and embarassed. 

Nanami has held in his emotions for the entirety of his professional career, but now he could give a damn. The floodgates have opened and now he’s speaking his mind. 

“Now, listen here-”

“Frankly, I don’t care what you have to say. You’re the most incompetent man that I’ve ever encountered and I’ve seen a fair amount of them. The immaturity, the lack of consideration on both a professional and personal level, the harassment that you feed your employees if they don’t meet your standards by even the most minute level. It’s despicable.”

“Nanami Kento-!”

“You’ve lost my respect… though, I never really had that much respect to give you in the first place.” 

The weight lifts off of his shoulders as he finishes speaking, though, the responsibility of getting you home safe and sound is still on his mind. 

“I’ll be escorting her home. Don’t expect to see me the rest of the day.”

“Nanami-!”

He briskly turns away before Akiyama can say anything to him, leaving the office and letting the door slam behind him. He stops by Y/N’s desk, gathering all of her belongings and putting them in her bag that hung on the back of her chair. 

“Y/N-chan? Are you ready?” Nanami asks, standing outside of the women's restroom.

“Um… I don’t think I’m really…presentable to leave the restroom…”

She poked her head out again, Nanami catching some glimpses of her white blouse with the large coffee stain on it. She looks a bit more put together, the puffiness in her face has somewhat dwindled.

Nanami pauses, before setting down both his and her items and shrugging out of his suit jacket. He gently nudges the door open a bit wider with his foot so they’re both face to face with each other as he tenderly places his suit jacket over Y/N’s shoulders, giving her a bit more coverage and allowing her to pull the sides of the jacket over the gigantic brown stain. 

A blush began to creep over her cheeks as she dropped her gaze from his, suddenly feeling bashful. 

“Thank you.” 

The two of them left, feeling all the eyes of the office workers on them as they departed. Akiyama came barging out of his office, screaming at the top of his lungs at their backsides.

Y/N startles, going to look over her shoulder at him, but Nanami stops her by putting an arm around her shoulders, forcing her to look forward. 

For the remainder of their trip back to Y/N’s apartment, he doesn’t remove his arm from around her shoulders. Nanami doesn’t know why he didn’t want to remove it from around her. Not a word is spoken between them… but for the both of them, it wasn’t uncomfortable. 

They were given strange looks by onlookers on the streets of Tokyo, but the pair were somewhat comfortable in their own little world. 

“You didn’t… have to do this, you know?” Y/N shyly says, risking a glance at him from the corner of her eyes. They’re now on the train, moving from the district of Shinjuku to Koto, where Y/N’s apartment was located. 

“I know I didn’t,” Nanami responds, looking down to meet her gaze. “I wanted to.” 

After some time, they eventually reach their desired train station in Koto. From there on, it’s a twenty minute walk to the apartment. 

“Will you come inside? I feel like I should make you a cup of tea or something…” Y/N says, shrugging off Nanami’s suit jacket to give back to him as they stand in front of the entrance to Y/N’s apartment.  

“That’s not necessary, Y/N-chan-”

“Please? It’s the least I can do. Especially after everything that you’ve done for me.” 

He ponders on it, before giving her a single nod with a small smile starting to grace his features. “If you insist, I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm. A cup of tea made by you sounds lovely.” 

She gives him a wide smile as she fishes into her purse to find her keys to let them into the apartment.

It was tiny, but that was to be expected. Slightly messy with various items strewn around the den and the kitchen areas, but nothing too egregious that Nanami couldn’t overlook. 

“I’ll put the kettle on if you’d like to have a seat. I’ll just be a moment,” Y/N says as she shuffles out of her high heels in the entryway. Trying to be sly, she immediately picks up the discarded clothes so that Nanami wouldn’t notice as she retreats into her bedroom so she can change out of the stained blouse and into a clean shirt. In a quick glance in a mirror that she has in her bedroom, she sees a rather large, angry red patch mark her chest where the coffee branded her. 

A flash of humiliation strikes through her core, but Y/N does her best to not dwell on it. Even if her chest is still throbbing from her injury, regardless of the ointment that Nanami was so kind to give to her. 

Nanami silently makes his way to the den and sits at the kotatsu table in the center of the room, letting the futon cover his lap, waiting patiently for Y/N to exit her room. 

She comes out of the bedroom, changed into a fresh set of casual clothes, and wastes no time getting started on the tea that she promised Nanami.

“I hope you don’t mind my appearance,” Y/N calls out, glancing over her shoulder to look at him. “I don’t think I could stand to be in that stained blouse another minute.” 

“Please don’t think I’m offended, Y/N-chan, I’m a guest in your home. I’d rather you be comfortable.”

Y/N gives him a toothy smile as she fills up the electric kettle with water. 

“I have sencha tea. Is that okay with you?” 

A singular nod. “Yes, that sounds lovely.”

To Y/N, it felt strange to have her senpai in her home, sitting at her little kotatsu table that he seemed rather too large for. She stole a look at him while he wasn’t paying attention and fought back a giggle, thinking of him as a bull in a china shop in her microscopic apartment. 

From the corner of his eye, Nanami noticed a pile of vinyl records leaned up against a record player. 

“Do you listen to vinyl, Y/N-chan?”

“I do, actually. I enjoy collecting records whenever I can.”

“Any particular genre?” 

“Hmm…my father was always big on music from the 50’s and the 60’s. I remember listening to a lot of cassette tapes and vinyls from those eras. He said that there was a certain romantic aspect that just couldn’t be replicated in today’s music.” Y/N comes into the den with two steaming mugs of tea, setting them both down onto the kotatsu. “However, he could be just a bit biased because that’s the music that he grew up on.” 

Nanami chuckles. “Just a bit. Thank you for the tea and hospitality, by the way, Y/N-chan. You didn’t have to do this.” He gently grips the handle of the mug and brings it to his lips, taking in a small sip. 

Y/N softly sighs, letting her shoulders slump the tiniest degree. “I felt like I needed to.” 

“Y/N-chan-”

“Senpai, I just…” She starts to wring her hands in front of her, suddenly nervous. “I just wanted to show my appreciation for all that you did for me when I was struggling. The snacks and coffees that you would leave at my desk, offering to share part of your lunch with me… All sorts of things that you went out of your way to do for me, when you really had nothing to gain from it. I don’t know why you did it to begin with, but… I’ll be forever thankful to you that you did.” 

Seeing her be so open and candid with everything that had happened within the past several months, made Nanami reminisce on his old secondary school classmate, Yu Haibara. Perhaps that’s why he had such a fondness for Y/N. She shared a lot of characteristics that Haibara had.

Happiness. Genuine kindness. A fondness for life and living. 

Maybe that’s why Nanami was doing his damndest to try and help her.

Protect her. 

In a way that he wasn’t able to do for Haibara. 

Y/N notices Nanami’s silent reverie. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Hm? Oh… nothing in particular.”

Unconvinced, she prods a tiny bit more. “Are you sure? You look like you’re deep in thought about something.”

Nanami quickly changes the subject. “How’s your burn doing? It’s not hurting you too much, is it?”

At the mention of her injury, a flare of a dull ache makes its way to the front of her mind. She brings a hand up to her chest to rub at it. 

“It’s manageable.” 

He gives her a knowing look before getting up from the kotatsu and goes into the kitchen, grabbing a handful of paper towels and running them under cold water.

