#he ate his desire but like that was his personality so I think it counts

[dunmeshistash]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 91 - Laios & The Demon

[inkedbybarnes]

unclear

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: everyone thinks you're dating bucky, except yourself.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ minors dni. miscommunication (i love this trope, sue me), angst with a happy fluffy ending, quite stubborn reader, implied smut if you squint, usage of petnames such as baby and doll. lowercase for basically everything.

i haven't finished anything in decades, but i suddenly had an idea just now and decided to write it down. surprisingly, i finished it? might have a lot of mistakes and such since i haven't proofread it yet. also, sorry for using lowercase for this, i kinda like how it looks. hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“you're confusing me. so... you're not dating bucky?”

wanda tilted her head, confusion etched on her face as you spent your weekly girl's night with natasha. it usually consisted of eating food you all desired, drinking until you got wasted, and spilling secrets to one another.

although tonight, you weren't sure if you had any secrets to spill.

"as far as i know, no. we're just friends, teammates. nothing else," you answered with a heavy sigh. "can we talk about something else?"

"hold your horses, young lady! we are not skipping this topic again. you obviously want a label but he isn't giving you one!" wanda protested. she has been constantly asking about you and bucky's relationship for the past weeks, and you always had the same answer. you don't know.

"have you never talked about it with bucky? he looks at you like you'd get lost if he looks away for a second. not a single soul in the tower would think that you're just friends," natasha interjected, taking another sip from the bottle of beer she held. she had a point, as always. "if he's just playing with you, which i highly doubt for barnes, then just end whatever that is. you deserve better than having doubts and confusion, babe."

you've tried asking him multiple times, but every attempt felt like you were stepping on his boundaries. after years of being controlled by hydra, you knew it was possible that he'd hate the feeling of being rushed and entering a relationship that could potentially feel like a cage to him.

but natasha was right. your "relationship" was no longer anything friendly. he sleeps in your bed, claiming he slept better in it, and wakes up beside you to shower you with kisses. none of you even tried to hide it after some time. you always cooked your meals and ate them together, casually feeding one another and stealing kisses in between. you even stopped going on dates and you had no idea if you were exclusive. you deserved to know what your relationship with bucky was, but you were too scared to lose everything once you asked.

"we're not dating. i only see him as a friend, so you can both stop worrying about me." you lied through your teeth, your chest aching as you realised how stupid this was. you sighed and faked a smile, shifting the attention to natasha. "so, tell me about your date with steve! how was the first ever date of captain america since the 40s?"

wanda was distracted by the question, immediately bombarding the now blushing widow with questions. on the other hand, your mind flew away for a minute, finally deciding to get an answer from bucky.

the annual ball that tony stark held for, well, nearly anyone, was nearing. you only had two weeks left, and you haven't even gone out to find something to wear. it was hard to find any motivation to do all that effort when the person you've been waiting to ask you as his date hasn't asked you yet.

although, bucky had a tendency to get shy and hold back. you knew that. so here you were, standing behind the doors to the gym, knowing that bucky would be training at this hour. you still haven't asked him the question you were supposed to ask him, so you decided to do it all at once.

after you've finished your small pep talk, you opened the door to enter the room and your first instinct was to search for bucky.

considering that he was a huge chunk of a man, he was easy to find. however, the sight of him standing in front of a woman that was too close for your comfort wasn't delightful.

he didn't see you entering the room since he was facing the opposite direction, conversing with the agent that happened to be training as well. she had the sweetest and flirtiest smile on her face, bringing her hand up to his arm, slowly caressing it. you didn't mean to easily hear their conversation as you walked closer.

"so, do you happen to have someone for me to have as a date for the ball? i don't want to be lonely on that night, sergeant," the agent said with an extra pout, swaying her hips side to side like a child asking for candy.

"oh, yeah? i think i have someone for you," bucky replied, breaking your heart into pieces with how enthusiastic he was with his answer. "i'm sure you'll—"

you sniffed. unconsciously. not knowing that your tears were already falling, causing your nose to get stuffy. how pathetic, you thought.

your little sniff caught the attention of both the agent and bucky, looking at you in shock. although, the girl was more pleasantly surprised than the opposite. thankfully, you already had your tears wiped before they could see them.

"oh, we didn't see you there!" she greeted you with your name. "we were just talking about our date for this year's ball. who are you bringing?"

"i haven't decided yet, no one's worth it even if i try," you answered bitterly. "so you're going together?"

before bucky could answer, the agent already had her arm wrapped around his, happily smiling at your question. "yeah! amazing, right? i actually thought you two had a thing, but i guess not. glad things worked out in the end."

and that was your last straw. "well, enjoy yourselves. i have to go and find natasha."

you turned to leave, ignoring the loud calls of bucky. you were glad that you never asked him about your relationship and the ball. you were going to be hurt either way.

you spent the next hours stuck in your room, body covered with a thick sheet as you ranted about your frustrations to friday.

it was silly, you knew that, but you refused to call natasha and wanda to remind you of your stupidity and decided to let an ai robot listen to your problems instead.

"and he even flirted back! answering coyly like a teenager. he's 107 years old, fri!" you whined, not noticing the new nickname you've given the alternative intelligence. "ugh, now i have a broken heart and no date in sight. how did it get to this?"

"perhaps you must discuss this matter with sergeant barnes first. your conversation ended quite abruptly with no clear conclusion."

"no, i don't want the truth rubbed on my face," you said, grabbing another piece of tissue to sneeze in. "you restricted him from entering my room, right?"

friday answered with a yes, then you thanked her for listening and decided to get some sleep after tirelessly crying for hours. you knew you had a team meeting with the avengers in a bit, but you couldn't bring yourself to even walk a few steps.

your sleep ended and you were woken up with friday's reminder that it was time for dinner with the team.

with a groan, you pushed yourself off your bed. bucky would be there, but you were too hungry to care. it would be awkward, of course, but you had to face him at some point anyway.

your feet padded towards the door, opening it after trying your hair in a bun.

"ah, fuck."

you jumped at the voice and the body falling to the floor as you opened the door.

"bucky?" you asked, still in shock. "were you sleeping outside of my room?"

you watched bucky stand up, his hand massaging his aching nape as he looked for your eyes. "friday won't let me in. i waited outside instead. i guess i fell asleep during that," he explained, a frown forming on his face. "did you restrict me from entering our room?"

your eyes widened at his choice of words. our room. he considered your room to be his room as well. while that would've made you melt in an instant, you were still hurt to entertain that possibility.

"this is my room, barnes. not yours, not ours. and yes, i had you restricted because i couldn't face you yet. what do you need anyway?"

"i wanted to see you, talk to you." a flash of pain crossed his eyes. "whatever happened at the gym, it's—"

"bucky, you don't have to explain anything to me. we're just friends. it's my fault i assumed we were something. i just need some time to get over it."

"but i thought we were something as well..." he replied, his voice was almost as quiet as a whisper. "i thought we were dating."

"were we?" you asked, genuinely curious. "we never.. you never said anything. i mean, yeah, i wished it meant something, but i thought you wouldn't want to be trapped in a relationship with me, so i just waited. apparently, i was right and i can't blame you for that."

"right about what? the thing that happened in the gym this morning?" he asked. you nodded in response. "i know it sounds like i was flirting back, well i didn't know at the moment, until i asked steve who was clueless but he called nat to help me out and explained that it looked like i was flirting back. i wasn't. i was just going to suggest sam as a date for her. i would never agree to anyone."

oh. so he just wasn't interested in anyone at all.

"besides this one girl who's constantly been in my head. that's if she'd even give me a chance and say yes. i fucked it up badly before i could even ask her properly."

you knew what hoping got you, but you couldn't help but think that he was talking about you. he'd have to be clueless to say all those things in front of you only for it to be someone else.

"i love you, baby. i should've told you that, i should've made it clear sooner. i'm so sorry i let you have doubts when i could've been reassuring you about what i feel for you."

"bucky..."

"i would never feel trapped with you, doll. only you made me feel so much love and freedom. i'd be a fool to let go of that. i'm sorry it took a few hits and harsh words from natasha to make me realise that i wasn't giving you enough when you deserve everything." he held your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him. you felt breathless, tears threatening to fall but this time it was out of joy. "hydra made sure i had no voice to express myself. now, i'll use it to let you know that i love you so fucking much that it hurts when you're not around. i promise to work on it. if anything like this happens again, ask me, baby. demand things from me. i'll give you everything in a heartbeat."

"even if i ask for your arm?"

he laughed, a sound that was music to your ears. "it's yours baby. although, i do like fucking you with my metal—"

"bucky!" you scolded him, hitting him lightly on the chest.

"sorry, baby. couldn't help it. missed my girl so much."

his girl. you loved hearing that.

"it's only been a few hours. don't be silly," you reminded him, but you knew you also felt the same.

"i miss you even when i don't see you for a second." you couldn't help but laugh at his words. "something funny, doll?"

"sorry, natasha said something similar about you a few days ago," you answered. "i'm sorry for assuming so quickly, bucky. you deserved the chance to explain."

"and you did let me explain. i can't blame you for assuming and getting hurt when i never gave you the confirmation to believe otherwise. don't apologise for it, baby."

"i love you," you said, causing him to grin widely.

"yeah? you love me too?" he asked, a hint of pink tinting his cheeks. "this is official now, right? we're dating?"

you nodded happily, giggling as he landed a kiss to your mouth. "so, you wanna go to the ball with me?"

he kissed you again. "don't. i'm supposed to be asking you that. i had an entire thing prepared for you, i even dragged half of the team to help me out days ago. besides wanda and natasha, of course. couldn't let them tell you about it."

your heart swelled, he was already planning to ask you before all of this misunderstanding happened, and it could've been solved with communication. lesson learned, indeed.

"well hurry because i can't wait to say yes," you playfully threatened him, kissing the tip of his nose until the loud rumble of your stomach interrupted your sweet moment. "ah, right. i was on my way to eat dinner when i opened the door."

bucky laughed, his eyes twinkling witth adoration as he kept his eyes on you. "we can't have you starving, that's for sure. come, let's get you something." he held your hand, and dragged you to the kitchen. he turned to look at you with a playful smile. "wanna cook together like the old times?"

you smiled. "like the old times."

in the middle of your cooking session, you heard whistles and claps along with the footsteps that entered the kitchen. you both turned to find the rest of the team with shit eating grins.

"finally! so is this real or do we need to smack your heads?" tony asked, his hand placed on his hip.

"it's always been real, stark," bucky answered, wrapping his arm around your waist. "except this time, i'm making sure my entire world knows it."

"i think everybody knows you have a thing for each other, barnes." clint added.

