#guys I’m a bit obsessed with him I think

[aesthetically-dying101]

Trainwreck

A/N: *sighs* can you guys guess who i wrote for? yes its nanami

warnings: innapropriate workplace behavior (this is all so unrealistic pls), thats mostly it, maybe a bit OOC? idk obsessive behavior, lowkey creepy

Nanami Kento prides himself on being a man of structure. He clocks in at 8:00 AM sharp, organizes his desk with ruthless efficiency, and approaches every task with a quiet, burning determination. But recently—recently, you’ve ruined him.

Completely, utterly ruined him.

You’re not even his boss. No, you’re her secretary. Just the secretary, really.

A pleasant smile in the hallway, the click of heels passing by his office door. You’re always polite, professional. Efficient. And yet, you’ve utterly dismantled every ounce of his composure.

He notices everything about you.

He notices too much.

The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you're focused, the faint scent of your perfume (something floral but not cloying, clean and perfect). The way you laugh softly with the receptionist when you think no one is listening.

God, you never wear a wedding band.

He’s looked.

He’s ashamed of how often he’s looked.

He hates himself for it—hates the way his chest tightens when he hears your voice. Hates the way his thoughts stray in the quiet moments of the day, imagining what it would be like if you looked at him the way he looks at you.

But you barely notice him.

At least, that’s what he tells himself. Why would you? He’s just another cog in the machine, another suit with no significance beyond his output.

Nanami lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s supposed to be working, but instead, he’s replaying that moment from earlier today: the way you’d popped into the breakroom, looking fresh and radiant in that blouse that he’s now convinced was designed to torment him.

“Oh, hi, Nanami,” you’d said, smiling at him as you poured yourself a cup of coffee. It had been such a simple, innocent thing. And yet, his brain had short-circuited.

“Morning,” he’d managed, stiff and awkward, and he’s sure you noticed. God, why did his voice sound so clipped?

“You doing okay? You looked a little stressed in the meeting earlier.”

And that had really done it. Your concern—casual, effortless—had hit him like a freight train. He could barely stammer out a reply before you were gone, leaving him standing there, coffee untouched, his heart doing somersaults in his chest.

He wants to believe he’s subtle about it, but he knows better. He’s not subtle. Not when he hangs back in the breakroom just to hear you chatting with someone, filing away every detail like the pathetic little moth he is, hopelessly drawn to your flame.

“Yeah, no, I’m just focusing on work right now,” you’d said once, when someone asked if you had any plans for the weekend. No mention of a boyfriend. No hint of anyone waiting for you at home.

It shouldn’t matter, and yet it feels like the cruelest kind of hope, igniting in his chest despite himself.

Nanami leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He’s disgusting. Obsessed. You’re probably not even aware of his existence beyond the bare minimum. Why would you be? You’re smart, funny, stunning—and he’s just him. Dull. Predictable. The kind of guy women settle for when they’re tired of the fireworks.

But oh, if you ever gave him the chance. If you so much as glanced in his direction with anything resembling interest, he’d fall to his knees. Worship you. Do anything to make you happy.

It’s humiliating. The longing, the yearning, the ache.

And yet he can’t stop.

His thoughts spiral as the hours drag on, oscillating between bitterness and hope. He tells himself to stop—orders himself to focus—but his mind keeps circling back to you.

Always you.

The end of the day finally comes, and as he’s gathering his things, he hears the soft sound of your voice drifting from the hallway.

“Night, Nanami!”

You wave as you pass, the gesture casual but bright enough to light up the entire goddamn floor.

“Goodnight,” he replies, quieter than he means to. His hand tightens on his briefcase.

You disappear around the corner, and Nanami stays frozen for a moment, staring at the space where you’d been.

*-*

It’s Christmas in the office.

The annual “holiday celebration,” a thinly veiled excuse for everyone to slack off in the name of festivity. Nanami hates it—or at least he wants to hate it. Forced camaraderie, cheap decorations, music that grates on his nerves. It’s the kind of chaos he typically avoids.

But then you walk in, and every ounce of self-discipline he’s built over the years shatters into irreparable pieces.

The pencil skirt.

The goddamn Christmas-colored pencil skirt. It’s shorter than usual, clinging to your hips in a way that feels engineered to destroy him. The matching blouse, festive but just tight enough to drive him completely fucking insane.

It’s not fair.

You’re smiling as you step into the breakroom, chatting with a coworker, utterly oblivious to the wreckage you’re leaving in your wake.

Nanami’s pulse spikes. His gaze darts away, but the image of you is already seared into his brain, lingering like a bad habit.

He adjusts his tie, swallowing hard. Don’t be a creep. Don’t be a fucking creep. But then his eyes flick back, just for a second, and—oh no. Oh no, no, no.

His pants feel too tight.

He grits his teeth, clenching his jaw as he fumbles with a stack of papers on his desk. His hands tremble slightly. He’s mortified, but there’s no stopping it. Not when his traitorous brain is already spinning, conjuring images he really shouldn’t be entertaining in the middle of the office.

Images of you. That skirt riding up higher, your thighs bare beneath his hands. The sound of your laughter softening into breathless gasps. The way your lips would feel against his skin—

Nanami bolts.

He mutters something vague about needing a minute to no one in particular and beelines for the bathroom. The fluorescent lights are harsh as he leans against the sink, gripping the porcelain edge like it’s the only thing tethering him to sanity.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he hisses to his reflection. His tie feels like a noose around his neck.

He splashes cold water on his face, but it doesn’t help. Not when every time he blinks, he sees you. The soft curve of your waist, the way your hair catches the light.

Pathetic. He’s fucking pathetic. You’re just trying to celebrate the holidays like everyone else, and here he is, locked in the bathroom, wrestling with his own shameless thoughts.

The worst part—the absolute worst part—is that it’s not just the dirty shit. Oh, no. His brain is crueler than that.

He imagines quiet mornings with you. You in his kitchen, wearing one of his shirts, smiling at him over a mug of coffee. Your hand brushing his as you pass him a plate, the warmth of your touch lingering long after.

It’s insidious. It’s relentless. It’s everything he doesn’t deserve, and yet he wants it so badly he feels like he might choke on it.

Nanami drags a hand down his face, letting out a groan that echoes in the empty bathroom.

She doesn’t even notice you, idiot.

He stays there longer than he should, collecting himself—or trying to. Eventually, he straightens his tie, squares his shoulders, and forces himself to return to his desk.

But when he passes by the breakroom again, you’re laughing, radiant, and he knows this torture is far from over.

*-*

Nanami doesn’t mean to eavesdrop.

Really, he doesn’t.

But it’s impossible not to overhear you when you’re in the breakroom, talking to someone about the bouquet on the receptionist’s desk.

“Oh, these are lovely,” you say, your voice light and cheerful. “But if I had to pick, I’ve always been more into bold flowers. Red dahlias, spider lilies, roses—things like that. Dark, dramatic colors. They’re so beautiful.”

Nanami freezes in the hallway, a stack of files in his hands. His heart does this stupid little stutter, the same one it always does when he hears your voice. But now it’s worse because his mind is spinning with the image of you holding a bouquet like the one you’ve just described.

Red dahlias, spider lilies. The thought of you cradling those flowers, smiling at them, smiling because of him—he has to physically shake his head to clear it.

He’s pathetic.

He knows he’s pathetic. He clenches the files tighter, willing himself to keep walking, but the image won’t leave him.

Over the next few days, he thinks about it more than he wants to admit. He imagines walking into a flower shop, carefully selecting each bloom, making sure they’re perfect. He imagines handing the bouquet to you, watching your face light up—

And then he imagines the aftermath. You smiling politely, awkwardly thanking him, wondering why the hell one of your coworkers is giving you flowers.

No.

He can’t do it. It’s wildly inappropriate. He’s already teetering on the edge of unprofessionalism just by thinking about you like this.

But then, one quiet afternoon in the office, he hears you mention your birthday in passing.

“Oh, it’s in a month or so,” you say, laughing softly. “I don’t usually do much for it, though. Just a quiet day, you know?”

Nanami marks the date down the second he gets back to his desk. He feels like a creep for it, but the thought of letting the day pass without acknowledgment feels unbearable.

He’s spent weeks overthinking this, debating whether or not he should go through with it. But as he stands outside the florist that morning, the door handle cold in his hand, he decides he can’t let it go.

He picks each flower carefully: crimson dahlias with velvety petals, a few spider lilies that curl dramatically, and deep red roses. It’s a small bouquet—not too extravagant, just enough to feel thoughtful.

By the time he gets to the office, his palms are clammy, and he feels like he might actually pass out.

He doesn’t give it to you right away. He waits until the middle of the day, when the office is quieter and most people are out at lunch. He finds you at your desk, bent over some papers, your hair falling slightly into your face.