“Here, this should help.” He offers her the wet paper towels, but she simply stares at his hand. 

Y/N glances at his hand and back up to his face, before she reaches out to grip his wrist and uses his arm as leverage to pull herself up into a standing position. She doesn’t let go of his wrist.

“I hope… that you’ll allow me to thank you. Properly,” Y/N says, peering up at Nanami, a certain… emotion displayed that he wasn’t able to place his finger on. She takes a step closer to him, decreasing the distance between them. 

All Nanami could focus on in that moment was the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears and the sudden warmth that flushed into his cheeks, all of which led to one question in his mind: Where was she going with this?

“Seeing as how we’re being personal and open with one another, would it be silly of me to admit I sort of… developed a little bit of a crush on you?” Her eyes drift down from his for a moment, maybe due to embarrassment, before raising her eyes to meet his, a slight blush starting to color her cheeks. “I didn’t want to say anything at first, especially considering how you always preached about how you always separated your personal life with your professional life… but now feels like a good time to come clean.” She reaches up and gently places a hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth that his skin offered as her thumb tenderly stroked his cheekbone. 

Nanami’s heart feels like it's in his throat, unintentionally tensing up at the feeling of her hand on the side of his face. “Y/N-chan.” 

Why was he so nervous all of a sudden? This wasn’t the first time that a woman tried to be physically close to him, and all those other times he was able to gently reject their advances with ease. 

Why was Y/N suddenly the exception to this rule? 

“Are you… uncomfortable with this?” she asks, unable to gauge his current state of mind due to his stunned silence. The last thing that Y/N wanted to do was encroach on his boundaries. 

Nanami remains silent, his eyes still locked onto her face. 

Y/N takes that as a sign to halt her advances. She begins to pull away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things awkward-” she begins to apologize, but finds herself cut short by the feeling of another mouth covering hers. 

Nanami, finally snapping out of his trance, allows himself to feel something for the first time in a long time. Gripping both sides of her face, he bends down and pulls her into a rather heated kiss, their teeth accidentally clacking against each other from the force of impact. 

Y/N, startled at first, melts into the kiss, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck to try and pull him closer to her, his hands sliding from her cheeks to thread his fingers through her hair, allowing him just a bit more grip on her. Y/N’s chest aches at her burn site at the friction of Nanami’s body against hers, but she could care less about it in the current moment. 

With her lungs screaming for oxygen, she pulls away, gasping. “Nanami-senpai!”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” he gasps out, trying to catch his breath. 

“Don’t be.”

They remain still for a moment, just taking in their presence. 

Nanami leans down to press his forehead against Y/N’s, closing his eyes. “It’s no secret that I’ve come to care for you, Y/N-chan. Perhaps, a bit more than I initially let on.” 

A breathy chuckle escapes from her. “Is that so?” 

He gives a small nod, a gentle smile forming on his face. “Yes.”

One of his hands, still entangled in her hair, falls from her head to softly grip the side of her neck, his thumb gently rubbing alongside her jawline. 

“I should have asked you this properly, before I got physical with you,” Nanami whispers. “Is this something that you would want to pursue, Y/N-chan? A relationship… with me?” 

A slight pause as Y/N digests his proposal, before she smiles and nods. “If you’ll have me.”

“I’ll always have you, so long as you put up with me and my broody behavior.” 

“You’re not broody.” She reaches up to softly push back several strands of hair that had fallen in his eyes. “Matter of fact, I find you to be very kind and considerate. I have all of the ‘extra coffees’ and vending machine snacks to thank you for.”

Y/N grabs at the hand that’s on the side of her neck and guides it down so that Nanami is now cupping one of her breasts through her shirt. She glances up at him, sucking in her bottom lip between her teeth, waiting to see what his next move will be. 

Filled with new found lust, and a rush of heat down to his groin, Nanami closes the gap between the two of them, pressing his lips to hers once more, allowing his tongue to slip past his lips and into her mouth, massaging hers with his own. There’s urgency to their motions now, their exhaled breaths coming out much harsher and heavier than before. 

Nanami’s hands slip underneath her shirt to fully cup her breasts, allowing him to roll her nipples between his fingers and thumbs. 

Y/N lets out a little squeak at the sensation, but takes it all in stride. She grabs at his clothes, attempting to undo his tie and the buttons to his shirt, but struggles at the Windsor knot on his tie, unsure how to loosen it. Nanami, lost in the moment, comes to at the sensation of her prying hands and quickly undoes his two piece suit at a much faster rate than Y/N ever could, stripping down to be completely bare and vulnerable in front of her. 

Y/N truly began to appreciate what a fine specimen Nanami was. He’s toned. He’s muscular. He’s built like a Greek god, if she was being totally honest with herself. 

She looks down at Nanami’s cock, sucking in a sharp breath when she notices how girthy it was. It wasn’t fully erect, but Y/N remembers some of her old friends from university going on about how some men are “growers”. Their words, not hers. 

“Can…can I?” she stutters out, her eyes locked onto his growing erection. 

“God, yes, please.”

She sinks to her knees in front of him, coming face to face with his cock. The sight alone makes Nanami’s respiration become labored. 

With gentle hands, she reaches out and grasps him at the base and points him upright. Her eyes glance up at him, trying to gauge his reaction, before pressing a kiss to the head. One hand goes to stroke the length as the other falls to massage his testicles. With a deep breath, and a whole lot of fraudulent courage, she sinks her head onto him, trying to take him in as much as she could without activating her gag reflex. 

“Y/N-chan…” Nanami gasps out, the warm, wet sensation of her mouth sending shockwaves through his core. His hands twitch by his sides, wanting to bury his fingers into the crown of her head, but he restrains himself, not wanting to rush her into things. 

Slowly, Y/N finds her rhythm. She begins to bob her head up and down his length with added vigor, her hand stroking the parts that her mouth cannot reach. Saliva begins to dribble from her mouth and down her chin, the more that she bobs her head. The sound of squelching fills the room as Y/N continues her assault on Nanami. 

Nanami’s head had fallen back and his eyes were closed in ecstasy. “Fuck, Y/N-chan,” he gasps out, foregoing his original plan of self control and reaching one of his hands to grasp at the back of Y/N’s head, desperate to try and hold onto something. He begins to move his hips, just enough to thrust forward to meet her mouth. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he tilts head forward to look down at Y/N to see her eyes locked onto his face as she persisted with her movements. She pulls off his length, but with the tip still in her mouth, she wraps her tongue around the tip and simply sucks. 

Nanami’s vision goes white for just a moment, and he swears that he had died and gone to heaven in that second. 

Y/N pops off his member, strings of saliva attaching from her mouth to Nanami, gasping for breath. He stands fully erect now, his cock now slapping against his abdomen the moment that Y/N lets go of him, and the tip begins to ooze with pre-ejaculate. She offers him a cheeky smile, meeting his wanton gaze with playfulness. “Is this to your liking, Nanami Kento?”

She leans forward and suckles one of his testicles into her mouth, her eyes never leaving his face. Something inside Nanami snaps, and he can no longer hold himself back anymore. 