"i meant my entire world, not everybody." bucky looked at you with awe. "she's my world."

bucky's answer gained various loud reactions from the team, mostly calling him a cheesy old man and fake gags, but there you were, cheeks heating up as you looked back at him with the same amount of love, if not more.

and he did ask you to be his date to the ball the day after, surprising you with his so-called secret plan.

a year later, he surprised you with a ring as he knelt on one knee.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[jasmines-library]

Would it be too much to request a batsis oneshot, about her knowing how to cook😆 like whenever Alfred is not available he leaves her in charge to help ensure the other family members are eating without buring down the house🤭 also a lil thing u could add is she often visits the manor just to cook cuz Alfred always keeps the kitchen fully stocked with ingredients which means she can cook pretty much anything she desires💜 I just thought it'd be cute to have Bruce be envious of his daughters cooking skills whereas he lacks them🤭

Kitchen Antics

Thanks for requesting! This was cute to write!

Word Count: 1k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

“I still don’t think this is very fair.” Bruce pouted as you slid the plate in front of him.

“Hm?”

“This.” He gestured to the plate that you had served to him, piled to the brim. It had taken you hours to prepare, especially without Alfred’s help, but it was well worth it. “How come Alfred lets you cook and not me. I’m a fully grown adult. I should be allowed to cook a meal for my family.”

“Maybe it’s because you can’t actually cook.” You threw over your shoulder with a smug grin. 

That earnt a snort from Damian which he hid poorly behind a hand. Bruce shot him an unamused look. 

“Can too.” Bruce said. This time you raised a brow as you slid into your seat.

“Oh yeah, because the last time you cooked it turned out great.” Jason rolled his eyes. 

You remember it distinctly. It was one of the first times Alfred was away and had reluctantly let Bruce use the kitchen. He had regretted it the moment he returned because his kitchen was hardly recognisable. And the food Bruce had cooked was less so. If you could even count it as food. It was the furthest thing from edible. Somehow undercooked and burnt to a crisp around the edges at the same time. Even Alfred wasn’t sure how he managed to do that, and he had seen almost everything when baking with the rest of your brothers. It was safe to say that Bruce was no longer allowed in the kitchen after that. So, the responsibility turned to you. 

Alfred had always said you had a natural talent for cooking, though you swore it was because you had the best teacher: You had spent countless hours helping him when you were younger and you were the only person he didn’t seem to physically wince at when you walked into the kitchen. So, naturally when he announced he was leaving this week he entrusted you to make sure the family were fed without the entire manor being burnt down, or being filled with takeout boxes.

Your brothers had tried countless times to worm their way into the kitchen, but you ushered them out every time. They were just as bad as Bruce when it came to cooking. There was one time Damian and Dick had tried to bake a cake to surprise Bruce on his birthday. And it did…when the fire they had started nearly set the whole kitchen alight. Luckily Alfred had smelt it before any real damage could happen, but the pair of adults were far from happy. Jason had never shown much interest in cooking. He would usually just grab himself a snack from one of the cupboards instead of actually cooking himself something, so he had never really been an issue to keep out. Though, often he would try to sabotage your work just to wind you up. As for Tim, he was the best out of the four boys. By no means a master at work, it was often slightly bland but he was the only one who hadn’t tried to kill everyone with his cooking so he got bonus points for that. 

“That was one time.” Bruce turned his head away, pouting like a small child.

“Tt. Father, I think you’ve tried to poison us every time you’ve gone near the kitchen.” Damian jested through a mouthful of food. “Perhaps you should ask Joker to try it. Might take a villain off of our hands.”

Tim stifled a laugh. “This is lovely, Y/N. Thank you.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

The six of you fell into a comfortable silence as you ate, before Bruce finally spoke up again. Cutting through the sound of cutlery scraping against china plates.

“Is my cooking really that bad?”

He was answered with silence. And a lot of smirks.

“...Are you jealous of Y/N, Father?” Dick grinned.

“Psh…No.”

Bruce was a terrible liar. 

~

“Do you need any assistance, Miss Y/N?” Alfred poked his head around the kitchen door. He had returned from his trip not too long ago, glad to see that everyone had been well fed and that the house was still in one piece. 

Glancing up from the bowl of ingredients you were whisking, you met Alfred’s proud glance. “No thank you, Alfred. You already have everything I need.”

Alfred smiled up at you. It was nice for you to stop by once in a while to see them. He enjoyed seeing you cook. Better yet he enjoyed tasting your new creations each week so he kept everything stocked, even if he knew he wouldn’t need it himself. The shelves were lined with all sorts of spices, flours, sugars and ingredients for you to create something new so that if you ever decided to stop by (which you liked to do at least once a week) he would have everything  you could ever need.

Your brothers loved it when you would bring over food to them too. Most of it would be gone in minutes and they would turn to you asking for more. Bruce would do the same too, although he would still have that look of teasing jealousy on his face. But he was proud really. And glad that at least one of his children had enough common sense to not set the entire manor alight when baking a cake. 

BATFAM TAGLIST:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

@mamapucket

@hearts4robs

@harleycao

[sordidmusings]

Age Gap (Buggy x Reader)

A/N: for @soft-mafia since she wanted more age gap Buggy! Mostly bulleted like a headcanon but has two little drabbles sprinkled in cuz I couldn't help myself. I will be posting a continuation of this actually writing out the scene mentioned at the end, but I wanted to get this out now.

Word count: ~2.6 k

Warnings: obviously an age gap but the younger one is mentioned to be in their 20s, fem!reader, NSFW mentioned at the end, alcohol consumption, probably (hopefully) silly humor, the touch starved shows hardcore for a second there, tried my best to get Buggy right but you know how it be especially because he exists as an amalgam of LA and anime Buggy in my brain

Now come get y'all dopamine

I imagine you joined Buggy’s crew largely looking for that found family goodness then found out how much you’d never been taken care of and how much you craved it

One day while going through the different acts you were learning from the crew trying to find what stuck, you took a decent fall. Not the kind that breaks bones, but the kind where you just gotta lay there a sec and recalibrate how you got to this point

After some laughter (I mean come on it is a crew curated by Buggy and they could tell it wasn’t serious), the nearby crew surrounded you to check on you. While you were breathlessly saying you’re fine from your position on the floor, they parted to reveal the Captain coming to your side:

Buggy bent down to loom over you. The shadow he cast over your face was a welcome break from the bright overhead lights. You just wished that the way they haloed him didn’t make it so hard to see the laughter on his face.

“Good form! I think we could just throw you around to see you flail like that as your act - you’d be our finest comedy routine.” His voice was thick with sarcasm and giggles. However, his detached arms were gentle when they lifted you from the floor. They changed to posing outstretched with his hands on your shoulders and he walked into them to reattach. He looked you up and down before circling around you, all the while his hands were nudging you this way and that for his inspection. Once he was back at your front, he changed to brushing some dirt from your arms and shoulders. You didn’t speak for fear of interrupting this attention you were receiving from him.  He seemed to suddenly snap to clarity anyway.

“RIGHT.” Vocal control? Who is she? Buggy doesn’t know her. “So either get better at what you’re doing or actually fall on purpose. Wouldn’t want you fucking up that money maker.” He was already walking away when one detached hand gave your cheek two brisk pats and he made himself scarce.

It was obvious to you and everyone else how much you ate up his attention. The soft look you were still giving the direction he went in was damn near sickening. It was then you understood your purpose here - becoming Buggy’s spoiled lapdog.

Luckily for you, that was also the moment Buggy realized how his body buzzed when he touched you and how he lit up when you looked up at him with pretty, wide eyes. 

Unluckily, he also decided that being near you would lead down a dangerous route of him needing more and more of you and he was positive that he was just being some old creep over a pretty little thing like you.

This led to a game where Buggy would try to keep you at arm’s length while he battled both his own desire to be around you and your seemingly supernatural ability to just appear next to him at all times.

He wasn’t great at the arms distance thing even when he thought he was nailing it because nailing it to him was being in his natural space as the center of attention and only checking (immediately and desperately) that you were watching and approving of whatever he was doing. The way his head would always snap to you for your reaction was neither subtle nor discouraging to your rapidly growing infatuation.

You decided that orbiting his personal space wasn’t working well enough. Sure, he’d give you a hit of what you wanted with some fleeting touches and mostly disguised compliments but you needed more. Hurting yourself intentionally so that he would take care of you didn’t seem like a sustainable option, so you settled on playing his own game. Time to practice owning a room.

This could be a dangerous game to play. You were certain that blatantly taking the spotlight would just make him upset with you not that you’d mind him taking that out on you. You settled on more subtle things like spreading your attention more through the crew instead of mostly on him, being more focused and daring in your training, participating more in the many games that broke out when the alcohol did, and dressing a bit more intentionally (whether that’s flashier colors, eye-catching accessories, bold makeup, new or intricate hairstyles, etc.) 

The boldest card you played was feeding more into any of the flirting you received.

He has a freak show, yes, but have you ever seen how fine circus performers are?? Full fun costumes are It and also the tasks they have to perform either help them get conventionally attractive bodies and/or the rizz that comes with performing feats (just look at the traction Fryboy has gained with women like damn why he kinda-). Due to that, you’re around attractive people all the time.

While the flirting is for the purpose of pushing Buggy’s buttons, you must admit that it wasn’t a hard habit to keep up and may help inflate your ego.

Your attempts have mixed results. Buggy’s desire to claim you grew but so did his insecurity

In his mind, you look more natural next to one of the younger lookers in his crew while he’s certain the pair of you must look ridiculous together. It’s this very insecurity that’s gonna make it necessary for you to bluntly and shamelessly throw yourself at him both repeatedly and with no room for questions:

You have no clue what else you can do to get through that thick skull of his. You’re on your knees, quite literally at that. You figured that kneeling in front of that circus throne while he’s laid himself all over it would be enough to break the man. Enough to break any man, really, but he’s still finding ways to deflect you.

Buggy nodded his head to a nearby open seat. “You know they made chairs to be comfortable and your dumb ass is on the floor. That drunk already?” he snorted. Maybe choosing to do this during one of the many celebrations (you think this one is for one week of no one pregaming for show runs. ironic.) was a bad idea. You had been banking on some drinks loosening up whatever was holding him back.  It always made you snicker when you entertained the idea of it being from a sense of propriety. Checking in on the situation, you could see how all the chaos going on around you two made it easier for him to keep his eyes off of you and his ears unfocused. Earlier, you had counted it as a plus that working up a buzz would help you bulldoze through his stubbornness. You had forgotten that any alcohol in your system would make for the perfect excuse for him to write you off.

“I’ve barely started my third drink,” you started with a pout, “and I’d be ashamed if that’s enough to get me drunk after all the time spent on your crew.”

“Then you are just being stupid.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. Okay. Attention didn’t work. Compliments didn’t work. Kneeling didn’t work. Time for some big guns.

You shifted to the side so you’d be sitting towards your left hip with your bent legs beside you. Your drink found its way to your right hand but, most importantly, your chin found its way onto Buggy’s left knee. It brought you so close to where you’d really like to put yourself to work, and, man, was the temptation strong with the way his right leg was slung over the armrest of his seat. How did he expect you to stay away when he was serving himself up on a platter like this?