“Excuse me,” he says, his voice more formal than he intended.

You look up, blinking in surprise, and when your eyes land on the bouquet in his hands, they widen slightly.

“I, uh—” He clears his throat, trying not to fumble. “I overheard that it was your birthday today. Happy birthday.”

You take the bouquet slowly, your expression shifting from surprise to something softer—something warmer.

“Oh my gosh, Nanami, these are gorgeous,” you say, holding the flowers close to your chest. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s nothing,” he replies quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide how much they’re trembling. “Just… thought you’d like them.”

“I love them.” Your smile is radiant, and for the first time, he feels like he might actually be able to breathe again.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice sincere.

He nods, forcing himself to meet your gaze for just a moment.

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, before quickly retreating to the safety of his desk.

As he sits down, his heart pounding, he allows himself a small, private smile. For once, his yearning doesn’t feel quite so pathetic.

*-*

Nanami doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. Again. But it’s impossible not to hear you when your voice floats down the hallway like that, soft and full of joy.

The bouquet sits proudly on your desk, vibrant reds catching the fluorescent light, and you’re standing nearby, talking to another employee.

“I still can’t believe it,” you’re saying, your tone carrying this sweet mix of wonder and delight. “No one’s ever done something like this for me before. It’s just… so thoughtful, you know?”

Nanami, passing by with his usual quiet efficiency, freezes mid-step. His breath hitches in his throat.

“I mean, look at them,” you continue, gesturing to the flowers. “They’re perfect. Whoever picked these out really put a lot of thought into it.” You laugh softly, a sound that makes his chest ache. “I’m not even sure how they knew these are my favorites.”

He stands there, rooted to the spot, his pulse roaring in his ears.

She’s talking about me. She’s talking about me.

He feels ridiculous for the way his stomach twists, for the heat creeping up his neck. A grown man shouldn’t feel this way, shouldn’t feel this weak, over a few kind words. But goddammit, he can’t help it.

The idea that you’re gushing about something he did, that he made you happy, even for a moment—it’s enough to undo him completely.

“Whoever it was,” you add, your voice softening, “it’s just… it really made my day. Probably my whole week, honestly.”

Nanami swallows hard, clutching his briefcase like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His emotions are a mess—a chaotic tangle of pride, relief, and something deeper, something that makes his throat feel tight.

He knows he should walk away. He shouldn’t linger here, shouldn’t keep listening like some lovesick fool. But he’s stuck, trapped by the sound of your voice and the warmth in your words.

When he finally moves, it’s with a heaviness in his chest that he can’t quite define. He makes his way back to his desk, sitting down and staring blankly at his computer screen.

*-*

Weeks bleed together in the monotony of office life, except for the moments where Nanami lets himself carve out little spaces of joy—tiny gestures that go unnoticed by most but feel monumental to him.

It starts with a single chocolate, placed carefully on the corner of your desk one morning before you arrive. Just a small thing, barely bigger than his thumb, wrapped in shiny foil. He doesn’t linger to see your reaction. He couldn’t stomach it, not when he knows he’d fold in on himself if you so much as tilted your head in confusion.

But the next day, you’re chatting with the receptionist, that same soft laugh spilling from your lips.

“It’s so weird,” you’re saying, holding the empty wrapper in your fingers. “I found this little chocolate on my desk yesterday. I don’t know who left it, but it was sweet. Made my morning, honestly.”

Nanami ducks his head, pretending to be engrossed in the stack of reports he’s holding, but inside, he’s practically vibrating. She noticed. She noticed.

He tells himself to stop, to leave it there, but he doesn’t. He can’t. The yearning is too big, too loud, and it demands an outlet, however small.

After a grueling conference one afternoon, he slips a bottle of chilled water onto your desk when you step away. Nothing extravagant—just a quiet act of care. You’re gone for no more than a minute, but when you return, you blink down at the bottle, tilting your head in that way he finds unfairly adorable.

“Huh,” you murmur, glancing around. “Did someone leave this?”

You shrug, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip, and Nanami has to fight the urge to look away too quickly, lest anyone catch the faint pink blooming across his cheeks.

It’s pathetic.

The way he lives for these small moments, like a man stranded in a desert, savoring droplets of water. Every tiny gesture, every unnoticed offering, feels like a prayer he’s too afraid to voice aloud.

He notices everything about you. How you seem to perk up on Friday afternoons, your shoulders relaxing as you chat about weekend plans. How you wrinkle your nose just slightly when you’re concentrating. How you hum under your breath when you think no one’s listening—a soft, tuneless sound that drives him to distraction.

He doesn’t need grand gestures. He doesn’t want them. He just wants to make your days a little brighter, even if you never know it’s him.

And god, does he yearn.

He daydreams when he shouldn’t, his thoughts slipping away from spreadsheets and into fantasies that make his chest ache. He imagines brushing your hair back from your face, the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. He imagines quiet evenings, your laughter filling the silence of his apartment. He imagines the weight of your head on his shoulder as you drift off to sleep.

And sometimes—sometimes, when he’s alone, when the ache feels unbearable—he lets himself imagine things he shouldn’t. Things that make his heart race and his breath catch and leave him staring at his own reflection in shame after.

But he never acts on it. Never says a word. Instead, he keeps leaving his little tokens: a coffee cup placed carefully on your desk when he overhears you complain about a late night, a pack of your favorite pens after you mention running out.

You smile every time, and though you never suspect him, that’s enough. It has to be enough.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

*-*

You’re not an idiot.

No, you may be a little dense sometimes, but you’re not stupid. Someone has been leaving you small, thoughtful little gifts over the past few weeks.

And you have absolutely no idea who it is.

It started innocently enough—chocolate on your desk one morning. You didn’t think much of it at first, but then it kept happening. A bottle of water after a long conference, a cup of coffee after a particularly brutal meeting. At first, you thought maybe it was just a mistake, someone leaving things around and not realizing it was yours. But no, they were always right where you’d find them. Right when you needed them.

It’s sweet. Really sweet. But it's also starting to annoy the ever-living shit out of you because, for the life of you, you can’t figure out who’s doing it.

You’ve spent the past few days trying to narrow it down, your brain doing mental gymnastics over every damn interaction you’ve had at work. And frankly? You’re getting tired of it.

“Alright, let’s break this shit down,” you mutter to yourself as you sip your second cup of coffee of the day, pretending to focus on an email.

Option one: Your boss.

Ha. Right. She’s too busy scheduling her hair appointments to think about leaving chocolates on anyone’s desk. Plus, she’s got the whole “I don’t care if you live or die” attitude, so yeah, not her.

Option two: Kevin from accounting.

Kevin’s an idiot. A well-meaning idiot, but still. He’s the type to forget the coffee in the breakroom and then call it “the best thing ever” for two hours, as though anyone cares about his “discovery.” You’re not buying that.

Option three: That one guy from marketing, Tom.

You nearly burst into laughter just thinking about it. Tom’s an over-caffeinated golden retriever in a human’s body. He’s the type of guy who thinks sending a “Hey, just wanted to check in!” email twice a day is “checking in” on people. He probably couldn’t even remember to get a chocolate from a store, let alone leave it at your desk.

Option four: Nanami.

You pause mid-sip, blinking rapidly. Nanami? The quiet guy from finance? The one who barely says more than a handful of words in a meeting?

Now that’s an intriguing thought. He’s always… there. Always around, like a quiet shadow, observing. Sure, he’s not exactly filling the room with energy, but there’s something there, right? Something beneath that perfectly structured exterior.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. No way. That’s ridiculous.

But then you think about it. Nanami’s the type of guy who doesn’t get distracted by office chaos. He’s methodical. Focused. The guy who lives on routine. He’d be the one to sneakily notice when someone’s overworked and needs a small pick-me-up. He’s just... quiet about it.

But then again, who leaves water bottles, chocolates, and coffee? It’s not like he’s ever said anything about it. Not a single “hey, I thought you might like this,” or anything remotely close to an acknowledgment. Hell, he doesn’t even smile much.

God, he’s so damn mysterious it makes your head spin.

You glance over at his desk. There he is—quiet, as usual. Focused, pretending the world isn’t falling apart around him.

It could be him.

But no. You shake your head, dismissing the thought immediately. He’s not the type. Right?

It’s just… weird. And you’re not even sure why it feels so weird. Maybe it’s just the fact that you’ve got a secret admirer at work, which is fucking hilarious because it sounds like something out of a shitty rom-com you wouldn’t even watch if someone paid you.

"God, I’m going insane," you mutter under your breath, checking your watch. "Seriously. Who the hell is doing this?"

*-*

It took weeks.

Weeks of small gestures.

You’ve figured it out.