“You little minx,” he rasps out, reaching down to push her shoulders back, putting some distance between the two of them. He pulls her up into a standing position, before reaching down to grasp at her hips. He pulls her into a feverish kiss, his lips entangling with hers. He lifts her up into the air, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist, giving him the freedom to blindly make his way from her living room to her bedroom. He gently sets her down on the edge of the bed, pulling away from the kiss. 

“Can I take your clothes off, Y/N-chan?” His hands grab at the hem of her shirt, waiting for her approval to do so. 

She nods, lifting her arms up over her head, making it easier for Nanami to pull her shirt off, leaving her bare-chested in front of him. The cool air hits her skin, making goosebumps start to rise throughout her trunk. 

Nanami takes in everything that she has to offer. Every curve, contour, stretch mark, including the large burn on her chest. A flash of anger flares up in his chest at the sight of it, but he does his best to extinguish it. He doesn’t want to sour the mood with a foul mood. 

Feeling his eyes on her, Y/N can’t help but become self conscious in his observant gaze as she instinctively raises her arms to cover her chest to make herself as small as possible. Nanami, however, notices her attempts to cover herself up and catches both of her wrists in his large hands, stopping her from doing so.

“Stop. You don’t need to hide yourself in front of me,” he says, nearly chastising her as he forces her arms back down to their sides. “I want to see all of you, as you have seen all of me.” He sinks to his knees in front of her and leans forward to press gentle kisses to her chest, making sure to linger his lips on her injury. “Will you allow me to make you feel good, Y/N-chan?” he asks, peering up at her with tender eyes. 

Y/N gives him a soft smile, threading her fingers through his hair. “I’d like that.” 

He returns the smile, before he presses his lips to hers once again, only this time it’s not as rushed and frenzied as before. It’s slow and reposeful, as if they don’t want to rush the moment to its end. 

Nanami, still on his knees, reaches up with both hands to cup her jaw, his thumbs smoothing at her cheek bones as he continues to kiss her. He begins to gently guide her back further onto the mattress, allowing her to lay down and for him more room to explore her body. He lets his hands trail from the sides of her face down to the hems of both the bottoms that she was wearing and her underwear. He pulls away just a fraction of an inch from her lips, looking into her eyes as he gets more of a hold on the clothing, silently asking her permission to remove the rest of her clothes.

Y/N instinctually lifts her hips up, giving Nanami the freedom to remove the rest of the barriers, leaving her totally bare in front of him. 

He sits between her legs, his eyes narrowing down on her center, before glancing back up to meet her gaze. “May I taste you?”

She nods, watching with heavy anticipation as he changes position so that he’s now flat on his stomach, now faced with the most intimate part of Y/N. It wasn’t an understatement to say that she was incredibly nervous. It had been some time since she last had sex with another man. 

Noting her silence and her tense position, Nanami asks her, “Are you alright?” 

His question pulls her out of her silent dilemma, realizing that he was locked in on her face 

She nods, not trusting her voice right now.

His eyes are quizzical, but he doesn’t push it any further. “You’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable, yeah?” 

She nods again.

“I think I’m gonna need a little more confirmation than that, Y/N-chan. I need you to actually say something.” 

A flush of heat makes its way towards her core at his command, arousing her a bit more than she would like to admit. “I… yes. I promise I’ll say something,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. 

He gives her a smirk. “Good girl.”

He hooks his arms around her thighs, pulling her closer to him, his face now just mere nanometers away from her center. Maintaining eye contact with her, he flattens his tongue on her clit, massaging it with smooth, languid strokes. 

Y/N lets out a gasp at the sensation of his tongue on her, her head falling backwards on the pillow, letting the pleasure build from her core and flow throughout her body. 

Nanami starts out slow, letting her adjust to the stimulation before he begins to flick her clit at a rapid pace, trying to build on her satisfaction. His eyes never leave her face as he continues with his movements. Reaching further around, he uses his hands to spread her lips wide open and sucks her clit between his lips.

“My god, Nana-mi-senpai,” she moans, her toes curling at the feeling of him sucking her in. Unable to make sense of what to do with herself, her hands fly to her chest grabbing at her breasts. She begins to pant now, the pleasure beginning to build upon itself as Nanami’s tongue continues to ravish her. The waves are crashing over each other now, and the familiar coil within Y/N’s abdomen starts to tighten, alerting her of her impending orgasm. 

Switching tactics, Nanami diverts his attention to her opening. Replacing his tongue with this thumb on her clit, he gently prods his tongue through, thrusting it in and out

“Nanami!” Y/N cries out, jerking at the sensation. She squirms and twists at his ministrations, unable to maintain her composure anymore, before he uses his other hand to flatten it on her abdomen, in an effort to hold her still. She glances down at him to see his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his fingers splayed out on her abdomen, a warning look in his eyes, as if to say don’t move. He brings his mouth back up to her clit and presses a single kiss to the sensitive nub before, for lack of a better word, devouring her. He engluffs her entire clit into his mouth before suckling on it and his tongue furiously stroking her, trying to fully push her over the edge and bring her to orgasm. 

The coil within Y/N tightens further and further the more Nanami’s mouth works her, the pressure within herself mounting to almost uncomfortable point. Her hands fly down to grab at Nanami’s hair, desperately trying to anchor herself to something, but she’s quickly getting swept up into shockwaves of ecstasy. 

With one final suck, the coil snaps and Y/N is rendered completely helpless as her orgasm comes crashing over her in waves. She lets out a loud cry as her abdomen clamps down on itself, her body shaking with each pulse of her core, her hands becoming a vice grip in his hair. 

Nanami’s moans at the feeling of her hands in his hair, releasing her core free from the confines of his lips, panting out several breaths before going in with his tongue again to lap at her release. Y/N jerks at the sensation, slowly becoming overwhelmed with the constant stimulation.

As Y/N comes down from her high, she looks down to Nanami giving him a weak, breathy chuckle, gently untangling her fingers from his hair. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

He leans away from her, flashing her a relaxed grin. He kisses his way up her abdomen, gently pressing his lips to her skin as he makes his way to her face. Once he reaches his intended destination, he captures her lips into an all-consuming kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist in an effort to pull her as close to him as humanly possible. In response, her legs go to encircle his hips, pressing her lubricated center to his leaking cock. 

Nanami lets out a hiss at the contact, a flash of pleasure striking through him, making him almost recoil from Y/N’s body. 

She looks at him, concerned. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes, I just… I’m a little more sensitive than I initially thought,” he reassures, leaning up to press a kiss to her forehead. 

“Well… I’m yours for the taking.” She spreads her legs open, sending the message to him wide and clear. 

A sinking realization dawns on Nanami as he looks down at his bare self, now just coming to terms that he’s missing a very key component to this whole encounter. “Y/N-chan, I… I’m sorry, but I don’t have any protection on me,” he whispers. “I don’t want to end this moment with you… but I don’t want to risk you getting pregnant for my own selfish desires, either.” 

Y/N props herself up on her elbows, leaning over to the nightstand beside the bed and opens the drawer, pulling out several packages of condoms, making Nanami do a double-take. “An old friend of mine from university gave them to me as a gag gift for my birthday before I started to work at the office. I really haven’t had the opportunity to use them… well, up until now at least,” she explains, a bit of a sheepish grin gracing her face as she hands them to Nanami.