Buggy was definitely giving you his undivided attention now. His gaze was dark and slightly accusatory. The lighting matched with his makeup made him look more dangerous than usual. The nerves it sent through you might have had you back right off. Instead you held your ground because you saw his pulse hammer against his neck. You saw his throat bob as he swallowed. You saw his pink tongue contrast with red as he licked his lips and gave a shaky exhale.

While you were starting to settle into your bold move, Buggy was becoming more and more antsy. His grip on his glass became white-knuckled under his gloves, and he tried to give himself time to think by taking a huge gulp of his drink. Why did you have to look at him like that? So pleading? The angle from his lap made your lashes darken your eyes and it was impossible for him to keep the image of your hooded gaze about a foot closer to him out of his head. What did you want from him? You’d denied his accusations about money or intel so what the fuck could it be? Was this a game? Get in the pants of the Captain for preferential treatment and go back to whoever else you had in your palm on the crew to laugh about him falling for it?

You noticed his mood turning sour so you decided to interrupt whatever was tumbling around his head. “I think I could get much more comfy right here.” To prove a point, you dragged your chin to his inner thigh, right above his knee, and snuggled your cheek into his leg. His pants weren’t the softest against your skin but he was so addictingly warm through them. Your eyes briefly fluttered shut to enjoy the sensation before you looked back up at him and flirtatiously said, “I’m comfiest next to you.”

His hands itched with the need to grab you by the hair and force your face right where he needed you. Instead he scoffed at you. “Suuuuure. And why’s that, princess?”

“You make me smile,” you admitted immediately. His startled gaze met your lovesick one and you realized what you said and how quickly you said it. Too close to emotionally vulnerable; time to backtrack a touch. You want to get the role as his trophy before you even attempt to approach the title of Love of His Life. “You also said that you take care of your crew and I’m on your crew, right? So you’ll take care of me.”

The cheeky smile you spoke through melted him. An achingly deep sigh left him while his right hand detached from the arm to deposit his drink on the floor next to you. Quickly, it flew back to its limb. Both of your hearts pumped fire through your chests as he reached that hand out towards you. Buggy took his time stroking his fingers from your forehead into your hair. When his palm came down to join the gesture, you were very happy to realize that his hand was just as warm as the thigh still under your cheek. You shuffled closer so your legs squeezed in between his foot and the left leg of his throne. Buggy shuddered when he felt your fingertips graze the back of his calf and spread out like a star so you could grab it. Using your new grip, you snuggled more firmly into his leg and let yourself buzz off of getting this new touch from your Captain.

Ulterior motives be damned, Buggy couldn’t give them any credence when you looked so happy to sit at his feet and receive such a simple touch. He should probably laugh and call you a needy puppy to regain some control over the situation. Instead, he slipped his hand down the side of your head.  He massaged his fingertips into the base of your skull and said, “I’ll take care of you, little star.”

Once he has accepted that you’re serious there will be jokes about the dynamic but do not be fooled - he can only dish it out and WILL spiral if he receives any type of comment about how much older he is (the word geriatric is punishable by death)

Sometimes the joke is him patronizingly treating you like a child (you almost socked him right there at the dinner table when some food came at your face with accompanying airplane noises)

Sometimes it’s calling you a gold digger (“then where’s my allowance, huh?” “OH so my gIFTS AREN’T ENOUGH FOR YOU NOW? YOU were the one ACTUALLY CRYING over me buying you that wonky ass stuffed seal with the lopsided face!!” “HIS NAME IS JERRY AND YOU WILL SHOW HIM SOME RESPECT”)

Sometimes it’s just dumb shit like pointing at the type of girl’s clothing store that has made a contract with God to own all the pinks and pastels the world has to offer before turning to you straight faced and asking if you want to stop in to look. Any way this man can think to goof, he will.

And it’s tooooootally a coping mechanism to process the fact that he’s nearly forty and dating a twenty-something and not at all because joking around with you has become one of his basic survival needs

The dynamic ends up helping both of y’all feel special - you have a hot, boisterous, spotlight-stealing pirate captain pampering (and then making a mess of) you while he gets a beautiful, capable, eye-catching young thing looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky

Nothing goes to Buggy’s head more than when you walk into a room full of people, attractive ones especially, and only see him.

He loves anything that makes it obvious to others that you are his, whether that's him draped over you, you draped over him, red stains on the back of your hands, your shoulders, your cheeks, your forehead, your neck, having his jolly roger on your outfit, having you in his hat or coat

This very much extends to him wanting anyone and everyone to overhear you in the bedroom. Everyone should know you're his and he's the only one who can make you feel so good

Don't worry, they'll also get the message that he's yours from all the moaning and praises

He gives you endless pet names but always comes back to “sweet stuff”, “sweets”, “princess”, “star”, “prima donna��� (affectionate), “prima donna” (derogatory), and anything preceded by “little” (“little showstopper”, “little tease”, very rarely “little girl” if he feels especially like exerting power over you)

He prides himself on making you feel cared for and safe. Instead of feeling like a chore he has to do because he’s in the ‘older man’ role, he loves the way you preen under his attention and how you happily return the favor.

When in the Cross Guild Era, Buggy started going to all meetings with you by his side then on his thigh. It was a good defensive strategy because the other two seemed more hesitant to throttle him if you were in the way, but lets be real this man is also clingy and loves showing you off too.

At first he found it offensive that Mihawk and Croc were so disbelieving at the sight of you happily perched on your captain’s lap but then it made him the smuggest motherfucker when he would see their eyes trail over you knowing that they can only look and he can touch however he wants. This leads to him pushing until he hit your boundary at leaving very visible marks on you

One time he fucked you stupid right before a meeting so that you wouldn’t think about the bite mark surrounded by red makeup that kept playing peekaboo with your shirt collar (or the red smears between your thighs that showed whenever you shifted your legs)

[holybibly]

Heyy if your dark hours are still open…👀👀 would you mind sharing your thoughts about yandere Ateez concubine harem…? Or perhaps any harem that you can think of because I’m very much into this topic🤭🤭🤭

You know what? Today I wanted to be affectionate with you, damn bunnies, and spoil you with tenderness and sweets, but you just provoked my dark side with all these requests, didn't you?

So change of plan, bunnies; we're going down the dark and rough road. I love yandere's concubines, Ateez. God, can we think of anything more seductive and more dangerous than that? From now on, you should send me such requests more often, bunnies. Feed this demon within me.

You entered the palace as the wife of the new emperor. His fourth wife. His glittering war trophy.

When war came, your world was changed beyond recognition. Flames and ashes consumed the luxury and grandeur of the palaces, and the jewels turned to dust, leaving only you, the Ice Princess of the Northern Mountains.

Your life was made of crystal and your heart was made of ice stronger than diamonds, and it was this cold and lunar beauty that caused you to be forcibly married.

Yes, you may have entered the palace as the Emperor's wife. But you were a nobody within the high walls of the palace, just a sad reflection of past your greatness.

Everyone knew that the Emperor had a large harem, not counting the three older wives, but what really surprised you was that it was not only made up of girls, but of young men as well. There were eight of them. Each one more beautiful than the last, each one unique and unrepeatable.

Until one fateful night, you had never met them or seen them in person. It was a lunar festival, and you were its queen. Dressed in silk and the finest translucent tulle, as if kissed by the moon goddess herself, you sparkled and attracted the attention of everyone around you. Everybody, but not your husband. He didn't even look at you, brushed you aside as if you were an annoying mosquito, and sent you off to talk and smile at the guests while he went off to fuck another beautiful concubine.

And then, for the first time in your life, you had a meeting with the concubines of his other harem. And your world was turned upside down for the second time in your life.

It was love at first sight, a fire that burned through his veins and poisoned his mind. And it was all because of you. It was your fault that Wooyoung couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't laugh, and couldn't live. All of a sudden, his whole world was reduced to you and your heavenly, icy beauty. He passionately wanted to melt that ice, make you beg, squirm, and moan as he fucked you unconscious and painfully, filling you with his sperm and marking you as his property.

The only thing Wooyoung ever had in his life was his beauty. He grew up in poverty, living on scraps of food and the small amount of money he was able to pick up from the dirt. That is, until the day the current emperor, who was still a prince at the time, came upon him in one of the alleys, on the run from his guards. Wooyoung's dark fox eyes captivated him at once, and as if he had fallen under his spell, the emperor brought him back to the palace to be his concubine.

Wooyoung was a greedy concubine; there was always something that was not enough for him. He wanted to swim in luxury, to drown in gold and silk, to have diamonds, and to own the whole damn world. The best should be his, and so it was; the emperor gave him everything and more that Wooyoung had a desire for. And now you were in his sights. He wanted you so much that it ate him up from within and almost drove him mad, greedily and viciously, in the most horrible way in the world.

Yes, Wooyoung was greedy, and if he had to kill the Emperor to get you, he wasn't going to think twice about doing it.

One look at you could bring him to his knees. He would crawl to you like a pet if you commanded him to, and that desire was stronger than the hatred he felt for the whole of the world. You could tame his wild temper, and Mingi would want nothing more than for you to straddle him and ride his cock day and night, tearing the skin from his back and shoulders, choking him, and biting him until his will was broken. Mingi was uncontrollable and capricious, passion and fire raging in him, burning everything in his path, but your element was ice, burning him harder than hell itself.

Once upon a time, Mingi was a warrior, one of the great generals of his country, until the war came and destroyed his entire life. It took everything from him—his will, his family, his home. Yes, the war had taken everything from him except for the poisonous rage and the dark, vicious passion that was boiling in his veins. He was brought to the palace in chains like a slave, and that very night the Emperor took him by force and made him one of his concubines. This only made him bitterer.

Mingi was venomous and aggressive, biting and scratching until he bled, but you, you did something to him—you forced him into submission by your very presence, without him even knowing it. The wild, unbridled storm inside of him became the icy surface of the lake, soothing and healing. And Mingi wanted peace. He wanted the touch of your icy hands on his heated skin and cold kisses on his lips. He wanted you.

What is passion if not a flame that is a destroyer of all things on its way to its goal? And Mingi was full of fire to burn this damn palace to the ground to take possession of you.

He was sin clothed in a human body, debauchery and lust embodied in an image of heavenly beauty. The whole of Seonghwa's life had been nothing more than a constant stream of sex and an endless series of lovers. He could not get rid of this feeling; it was like frost on his skin. This constant, painful need was scratching him from the inside out. But when he saw you, all his thoughts were focused on you—on your pure, untouched skin that he wanted to lick and bite, on your slim waist that he wanted to squeeze as he fucked you continuously. On those red, seductive lips that would be simply amazing when wrapped around his dick. It was you he wanted, and for the first time in his life, Seonghwa wanted you to be the one. He didn't want anyone else, only you. 

Before he entered the palace, he was one of the most sought-after whores in the brothel, famous for his devilish beauty and his languid, cat-like gaze. There was a line of people waiting for him, and Seonghwa was more than happy to accept them all. He was insatiable, wanting to fuck anywhere and anytime, trying the most sinful and unusual things. He was a real slut. But when the emperor heard about Seonghwa and visited his brothel one day, everything changed. Suddenly, he was no longer just a whore; he became Imeretar's concubine.