It took some careful observation, a bit of deduction, and honestly, a lot of staring at Nanami when he wasn’t looking. But there’s no doubt in your mind now. The quiet, stoic, almost painfully composed man from finance—the one who always has his tie perfectly in place and whose voice could melt butter—he’s your secret admirer.

And oh, it’s delicious.

At first, you weren’t sure. Nanami wasn’t exactly the type to scream “hopeless romantic” or even “mildly interested.” But the more you watched him, the more obvious it became. The way his eyes linger on you just a second too long, the way he tenses when you get too close, the way he seems to disappear right after you find something thoughtful left at your desk.

You caught him once, hovering near the break room as you raved to a coworker about the flowers. He didn’t say a word, but the way he froze mid-step, his jaw tightening ever so slightly? Yeah. That was all the confirmation you needed.

And honestly? You’re thrilled.

Nanami’s hot. Not just conventionally attractive, but smart-hot, the kind of guy who could ruin you with a PowerPoint presentation and a sharp comment about fiscal responsibility. He’s also maddeningly composed, which makes you want to poke at him, see what’s underneath that calm, collected exterior.

So, naturally, you decide to fuck with him.

Just a little.

You can feel the tension building in the air as you move through your day, the little comments, the subtle glances. Nanami’s still trying to play it cool, but it’s clear. He’s a mess. You can see it in the way his eyes dart away when they linger on you a second too long. You can hear it in his voice when he answers you—a little too stiff, a little too forced.

So, you decide to push him.

You start small. Little things. Nothing too obvious, just a few well-placed gestures to see how far you can take him before he finally snaps.

You walk past his desk, and you’re definitely not trying to make sure your skirt hugs your hips just right. You bend over just so to grab a file from your bag, letting him get a full, uninterrupted view of your cleavage.

You’re certain he’s trying not to look—hell, you can practically feel him forcing his eyes up to the ceiling, but you know. You know he’s been watching.

When you straighten up, you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s gripping his pen like it’s a lifeline, his knuckles pale, and his jaw is tight. You smirk, leaning in just a little closer.

“Need something, Nanami?” you ask, the words dripping with an edge of playful mischief.

He swallows, clearly doing everything in his power to maintain his usual stoic expression. “No,” he replies, too quickly, voice clipped. “I’m fine.”

You laugh lightly, keeping the tension alive as you pull away. You can practically feel the heat radiating off him. Oh, this is too good.

You don’t stop there, though. No, you want to see how much he can handle.

The next day, you make sure to wear a skirt that’s just a little tighter, just a little shorter than usual. The fabric clings to you in all the right ways, and when you walk past Nanami’s desk, you make sure to let your hip brush against the edge of his desk, just lightly enough to catch his attention.

As you bend down to grab a report from the printer, you give him the tiniest, most casual look over your shoulder. You’re sure you catch the way his eyes flicker down to your legs before he quickly looks away. Gotcha.

You straighten up, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you walk back past him, barely stopping yourself from humming in satisfaction when you feel his gaze linger on the curve of your back.

It’s all too easy.

And now? Now it’s time to turn it up a notch.

You’ve been toying with him for days now, watching as he stiffens every time you get a little too close, testing how much he can take before his composure cracks. You see the way his breath catches when you “accidentally” brush your arm against his as you pass by. He doesn’t say a word, but you know. You can see it in the way his eyes flash with something darker, something needy, before he shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

You know what you’re doing to him.

And you’re fucking loving it.

*-*

For two weeks, you’ve been shamelessly pushing Nanami to his limits.

You flirt, you linger, you brush your hand against his arm just a little too long, your skirts are shorter, tighter—designed to test the boundaries of his sanity.

And he notices.

Oh, he notices.

But what you don’t see is what’s going on beneath that perfectly calm, stoic exterior.

Because Nanami is losing his fucking mind.

Every look, every casual touch, every time you lean just a little too close—it’s like pouring gasoline on the fire inside him. He’s never been this affected by anyone, and now it feels like he’s constantly teetering on the edge of a cliff.

He tries—he really does—to keep his composure. He’s a professional, damn it. A man of control and discipline. But you? You’re unraveling him piece by piece.

*-*

She knows. Oh, God, she fucking knows. Why is she looking at me like that? Is she doing this on purpose? She’s doing this on purpose. That skirt—did it get shorter? That’s not appropriate for the office, right? Should I say something? No. No, shut up, you idiot. Just focus on your work. She’s walking toward you. Act normal. Act—

“Hey, Nanami, could you help me with something?” you ask, your voice sweet, with just the faintest hint of teasing.

His throat goes dry. He looks up, forcing his expression to remain neutral, professional. “Of course. What do you need?”

You lean closer, your hand brushing his shoulder as you point to your tablet. “I can’t figure out this formula. Can you show me?”

He doesn’t miss the way your perfume lingers in the air, soft and floral, and it’s driving him mad.

“Sure,” he says, his voice even, betraying nothing of the way his heart is hammering in his chest.

But inside? He’s screaming.

*-*

This is a problem. She’s doing it on purpose. She has to be. That look she gave me this morning? That wasn’t casual. No, that was calculated. She’s testing me, trying to see how far I’ll go. Does she know how much I—

He can’t even finish the thought. Because the truth is, his daydreams are becoming increasingly inappropriate, increasingly desperate.

He imagines you sitting on his lap in his office chair, your arms draped around his neck as you laugh at something he said. He imagines kissing you—soft at first, then deeper, more passionate, until he’s completely lost in you. He imagines everything he wants to do to you, and it’s enough to make him clench his fists under his desk, trying to hold himself together.

*-*

One afternoon, you’re standing next to his desk, going on about some report, and he can’t take it anymore. You’re wearing a dress that hugs you in all the right places, and the way you’re looking at him, with that mischievous little glint in your eye—it’s too much.

“Enough,” he says, his voice low, controlled.

You blink, taken aback. “What?”

He stands, towering over you, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on yours. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” you ask, feigning innocence, though the slight curve of your lips betrays you.

“This,” he says, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “The teasing. The looks. The... whatever this is. If you’re trying to drive me insane, congratulations. You’ve succeeded.”

You grin, your eyes sparkling. “Oh? And what are you going to do about it?”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second, then takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m going to ask you on a date.”

Your grin widens, and you cross your arms, leaning in just slightly. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” he says firmly, his confidence unwavering now. “Saturday. Seven o’clock. I’ll pick you up.”

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, and he feels his chest tighten all over again.

“Okay, Nanami. You’ve got yourself a date.”

*-*

The date is perfect.

Nanami shows up at your door precisely at seven, looking sharp in a navy suit and holding a small bouquet of red dahlias—your favorite. Dinner is a mix of light conversation and laughter, the two of you falling into an easy rhythm that feels like you’ve known each other forever.

When he walks you back to your apartment, the air between you is warm, charged with something unspoken.

“Want to come up?” you ask, your voice soft, your eyes searching his.

He hesitates for half a second before nodding. “Yes.”

*-*

Your apartment is cozy, filled with little touches that are unmistakably you. Nanami takes it all in—your bookshelves, your mismatched throw pillows, the faint scent of vanilla in the air.

But then you’re there, standing close to him, your eyes meeting his, and everything else fades away.

The first kiss is tentative, a soft meeting of lips that quickly deepens as he pulls you closer, his hands resting on your waist. You sigh against him, your fingers threading through his hair, and he groans softly, losing himself in the warmth of you.

“Nanami,” you murmur, pulling back just enough to catch your breath.

“I hate you,” he says, his voice low, a teasing smile playing at his lips.

You laugh, your forehead resting against his. “Do you?”

“Yes,” he whispers, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I hate the way you consume my thoughts. I hate the way you make me feel so... so...”

“Alive?” you offer, grinning.

“Exactly,” he murmurs, kissing you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring the moment.

Before things can go further, your cat jumps onto the couch, meowing loudly, and you both break apart, laughing.

“Excuse me,” Nanami says, his voice soft but firm as he picks up the cat and carries it to another room. “We need privacy.”

When he returns, you’re still laughing, but he silences you with another kiss, his hands cradling your face.

Between kisses, he whispers things that make your heart ache in the best way.

“You drive me crazy... but I don’t want it to stop. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”

By the time the night ends, you’re both a mess of tangled limbs and whispered confessions, and for the first time in weeks, Nanami feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

A/N: sorryyy, this might be ooc for him? im unsure...

Masterlist.