“Some friends you have,” he says, ripping a package open, grabbing the plastic wrapping before placing it on his tip and rolling it down his length. He doesn’t question it, he’s just thankful that he doesn’t have to stop. He positions himself between Y/N’s legs, sitting back on his haunches, as he grabs hold of his length and guides his tip to her slit. “Are you ready for me, Y/N-chan?” 

She inhales a deep breath. “Yes. I’m ready, Nanami-senpai.”

He lets out a chuckle. “Kento.” 

“Hmm?” She looks at him, confused.

“I think we’re way beyond the point of just acknowledging each other by our surnames, Y/N-chan. All things considered.” 

“I suppose you’re right… Kento.” 

With one hand, grabs hold of her hip, while with the other, he slowly guides his tip into her entrance. When he has the assurance that it won’t slip out, he pauses his motions. “You’ll tell me if it gets to be too much, yeah?” 

She nods. “Yes.” 

“Good.” 

He softly guides his hips forward, pushing his cock past her opening and letting him be enveloped by her warm, wet walls. He almost has to stop himself from getting ahead of himself and snapping his hips in. A thin layer of perspiration begins to form on his forehead as he concentrates all of his will power into not burying her into the mattress and pounding into her in that moment. Nanami looks to her, trying to gauge where she was at in terms of comfort after fully sheathing himself in her. 

Y/N was in a bit of pain, to say the least. With the stretch of Nanami as he penetrated into her, came the uncomfortable burning sensation of almost being split open. She lets out a hiss and closes her eyes, immediately tensing herself up. Nanami was not small, by any means necessary. Matter of fact, he was much more well endowed than any of Y/N’s previous partners or one night stands, leaving her uncomfortably full with areas that Nanami was touching that had initially been left undisturbed. She could feel the tip of his member twitch inside of her, causing her to unintentionally clamp down on him. 

Nanami stutters out a groan, nearly throwing his head back in pure, unadulterated pleasure, but he forces himself to hold steadfast. He knows that she needs to adjust to him, and he would not move until she gave him the say so. 

The seconds that pass feel like years to Nanami as he remains stagnant. His selfish desire is eating away at his restraint, but he deliberately ignores it, instead focusing all of his attention on her. Gritting his teeth, he gently squeezes her hips, trying to draw her back into the current moment. “Are you alright, Y/N-chan?” 

With her eyes still closed, she nods her head. She reaches down and grabs at one of his hands on her hips, relocating it to her center, with his thumb just barely brushing up against her clit. He slowly begins to swipe at it, hopeful that the stimulation of it would overcome the pain. She repositions herself now, letting her legs interlock around his hips with her ankles linking together, giving him the nonverbal permission that he so desperately required.

Slowly, with careful precision, he begins to roll his hips forward, each time burying himself to the hilt of her. Her warm, velvet walls encasing his cock made his vision nearly go white everytime that she clamped around him, whether if it was intentional or not.

Y/N goes slack jawed, the motions painful at first, but the more he pistoned his hips against her, the constant pulsing of his cock within her, the warmth that he offered her, and the haphazard stroking of her clit with his fingers, the more she began to enjoy herself. Her arousal slicked her walls, further lubricating her, loosening her up as Nanami continued with his assault on her. Some of it began to seep out and dampen his pelvis where it met hers, with strings of her connecting them to each other in more ways than one. 

He could have cried right there, if he wanted to.

Nanami’s hips pick up the pace, now slapping against her, filling the room with body parts colliding with one another and uneven breathing and soft moans, and the aroma of sex beginning to flood the enclosed space. Wisps of his hair fall into his eyes, somewhat blocking his view on her as she falls apart underneath him, slowly becoming a pile of jelly and limbs. 

“Y/N-chan, Y/N-channn…” he cries out, his hips now slamming against her, his hands gripping her in a vice grip as he chases the high that he so desperately craved. The motions cause the bed frame to shake and rattle with the headboard starting to bash against the wall. His eyes are locked on her, watching her as she is completely lost to the pleasure that he’s feeding her. Her eyes are closed with her eyebrows furrowed as if she were concentrating on something, her body jerking with each thrust that he plows into her, her breasts even more so, and her hands are white-knuckling the bedsheets. 

It’s a sight truly to behold in his eyes. 

The tension in his abdomen is building to an uncomfortable tightness, the coil close to snapping as his orgasm nears. His hips start to buck into now, the pace almost inhuman. 

“Y/N-chan…I’m close. I’m so close, I can’t…ha…I can’t hold back anymore…Y/N-chan!” 

“On me…I want it on me…” she moans out, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes in a lustful gaze. The corner of her mouth turned upward into a small smirk. 

His brain nearly short-circuits at the thought of his seed painting her abdomen and chest and face. 

It takes everything within Nanami to stop what he’s doing and pull his cock out of her. He rips the condom off, replacing it with his hand as he starts to vigorously stroke his hand up and down his length, a piss poor replacement for her warmth. He leans over her, putting his free hand by her head, locking eyes with her as he continued to masturbate, the sound of her wetness filling the room as he rapidly stroked up and down his length. She, in a heated second, wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down to press her lips to his, eager to feel his mouth on her again. He doesn’t stop his movements, as he slips his tongue into her mouth, eager to explore her mouth once again. 

The coil in his abdomen snaps, causing warmth to flood through him in waves throughout his entire core, with his seed finally spurting out of his red, angry tip. He has to stop, pulling away for just a moment as a gasping moan slips out of his mouth.

Y/N startles at the feeling of his heated droplets as they spray onto her abdomen and chest, some of them going as far onto her neck, but quickly relishes in the feeling of it. The majority of it pooling onto her abdomen as it flows from his tip. Nanami stutters out a groan as he slows his hand down, sitting back on his haunches, looking at the canvas that he painted on Y/N’s body, his slowly deflating cock twitching at the sight of it. 

Feeling mischievous, Y/N props herself up on her elbows as scoops up a glob of his seed off of her body. In her post-coital gaze, she maintains eye contact with him as she sticks her tongue out of her mouth, bringing the dollop of seed up to her mouth and places it onto her tongue. Nanami’s eyes nearly dilate to the size of quarters as she pulls her tongue back into her mouth, as this may be one of the most erotic things he’s ever encountered in all of his years. 

In a snap moment, Y/N lets out a squeak as Nanami grabs hold of her hips and roughly pulls her down the mattress, fully placing her core against his cock. There’s still a bit of 

“If I remember correctly, I don’t think you came around me as we fucked, did you Y/N-chan?” 

Stunned at the sudden motion, all Y/N can really say is: “I, it’s fine Kento, I-”

“Bullshit.” 

“You made me come with your mouth, it’s fine-”

He shoots her a glare. “Let me do this for you. I want to make sure you feel good.”

He reaches up past her to grab a pillow at the head of the bed. “Lift your hips up for me,” he instructs. She follows his command wordlessly and he stuffs the pillow underneath her, placing her pelvis at a bit of an upward angle.

He leans forward over her, placing his hands on either side of her, and places his cock straight onto her clit, and begins to thrust upward, using the external stimulation of his member to rub on her, trying to get her to orgasm once more for him. 

Y/N lets out a soft moan at the feeling of him on her, the filthy sound of her slickness filling the room as Nanami thrusts up on her. She grabs onto her breasts and squeezes them against her chest, trying to find something to anchor her back to Earth, but with Nanami’s relentless assault, she finds herself drifting further and further away into the pleasure of it all. 