Seonghwa's hunger could not be quenched, and one partner would never be able to cope with it. But here you are, pure and radiant like an angel, beckoning him with your immaculate beauty. You were stronger than his dark, insatiable demon of lust. He wanted to corrupt you, to make you like him, and to make you dependent on him, just as he had become dependent on thinking about you.

It is said that whores don't know how to love, but they know how to desire. And there was enough darkness in Seonghwa to consume and destroy the world; to possess your purity and chastity. Then let the world be plunged into darkness until you are alone with him.

Yeosang had never been interested in anything at all. The world was too boring and dangerous for him. He could never care less about it. If he could, he would stay safe and comfortable in his bed for the rest of his life. You were different—distant and cold, but with an inexplicable thirst to live. You wanted to see all the things around you, to experience the cultures and the art. The world was interesting to you, and that was a source of irritation to Yeosang.

Everything about you was fragile and exquisite, and the fact that you didn't see it was what made Yeosang so angry. Don't you see, little butterfly, the world is terrible and dangerous. You would be much better off with him in his bed, far away from anything that could harm you in any way. Perhaps you would finally understand that you shouldn't run away from the safety and comfort of his bed if he were to break you. If that helped, Yeosang would want to destroy you and fuck your little curious brain until you thought only of him. He would spend hours warming you with his dick, days kissing your cold lips, and smothering you with his attention and love.

Yeosang was always aware that one day he would be part of the emperor's household. He had been prepared for this since he was a child, pampered and protected from the whole world, so that there would not be a trace of dirt on his silky, snow-white skin. Always waiting for the Emperor to visit his chambers and warm his soft bed, albeit temporarily. Yeosang almost never left his room, but like all concubines, he had to attend the Moon Festival. And that's when he saw his fragile butterfly. And like everything beautiful in this world, you were too easy to break. Yeosang wanted to protect you, hide you between his sheets, and shower you with care.

Yes, beautiful things broke easily, sometimes too easily—delicate butterfly wings, flower petals, crystal jewelry. But Yeosang wanted to see how the most beautiful thing in the world—human life—broke.

He wanted to eat you alive. Sinking his teeth into you and never letting you go, you awakened in him this wild, all-consuming hunger that he could not satisfy with anything else. You were the most delicious dish of all, and your taste was his only desire. San had always been a little insatiable, wanting more attention, wanting to love more, wanting to more sex, wanting everything this world had to offer him. It was never enough. You walked past him without even looking in his direction, the trail of your perfume settling on his skin and seeping into his body, poisoning him as you went. He wanted you to pay attention to him, to smile at him, to love him, to touch him. Oh, he would never let you go, he would fill you with his cum over and over again, and it wouldn't be enough for his taste. If he could, his dick would be in your pretty pussy all the time, so warm and delicious. He was in desperate need of you, he was hungry for you, and this hunger was all-encompassing.

Ever since he was a child, San had had a voracious appetite, always in need of a bigger and sweeter bite to temporarily fill the emptiness inside him that was growing with him. He had everything he could ever wish for; he had grown up in a loving and wealthy family with titles, but the dark hunger that plagued him was terrible. No matter what it was, he was always in need of more. So one day, when the emperor asked if he wanted to join his harem, San didn't hesitate to accept, but the hunger didn't go away.

You were the most delicious forbidden fruit of them all, and San was desperate to sink his teeth into you. He could almost feel the heavenly sweetness of you on his tongue, and it was driving him wild.

The sky could crash and burn all around him, and he wouldn't care, as long as you could fill him up and satisfy him.

There was no one in this world who could ever be like him. There was no one like Hongjoong. There was no limit to his pride and his greatness, and any praise You never praised him, you never sought his attention, and you were never enchanted by his sharp mind, his sweet voice, or his beauty, which could only be rivalled by the devil himself. And Hongjoong hated it. He hated how much he wanted your attention and your love. He wanted you to worship him, idolise him, and devote your whole life to him. He had to have you in all ways, even if those ways were darker than the night itself.Hongjoong wanted to see you in his golden bed, stretched out on the silk, while he was ravaging your body. He wanted to hear the endless moaning of his name as his cock tore apart the little cunt that was yours. He was in need of it, so much so that his whole body ached.

Hongjoong was a trophy of war, just like you. He was a real prince, who was supposed to be a king one day. His ego knew no bounds, and he was cruel and daring. Of course, the whole of the palace was conquered by the magnificent prince dressed in gold - all of them, except for you.

Yes, Hongjoong was a true prince, and one day he would overthrow the emperor and take his rightful throne, and like every emperor, he had to have his empress. You may not see him now, but the day will come when Hongjoong will be the only sunshine that illuminates your life. And he couldn't wait for it.

Yunho has never been the victim of jealousy. He has always been the recipient of praise and adoration, a constant reminder of how much he is loved. Yunho had no idea how jealousy could be. Or so he thought, at least.

That night, when he saw you in the light of the moon, he had hatred for the whole damn world. How dare he look at what belonged to him? He envied all those who could speak to you so freely; he envied all those who could pronounce your name; he envied his emperor, who did not appreciate your beauty and who humiliated you. Damn it, Yunho was jealous of the very air you were breathing. He desperately wanted to be him—to live inside you and melt into your skin. He wanted to melt into you without a trace.He would have loved to take you to his bed, to kiss every inch of your skin, to fuck you long and slow, and to shower you with compliments and praise. He would like to have you in his arms all the time, writhing and moaning with desire and need. For him, you are the only thing he needs in his life.

Yunho used to be just a servant in the palace. But he caught the Emperor's eye. That very night, he entered the emperor's chambers as his new concubine. Yunho knew about the others; he knew that he was not the only one, but that never bothered him; he was able to share the attention of the emperor. Except you. You were his own, and even the world was not worthy of seeing you.

It would be so easy to have the entire palace blinded, so that no one else but Yunho would have to see your celestial beauty.

Jongho was a man too proud for his own good. In his mind, it was beneath his dignity to pay attention to others and smile sweetly at them. Jongho was the spoiled, arrogant son of one of the most important palace officials, and when his father had the chance to get close to the emperor, he naturally gave him to the harem. But even so, he still considered himself to be better than everyone else, even Hongjoong, who was a prince in his own right.

Jongho was the one who first saw you, quite by chance, when he visited his father on the night you were appointed as the emperor's fourth wife. The Emperor was a real fool not to see how brilliant and magnificent you were—a real crown jewel. You were a symbol of power, strength, and might, an enslaved princess of a once great country, and a black flame of desire flared up in Jongho—he wanted to own you completely.

He wanted you for himself—your thoughts, your will, your body, and your life. He wanted you to sit by his side, to be covered with jewels, and to bear his children. It was easy for him to imagine his hand wrapped around your fragile throat as he fucked you into the mattress, you begging and moaning for him, wanting to be filled with his cum.

Fueled by his selfish desires, his fixation on you became increasingly harmful and dangerous.

Out of all the trophies in the world, there was nothing that was more attractive to Jongho than you. And on the way to what he wanted, murder was never a serious matter for him.

[l1tw1ck]

A Stardew Valley Affair

bottom!ftm Kent x top!masc reader

☆ Word Count: 930 ☆

[REQUEST] | AFAB Language Used

CW: Cheating, Caught Masturbating, Squirting, Cunnilingus, Creampie

You’ve been married to Sam for almost a year and you're already starting to become unfaithful. You feel like a bag of trash for it, especially because the reason for your unfaithfulness is his own father. You didn't see him as a romantic interest for a while but he started to look more desirable as time went on. You couldn't put your finger on it but you started thinking about him in ways that you shouldn't.

Jodi paid you to stop by and drop off some vegetables. Since you have the key, she didn't stick around and wait for you. You assumed you were going to be the only one there.

You place down a fresh bag of veggies and turn to leave but you stop. You swear you just heard something from Jodi and Kent’s bedroom. You creep over to the door to prevent whatever's or whoever's inside from possibly running off. You press your ear against the wood and listen.

“Mm- fuck-” Kent moans, jerking his t-dick while he thinks about you and your muscles. “I'm close, [Name]~”

You feel yourself growing hard from hearing that. You open up the door and look at him and his wet sex. He stops immediately, eyes widening when he sees you.

“Need any help?” You smirk. Kent nods quickly. You lock the door behind you and quickly remove all your clothing before climbing onto the bed. Kent looks up at you then down to your length. You're big. Bigger than anything he’s ever taken. “Do you have any condoms?” You ask.

Kent looks at you like you’ve asked a stupid question. “No need.” He shakes his head, pulling you onto the bed. He hovers over your length before sinking down onto your cock. He bites his lip, feeling a little bit of pain as you stretch him out. It's a good kind of pain though. “You can come inside.” He’s too sexy to question.

“So you've been thinking about me.” You smirk.

“I've been doing more than that.” He grinds down onto you. “I've wanted you ever since I came back to the valley.”

“Today’s your big day then.”

He grins, pulling off his shirt, revealing the piercings on his nipples. “Sure is.” He holds onto your shoulders for balance and starts to bounce on your length. He bites his lip, pure pleasure painted on his face as he rides you. He notices your fixation on his nipples and brings his hands to them, playing with them to tease you. His increased moans tell you that his nipples are sensitive. He knows this is bad, considering the fact that you're married to his son, but oh Yoba, he loves this.

“Fuck–” He lets out a sharp breath. “I can't- ‘s too much-” He slows down.

“Let me help you out.” You grab his sides and bring him onto the bed. You position him on his side and bring his leg up against you and start fucking him roughly. “You feel so fucking good.” You rub his clit. Curses slip out of Kent’s mouth as you bring him closer and closer to his orgasm. He rolls his eyes back and squirts. You slow down and let him recover.

“I haven't done that in years..”

“Years? I think we should make up for that.” You smirk.

“Not all at once, okay?” He laughs.

“How about…two more times?”

“You can try.”

“I’m up for the challenge.” You pull out of him and flip him onto his stomach. You raise his ass in the air and bury your face in his cunt. You lick a few stripes up his pussy, tasting him, before sticking your tongue inside him. He bites down on his lip, shivering as your tongue explores his insides. He hasn't gotten ate out in so long. He can't even remember the last person who did. He wishes he got with you instead, you would've been happy to regularly eat his pussy. If only he didn't go to the military. You slide your fingers up and down his t-dick, stimulating him even more. His toes curl as he starts to get towards his second orgasm. He moans your name and squirts once again, drenching your face in his liquids.

You pull away and wipe your face. “Do you need time to calm down?” You look at his twitching cunt in awe.

“I need to, but I don't want to.” He turns to look at you. “Put it back in.”

“Your wish is my command.” You slide back into him, his pussy ten times wetter than the first time you were in it. You hold his waist and pound into him at a fast pace. He's so sensitive, it feels like he's gonna explode. It's so much all at once and he fucking loves it.