:)

[joocomics]

something suggestive with cocky!jongseob mayhaps? 😇

will you give me just a minute to fangirl over the fact i woke up to seeing you in my inbox please 😭 omg you’re such an inspiration to me i love your writing and everything you do on your blog <3 now i’m a bit nervous but hopefully you enjoy my little thoughts on your fav boy!

tags: suggestive, established relationship, kissing, cocky!jongseob, jealous bf!jongseob

when i think about cocky!jongseob i think of his tendency to get possessive and hear me out…

when you’re out with friends especially at night clubs and parties where there will be tons of people jongseob cannot help but get excited about people seeing him with you - you’re gorgeous, hot and most importantly his. you might not realise it, but people around you always do - he’s proud to have you. his eyes sparkle with fascination as they follow you in the crowd, his hand remains on the small of your back throughout the night and when you’re telling a story to your mutual friends he’s always carefully listening to it from start to finish despite the fact he’s heard it several times already. and that’s where that slight ego boost comes from that can have him acting cocky as he shows you off without even realising, especially if he’s had a drink or two with you, hopefully i make sense right now…

his hands become bolder, his tone cheeky and playful meanwhile his eyes start to look at you with lust rather than with fascination like earlier. it’s interesting that the cockier he gets, the more he clings to you, but it’s true. his arms go around your waist from behind to pull you close against his chest and his warm lips are at your ear as he flirts with you; making comments about how that guy, the friend of your friend, was trying so hard to impress you. “baby, are you jealous right now?” you turn to face him as the presence of his hands remains on your lower waist; moving dangerously lower. “you’re mine,” is all he says, “everyone here knows it.” and even his kisses feel different in these moments - more obsessive than ever before. his lips move quicker, with hunger that leaves you breathless as the crowd keeps mingling around you. his greedy touch povokes little moans to escape your tongue and that calls for a satisfied smirk to form on his flushed face. “let’s get out of here…” you’re the first to say it, and you could care less if it makes you look desperate or needy. jongseob takes your chin with two fingers clearly liking your change of attitude. “is this party getting too boring for you?” his knee settles between your legs as you sway side to side; as if to let you know he’s aware of your desires. “or is there something else you’d rather be doing right now?” he wants to hear you say it - that you need him; that you want to leave this place to be with him, it fuels him with adrenaline. the corners of his mouth twitch mischievously; a quick small sign of the cocky mood he’s going to be in throughout the rest of the night and that’s going to elevate his dominance once it’s just the two of you alone…

[heavenpierceher]

just played portal 2 for the first time yes somehow ive never played it before. reposting my thoughts as i played here:

I fucking hate wheatley. Little white cuck ball

As i understand it wheatley turns out to be like Secretly Evil later or whatever but like he’s so blatantly passive aggressive and casually shitty to you that i don’t see how anyone didn’t go okay fuck this guy immediately. Like he’s clearly acting as a sort of arm of aperture itself which constantly bombards you with like jokingly ableist/eugenicist/classist/misogynistic shit

like the juxtaposition of him being a huge asshole because he thinks you have brain damage and the announcer being like ‘ok if you’re old or stupid go back to your Primitive Tribe so we can have Good Subjects for Progress’ is 110% deliberate

also him assuming the person who killed glados was male LMAO

I want glados so bad

Some arasaka tower shit is happening to me

My psionic warriors find me art of chell dribbling and dunking wheatley like a basketball

Glados wants me so bad

my coworker losing his mindddddd 😂 😂 😂

I’m finding these puzzles easier than portal 1 but like in a good way. more intuitive

Also this has almost certainly been said before at length but god valve is so so so good at environmental design

HL is really good too obviously but it really shines in portal where they get to play with contrasts

the really harsh visual contrast between all of portal and the escape stages and the fact that you can see hints of it before it happens. chefs kiss

Single biggest visual improvement: the scary fucked up water that kills you

Yeah I do wish id played this earlier LMAO

glados hums me beautiful songs

I’m imagining that literally none of this is landing for chell like she doesn’t care. and/or glados is just making shit up and so chell also doesn’t care

wheres the dev thing where they were like ‘chell doesn’t talk because she’s just fucking pissed’

She's literally obsessed with me

Genuinely why does anyone like wheatley I'm gonna crush this little shit like a soda can

Guy accuses a woman who has literally never spoken to him or responded to a thing hes said of being bossy

At least the ways in which cave johnson sucks are really funny

i was talking about how wheatley is kind of a stand-in for aperture as an entity and i think cj is a continuation of that. like the above screenshot lines up as being an evolution of cj’s distaste for the ‘lab boys’ and ‘bean counters’; a top-down disdain for the people actually making ‘progress’ possible and keeping things running

me when i have 60 dollars

Valve in particular has a way of making its social commentary so pointed and over the top that its funniness almost but not quite overshadows the point it’s making. In a good way let me be clear

Like it’s so ridiculous you almost forget it’s criticizing/interrogating real phenomena that it’s honestly not depicting that absurdly because everything is very very intentional

i like the idea of chell being like. essentially an ordinary uninvolved person as much as she can be just thematically. glados is petty in the way that humans are petty, she chooses insults that are like… low-hanging fruit because of the environment she was cultivated in, so i think it’s both funnier and more thematically resonant if chell is like. Not even a little bit emotionally affected by glados fucking with her she’s just like Get me out of hereeeeee

A lot of people’s theories about this game seem to rely on glados being truthful which is fucking hilarious

woman who is making shit up to fuck with you: I am making shit up to fuck with you gamers: goly FUCK theory #CONFIRMED?????????????

aw hell no not the aperture science ejaculation gel

Wheatley can you quit jacking off over mic. Genuinely discusses me I hope he explodes

I do not want him to experience pleasure in any form much less as a result of my actions

The fucked up turretcubes are very cute though. Like hermitcrabs

Oh hey it’s the part where he kills me

this is a really good visual gag

Genuinely how does anyone admit to wanting to fuck wheatley how is that not an incredibly embarrassing thing to admit to

how sexist the adventure sphere is was funny and again it is not common for me to say that. valve just knows what they're doing

She’s holding my hand…

Rent free in her fucking head

Rent. Free.

Literally obsessed with me.

I don’t think it’s supposed to do this but it’s on a black screen with no options and has been for like five minutes and i sat there for the entire five minutes like ‘wow this is so poignant…’

Anyway yeah that kicked ass

[sleepiilemonade]

Guys I love him so much he’s so silly please hear me out

[crybaby-bkg]

wanna bug Toji soooo bad while he’s on the phone. his ass doesn’t have a job so it’s not like he’s discussing important business, but he likes to make it look that way. phone tucked between his shoulder and ear as he uses one hand to rub circles on your exposed thigh, the other flipping through the tv channels. he’s speaking in a low tone, his eyebrows mused together in agitation as he calls the guy on the other line a barrage of insulting names.

and you’re just a simple person—the man looks hot as fuck like that and you just have to bother him. so you do, despite the side eye he gives you when you swing your leg over, foot in the air, right in his face. he swats you away gently before going back to his phone call, bites at your toes when you still try to wiggle them in his face.

"If you think you can lowball me like that, then you're stupider than I thought." Toji grunts to the other man on the phone, distracted once more. a little peeved that his attention isn't on you much anymore, you do what any little conniving imp would do.

you sit on his lap. backwards, facing the TV, looking over your shoulder at him with such an evil little grin that it makes his eyes squint to you in warning. but you've never listened much, especially when you know you'll be rewarded so plentifully in the end.

so you rock your hips, just slightly the first few times. your legs sat on either side of him, hands resting in the space between his legs on the bed, leaning your weight back on his hips that you sit against. instantly, you can feel the swell of him beneath his sweats, feel the thickness that you love to fill you up start to twitch when you circle your hips, grinding them oh so slowly against his covered cock.

when you look over your shoulder again, Toji only stares, the slightest lilt of his lip turning up at the corners. he tries to act unbothered, one arm bent back to rest his head against, the other holding the phone to his ear. but you can see through him, and feel just how bothered he really is.

so you up the ante; start to lift and drop your hips slow, slow, slow at first before the pace begins to build. you lean forward on your elbows, pull your underwear up until the curve of your ass is exposed, gasping from the friction, from the feeling of his cock rubbing so sweetly at your slit through the thin cotton.

you look over your shoulder once more, grinning, biting at your lip as you grind against him, close to completion. he can see it all in your eyes.

"Gonna call you back later. Got some important shit to take care of right now." Toji hangs up without preamble, gaze distant as he focuses on the ever growing spot of your arousal that starts to leak onto his own sweats.

but you're a little minx, with the way you scramble from his grasp before he can catch you, laughing when he snags your ankle to drag you back down. he's suddenly kneeling over you, grin sharp and ferocious, the straining of his cock through his sweats hanging so intimidatingly low, that if you lift your hips just a little, his tip would kiss your clit in the sweetest kiss.

"And where do you think you're going, you little brat?" Toji growls, dropping down to nip at the base of your neck, licking over your pulse point.

"Not letting me off the hook that easy, huh?" you tease, hands splayed beside your head in surrender, just wanting a little bit of the chase before the devouring. and by the look in his eyes, you know you'll only be bones by morning.