“I want you to come for me, Y/N-chan,” he growls out, his eyes animalistic and unflinching. “I want you to come undone on my cock. I want you. In every sense. In every way.”

Y/N, once again rendered to a helpless pile of mush, finds herself unable to respond. The feeling of Nanami’s cock on her clit begins to tighten her abdomen once again, causing white hot sensations to build within her. Her toes curl, she grasps onto Nanami’s forearms with her nails digging into his skin. He lets out a hiss, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t dare. 

“Come for me, darling. I want you to come for me. Can you do that for me? Be my good girl and come for me?” 

His words send her into overdrive with flushes of heat making their way directly to her core, more slickness slowly oozing out of her and dampening Nanami’s cock the more he moved against her. He can feel himself hardening again, but he couldn’t care less. 

The more the heat and tension built within Y/N, the more that she squirmed and thrashed into the mattress. All of it mounting up to the point that Nanami was desperately trying to get her towards. He maintained his pace, but he leaned down onto her, smearing his seed on his chest, his lips right at her ear now. “You’re almost there, aren’t you?”

“Kento, I… Oh my fucking… Christ!” Y/N cries out, wrapping both her arms and legs around Nanami’s trunk. “Please! Please, god! I can’t take it anymore!” 

He teasingly licks the outer shell of her ear. “No one’s stopping you, Y/N-chan. Come for me.” 

As if her body were waiting for verbal permission from him, even though he had given it to her several times before, her abdomen collapses on itself, making her vision go white and her ears ring. She loudly cries out, her body jerking with each pulse of her orgasm. He can feel it on his length, and he finds the whole ordeal to be one of the most erotic things that he’s ever experienced in his life. 

He pulls away from her ear and looks at her blissed out face, her eyes closed as she tries to regain control of her breathing. He reaches up and gently cups the side of her face, tenderly brushing dampened strands of hairs from her face behind her ears. “Are you okay?” he quietly asks. 

She nods, her eyes still closed. 

“Look at me, Y/N-chan.” 

She tiredly opens her eyes, looking at him blearily. 

He offers a warm smile, before pressing a kiss to the center of her forehead before kissing his way down to her mouth, carefully tender pecks to where he could place his lips. He leans his forehead down, resting it upon hers. “I want you to stay home from work tomorrow.”

She looks at him in confusion, her eyebrows furrowing. “What? Why?”

“There are some things that I need to take care of in the office. I would rather you not be there to witness them. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you, Y/N-chan.” His eyes are unfaltering, his tone absolute. There was no room for argument with him.

She hesitates, trying to digest what he’s telling her, a sinking feeling of unease starting to fill her abdomen. She trusts him, though. 

And against her better judgment, she nods, a frown forming on her face. 

“Will I see you later then, after work?” she asks, almost timidly. 

He leans down and presses another kiss to her lips. “I’ll do my best to see you, that is, if Akiyama doesn’t have my head on a silver platter,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. 

There were people that still needed to be dealt with. 

~

He left her apartment early in the morning, while Y/N was dead asleep to the world. A sense of longing fills him as he looks upon her sleeping form, not wanting to leave her only for her to wake up alone, however, there was urgent business that needed attending to. 

On the elevator ride to the floor where the office was located, his briefcase weighed a bit heavier than it normally did. As soon as he stepped into the common area where all of the other employees were, the majority of them did double-takes at him, all their gazes locked on him as he slowly stalked his way to Akiyama’s office. He didn’t bother to knock on the door or wait for any notion that it was okay for him to enter into the enclosed space, he simply barged in, catching Akiyama off guard as he sat at his desk, tapping away at his computer.

“Nanami-san!” He jumps, startled at the sudden intrusion, before a rather sour look crosses over his face as the memories of the day prior begin to flash through his mind. He regains control of himself, and puts on a rather tight expression on his face. “Have a seat. We need to have a discussion about your petulant behavior yesterday.” 

“I don’t think I will. I’ll remain standing for the rest of this conversation,” Nanami cooly responds. He knows that it’s not going to last long.

“Fine. Stand for all I care.” 

Akiyama then goes on a tirade about how Nanami’s behavior yesterday was inexcusable, how it’s totally unprofessional for him to speak to his superior in the manner that he did, and how he has grounds to fire Nanami and Y/N for abandoning their work duties with unexcused work absences, and so on, so forth. 

The more Akiyama ranted, the more Nanami’s hearing started to drown out due to a loud whistling sound in his ears. Red, hot anger was flooding in his chest, making both his heart rate and respiration rate increase in rhythm. 

Though Akiyama can’t see it, the blue glow of cursed energy started to fully envelope Nanami’s body the more that his anger grew. He wasn’t on overtime, but his emotions were getting the better of him, not allowing him to think clearly and making him tap into his excess cursed energy that he stored within himself. 

Akiyama, clearly not paying attention, continues on, now going on about something that Nanami can’t hear due to the whistling in his ears. His eyes analytically looked at Akiyama’s face, the invisible ratio line starting to form on his center, beginning from the base of his jaw to the tip of his receding widow’s peak. The increment markings began to form, and the seventh ratio line formed at his glabella, the point in between his eyebrows and just above his nasal bone. 

Nanami sets his briefcase down on one of the chairs. 

Akiyama can’t make it to another point as Nanami’s fist connects to the glabella and smashes his face and skull inward. 

The impact of the blow is fatal. 

Incident Log # 207

Multiple casualties were reported on the seventh floor of the Fujimoto Office Complex in the ward of Shinjuku, in the prefecture of Tokyo. Thirty two bodies were accounted for out of thirty four employees. Seventeen men, and fifteen women. The nature of injuries closely correlate to that of a sorcerer instead of a cursed entity. Residuals of cursed energy left behind strongly indicate that of former Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College student and graduate Nanami Kento. Nanami Kento is an employee at the Fujimoto office and has been missing since the attack occurred. The only other survivor is Y/L Y/N, as she had not been reported to be at the location when the incident transpired. 

Special Grade Sorcerer Gojo Satoru is assigned to the case.

The natures and causes of death are reported as followed: 

Akiyama Hinata, aged fifty seven, nature of injuries: concave trauma to the frontal lobe of cranium. Cause of death: blunt force trauma to the head.

Fumiko Asami, aged thirty one, nature of injuries: body sliced in half at the anterior inferior iliac spine of pelvis, causing bilateral femoral arteries to be cut open and massive blood loss to occur. Cause of death: blood loss and hypovolemic shock.

Aiko Marina, aged thirty, nature of injuries…

Y/N can’t even stomach her way through the rest of the report and she throws it onto the table in front of her. She’s sitting in an interrogation room with a silver haired man that sports a blindfold over his eyes. He’s introduced himself as Gojo Satoru, the main investigator on this case and she’s been presented with pictures of the crime scene and surveillance footage of the office as the attack went down. She watched as Nanami, for lack of a better word, butchered the entire office as he wielded a giant blunt knife that was wrapped in a white cloth with black spots all over it that was secretly concealed within his briefcase that he brought in that morning. 

She wants to vomit. 

“Is there anything else that you might be able to tell me involving this incident?” Gojo pries, as he leans back into the chair, placing his feet on the edge of the table. “It was reported that Nanami Kento did have a bit of a soft spot for you leading up to the attack. Is there any chance that he might have mentioned something to you about it?”