“Harder!” He cries out. You do as he says, pulling more moans from him. The two of you should be feeling guilty for numerous reasons, the biggest being that you're both married, but neither of you care. You're thoroughly enjoying the warmth and wetness of his pussy and nothing can make you feel bad about it.

“‘M gonna come soon-” Your thrusts become more rough.

“Inside! Do it inside!”

“Shit- Are you sure?”

“Yes!"

Kent comes before you, slick gushing on your cock. Just feeling that brings you to your orgasm. Your thrusts eventually come to a halt and you finally fill him up with your cum.

This just brought on a ton of complications. You’ll have to choose between Kent and Sam. Things are gonna get messy.

[falsemilkbun]

I have so many feelings about this sad dusty little pigeon. God. Let me count the ways. This isn't Smart Meta, I have been doing too much tourist season work to be smart. All this is is aaaaa wife! ;~;

Like, that these are images of the same person and there's a continuity between them is so good and tasty and important. To me.

ETA: William this literally spoils the ending GTFO

I think a lot about how there's this throughline of palatability and consumability with Mithrun, so to speak. He spends his younger days making himself palatable and bubbly and friendly and perfect for everyone around him, all the while being a bundle of resentment and inferiority under that surface presentation.

And it works, he's beloved by everybody but Milsiril, who is more demonstrative about her negative feelings and finds his chipperness and sociability unsettling and annoying. She only starts to feel for him when she sees the dungeon he's built, because it's the first real exterior manifestation of his pain that's been revealed to her. And his inferiority is pain; his status and the fact he's loved at all is so intensely tied to his appearance and his presentation, and by that token it's completely conditional and he knows that. His greatest desire was a reality in which he could trust no one would (one assumes just emotonally) hurt him.

His drive is to be loved safely and completely, and it's ultimately a self-destructive drive that doesn't disappear when his desire and motivation are taken from him. What he wants, which isn't apparent to him for some time, is to be completely consumed. He wants to not have been discarded.

Like, there's definitely rage with his demon obsession. He is angry, but it's more complicated than simple anger at what was done to him. The parts where he's angry are sandwiched between parts where he's expressing all this insecurity, all this yearning to be fully consumed and fully loved. The fact that he wasn't makes him think of and describe himself as literal garbage.

So much of his scary forward momentum comes from what amounts to heartbreak and self-hatred. He was smothering in pressure and inferiority, and that made him vulnerable to someonething that offered him an escape only to gradually and then suddenly eat him alive. That maimed and disabled him, that purposely stripped him of the features that people valued him for. That ate the Good Parts and left the rest, which is most of him.

I don't know. Except I do. This is kind of a doodle/sketch of a smarter meta post I want to do eventually.

They're the same. There's continuity. To me. That feels important. I don't jibe with thinking of them as distinct, or with the idea that what happened fixed or matured him somehow. He's in the exact same kind of pain the whole time, it just depends whether he registers it or not.

And of course my pairing agenda is involved, because Kabru is kind and patient with him and ties stupid little bows in his clothes and doesn't really ask anything of him. And doesn't believe he's incapable of sleeping with magic or drugs. And doesn't believe he's incapable of feeling or growing or living a worthwhile life. Kabru doesn't believe he's garbage.

[firstkanaphans]

I know Alan and Gaipa are not your favourite to write but pls pleeeease 8 for them?

I wrote half of this before deciding I hated it, but then I ate a meal, took a nap, and turns out I don’t hate it at all? So I hope you don’t hate it either. Rating: Mature Word Count: 1500ish

{crying} because of how good it feels

No one had ever touched Gaipa but himself. 

He wasn’t ashamed of it; it was just a fact. And although part of him longed for that sort of intimate connection, the part that felt he was too old to be experiencing those types of things for the first time held him back.

Alan was a gentleman—sometimes overly so—and as if he could sense Gaipa’s reticence, he didn’t so much as kiss him until their third date. Gaipa found that he liked kissing, but he never asked for more and Alan didn’t either. Not until one night almost a month into their relationship when they were making out on Gaipa’s living room sofa and Alan reached over and ran a searching hand along the front of Gaipa’s pants. Gaipa started so violently at the touch that he almost knocked a lamp off of the table behind him.

“Sorry,” Alan said, holding his hands up as if Gaipa was a spooked horse. He went a bit cross-eyed as he tried to focus. He had removed his glasses some time ago. “I should have asked first.”

“No, it’s fine,” Gaipa assured him, although his voice, which was several octaves higher than usual, didn’t sound reassuring at all. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“We don’t have to—I mean, I wasn’t going to—I mean…” He trailed off with a defeated sigh, seemingly at a loss for what to say. Gaipa was suddenly struck by the differences between them: him, a virgin; and Alan just getting out of a six-year-long relationship. Was there any common ground between them? Would they ever find it?

“Can I ask you a question?” Alan asked, putting his glasses back on. Gaipa nodded. “Have you ever done this before?”

Gaipa swallowed hard, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. Was it that obvious? “Define ‘this.’”

“Sex,” Alan said bluntly. Gaipa shook his head. Alan nodded as if he had expected as much and then continued. “A relationship?” Again, Gaipa was forced to shake his head.

Panic began to well inside him. This was too much. He was too old. There was no way someone as experienced as Alan would ever want him.

“Listen, Alan, I like you,” Gaipa said, “But I don’t think this is going to work out. Maybe we should—”

“Why not?” Alan interrupted.

Gaipa hadn’t actually thought he would need to explain himself. “Because I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“And you think I do?” Alan asked with a humorless laugh. “You were my first first date in six years. Wen’s the only person I’ve ever been with. I still have a tan line where my ring used to be. I know I’m out of practice and I would totally understand if you don’t find me attractive. I—”

“I am attracted to you,” Gaipa said, moving closer. “That’s the problem. You make me want things I don’t know how to ask for.”

Alan’s eyes sparked and he reached out to take Gaipa’s hands in his. “Try.”

Gaipa found that he was breathing heavily, overwhelmed by both nerves and desire. “I don’t want to be a virgin anymore,” he admitted. “But I still don’t feel…ready.”

Alan smirked. “Well, I can certainly help with that. If you want me to.”

A jolt of electricity surged between them and Gaipa lunged forward, pressing his lips to Alan’s. They kissed until they were both breathless—breathless and hard.

“I want to try something, if you’ll let me,” Alan panted against Gaipa’s lips. His glasses were still on, but they had been knocked askew by the kissing. Gaipa found it hopelessly endearing. “There’s nothing for you to feel nervous about. I’ll do all the work.”

Gaipa had to admit that he was intrigued. “What is it?”

He expected Alan to lean closer to answer but instead, he moved farther back until he was sitting against the arm of the couch with his legs spread out in front of him. Then he patted his chest in offering.

“I want you to lay against me.”

That certainly wasn’t a chore. His body looked inviting. Gaipa laid back against him, tucking his face into the crook of Alan’s neck, so close that all he had to do was turn his head for his lips to press against skin. He could feel the beat of Alan’s racing heart against his back. Its frenetic pace matched his.

“Relax,” Alan said, running his hands down Gaipa’s chest. “I want to make you feel good.”

He began to kiss Gaipa’s neck, his hands massaging their way slowly down his body, and it felt so good that this time when Alan reached for the front of Gaipa’s pants, he didn’t jerk away. He thrust up into his touch.

Then Alan began to unbuckle Gaipa’s belt.

Despite how comfortable Gaipa had been earlier, he tensed. Alan paused his exploration of Gaipa’s neck to whisper, “Is this okay?”

Gaipa took a second to really think about it—to imagine Alan touching him with nothing but skin between him—and it wasn’t fear he felt, but excitement.

“Yes,” he said and in saying it, he felt powerful.

So Alan unbuckled his belt and ever so slowly snaked his hand inside Gaipa’s pants until finally, he was touching bare skin. Gaipa’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Is this okay?” Alan asked again. He bit down on the top of Gaipa’s ear playfully.

“Yes,” Gaipa said, his voice shaky but sure.

Alan helped him out of his pants and then Gaipa was lying there only half clothed while Alan was still fully dressed behind him. He rested his head against Alan’s chest as Alan took his dick in hand, using some of Gaipa’s precome as lube, and began jerking him off.

It was the first time Gaipa had been touched in this way by another person, but he wasn’t scared or uncomfortable. He felt good.

He let out a whine, spreading his legs further, and closed his eyes in an effort to heighten the sensations. He could feel Alan’s hand around him, could smell the expensive cologne he wore, could hear the way Alan’s own breath got caught in his throat. He could feel Alan’s hardness pressing into the small of his back. He laid there and enjoyed it.

“Does that feel good?” Alan asked, his voice thick.

Gaipa moaned, incapable of forming actual words, but thrust harder into his hand in answer. He felt dizzy with desire, but he knew that Alan was there to catch him should he fall.

His orgasm came upon him so suddenly that he wasn’t expecting it, but Alan didn't seem to mind. He stroked him through it, allowing Gaipa’s come to coat his hand, and once he was done, Gaipa opened his eyes and tilted his face up to look at Alan. He was smiling down at him, his cheeks flushed, but he looked pleased. As if he was proud. As if he liked what he saw.

It was only when Alan reached out to wipe his cheeks that Gaipa realized he was crying.

“Sorry,” he said, sitting up and hurriedly wiping his eyes before pulling his boxers back on. Alan stopped him before he could stand and pulled him back down into his lap.

“You’re beautiful,” Alan said, wiping his cheeks again. “Whatever you’re feeling, you don’t have to be ashamed of it.”

Gaipa took a deep breath. It wasn’t that he was ashamed. It was that he felt cared for. Loved. The way he had always wanted. This was what he had longed for. This was what his mother had dreamed of for him. And he couldn’t help but think that all of the waiting had been worth it.

The tears were a release of a lifetime of worries—of years of not feeling adequate. He leaned in and kissed Alan on the lips. “I’m not ashamed,” he said. “I’m happy.”

Alan wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. “We’ll go as slow as we both need to,” he said, dropping his forehead down against Gaipa’s. “There are no deadlines. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

And suddenly, the differences between them didn’t seem as insurmountable as they had before.

[akiranzee]

❤️ • ° ` — “HATE TO LOVE YOU”

-> PAIRINGS: Sanemi Shinazugawa x f!Hashira!Y/n -> SUMMARY: You like him, but he hates you. Or so you think. -> WORD COUNT: 2.0k+ -> CONTAINS: fluff, a little cursing, a little suggestive (it’s js 1 paragraph lol), sanemi is 21 & reader is 19. -> A/N: this was sitting in my drafts for quite a while LMAO. anw, i’m gonna change some things here; genya got killed by his mother, so meaning only sanemi survived.

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------------Complete!------------

It was that time of season, which you hated most, feeling all cold and shivering.

“Y/n-san!” Someone called out to you, only to reveal the kind boy you have met back at the Hashira meeting.