"Not in a million years." he promises right before the inevitable pounce.

[ghostbeam]

I am in fact cooking up pilot!touya who’s reckless and arrogant and does not think he needs a handler doesn’t think he needs anything actually he’s his own mechanic no one touches his mech but him he’s gone through so many handlers he’s stopped counting so when u arrive as his newly appointed handler he thinks he’ll give u a week at most except something about u makes him want to keep u around the longer he spends with u and as much as he shows u every rotten inch of himself u don’t run away which is more than anyone’s really ever given him before

[deepseawave]

obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog

Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️

Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D

[lunarblazes]

sometimes i do think about voltz wars and go insane. and that’s okay. it happens,

[bitfruity]

found a template and made my own👀

[21shotglasses]

the amount of hanbins in the kpop industry is slowly increasing. at first it was just ikon hanbin, then the greatly loved iland and then tempest hanbin. and now there are two hanbins in boys planet which i’m positive at least one will make it into the group. these rankings are changing fast but people have loved sung hanbin since the beginning and i think he’s probably gonna get in.

[maskedbyghost]

lets continue our talk about situationship!Simon, where this bitch grovels for monthssss

_______________________________________________

situationship!simon starts sending you text messages. before you could expect something like "you up?" or "come to my office.", but after you broke things off with him, simon started sending you heartfelt text messages, apologizing for his past behavior. “i’ve been thinking a lot about what happened between us,” he texted one night. “i realize now how much i hurt you, and i’m truly sorry, love. i understand if you need space, but i wanted you to know how much i regret everything.”

along with his messages, simon started sending you small but meaningful gifts. he remembered how you’d joked about his tea obsession once and that you’d mentioned you only liked chamomile. to your surprise, he found the best brand of chamomile tea and even packed it in a nice box before delivering it to your room.

he even started to open up more. during a late-night phone call, where you could clearly hear that he was drunk, simon said that he started seeing a therapist. “i’m workin on understandin my issues and changin for the better. i want to be better, not just for you love, but for myself. i hope you can see that i’m tryin to change.”

when you asked him to stop calling you love, he refused. “i can’t help it. you’re mine in a way no one else could be, and i don’t want to pretend otherwise.”

as simon keeps showing up with gifts and heartfelt messages, you can’t help but wonder if he’s being real or if he’s just trying to win you back before breaking your heart again.

you still go on dates with other people, and simon is tormented every time he sees you leaving the base in those pretty dresses—dresses he wishes were just for him. he follows you, quietly lurking in the corners of the restaurants or bars where you’re out with your dates. oddly enough, most of the guys you go out with either get transferred to another base or stop calling you after just one date, and you’re doing your best not to blame simon for it. but you know it's him. and he is not sorry at all.

almost every day, simon texts you, asking you out on dates and planning special things for the who of you. all you have to do is say yes, but each time, you refuse. it breaks his heart every time, but it also makes him more determined to try even harder. he knows he deserves this treatment from you.

back when you and simon used to train together on base, it was a special routine you both enjoyed. now, you’ve started asking other guys to help you with exercises, and it drives him wild with jealousy. watching their hands on you makes him see red. after your training sessions with them, simon invites these guys to spar with him. it quickly becomes clear that he’s using these sparring matches as a chance to take out his frustration and anger, landing a few extra hits just to make his point.

despite everything, you still won’t budge, and it’s only making simon more frustrated. the truth is, it’s becoming harder and harder for you to resist him. his persistence is wearing you down, and the more he pushes, the more you find yourself struggling to stay strong.

simon invites you to one of his therapy sessions, saying his therapist thinks it would be helpful for him and his progress. during the session, he opens up about his struggles and insecurities, laying everything bare. as he talks, you start to feel sympathy for him. it’s clear he’s determined to change and work on himself, and you see how genuine his efforts are.

one night, you were preparing tea in the kitchen when a girl you know from the base asked for simon’s number. she mentioned she was interested in him, which made you jealous. you snapped at her, making it clear that he would never be interested in a girl like her. simon overheard the whole thing and couldn’t help but smirk to himself. it was clear you still had feelings for him, and he took a bit of satisfaction in that.

later that night he sent one simple message to you: "that's my girl. i belong to you, and you only."

after that message, simon stepped up his game. he started sending you lots of sweet texts and little gifts, and even took care of some of your paperwork. it was hard to ignore how much he was trying, and you found it tougher to resist him as he kept showing you how much he cared.

a few months after managing to ignore simon as best as you could, you caught a nasty cold and were stuck in your room. you only texted price to let him know you needed a few days off because you were sick, and got back in your bed trying to sleep that cold off. a few hours later, as you were still trying to fall asleep, you heard your door open. simon walked in, carrying a bunch of bags, a worried look on his face.

“i came as soon as I could,” simon said, worry in his voice. “i brought you soup and medicine.”

simon didn’t leave your side for days. he only went back to his room to grab more clothes and shower. he was insistent on helping you with everything, even assisting you with your showers in the most respectful way possible of course. he’d sit in a chair next to your bed, and you felt a pang of guilt seeing how much he was giving up for you. you even tried to convince him to go get some rest, but despite your protests, he somehow ended up in your bed, gently spooning you as you slept.

simon would whisper sweet things in your hair, thinking you were asleep. you heard every word as he softly talked about how much he missed you, how sorry he was for everything, and how he wanted to make things right. even though you were sick and exhausted, his words touched you deeply.

once you were feeling better, you found simon sitting alone in a common room, lost in thought. you approached him quietly and gently kissed the side of his face. with a soft smile, you whispered, “take me on that date you promised.”

_______________________________________________

@daydreamerwoah

[eclips-moon]

The Batboys being clingy headcanon:

Including Duke and Bruce <3

Hope you guys like it!

Tim Drake Tim’s clinginess is low-key, but it’s also constant. He’s the type to text you “What’s up? I miss you <3” while you’re just sitting 5 feet away from him. If you so much as stand up to go get a snack, he’s immediately there, like, “Where are you going? Don’t leave me.” He’ll lean against you, his hand finding yours without him even realizing it. When you're watching TV or reading, he’s definitely leaning into your side, trying to get as close as possible without being too obvious. But if you move to shift positions? Nope, he’s following you. He’ll slip his arm around your waist, all like, “Don’t think I didn’t notice that.” He’s not a big PDA guy, but when it’s just the two of you? Prepare for cuddles, hand-holding, and small, random kisses. He’s gotta be touching you constantly.

Jason Todd Jason is obsessive, no doubt. He’s that partner who’ll try to act like he’s tough and independent, but the moment you show him any kind of affection, he’s all over you. Like, you can’t just hug him. No. He’ll climb into your lap and basically trap you there, rubbing his face into your neck like a cat. He’s gonna constantly ask for kisses, too, but not just little pecks—he wants full-on, deep kisses where he can pull you close and remind you that you’re his. If you’re doing something, like, working or even hanging out with friends, he’ll try to drag you away, be like, “Hey, come hang out with me, stop ignoring me for two seconds.” He’s possessive, but in the cutest way, constantly needing your attention. If you even talk to another person for too long, he’ll give them side-eye and pull you back to him like, “You good? You’re not gonna leave me for some random guy, are you?” He’s also the type to cling to you in bed, hogging the covers and curling up like a human koala.

Dick Grayson Dick’s clingy energy is pure gold. He’s the most affectionate of the bunch and doesn’t shy away from public displays of love. He loves hugging you from behind, nuzzling into your neck, and just randomly planting kisses all over your face. He’ll text you “miss you <3” every few hours when you’re apart, and when you’re together? It’s all about touch. He’s sitting on your lap, or leaning on your shoulder, or pulling you into his chest just because he needs to be close to you. If you’re watching a movie, he’s definitely going to have his head in your lap, just to be as close to you as humanly possible. He gets giddy when he gets attention from you, too. You could be playing with his hair, and he’ll melt. He’ll whine like, “I’m not clingy, you’re clingy. But also, I love it. So don’t stop.” Honestly, Dick doesn’t care if he’s acting like a bit of a puppy—he’s obsessed with you, and he makes sure you know it.

Damian Wayne Damian’s clingy moments are hilariously dramatic. He might start out cold, acting like he doesn’t need anyone, but as soon as you show him any affection? He’s all in. He’ll randomly grab your hand and hold it like it’s the most important thing in the world. If you try to walk away from him for whatever reason, he’ll growl and pull you back in, like, “Where are you going? You’re staying right here.” He has this whole vibe of “I don’t need anyone else, just you”, so if you’re talking to someone else or looking away from him for too long, he’ll wrap his arm around your waist and be like, “I don’t think you should be talking to them. They might steal you away from me.” In bed? He’s a hug monster, wrapping his arms around you like he’s never letting you go. He’s all about the intimacy, though—when it’s just the two of you, he’ll be soft and surprisingly vulnerable, making sure you know that he needs you more than he lets on.