Y/N shakes her head, her eyes locked onto two pictures of Nanami that lay on the table. One of him when he was a student, with his long, sandy blonde hair that swooped over both of his eyes to one side, and the other looking as if it had been taken yesterday, with his hair in a professional side part, dressed in his regular two piece attire. “He didn’t mention anything like this. To be frank, I didn’t even know that he contained such power within himself.” Which, to be fair, wasn’t a total lie. Y/N didn’ know that he was a jujutsu sorcerer to begin with. “He was very big on keeping his personal life separate from his professional life.” 

She doesn’t dare tell them of the intimate moments that she shared with him the night before. She doesn’t tell them of the note that Nanami left her in her apartment that morning that sits in the back pocket of her pants. To her, in that moment, it feels as if it weighs over a thousand pounds.

It’s the last thing that she has of Nanami. She won’t give it up. Not now, not ever. 

Gojo sighs, before taking his feet off the edge of the table, letting his chair lean forward back into its normal position. He digs into one of his pockets and offers her a contact card. “If you remember anything at all, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I’d be more than happy to meet you in a different place than this dreary old place.” 

He tries to make her laugh, but it’s futile. 

“Am I free to leave?” 

He nods. “You were never imprisoned here to begin with.” 

She gets up, does a 45 degree bow at the waist, and quickly takes her leave, eager to be off the campus of the Jujutsu Technical College campus. There’s a sense of unease that fills her the more time that she spends there. 

On the train ride back to her apartment, she pulls the note out of her pocket and reads it through, like it’s the first time. His handwriting is scribbled onto the paper, his characters completely lacking the neat and orderly fashion that she’s so accustomed to seeing from him. 

Dearest Y/N,

By the time that you’re reading this, I have no doubt in my mind that the news stations will be reporting on what I’ve done to our co-workers. Or should I say “former”. 

I’m sorry that it took me so long to stand up to the rest of them, especially for the sake of what they were doing to you on a daily basis. You didn’t deserve to be treated like you were nothing. You didn’t deserve to be humiliated and bullied by them. I will always be forever regretful that I allowed it to continue on for such a long period of time. I wanted to make things better for you, Y/N. 

I’m sorry that this is the way things have to end between the two of us, even though our relationship had only just barely begun. You are the first woman that I’ve encountered in my life that made me want to better myself. Be kinder. More tender with my actions and how I interacted with the world and the people in it.  

It’s a shame that I’m reduced to such callous actions on my part. 

I’m a coward for running away. I know I am. I know that they’ll be looking for me. They most likely will try to interrogate you, coerce information out of you. I won’t begrudge you if you did. You would be doing the right thing, of course. With the actions I’m about to commit, it surely would be the only way. 

I love you. 

I should be saying this directly to you, and softly caressing your face while I do so, but this is the next best option. I love you. Granted, we only spent so much time together, but as I’ve said previously before, I’ve grown to care for you. Much more than I initially let on. 

I can only hope to see you in the near future, but I don’t know if that will ever come to fruition or not. 

Please take care of yourself, Y/N-chan.

-Nanami Kento

Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated for a budding young writer such as myself.

[jolyneart]

This'll be a long-ish post about my The Locked Tomb themed MTG deck and how I made like 20 versions of it before I decided to build it (and how I'm still working on it).

(I want to do legit art for this card)

If you are part of the Venn diagram of these two interests, or you want to see my slow descent into madness ovear a year of trying to put cardboard together, check the spoilers below.

So, I haven't been playing Magic for too long (a bit over a year). Weirdly I have owned cards since original Ixalan, but I never bothered learning to play until a friend invited me to play commander. I just wanted them for the pretty pictures, I have always admired Magic artists and they have been a huge inspiration on my art career.

Anyways, not too long after I started to play, I got this idea into my head that I should do a Locked Tomb commander deck.

"That'd be fun!" I thought

Well

All of these are over a year old (and are not my only first attempts, but I'll talk about those later).

I had two main issues when starting to build this deck:

1- I have never been interested into deck-building before in a card game

2- I have no fucking idea of what I'm doing

The first commander I chose to lead this deck, that I still think thematically fits within TLT universe, is Ratadrabik of Urborg

This Rat of a man has given me so many headaches, I'm sure that now I'd be able to do make a half-decent deck with him in the lead, hell I do have a black/white aristocrats deck that he could command just fine.

But my issue was that I had no idea how to balance his legends theme and zombie kindred theme at the same time, in the same deck. I was just incapable. And all of my results, budget or not, were jank piles that did very little or exploded into an infinite combo with cards like Boromir, Warden of the Tower or Nazgul. It just didn't feel right and the Locked Tomb theme was barely holding on by a thread with the things I was putting in there. There were barely ANY skeletons in any of these! (this will keep happening)

Anyways, after giving up on Ratadrabik (which btw I think would make for a great Ianthe proxy) I moved on to find some other commander and color combination that'd enable something else that wasn't a pile of legendary creatures.

Queue in Varina, Lich Queen

It's a Zombie Wizard! She cares about zombies, those are kind of early skeletons! She raises the undead herself!

Well, I do think Varina is great, and in other world where I knew how to build decks back then, she might just have been my Harrow commander deck

I don't even think the decks I made for her were that bad at all, just extremely expensive. And also the zombie theme, while much better supported mechanically, I didn't feel really represented the kind of necromantic powers we see in the books at all.

Shoutout to Mikaeus, he'd make for a great Jod if anyone wants to make a deck about our lord and savior the undying emperor.

Ok, now I'm going to take a bit of a detour to talk about what I actually like playing in mtg (not just commander). I predictably really enjoy playing black and graveyard strategies, but also really love putting big idiot beaters into the field with those strategies .I know, groundbreaking. But it is what it is, two of my favourite decks do this in one way or another.

God's perfect deck, my Sauron deck, was my first precon, that has left the lands of preconstruction long ago and is my dearest possession. Is it my most powerful deck? nope. Is it unbeatable? Not really, I almost never win with this deck.

What BIG Sauron does is, in an extremely thematic way, become a problem for everyone at the table, do evil things, and have everyone beat me down for my reanimation crimes.

If you are interested, you can check out that deck here.

Anyways sorry, back to the locked tomb, SO I like the graveyard right? Wouldn't it be nice that there'd be a famous woman necromancers in mtg? What if she leaded the deck?

Well, the most that I can say is that there really can be too much of a good thing. I'm talking about swamps.

Initially I had these two running around in the Ratadrabik deck. I still stand by the idea of having these flip walkers be young Harrow/Gideon and flip them into their "First House" versions. The Gideon/Kiriona and Kytheon/Gideon thing still drives me insane.

I was too sad discarding them, so I grabbed the Lilly card and tried to make it work, I really tried, I put on a lot of effort and care. But it didn't work, it wasn't her, it was me.

I built a pretty generic aristocrat shell, but I think that type of archetype really benefits of having more colors to work with (specially white).

So, with three commanders locked in the tomb (I also tried a Gut rakdos deck but I'm not even going to talk about it), what was next? I spent months on these and still had nothing to show for it. Was I the problem? Was I cursed with bad deck dissease?

No, that cannot be. I'm building other decks while this is going on and those are doing just fine. Lae'zel//Master Chef, Gandalf Big Artifacts. The issue might be that the head of the deck is always caring for just the one thing, there was not much diversity. I kept making Necromancers but had no Cavaliers to back them up.