“Oh, Tanjiro-kun!” You yelled back, waving at him all smiley.

“What are you doing here, Y/n-san?” And you just then realized you are right in front of the wind hashira’s estate.

You didn’t know what you even came here for, perhaps you forgot, or perhaps you just... felt like it.

You asked Tanjiro the same question, his answer somewhere being ‘Shinobu-san asked me to bring Shinazugawa-san his medicines’.

Well, good luck Tanjiro.

Oh, now you remember.

Now you remember what you were doing in front of the wind hashira’s estate.

You wanted to give him some ohagis you made, which by the way, you’re holding right now.

I mean, he got injured in his last mission, so of course you have to pay him a visit. Especially when you like him, after all.

But instead of handing him the ohagis, you decided to pussy out and go back to your own estate.

Reaching your estate, you place the ohagis on the table and ate it in his stead.

You had dreams of one day, in this table, the both of you would eat, and he would sit right in front of you, talking about sweet nothings.

Also, desires of where he’ll sleep beside you in the bed, naked and covered in sweat, making love like there’s no tomorrow.

Those were the dreams and desires you wished to achieve. But you know damn well, that they will only be your dreams and desires, and will be nothing more than that.

It’s a painful thought, of course. But you can’t help but think he hates you.

And he’s shown countless signs of it.

When one time, you did hand him some ohagis you made, but he just told you to scram off. So in the end, you just decided to go back later when he’s inside his estate, and leave it outside.

Second time was when Oyakata-sama assigned you both for a mission. It was an easy mission, the demon wasn’t even an uppermoon or a lowermoon. It was just a normal one. But even so, Sanemi spat out his usual words to say to you, ‘weak’, ‘fragile’, ‘useless’, and ‘pitiful’.

Third time was when he also got very injured and you can’t help but get worried of course. So you and your dumbass decided to volunteer to bring Sanemi’s soup and medicine, only to be thrown straight to your face.

You’re lucky the soup was just mild hot, or else your face would’ve been burned.

And well, those were the times you clearly remember as they were the most hurtful times with him by far.

But even so, you still like him. Whatever can this feeling called ‘love’ ever do to a person? It’s crazy and it’s scaring you.

It’s scary how every single time he keeps pushing you away, you fall for him more and more instead.

It’s scary how every single time he curses at you, you even talk to him more and more.

It’s scary how every single time he rolls his eyes and avoids you, you follow him more and more.

It’s scary how ‘love’ can turn you into this kind of person.

And you don’t even hate it. Not even a single bit.

Even your friends, or your fellow hashiras ask you why, why did you fall in love with this scary scarred maniac.

And you don’t even know why. It must have been just... fate.

~~~~~

2 weeks later, Oyakata-sama called you for a mission.

It was to assassinate the lowermoon 2, somewhere deep in the forest.

You’ve been running around the dark forest for which you’ve estimated to be 3 hours atleast.

It was tiring, sure, but you’ve trained for more than a year to reach where you are now.

And you can’t let this lowermoon stop you.

It was a dumb act, that you’ve only realized the purpose of this demon once you were tired enough.

It was to tire you while running around the whole forest looking for him, when the forest itself is the demon’s blood demon art.

And once you’ve reached your limit, the demon camouflaged you at the right time, injuring your stomach and right leg.

You were obviously at a disadvantage, and your injuries hurted like hell, especially when it’s winter, and the cold is slowing you down.

But those didn’t stop you. Instead, you took your katana that fell out of your grip the moment the demon injured you, and tried your best to execute your fighting stance.

It was hard to breathe, your vision was slowly getting blurry, and your chest was feeling heavy.

It was as if you were almost gonna pass out, considering that you’ve went past your limits already.

The demon was about to attack you, and you were about to defend, but then suddenly, not even in a blink, the demon’s head fell off.

You didn’t know why or how, but your confusion was quickly solved when you saw a certain white haired man strolling right up to you.

“S-Shinazugawa-san!” You called out, causing your knees to give in, and causing Sanemi to sprint towards you.

If he hadn’t caught both your arms by now, you would’ve fallen head first to the ground.

“W-What are you doing here?” You managed to stutter out, blood dripping out of your mouth.

“Let’s get you to the butterfly estate first.” Sanemi said gruffly, swiftly carrying you in his arms bridal-style like you weigh just as a feather, and off he ran.

It was short, simple, and brash. But you swore you saw something wet in his eyes.

But you must’ve been just imagining it. Why would he, Sanemi Shinazugawa, the cold hearted wind pillar, cry for someone like you?

Your vision is blurry, that must be it.

Then, darkness completely takes over your sight, and falling asleep into his arms.

~~~~~

It’s comfy, warm, and soft. You tried to open your eyes and adjust to the lighting, only to hear a shriek coming from Aoi,

“HYA! L/N-SAN IS AWAKE!!” Aoi called out, sprinting out of the room and repeated the sentence thrice.

Your eyes were hurting by how the light hit your eyes, but even so, you still saw the one and only, Sanemi Shinazugawa.

“Let me have a minute with her.” Sanemi breathed out, and that was all it took for the both of you to be left alone.

“Sanemi-san... How are you?” You asked, smiling oh so gently at him without even noticing you called him by his first name.

“...You ask me that? Why don’t you look at your fucking self!? You look more pathetic and weak than me, hell, do you even care about yourself at this point!?” Sanemi snapped, and you were shocked.

Shocked because he never or you never saw him acting this way towards others. Even with Rengoku’s death, he didn’t cry, he didn’t get angry when they’ve known each other far more longer than the both of you know each other.

So why? Why does Sanemi Shinazugawa care for you? When after all, all he’s ever done was to push you away, curse at you, and roll his eyes at you.

So what does this sudden change mean?

“Damn it... Why can’t you just atleast stay...” Sanemi whispered under his breath, but you swore it was loud enough for the whole room to hear it.

“What do you mean?” Sending him a questioning and confused gaze, only to realize you weren’t supposed to hear that.

“Stop. Just stop. I don’t want to do anything with you anymore. Why do you keep making me feel like this? I hate this. I don’t like you. I despise you. I shouldn’t have saved you. I hate you.” He sprouted words again, but this time, you were far from believing them.

You saw the look on his eyes while saying those things, as if they were the complete opposite to what he just said.

He was on the verge of tears.

~~~~~

Sanemi Shinazugawa. 21 years old. Cold, arrogant, aggressive, and scary. Name him any heartless names you have, and it will easily define him.

Sanemi Shinazugawa. 13 years old. Kind, friendly, and bright. Name him any kind names you have, and it will easily define him.

Whatever does this two have a difference? It’s of the same man, but with different personalities.

Ah, that’s right. It was when Sanemi Shinazugawa still had everything, and when he had lost everything.

He was just a child, who’s childhood has been robbed away from him.

He was just a person, who tried to protect his family.

He was just a human, who make mistakes.

But why? Why can he never keep anything or anyone for himself?

His mother, his siblings, Masachika, Genya, all the people important and close to him. He could never keep them.

They’d always die when they’re near him. They’d always end up in a pool of blood, with tons of injuries.

Sanemi can never keep anything and nothing can ever belong to him. He always lose everything. He can never call something or someone his.

~~~~~

“W-What do you mean, Shinazugawa-san?” You reached out to his face, trying to wipe the tears away, but he obviously just slaps it away.

“Don’t touch me dammit.” He looks at you with anger, and maybe hatred. But his voice cracks, as if he didn’t want to say that.

“Sanemi-san, why do you keep pushing me away? I've always tried to be your friend, but why? Why do you hate me so much?” You questioned, feeling your heart break and tears threatening to spill out.

“I can never keep anyone.” He started, slowly calming down.

“Everyone who I’ve called friend, family, and brother. I’ve lost all of them. They all end up dying. I don’t want to get close to you, or else you might just become one of them. Be a bloody body laying on a pool of blood, all lifeless right in front of me. I don’t want to get attached to you, but you just keep going near me and it’s annoying.” He slowly looked at you, and you could see his eyes filled with sadness.

Ah, so that’s why. That’s why he’s always pushing you away, always rejecting you, always avoiding you. He just tried to protect you.

“The day you tried to give me ohagi, I had to build up much courage to push you away, but I found and ate it outside my estate either way. The day that Oyakata-sama also assigned us both on a mission, I told you those things to make you feel worthless and helpless. I didn’t want you fighting that demon, because who knows, you might just die in front of me. Also when you brought me that soup, I didn’t mean to throw it straight at your face. I aimed at the door, but my hand didn’t function correctly if I may say. On that last winter too, you gifted me 2 kimonos but I didn’t have any gift for you. And this winter too, you were about to give me ohagi, weren’t you?” He continued, looking away from your eyes.

It’s great that he looked away from you, or else he could’ve seen the ugly look on your face while crying.

You were crying because you weren’t sad. Instead because you were happy. Happy that you now knew your crush doesn't hate you.

And because he was rude to you not because he hates you, but because he wanted you to live.

You find yourself sitting up, reaching for his neck, and pulling him in for a hug.

That was his breaking point.

Tears started to flow down his cheeks, burying his face in your chest, and this time, he hugged back, not pushing you away anymore.

“Maybe. Just maybe, I could keep you. You could be mine.” Sanemi thought, slowly tightening his hug on you.

Sanemi Shinazugawa didn’t love to hate you. He hated to love you.

[thatflatenedfrogontheroad]

I made a tier list...

please make your own!! I need to see boomer nations opinions on our man!!!! I know the tiers are actually so vile so change them if you desire :)))

OK so my quick blurb on why they are their!! (working worst to best)

28. Identity Crisis #5 - HE WOULD KILL ME FOR THE FUN OF IT. It did bring about the most random rivalry between Tim drake’s fandom and boomer's which is very funny

27. Black Lantern - Oh no… he's back… like a boomerang. Ate his own son... RIP…. L skill issue

26. Sliver Age - Would actually call me a slur and say that I don't deserve rights. He would hate crime me and then solicit me for sex. He looks like he's wearing a dress… what a pretty lady.

25. Flash TV Show - EWWWWWWWW, he though he ate...

24. DC Online - He looks like he would punch me in face at a NYC bus stop

23. White Lantern - Don't look at me like that… stop. He's back from the dead like a boomerang?? Something about most of the New 52 boomerangs don't hit the same. the bride all in white :’)

22. Young Justice - Gave me the ick. You might be thinking... he looks identical to SS hell to pay, why is he down here?? Great question… HE WAS SO CREEPY TO ONE OF THE GIRLS IN YOUNG JUSTICE….. WHO IS A MINOR!

21. Injustice Movie - Just because your in the background… doesn't save you from this list!!!

20. New 52 - Ok he's kinda hot if you look through your peripherals…Why are you wearing skinny jeans… you millennial

19. Harley Quinn TV Show - He's fine… just fine. “We’ll stack out bingo… Boomer loves an older woman” NO HE MUST LOVE ME! I AM VERY VERY MATURE FOR MY AGE

18. Flash: Sins of the Father - Can you please stop talking in the 3rd person… you are starting to sound crazy.

17. Most Wanted - I know jack shit about him. That's probably because he is barely in a comic issues THATS NAMED AFTER HIM!