Duke Thomas Duke is lowkey super clingy, but in the way that’s goofy and endearing. He loves to follow you around, like, just wherever you go, he’s tagging along. You’re going to the kitchen? He’s there. To grab something from the laundry room? He’s there. If you sit down, he’s sitting on the floor next to you, asking if you want to “cuddle and watch dumb shows together.” He’s always finding excuses to touch you—like, his hand will just casually rest on your knee or he’ll come up behind you and play with your hair. And if you don’t give him attention? He’ll pout, even if he’s trying to play it off, like, “Aren’t you gonna give me a kiss? C’mon, don’t leave me hanging.” He’s the type who’ll give you a silly smile, lean in for a kiss, and then pull you into a full-on hug like, “Don’t go. I’m not done with you yet.” He’s all about the hugs, especially after a long day. You’ll be just chilling, and suddenly he’s like, “Hug time, right? Let me get one.”

Bruce Wayne Now, Bruce is not the type to openly admit he’s clingy. He’s still the stoic, brooding billionaire who’s been through a lot, but when it’s just the two of you? He’s softer than anyone expects. He’ll always make sure you’re physically close—his hand on your lower back, your legs touching when you sit next to him, and if he’s standing near you, his hand will casually rest on your arm. When you’re working late or doing something serious, Bruce will occasionally pull you away for a few minutes just to kiss you or hold you close. He’s not great at asking for attention, but when he’s feeling clingy, he’ll show you through little gestures. You’ll find him just sitting beside you in silence, just content to be in your presence. He’s a man of few words, but when he’s clingy, it’s all about the touch—the way he holds your hand, how he presses his shoulder to yours, and how he’ll insist on driving you home or waiting up for you, just to make sure you’re safe.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “HOLD UP, POSE!” ── .✦ ( model!reader x batboys s/o kinda requested ˚⟡˖ )

a/n: so sorry for the break and how i traumatized half of you guys with my rant (if I suffer you gonna do too && let’s move on now ) and it’s lowkeyy funny ngl but omgg, I’m finally back though soo yeah but I’m finally taking requests again for a bit too so about that yeah and also make sure to go vote on the poll, we’re at 600+ votes already for my 1k event!! Tags: (batboys x model!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Your biggest fan, no contest. He has a folder on his phone labeled “My Gorgeous Girl” filled with all your magazine covers, runway shots, and candid photos he’s sneakily taken of you (even the ones where you’re eating pizza in sweats).

Loves to drop the fact that you’re a model into conversations. Someone says something even remotely related, and Dick is like, “Oh, that reminds me of the time yn walked for Valentino. She looked stunning. Anyway, how’s your dog?”

Flirty but lowkey jealous. He’s all smiles at your shoots, but if a photographer or fellow model gets a little too friendly, he’ll sidle up behind you, wrap an arm around your waist, and casually go, “Hey, babe, everything good here?”

Runs your fan page in secret. He denies it every time, but you know it’s him posting like archive photos of you? with captions like, “Truly the most breathtaking woman alive.”

Always hypes you up. You’re stressing before a runway show? He’s holding your hands, looking you dead in the eyes, and saying, “You’re going to kill it, just like always. They’re not ready for you.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Pretends not to care, but he’s secretly obsessed. You’ll catch him flipping through your magazines with a bored expression, but the dog-eared pages of all your spreads say otherwise.

Gets grumpy when he has to share you with the world. “Do you really have to fly to Milan again? Can’t they get someone else to wear the fancy coat?” But he’s the first one to text you after your show with a “You looked amazing. Miss you, though.”

Always lurking at your events. He doesn’t do red carpets, but you’ll spot him in the back of the after-party, leaning against a wall with a drink in hand, watching you like you’re the only person in the room.

Jealous but funny about it. If a male model gets paired with you for a shoot, Jason will grumble, “You know I could wear that suit better, right?”

Says he doesn’t care about fashion but definitely critiques it. “They put you in that? Really? That’s what they think is high fashion?” (Meanwhile, he still owns a leather jacket he’s had since he was 17.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The low-key proud boyfriend. Tim doesn’t brag about you… unless someone else brings it up. Then it’s a full PowerPoint presentation: “Oh, you didn’t know she walked the Paris Fashion Week finale? Let me show you.”, “it’s not that serious Tim.”

Forgets how famous you are sometimes. He’s so focused on his work that when he accompanies you to an event, he’s always surprised when people scream your name. “Wow, they’re… really excited to see you, huh?”

Pretends to be chill but panics at your shoots. If you’re wearing something too revealing, Tim’s sitting in the corner like, “Does she really need to wear that? I mean, it’s fashion, I guess, but still…”

Shows up to all your shows with coffee. He knows your schedule can be brutal, so he always has your favorite drink ready and a warm smile. “Long day, huh? Here, you’ve earned this.”

Accidentally goes viral as your boyfriend. Someone snaps a picture of him holding your bag while you’re doing a fitting, and now he’s trending as “hot model’s mystery man.” Or “Drake Spotted With L/N?”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks modeling is beneath you. Not because he doesn’t support you, but because he genuinely thinks you’re too good for it. “Tt. Why waste your time parading around in someone else’s designs when you could rule the world instead?”

Still shows up to your shows like a proud dad. He won’t admit it, but he’s ridiculously proud of you. He’ll sit front row, arms crossed, looking annoyed until you walk out. Then his face softens, and he claps (but only once).

Hates everyone in the industry. Photographers, stylists, agents—he side-eyes them all. “Do they have to touch you so much?”

Quietly supportive in his own way. You come home exhausted, and he’s already brewed your favorite tea and laid out your comfiest pajamas. “You should rest. You’ve worked hard enough today.”

Keeps all your clippings. You find a scrapbook in his study filled with your covers, tear sheets, and event photos. When you ask him about it, he just mutters, “I didn’t want them getting lost.” And even keeps some fan letters that you keep or lost along the way.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Thinks it’s “adorable.” Bruce can’t help but chuckle whenever you mention your modeling career. “You really enjoy this, don’t you?” But he’s not teasing he genuinely admires how passionate you are.

Surprisingly knowledgeable about fashion. He knows every major designer, can spot couture from a mile away, and will occasionally surprise you by saying things like, “That’s Galliano, isn’t it? From the ‘06 collection?”

Makes every event feel like a power couple moment. When you walk a red carpet together, it’s like the world collectively gasps. He keeps his hand on your back, whispers sweet nothings, and makes sure you’re the center of attention.

Defends your career to anyone who dares question it. Someone makes a snide remark about modeling being “shallow,” and Bruce immediately shuts them down with, “Actually, it’s an incredibly demanding profession that requires both discipline and skill. You should try it sometime.”

Buys your agency. You’re stressed about a bad contract or a difficult agent? Suddenly, Wayne Enterprises owns the company, and Bruce is like, “Problem solved. You can thank me later.”

[stellawish]

the sweetest thing

i’m just obsessed with dad!gojo :> genre: fluff, domestic life pairing: dad!gojo x mom!reader

"...3, 4, 5. Here are our little fingers! Om-nom-nom!" You hear your son giggled. Seeing his reaction, Satoru continued, "Mmm so delicious! Ah, those cheeks! I’m gonna eat them now" He poked the baby's cheeks and began to smooch them. In response, the little boy was covered with another wave of giggles.

Satoru heard you enter the bedroom and turned with a gentle smile. You climbed onto the large bed and lay down on your stomach, right next to them. You gently stroked the soft white hair on your son's head while Satoru continued to shower his plump belly with kisses and tickling. The kid saw you and pulled his chubby little hands in your direction. In his eyes, you saw a plea, help me mommy!

You giggled and touched Satoru's shoulder. He raised his head and looked at you with his rosy cheeks. His lips folded into a smile. He looked absolutely beautiful.

You couldn't resist and reached out to him for a kiss. He met you halfway. Your lips gently touched. The kiss expressed gratitude for the gift of happiness and love. Your hand lightly stroked his shoulder.

In the background your baby cooed, and you briefly separated. You pecked his lips once more and then turned your attention to your little boy. His long white eyelashes fluttered a couple of times, and he smiled toothlessly at you, exposing his dimples.

You poked his chubby cheek with your finger and cooed, "Aren't you the cutest baby in the whole world?" He caught your finger in his little palm and squealed. Satoru lightly tickled his exposed tummy, and the baby giggled

"Satoru, stop pestering him! My poor baby," you exclaimed.

He whined back, "But babe, I can't! Look at him! Our baby is so cute and so squishy I wanna eat him." To prove his words, Gojo bit the little boy's chubby thigh. Your baby squeaked.

Maybe it's biased, but you do think that your baby is the most precious baby you've ever seen.