If there could just be a way to have two little guys up there in the command zone. Wait a minute...

So, this was truly a jank fest. Partner is an extremely strong mechanic in commander, and Tymna is specially strong as a card to have access early. So I decided to justify using these to make the biggest pile of nonsense happen.

Equipment? check. Initiative? check. Skeletons? check. Zombies? check. Graveyard? check. Lifegain? check.

While goldfishing I realized that while the commanders do a great job to sustain the rest of the deck, the ammount of themes and archetypes made this a pile of cards that I can barely call a deck. And worst of all, they enabled two pretty strong commanders, and that didn't feel that'd be satisfactory at all in actual play.

I even prepared proxies for these! Feel free to use them if you want.

Also, I tried the whole partner thing swapping out Tymna for Ikra Shidiqi. Bringing out another whole color didn't help with the theme soup I was working with.

So I wholy abandoned the idea of both partners, and maybe even making this deck.

Maybe my hopes and dreams of having a functional silly lesbians and skeletons deck were doomed (yuri) from the beginning.

Months pass, I built 3 or 4 other decks in the meantime that work, can compete and be fun, sometimes all at the same time if you'd believe it. I had completely lost faith in this deck idea.

All until one day, were I was checking out a pile of cards I had pulled from the recent MH3 set to put them into my binder. And then I see it. There he was, this fucking guy with a shovel(?), looking at me.

I read again his fairly big wall of text, what does this guy do again?

Oh, he does necromancy stuff? attacks? wait wait, he draws POWER from the GRAVEYARD?? in JUND?

He really saved it. Not only I feel this perfectly represents the dynamics of Cavalier is in charge of creating enough thanergy for their necromancer, but ALSO does the necromancer thing, and ALSO loves having like 10 power and beating down face. This was a message, the dream was still alive.

So, I make a list, I order cards, I scrounge cards from my other black decks. And there it is. It's real

The Locked Tomb Griddlehark Commander Deck

But... that's not how my list looks right now. Yeah I know this deck is cursed into being always changing I think. But, the main issue here was what I said before. It had to pull cards from multiple decks to sustain itself. And I learned quickly that I don't like having my baby, my Sauron, being not functional, and that keeping track of what cards are where and swapping them out constantly sucks tremendously.

So, I pulled back most of the cards to their original decks. What was left was a corpse, a beautiful incomplete deck. So I selected cards from my collection, lower powered ones, niche ones, weird ones, and put them in for their more powerful counterparts.

It's function is extremely simple, it fills it's graveyard quickly, ramps, and with Coram on the battlefield, you turn that self-mill into card advantage, the graveyard into a power source and bring back powerful creatures like the Resurrection Beasts (Eldrazi)

There also are skeletons in there, of course.

This deck needed to die many deaths to exist. But isn't that the theme?

I'll make sure to put up the new decklist on my moxfield whenever I get a few upgrades.

[narbevoguel]

Back in the early F-Zero 99 days, I was in a stream chat where people were talking about the music of the game. I said Sand Ocean was my favorite theme of them all, and someone said that they thought the theme didn't belong in a racing game, and that it was a rather sad tune, therefore they didn't like it.

That last bit has been living in my head, rent free, ever since. Does it really sound like a sad tune?

DOES IT?! I don't think it does, but I have no idea why I let that get to me for the longest time.

Anyway, shameless Sand Ocean propaganda. It's been my favorite track theme since I was a kid, and thanks to that, the actual track is my favorite (although Death Wind II has been growing on me, I used to hate it as a kid, but now I like it a lot).

[flufflecat]

Got to stolen century in my relisten and started tearing up at work because of magnus carving the duck. Just me in the back room, crying over the dish sink for normal reasons.

[flygonscales]

2 weeks at uni and I’ve already reached peak procrastination. I found masking tape and somehow decided that the best use of my time was to make a tiny Belphemon-sleep.

[cuteniaarts]

Me, six-ish hours ago: Yeah, I had the idea for an Avatar Suiren AU pretty much as long as Suiren herself existed, but idk if I'm ever gonna develop it, it's really hard to upkeep interest for it on my own...

Me, as soon as the concept of Suiren and Vaatu bullying Raava together popped into my head while I was typing out that long ass post: Fuck it, new strain of brain fungus acquired–

(Also yeah traditional art being posted for the first time since... 2020, probably. Don't have the spoons to transfer this to digital rn, maybe I will at some point and I'll do a fuckass Spirit World background or smth. We'll see)

First time drawing Vaatu so don't make fun of me, but honestly he's such a funky little guy and rather fun to draw. You just get that main shape down and then go nuts with the frills :) But also, credit where credit is due, scrolling through the Vaatu tag on @shadelorde’s blog really helped, so thank you for that 😊 And I really had no idea what to do with Suiren’s design here, I think I’ve used up all my character design juices on the nine previous iterations of her that exist, so for now she’s in a random dress with her hair down. I’ll probably alter it if I ever do a proper design for her in this verse

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Here are the issues I have with the book. Since it's a lot, I'll try to keep it as short as possible and only mention my biggest problems with it. So this list is not complete and I could write pages about it.

Let me start by saying that a good autobiography (or any book that highlights a real life person) should be balanced. It should not glorify that person or pretend that person is a god and without mistakes. I also have no problem with critizing Ze, because, let's face it, yes he made mistakes and fucked things up in the past and not every war decision or speech or whatever was good or perfect. The point is: the critique should be fair and balanced (this obviously doesn't apply to bad people in general and the books about them; but since Ze isn't a bad person...you get what I want to say). The portrayal of Ze in the book is anything but fair or balanced. Or true, for that matter (unless literally every person in Ze's life and who knows him better, including the Kvartal fam, Olena, Andriy or people like them, have been lying to everyone for decades).

Throughout the whole book Shuster does say that Ze is Ukrainian (and Jewish) but also always tries to paint him as an "Ukrainian Russian" - so Ze is actually Russian despite being a "Ukrainian" (basically using one of Russia's Propaganda lies). Ze is basically a stubborn "Ukrainian" who kind of deserves all the hate and arrogance he gets from "real Russians" during KVN times (and later) because Ze is an insufferable asshole during his KVN times. And that Russian treated Ukrainian (or from other former Soviet Union countries) teams badly (including racist remarks, looking down on them, treating them like slaves, insulting them, not giving them a fair chance,...) teams awfully is, in Ze's case, deserved. Because Ze was oh so focused on always winning - no matter what and the cost.