16. Flash Point Paradox - His fight scene actually ate. I'm a sucker for Boomer being with the Rogues. If cyborg can take his belt off… so can I

15. Suicide Squad 2021 - Wow they somehow gave him even less lines than his first movie. 1. He doesnt look like boomer. 2. His accent is so bad… and hes AUSTRALIAN 3. His acting low key kinda mid 4. They killed off two of the only OG suicide squad members they had on the cast 5. He dies in the first 20min and in the most disrespectful way

14. Suicide Squad 2016 - The only good thing to come from this man is the fanfiction he brought. THIS FUCKING MOVIE MADE HIM A CANON BRONY WHICH I CAN NOT FORGIVE. GET THIS OUT OF MY SMUT BEFORE FREAK THE FUCK OUT >:( Fuck him and pinky too, you son of a bitch!!!! (its not that serious lol... i just want him to stop fucking a toy horse... please guys)

13. This Goober Alien Guy - I know nothing. He just kinda showed up… and I'm not mad just a little confused. He looks like he needs a hot chocolate and a hug :)))) 

12. Lego Batman Movie - Low key an icon. What I would do to get my hands on one of these sets… I would come close to killing someone for it

11. DC Lego Super Villains - If he wasn't Lego I would propose (Shane Dawson style) Once again what I would do for the very discontinued Lego set tie in…

10. Batman: Brave and The Bold - Those cheekbones could cut someone. Why are you wear a mini skirt… take it off ;)

9. Suicide Squad (comic) - Yes I know he was drinking and driving but he's not real so it doesn't count!!! The beginning of the Boomer Mobile! THE GAP TOOTH DUDE!

8. Justice League Unlimited S1 - AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Ok the hairline is… bad…. But so is mine twin!! I LOVE THAT THEY GAVE HIM PROPER CLOTHES AND NOT RAGS DUDE

7. Agent of Oz - is this picture is my school profile pic...yes… and??HE'S COVERED IN BLOOD AND IM GIGGLING!!!!!!!!!!!

6. Stjepan Sejic's Boomer - Choke hold and choke me...  I want to hear his voice but he can't break his mewing streak…The ungodly things I would let him do to me

5. Dark: Apocalypse War - Constantine! Boomer! GIRLS! GIRLS!! ILL SLEEP WITH BOTH OF YOU!!! I was not expecting him in this movie so I started to freak out when he showed up DUDE. PLEASE LET ME SIT ON IT

4. Suicide Squad: Hell to Pay - I'm a ride he wouldn't survive… I DONT HAVE WORDS TO DECRIBE HOW I FEEL DUDE… I WOULD DO ANYTHING HE ASKED FOR NO JOKE. Dead on the floor

3. Justice League Unlimited S2 - The glow up in REAL... had me on my hands and knees as a 3rd grader… and still on my knees today. I have never wanted someone to fuck me in the back alleyway of a shit bar so bad in my life

2. Batman: Assault on Arkham - The one that started it all… he is the reason I am this way. no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom BUT GREG ELLIS IS PUBLIC ENIME NUMDER ONE. YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID!!!!

AND THE BEST ONE!!!!!!!! WE ALL SAW IT COMING

1. Suicide Squad: Kill the Justice League - I AM GNAWING ON THE IRON BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE!!!!!! He has it all, the face, the VOICE, the look, the character!!!!! It is hands down the most consistently good representation of captain boomerang out their… and its canon that's he has a big dick :D I would sell my first born to get one night…

Thank you all for reading this word vom, I am sick in the head <3

if any of the comic issues are off or something please let me know :)

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE make your our and tag me!! i need to see them <3<3<3

[softxsuki]

Hi!! Congrats on 1.5k! May I please request 10 troupe with Shinichiro from Tokyo Revengers x fem!reader? Thanks in advance and I hope you have a good day! 💜

1.5k Follower Event Trope 10: Tokyo Revengers

Trope 10: Marriage of Convenience

This event is CLOSED. You can check out the masterlist here.

Pairing: Bonten!Mikey x Fem!Reader

Warning: mentions of killing, bad childhood, stalking, injury, blah

Genre: idek, kinda fluff?

Post-Type: Oneshot (so much for drabbles smh)

Word Count: ...1.1k (oops)

Note: Hey! Thank you so much. So for my tropes, you're only supposed to send in a trope number and fandom name, then I pick which character from that fandom I think it matches with the most! I've also already written one of these for Shinichiro hence why I've written this for Mikey. I hope you still enjoy it though, I love this trope! Also side note: I’ve read like 2 seconds of Bonten Mikey but I felt it fit this trope more SO if this makes no sense, you know why :)

Marriage was the last thing on Mikey’s mind, until your father approached him with a contract that included you and part of the city he owned, in return for protection from Bonten and the chance to make Bonten grow even more powerful. Naturally Mikey agreed, taking little interest in you as a factor, but desiring to see his gang flourish even farther.

As the daughter of a gang leader, your role since birth had been to be used as a means to help your father, ensuring he was always well off. There was not a day when your father thought about you or your own feelings. 

You were handed over to Mikey straight away, allowed to pack up the few clothes that you had, along with any other personal items. Meeting with him briefly to sign a few marriage documents, signing away your life, and ultimately leaving one prison and entering a new one–or so you thought.

For the most part Mikey left you alone to do as you please, only giving you a few rules to keep you safe and away from the darker areas of their base where you were staying. But you were given your own room that was nicely decorated, new clothes that fit you perfectly, and the freedom to do as you please within their building. It was more freedom than you’d ever had in your life.

Even though you were trapped in what you thought was a loveless marriage, at least everyone treated you respectfully. Though, Mikey found himself opening up to you in ways he’d never opened up before after all the trauma that he befell in the past. He admired how you carried yourself, standing tall and proud despite being thrown in an unfamiliar place by force, the least he wanted to do was make you comfortable…but why?

He found himself inviting you to the dining room for meals with him, quite enjoying your company even if you ate in silence. Flowers and other gifts were left by your bedroom door, shocking you. Why was he doing this for you, wasn’t this just a marriage of convenience? There was no need for heartfelt gifts and attention like he was giving you.

But Mikey couldn’t help himself, he felt lighter around you as if he could finally breathe again and it was such a relief–a good change from the usual heaviness that clouded over him. He realized you were slowly becoming someone he wanted to keep happy and safe; he wanted to protect you from the cruel world that existed outside those walls, the cruel world he was also a part of. 

Mikey kept his feelings to himself, aside from the random gifts he’d leave you and quality time he’d spend with you every now and then. That was until one day you were granted access to wander outside in the city, saying you needed fresh air. Enemy gangs were always keeping a close watch on Bonten headquarters, just looking for any weakness that could cause the huge corporation to plunder, and finally they had one–you. 

Word that Mikey had taken a wife spread quickly in the underground world, a potential weakness of the big boss man behind Bonten, everyone was waiting to get their hands on you to bring Mikey crashing down–and that’s exactly what happened.

A few blocks later as you walked peacefully through the cool streets, loving how calming the area was at night and enjoying your new found freedom, that all came crashing down as you felt the presence of someone following you. 

At first you thought nothing of it, but every turn you made, they made and when you turned around to glance behind you, they’d stop walking and pretend to be busy with something. You quickened your pace, your heart beating out of your chest at the prospect that you were in danger and needed to get back home quickly. The man noticed this and also fastened his pace, getting closer and closer to you.

You begin running, but you’re not fast enough as a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you down to the floor.

“Gotcha,” the man grins. “Let’s see how riled up your husband gets when we send your head back to him.”

Fear fully floods you as the man takes out a knife and approaches you with it. He only manages to scrape your cheek though before adrenaline kicks in and you push him back with the strength you didn’t know you had, jumping back to your feet and running full speed back to your home–back to Mikey.

Upon returning back to your home and bursting through the door with blood running down your face, mixed with tears, you ignore the questions of Mikey’s men who were keeping watch by the front door and run to your room.

Urgently, the men report to Mikey who jumps up from his seat and runs to your room, bursting your door open, not caring if you were decent or not.

“What happened?” He demands, closing the distance between you as he approaches your bed where you’re sobbing into your pillow.

When you don’t speak, he sighs and gently takes your hand, pulling you into him. “Let me see,” he softly says, guiding your chin up so he can get a better look at your face, gritting at the cut that had been so close to hitting your eye. 

His fingers wipe your tears away and slowly graze over the cut–he was upset. “Who did this?” He hisses. Who would dare place their hands on his wife?

You felt surprisingly relaxed and safe in his arms as he held you close, never once breaking eye contact with him, you had no choice but to fill him in on what happened during your walk.

“I just went out to get some fresh air and take a quick walk, but I noticed someone following me. I tried getting back here before he could catch up to me, but he was too fast. He said,” you gulp, fear once again filling your body as you remember the man's words. “He said he was going to send you my head back.”

Mikey was seething now. Not only had someone harmed you, but they’d also threatened to kill you? 

“Sanzu!” He screams, calling his most trustworthy man to enter your room, to which the pink-haired man appears immediately. “Have a few men patrol the area, I want any suspicious men taken in, I don’t care if you bring in everyone, I want him found, whoever it was that did this to my wife,” he grits, holding you tightly to him. 

Though anger was bubbling up inside him, he couldn’t help but feel slight relief that you were still alive and safe in his arms. He couldn’t lose you too…

That man would be tracked down and made an example out of. No one would dare try to harm his wife again. This marriage was now real to him and Mikey would do anything to protect it–to protect you.

EVENT REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

REGULAR REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Posted: 10/23/2023

[dunmeshistash]

Personally I think Laios' curse has to do with his love of learning about monsters rather than anything else.

Monsters that he already knows things about from the dungeon (like wargs and unicorns) aren't affected by the curse because he already knows almost everything about them. A similar example would be the short story where Laios, Marcille, and Falin go dungeon crawling and find a cocktrice, which 1. Laios knows plenty about (from eating and studying it) and 2. would be affected by the curse if it just repelled all monsters.

I also think the curse has nothing to do with his hunger as well. I think his comment of always feeling 30% full is because he ate a desire (which is what gave the mana beast hunger at all)

Hmm the poop forest ability didn't last that long tho, and the "regarding the curse" (I think that was the name) implies even his body could have the same effect

I don't think the curse the lion put on him would be something that would go away along with him since he knew he wouldn't care about it soon, even if it's "they're afraid of him cause they think he's a powerful monster" it still counts no?

Idk, interesting to think about, I just think effectively he really can't be around monsters by what the post canon implies so it ends up the same. He also says he only gets to see monsters when izutsumi brings them dead to him.