You cooed while kissing his little hand. "You look so much like Daddy! I carried you in my tummy for 9 months, but even shape of your nails are exactly like his." You feigned resentment and pouted.

Satoru wrapped his right arm around you and continued to whine."But baby, is it so bad that he looks like me? Look." He moved his face closer to his son’s and said,

"Look, aren’t we the cutest thing you've ever seen in your life?" His eyebrows expressed sadness, but you could see mischief in his blue eyes.

He batted his white eyelashes a couple of times, and his pink lips twitched and stretched into a wide smile; his dimples became even more noticeable. To his left, the exact same smiling eyes, thin nose, and dimples looked at you.

Of course, it was the sweetest thing you've ever seen.

more dad!gojo HERE

hey guys! this is my first work here so please be nice) English isn’t my first language so there could be some grammar errors etc.

dividers by 2. @enchanthings

all rights reserved ©stellawish. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[tryingtofindava]

OMG , OMG, Are you an expert in creepypasta, I want to give you my request If you don't mind ... May i've a request for Jeff the killer,ticcy toby , Laughing Jack ( if you write for him ) and eyeless Jack please?!

With sweet fem s/o who don't know they are serial killers and only give them affection (like kisses every day) NSFW

Preatty please, love you baby

── 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 & 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭! 𝐒/𝐎

: ̗̀➛Back to Source

INCLUDES: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, and Eyeless Jack.

srry pookie bear not touching the nsfw today :c might come back to this idea later with just NSFW tho >:)

╰┈➤ 𝐉𝐞𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

You definitely got his eye when he first saw you, immediately taking in your sweet bubbly aura. (You were definitely on his bucket list of victims after he stalked you for a bit)

But one day, he got a little too cocky and you caught him. And to his surprise you didn’t seem to mind at all when you found this questionable looking stranger stalking around outside your bedroom window.

You’re guys difference in aesthetic in personality is what made you guys hit it off. YOU GUYS ARE THE DEFINITION OF SUNSHINE X MOON.

He thinks you’re too sweet to actually be sweet tbh, but you never fail to prove him wrong.

He’s cocky and arrogant, and the god complex on this man is UNBELIEVABLE… The only reason you’re alive in his head is because he was gracious enough to let you continue with your life. Not that he’d tell you that ofc!!

“Do you think I’m beautiful?”

“Of course, you’re so handsome!!”

He likes that you agree he’s beautiful for sure. (He fishes for compliments all the time, anything to stroke his ego.)

He’s possessive, and borderline obsessive. You’re his. And that’s that.

He takes you where he wants, when he wants. The woods? Yep. The shitty convenience store toilets? Double yep yep. Anywhere you guys could get caught in general? YUP.

Double life points because you don’t even know he’s a literal serial killer, like, even though all the signs and red flags are there.

When you guys started to date, he did soften up a bit, not as cruel and mean. But only a little bit. He LIVES for the surprise kisses.

Typa guy who’d ask ‘where’s my hug at?’

╰┈➤𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐲

This boy THRIVES off how sweet you are, it all works in his favour really. Your house is like his hide out spot, away from his… ‘work’ and honestly just everything.

You’re his safe space. His home.

He does think you’re a bitty dull though, and he often wonders how long his ‘I’m a hunter’ excuse will work.

He’d try his very hardest to keep you a secret from the others, but his Tourette’s to make him tic and stutter put your name and nicknames. Which definitely raises some questions on who this ‘Y/n’ and ‘Schatz’ is.

“A-a-and then he- Y/n- fuh-fuck…”

Please, please, please help him through his episodes and tic attacks. He’ll cherish you forever and ever. (He already did but it’s set in stone now.)

He likes that you’re nice to him, he feels so super duper special that he’s getting love and affection, him! Of all ppl!! (poor boy just needs some loving yall)

He’s ECSTATIC when you guys start to date, he’s not very experienced since he’s only dated Clockwork (my beloved) BUT HE’S A FAST LEARNER AND PICKS UP ON EVERYTHING QUICKLY!! ^^

He was so super shocked when you started giving him little kisses here and there, and it soon becomes a game of who can get the most surprise kisses in a day. (He’s proper pouncing on you to get to ur neck)

╰┈➤ 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤

When you guys first met, it was around 9pm. It was dark outside, the street lamps Turing on one by one. We’re carrying home some grocery bags, and when you bumped into a tall, dark and mysterious man with an eerie mask… you immediately compliment his cosplay.

“Ohhh, cool cosplay!!”

“What…?”

Okiii, so anyways you guys are dating now<3

He’s a sneaky one for sure, out of him, Toby and Jeff, he’s the best at keeping what he does a secret. Not that’d you’d notice either way but… yh.

He’s a possessive bastard like Jeff though, he worries about how sweet you are to everyone, he’d hate if someone were to upset you or even worse, hurt you… (And if they do he’d take care of them for you)

He likes that you don’t question his grey skin, empty eye sockets, the sharp teeth, 3 tongues, and ESPECIALLY the tar dripping from where his eyes should be. Less work for him to make up excuses.

But, that doesn’t stop you from questioning his eating habits…

Always questioning him and lecturing him of he shouldn’t feast on raw ‘animals’. Yeah… you bet your ass he’s not telling you about the cannibal or demon thing. And it’s gonna stay like that.

You’re too sweet and pure to him to be revealed to the horrors that is himself. How he longs to be in a universe with you were he can be normal so you guys could live the white picket fence life style.

But, he doesn’t get that. But at least he gets you all to himself, demon or not.

He’s more stunned by your surprise kisses against his mask, but he does find it adorable, how couldn’t he? The way you lean up on your tippy toes with puckered lips. He can’t help himself but slide his mask up and take you right then and there.

wowee was this long, can u tell I had to get this out of my system:3

[thesacrificialdove]

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 2.3k words obsessive naga x f!reader — ko-fi | patreon | masterlist | inbox | taglist | home | req. & comms

tags two cocks, hypnosis, kidnapping, dub-con, praise kink, light sub naga, oviposition, breeding kink, aftermath of mind control, altered memories

—📜" Making your way back to the campsite, a kind stranger guides you back to where you're needed. With him

Recounting your steps would be futile. It’s best for you to leave fate like this.

It got dark too quickly and you still haven’t traversed your way back to the camp. A short trip to your van for some extra supplies became a longer task than you anticipated it to. You can barely see the sun anymore. The trees start to look the same. Your lamp feels like it’s about to go out any second now. 

The camping materials hold you back severely. Your shoulder aches and the cooler in both of your hands are heavy. Watching the sunset, you drop the cooler below a landmark tree. Four scratches. You don’t exactly know what caused those scratches, but whoever did it, they marked your path back to your friends.

With a sigh, you bend over to carry the cooler again—

“You need help with that?”

The cooler drops to your feet, making you scream out. The person, who materialised out of nowhere, comes up to you. “Sorry, are you okay? I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The man looks concerned. His eyebrows furrow as he stares at you. It’s alright. It’s just… someone.

“Oh,” you say, wincing as you hold yourself up against a tree. “I’m alright, I guess. Are you, uh, camping here too?”

He smiles. His teeth are white and he has little fangs like your little sister. It’s cute. “Yeah, just by the lakeside,” he says.

You haven’t seen another tent on the lake. You’d know since you and your friends are stationed there. Maybe he’s more camouflaged. “Oh, uh, actually, me and my friends are there too. If it’s not too much of a bother…—”

“You want me to take you there?” he says, practically reading your mind. “Yeah. It’s getting dangerous out at night.” He approaches you, looking around the forest with cautious eyes. “Let me lead the way, yeah? Just follow me and you won’t get lost.”

You nod. He doesn’t look away from you and you don’t either. When he turns to the path, you follow his figure closely. You feel lighter now. The equipment doesn’t seem so heavy anymore… Did you forget something?

He asks you, “You guys staying for long?”

“Ah, well, for a bit. We leave tomorrow morning.”

“Really?” he laughs. “I’ve already been here a while and I never wanna leave,” he jokes. You think that to be true. He turns to look back at you, seeing as you struggle behind him. He reaches out, “Let me get that for you so that you won’t worry about carrying anything.”

You nod. Your backpack, your lamp, all of it goes to him. He smiles as you catch up to him.

You think you’re reaching the lake right about now. You remember seeing another landmark earlier. You think you were supposed to take a turn—but he hasn’t, right? He knows where to go. He knows what to do. You should trust him. You should trust him.

The night looks darker. Did the lamp run out?

He’s not holding anything. He’s not looking at you anymore.

“Hey,” you call out, looking around, “Are we…?”

“Yeah, we’re almost there,” he assures. “Come on. Hurry now. I can hear your friends from here.”