Speaking of KVN: According to Shuster, Ze was terrible as a person during his first years of stardom. A maniac who only lived for applause and needs it to survive and was willing to do absolutely everything to win and beat other teams. Because, you know, he's so obsessed with winning. To a point were even he gives a flying fuck about the Kvartal team and their members (Shuster basically hints that they all disliked Ze and he was some kind of group dictator who only wanted to work and win all the time and was reckless and took to many risks and almost destroyed everyones lifes). When Shuster finds something positive to write about, he quotes people from Kvartal but what he quotes are just general statements or people saying what KVN was like during the 1990s and early 2000s. The moment Shuster writes about Ze and was he (allegedly) like during this time it's almost only "team members" and "people who knem him" and "classmates" and all that stuff - so anon sources. Or it's just Shuster telling stuff without saying what his source is or him just have feelings and thoughts and drawing conclusions. If people get named they - surprise, surprise - have a lot of times bad things to say about Ze or are people who we never ever have heard of as being part of Ze's life. Btw, it's not very hard to guess who the "team member", who talked the KVN years and adds a lot of negative talk about Ze, is... . Denys (yes, THAT Denys) contributed to the book with pictures, so chances are high he also talked to Shuster. If you ever wondered if the asshole would ever get over the fact that he fucked up and Ze kicked his ass out of the group - well, the answer is no. He now just tries to cash in on Ze. And since we are talking about Denys' obvious contribution to the book - he, once again, gave out private photos. How much we all wanna bet that he, once again, didn't ask for consent?!

Shuster also tries to paint Ze's family in a bad light. The father a tyrann who sacrified his wife's (Mama Ze) health for his job and money. Also rarely being at home and giving a fuck about his son and family. Mama Ze spoiling her child and making him entitled. Both to unloving and hard and more or less making Ze's life a living hell. Also that Ze's family was suddenly rich. Not to mention indirectly questioning the trauma his family had to go through (and Ze talked about in the past) under Stalin and the Nazis and family members that are suddenly alive (despite Ze stating in the past that they were dead). Also, Shuster sees in the childhood and family of Ze a part of the explanation why Ze is such a horrible person today, to stubborn to just give up and end the fight (and all that nonsense) and won't win this war. Because the parents put Ze in all kind of activities without him finishing any of it but letting him believe he can do everything and always demanding excellent perfomance in every aspect of his life (to keep it short). So of cooourse Ze had to grow up into a maniac who can't loose and always continues despite what people may tell him and who needs the constant validation and love from others.

There are also a ton of negative remarks about Ze as father and husband in regard of his own family. Not to mentiont hat a ton of informations are factually not correct. Things like birth dates or dates in general, how and where Ze's family lived (missing important context several times), Ze basically being as awful as his father, Ze not giving a fuck about his families safety during the war (Olena was the voice of reason who protects the poor, poor children because their father just wants them back for egoistic reasons and doesn't care about their safety) or not seeing anything concerning about his sons military obsession and instead fueling it (again, it's the poor poor wife who has to protect the son from the awful father), Ze giving zero fucks about his relationship with Olena right from the start and that poor, poor, poor woman always staying behind and having to go through hell and hate because of Ze's maniac ambitions and facing an unsave future in the early 2000s because Ze was so full of himself and had the biggest ego,... . (reading several parts you would think that this "poor, poor woman" is trapped in some abuse situation or Ze somehow tied her to himself and the whole marriage is fake and there is no love) (also Olena simultaniously romantizing things and her life and Ukraine but also being the only who who sees the truth about Ze or several parts of their lives but, of course, can't tell her terrible husband because bad, bad Ze) Also Shuster indirectly claiming that Ze and Olena lied about their relationship and they didn't date for eight years but for a shorter period of time. Because suddenly Olena also was a part of KVN long before Ze (???) and was essentially just his work buddy and friend for a while and somehow and for whatever reason they ended up in a relationship one day. (Also prepare yourself to read about a new version of the "Basic Instinct" story we never have heard before...and Ze and Olena never said.)

Btw, the way Ze is portrayed during his KVN years is essentially with little variation how he's portrayed in later stages of his life. Including his presidency and the war (I'm not going to write several more paragraphes because I think you get the picture Shuster tries to paint of Ze).

Only one thing about Ze's war portrayal: Shuster swings back and forth between Ze as wanna be dictator who will turn Ukraine into something bad as soon as the war is over (and is already starting with that) and who already makes his own rules and gives zero fucks about people and is only interested in his own fame and people applauding him and all that stuff. And Ze being the worst President ever because the war and the current state of Ukraine (which is, of course, very bad and they are about to collapse and loose and big Russia and winning and blablabla) are somehow also his fault. Yes, Shuster really manages to make Ze (and with that Ukraine) partly guilty.

Throughout the whole book he also, sometimes more obvious sometimes hidden, Shuster portrays Ukraine in the worst way possible. He does mention how "bad" Russia is but somehow justifying it several times or leaving out important facts and, once again, context. Also the portrayal of Putin, especially in comparsion with how he writes about Ze, is a joke.

Oh, and, the "inside look in the bunker" life Shuster used for his marketing campaign and that the claim of the book - yeah, bullshit. It's nothing now and anon and all that stuff. Also, once again, portraying Ze in a bad light. Like, yeah, the first weeks of war affected him but to such a worrying point (according to Shuster) that Ze was actually unfit to rule any longer as President but continued (because, you know, he loves power sooo much...). And now he's the mini dictator of Bankova who is always grumpy and changed into a (an even more) awful person and... .

What can I say at the end?! As mentioned earlier, the book has a ton of fake news and wrong facts. It's incredibly poorly researched - if sources exist at all. A lot of times it's Shuster just sharing his feelings or thougths or conclusions or interpretations or whatever. Or just saying things without context. Or writing stuff without giving sources. And to be honest, in some parts it also feels like that Shuster just made stuff up.

If you have no idea about Ze and his life or know very little - that's not the book to get informed. If you know a bit more about Ze, you will surprisingly often feel that certain parts of "exclusive interviews" or "when I talked with XYZ" are strangely familiar...with interviews we all know from Ze's (and several other people) past...because it is these interviews. Just a lot of times missing context, shortening what was said, adding stuff or giving it a new meaning.

Speaking of using old stuff: Shuster also really used his old articles to include them in the book...to a point where it's basically almost word for word.

Overall, the book is in large parts poorly written (so poorly that you wonder how he became a TIME journalist in the first place).

In the end, you probably haven't learned anything new or interesting about Ze, his life, the war or Ukraine. When we talk about Ze, I may have read one, maybe two new things I haven't read before (but questioning both of them and will do research if they are true or just made up by Shuster). It's over 300 sites of wasted paper and ink. I know articles who did a better job than this "book". It's a waste of time and money. And in the end it's a Pro-Russia Propaganda book, trying to undermine the support for Ukraine and hurt Ze and his image (as well as Ukraine's). Shuster tries to be subtle at his try to do this but he isn't not. He tries to come off as critical thinker who wants to portray a balanced picture of Ze and also writes about the sides no one dares to talk about. But nothing about this is balanced. It's just 300+ sites of trashing Ze and backstabbing him and using every possible way. Same applies to Ukraine.

.

[asshuka]

the year transition umi returns!!! whoa!!!!! it’s the tea party set!

patreon | kofi | commissions | more linkz

just realized the doodles aren’t very well categorized on my blog so. previous umis under the cut

2015 -> 2016

2016 -> 2017

2017 -> 2018

2018 -> 2019

2019 -> 2020 i tried to draw a bunch of characters who are close to my heart and intended to end with umi but i became too physically unwell to finish

2020 -> 2021

2021 -> 2022 There Was A Darkness Growing Within Me.

2022 -> 2023 HERE!

[froggomcdoo]

you ever read a work of fiction so good that you immediately need to find more and consume it but it doesn't have any more and there will likely be no more so you just suffer and think what if.

[arolesbianism]

Oh god the new cotl trailer is dragging me right back in... Damn you goat why must you relight my interest in this game so