You don’t hear them. The wind threatens the both of you for a moment, the breeze coming along with it. He takes your hand to guide you forward. You think you hear them now.

There’s something in the distance. It looks like a cave. “Ri-i-ight over there,” he drags out, hands in his pockets as you both stand outside of it. “Your friends are calling for you there.”

It’s too dark to see them. It must be later in the night now. You can hear their voices. They’re calling for you. They’re calling your name. You can hear them so vividly. Get in the cave.

Get in the cave.

Get in the cave.

Listen to me.

Get in the cave.

Darkness envelops you with each step forward. They’re closer now. The footsteps behind you feel distant. Yet, you feel the warmth of a body pressed against you. You can feel the air against your neck, like soft whispers and heavy breathing.

You call out one of your friend’s names. It echoes in the cave.

“They’re here, sweetheart,” someone whispers behind you. He's the kind man. “It’s getting late. You need to change into sleepwear, hm? Take your bottoms off for me.”

There’s nothing you can see in the dark. You feel around for your pants as you start to unbutton them. Another pair of hands come to hold yours, guiding you where to pull and where to unzip. It helps you take them off.

“You look very nice,” you’re lowered to the ground, “sweetheart, you look very nice. Can you lay on your front for me?”

The kind man allows you to the cold floor. You feel nice. Just a bit sleepy. He keeps you up with his hands going up and down your body. “Wish you could see yourself,” he says, pushing your top up—revealing your chest—” you look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

You can hear something in the background. It sounds almost terrifying. Like the sounds of rubber stretching, the peeling of the skin, and small little grunts that echo throughout. Still, you’re soothed by the kind man who shushes you calmly.

“It’s alright, I just wanna…” he trails off, shifting you around so you’re laying on—something. It’s smooth yet hard beneath you. It’s cold, too cold. “...sweetheart?”

Has he been calling your name the entire time? You can’t really speak. You try to open your mouth but it’s too heavy. You’re lightheaded.

“It’s okay, just wanted to make sure you’re still here,” he says, “I wanna ask you something, just nod or shake your head, yeah?”

You nod.

“Do you like your friends?”

You nod.

“Do you truly want to see them again?”

You nod.

“Then can you help me out? Just for a moment, just for a little while.”

…You nod.

His chuckle is all you hear before he pulls you up. You can hear something dragging behind him. Once you’re pressed against the wall, you continue to hear it as something slides against you. You can’t move. You can’t feel your arms. 

The panic settles in and he’s trying so hard to keep you calm. He whispers unintelligible things to you as something goes tighter, almost making you unable to breathe. It’s tight against your stomach and your shoulders. You can still feel your legs but you can’t move them. You won’t. You won’t move them.

“Stay still,” he says. “Just help me since I helped you, okay? Just one small thing.

“I need to mate with you,” the coils around you tighten, “I need to use you for a while and I promise I’ll return you to your friends. Just make me good for a bit, okay? You got that, sweetheart?”

You let out a little noise. He doesn’t say more as you feel air caress your now bare cunt. It surprises you. “I’ll try to prepare you.”

Something prods against your hole. It’s dry but you feel that you’ve already started leaking. He moans, “Already feeling good? I’m so glad. You’re gonna enjoy this, I promise.”

It pushes inside of you. Your breath gets choked out of you as you feel it massaging deep inside of you. Your legs shake as you struggle with it constantly rubbing against your G-spot. It’s playing it so easily that you can’t help but moan.

“Doing so good for me,” he says, his voice suddenly on your neck as the coils around you loosen. “Gonna put another in.”

He’s true to his word. Another thing goes inside your pussy and now you’re being scissored open. Your legs quiver hard. “So fucking wet,” he moans, “I wanna put my cocks inside of you. I wanna keep you with my eggs stuck inside. Fu-u-u-uck..!”

You cry out as the things inside of you fuck you. It thrusts relentlessly and makes you accustomed to the feeling of being stretched wide. It’s driving you crazy how it reaches so deep inside of you like an actual cock.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, the thing inside of you pulling away. “I’m so sorry. I need to fuck you. I’m about to fucking burst and it hurts!”

You’re pulled up a little before something wet touches you. You moan, the slickness of it cold and almost uncomfortable. He whines in your ears as it rubs between your folds desperately.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you with my cock, okay?” he says, something—his cock spreading slickness all over your cunt. “I’ll be gentle later. But you’re so good for me, so pliant, so fucking delicious—!”

He gets cut off by both of your moans. You scream out as you feel his cock stretch you. His fingers aren’t enough as you feel him split you open. The heat inside of you is warming you from the inside out, threatening to burn you alive.

“O-oh,” he moans, the coils tightening you, “that’s only one cock. I can’t wait to feel your ass on my other one.”

You don’t get to process his words as the coils around you guide you up and down on his cock. You’re stuck moaning without a name. His cock feels like your entire first, punching you in and out without mercy as he chases his orgasm.

In front of you, he’s panting. He’s going mad with the feeling of being inside of you. Every part of him feels like it's losing as you clench around him, unaccustomed to his size.

“So… tight~!” he moans, thrusting his hips along, “so fucking good. I wanna feel you take all of me. I wanna see you carrying my eggs so much. I wanna fill you up please..!”

He’s mumbling incoherent things as something slaps you from your behind. It feels like his other cock. You don’t panic. Instead, you feel tenfold the arousal as it pokes you at your dry rear.

It doesn’t push in. You know he’s disappointed with the way he’s crying out as he fucks your pussy harder.

“...so much. Wanna fill you up so much,” he moans, a sound coming from the back of his throat like a hiss. “I need to train you on my cock and make you never wanna leave. You’ll never need anyone else but me! Only—only me!

“Fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart.” His hips don’t stutter as you’re being suffocated again. You’re dizzy. You can feel yourself losing air in your brain as your cunt gets railed over and over again. The buds inside of you are getting rubbed to their most sensitive degree as you can feel him in your stomach. It’s jarring. It’s terrifying.

It’s so fucking good.

You wanna stay here forever.

You wanna be trained on his cock

You never wanna leave.

You never need anything but him

Only him.

A cry escapes your throat as you squirt all over his cock. Your spams doesn’t make him stop. “Oh, fuck, you’re so cute!” he says, “you’re shaking. You’re—you’re so tight around me. I’m gonna make you a momma. You’ll never be able to let go of me after this, sweetie. You’re going to want me forever.”

Least expecting it, his cocks stretch you further. You let out a meek noise as it struggles to push something in. “N…no more,” you sob, your walls pushing against it as it tries to make itself home.

“It’s okay,” he hushes. You can feel his arms around you as the coils loosen. “Take a deep breath for me. You’re doing so good.” It pushes in more. “Be a good girl. Be a good momma, okay? Come on, take it!”

He thrusts into you one last time and you scream as something gets pushed inside. You pant, feeling something heavy stretch you inside. It feels like you’re throbbing inside. It feels like a heartbeat

“That’s so good, you’re so good. Such a good girl.”

For the first time, he kisses you. The first thing you feel is his tongue pushing against your lips. It fucks your mouth open as you feel it slither. It’s long and thicker than at least three of your fingers.

You gag. You can feel it against the back of your throat and you struggle to take it in. He tasted sweet. Is it supposed to taste this sweet?

He moans on top of you as he rubs his cock inside of you, pushing the thing inside of you a little deeper. He pulls out of the kiss and you’re left with a drool connecting the both of you. “Mmm, sweetheart, you taste so good. Do I taste good?”

He does. You nod lazily as your head falls into his shoulders. He laughs as he strokes your back. “It’s okay. I’m satisfied for now. I’m sorry I rushed, okay? When you come back next time, I’ll be more gentle. I’ll even make a nest for you and our child.”

Before your brain can catch up, you’re falling into the sweet comfort of his arms.

When you wake up, your friend ushers you awake.

“Get the fuck up, sleepyhead!” she yells. “You’ve been asleep for hours, we need to go soon!”

You groan, unwilling to wake up. Your body feels so sore. The sleeping bag wasn’t the best for camping, you’d guess. What a waste of purchase.

Outside, the birds are chirping and the sounds of the river are soothing. You’re gonna miss this place, not gonna lie. It’s like something would die in you if you were to leave. Then again, you’re very dramatic.

Your name is called. “Hey! Help me bring this stupid ass cooler! Jacob’s already carrying the other one.”

You put it up against your arms. Huh. You feel like you got a moment of déjà vu. It’s probably nothing. You shake your head, trying to get rid of the morning fog in your head.

Fuck. You think you need to check in at a hospital. You can barely walk and your stomach feels heavy. Maybe get someone to check in on you—...

No.

You can’t do that.

You can’t let anyone touch you down there.

Just need to return to the lake after a month and you’ll be good as new.

do not redistrubute this work as yours/without permission or feed to AI 📷 art by @ go_h_og