[bornagainmurdock]

the collaring

author's note: this is not about matt being collared, but im getting ideas

contents: matt buys you a collar, 18+ ONLY, suggestive, matt murdock x reader, gender neutral reader, switch!matt & switch!reader (but ultimately dom!matt), collaring, possessiveness, teasing, hair pulling

work count: 1.6k

When you and Matt had moved in together a few months beack, he helped carry boxes up to his— now both of yours— apartment. You had clearly organized each box except for one. It was a regualr brown cardboard box, but covered in fragile stickers and miles of packing tape that even Edward Scissorhand wouldn't have been able to get in.

Matt carried that box up the stairs by itself by your request, holding it very close to his body and setting it on the bed in the bedroom to keep it safe. Matt respected your personal space, but this was driving him mad. What could you be hiding?

The rest of that day, you and Matt unpacked your things adding to the mess. Boxes were half unpacked and spewed everywhere, making it a tripping hazard for the both of you to move about.

Once the sun went down, you had given up. The kitchen boxes were entirely unpacked, and so was your bathroom boxes, but your closet and decor boxes would have to wait until tomorrow.

Matt and you got ready for bed, this time for the first time together. It felt permanant, it felt happy.

Once you both made it into bed, Matt brushed your cheek until you fell asleep across from him, heartbeat steady and slowing.

Matt couldn't sleep. It wasn't the anxiety of work or desire to patrol this time though; it was your unlabeled box.

Maybe it was a box of your sex toys, or a secret present for him, or maybe it was your ex's things. It was haunting him. He had to know.

He listened to you sleep, still so soundly. Should he investigate? Surely you didn't tell him for a reason. He shouldn't snoop. Matt could resist the temptation, but only for so long.

He considered getting out of bed, but sleep found him eventually.

In the morning, the same idea haunted Matt. You had just left to go get breakfast sandwiches at the corner store, so now was the perfect time.

Matt walked over to the closet where you had hid the box. He sat down on the floor in front of it and started to search for a tape end, peeling the edge up just enough to get his fingers on. And then the guilt hit him.

He shook it head, "No, no no, I shouldn't do this." He spoke to himself in the busy haze soundscape of New York.

He returned to the kitchen to clean some dishes before you made it home and ate together. It was quiet until Matt's curiosity got the best of him.

"What's in the uber taped up box?" Matt was astounded by his own confidence.

"My collars."

It was that easy?

You said it so bluntly, like he should've known.

"Collars?" He wanted, needed clarification.

"Yes. I wear them when I'm stressed and overwhelmed. They ground me. I also used to wear them to play parties and clubs, but I feel too old for that now." You continued at your food.

"Can I feel them?"

"Can I finish my breakfast first?"

"Can do Captain." He fake saluted you, mind running wild with the possibilities of what could be inside. You had never mentioned this before. Sure, he knew about the play parties you had gone to, the dungeons, the clubs and bars. But god he wanted you collared sitting at his feet mouth around his—

He wanted you collared.

He wanted you wearing a collar he bought you and he put on you.

"Hello? Anyone in there?" You poked his arm waiting for reality to catch up with him.

"Yes, yes. What?" Matt refocused on you.

"I've been talking for like three minutes and you haven't been listening. What's going on in that head of yours?"

"Thinking about you on your knees." He was trying to play cool, but he cheeks started to flush.

"MATTHEW!"

"Collar time?" He said bouncing in his chair.

"You're feral."

"I'm about to be." He stood up, grabbing your arm to pull you with him to the bedroom.

He sits you down in front of the box, passing a pair of scissors to you in the process to cut the tape open. When the tapes finally gone, you open the flaps and begin to pull them out one by one.

"Okay so this one is black leather," you pass it to Matt to feel, "it has felt on the inside and an O ring at the very front. And this one is black faux leather."

Matt's breathing becomes erratic as he dances his fingers over the collars, mind exploring some less than appropriate ideas.

"And this one has like 12 or 13 D rings on it. I wore it once to the dungeon and chained to the wall for a while while people—"

"Are you trying to kill me?" He interrupts.

"Maybe. This one is pink. The Dungeon Master bought it for me for my one year anniversery there. It's custom made and realllllly soft. Here." You passed it to Matt who was still obsessing over the last story you started telling.

"And this one," you started again, "is like one of those spike collars they make for dogs. Prongs on the inside to poke at your neck when it gets tugged."

"I need you to stop talking." Matt was seconds away from losing his mind.

"I'm not even halfway through the box."

"You're killing me." Matt was panting as you continued through the haul, face a bit dazed and ditzy. He held them all in his hands, asking questions about what you liked and didn't like. Asking you how they felt to have on.

"Do you want to feel? I can put one on you." You move your hands to his neck, tracing where one of the collars would lie.

"Maybe another time. I'm about to ruin my pants, and you for that matter, hearing about all time." Matt shivers under your touch, gasping when you use even the faintest amount more pressure.

"Manwhore Murdock strikes again." You laugh, removing your hands from Matt's body.

"And whose fault would that be?" He lunges at you until you're under his body breathless, "Guess I gotta teach you to behave."

---

After the conversation about collars, Matt could not stop thinking about buying you one, making you kneel in front of him while he put it on you and watching you sink into him.

After much research, Matt finds a seller he likes who does customs and orders one. He decided on worn black leather on the outside with a buckle closeure in the back. It had an O ring in the front and two D rings on the sides. There were other metal adornments across the fabric. The inside was very soft and plush, the color of peony petals and Matt's cheeks when he was flustered.

Matt knows because it's custom it takes a while to make and ship and so he tries his best to remain patient, using your other collars whenever he can. Watching TV together? Collared. Doing dishes? Collared? Teasing you until you cried under him? Collared.

It drove him crazy how different you were with them around you neck. It also drove him crazy how much longer he'd have to wait to collar you himself.

And then the day comes. It's delivered in the mailbox and Matt makes sure he offers to check the mail that day so you don't ruin your suprise.

He leaves work early, gets the mail on the way up to the apartment, and carefully open the bubble mailer as to not damage the collar.

When he pulls it out of the packege he runs his fingers over every inch of it, feeling the leather and lush against his own skin, shivering when he remembers what it's for.

He sits on the couch holding it in his hands daydreaming until you come home, exhausted and drained, throwing your bag on the kitchen counter and walking towards Matt.

"Stop." He commands, facing away from you.

You stop in your tracks, confused but needing the loss of control after the day you had.

"Kneel."

You fall to your knees, face shifted down looking at the floor in front of you.

Matt stands from the couch shifting his hands behind him. You don't see what he has, but you can assume.

He makes his way in front of you, lifting your chin to look him in the eyes.

"I have a gift for you."

You nod, eyes still peering up at him, this time with a twinkle of excitement.

Matt bends down and you feel his energy shift from stern to bubbly. He's smiling as big as he can, cheeks tensing, eyes crinkled.

He presents the item in front of you, but you don't look down until he tells you to.

"I bought you a collar. One for just us."

You look down at his hands and are almost brought to tears.

It's beautiful. And so fucking hot.

You tilt you head back up, exposing your neck to Matt. He shifts around you, clasping the buckle at the back of your neck.

"What do you think?" He's a bit nervous, you can tell by the way he moves around you.

"Mmm Matt— I, umm I," you struggle through the thought, never reaching the end of it.

Matt clicks his tongue against his teeth, clearly impressed by his ability to get you subby so fast, "That's what I thought, love."

You whimper when his hand brushes over your hair, tugging at it a bit.

"Bedroom now." He commands.

You move to your feet and scamper off to the bedroom, Matt not far behind.

[genshin-impacted]

Exchange of Rings

(Alhaitham x Reader - 3/?) 

You and Alhaitham learn about each other while living together. Neither of you mind what you're seeing (or hearing). OR cooking + hobbies + singing

Word Count: ~3.5k

Notes: afab!reader, second person pov “you”, gn!reader, switches pov with Alhaitham, modern au, arranged marriage, fall first/fall harder, suggestive themes, slow burn

[Previous - Next]

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Like most working adults, you and Alhaitham are gone for most of the day and home at around sunset. With your differing schedules, you don’t get to see each other for most of the week. Still, the two of you begin to develop a routine together with the awareness that you are no longer living alone. 

It means making more food so the two of you can pack the leftovers for lunch. Having cooked at home for your family, you have less trouble adapting the portions to make enough for the two of you, but for the first nights Alhaitham made dinner, there was nothing to bring to work the next day. It wasn’t a big deal, but Alhaitham seemed inordinately upset, if only because he had believed he had made enough for four people and increased the proportion of ingredients appropriately. 

You think you were partially to blame, considering you probably ate enough saffron rice for maybe two and a half people, and you tell him just as much. You were half-joking, but Alhaitham leveled you a look. Before you could get nervous and actually apologize, he nodded to himself. 

“I’ll simply increase the proportions two-fold next time,” Alhaitham said. “I should have taken into consideration both of our individual diet patterns when calculating.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, really,” you stammered, feeling your face heat up. “Your cooking is just really good. I don’t eat that much usually.”

Alhaitham had stared at you again, observing you, and it is now a feeling you have grown familiar with, though it still makes you feel the need to look away. It’s not as though it really bothers you; if it had, you don’t think you would survive in this relationship where Alhaitham is prone to thinking before speaking. (Sometimes, for a long time.)

In some ways, the way Alhaitham looks at you makes you feel seen. And that’s why it’s embarrassing, you think: you feel as though he can tell who you really are behind the polite pretenses and manners hammered into your psyche. 

Just when you think he’s decided to drop the topic, he said, “There’s no need to be embarrassed. There’s nothing wrong with a big appetite. If you were worried about your diet or appearance-”

“Speaking about food,” you interrupted, voice a twinge higher, “is this your mom’s recipe? It’s really good!”  

You can still palpate his desire to continue the previous conversation even as he graciously allowed you to talk about the subject of the day. 

.

Living together also means waking up to an alarm and clicking snooze only twice– maximum. The two of you actually had a serious discussion about this, having apparently shared the scenario of an unfortunate roommate pressing snooze every five minutes for a half hour. 

The two of you already worked out the chores; some things you do together (dusting, cooking, setting up the table), while others you take turns doing. The topic of laundry came up and Alhaitham is the one suggesting doing individual loads for the time being, justifying by saying that he probably will have to do it more often. Which is fair, you think, you take up twice as much closet space as Alhaitham, so that means he has less clothes to rotate through in general. 

What he lacks in closet space, Alhaitham makes it up in the form of books. As promised, he moves in his bookcases, which line up the walls of the small living room next to the couch that he often sits at after dinner for leisurely reading. 

As a reader of specifically non-fiction, you think Alhaitham must be well-read in all topics. You like to dabble in some topics from the sciences or humanities too, and it’s come in handy, helping along some of your supper conversations as they veer towards specific bits of knowledge that you’ve garnered throughout the years. While the last time you’ve really read an informative book was eons ago, Alhaitham is on a constant pursuit of knowledge, sifting through pages and pages of information and grasping at the ones that are pertinent– no matter how esoteric the knowledge may be. 

You remember peering into his bookshelves the other day when it was your turn to dust (worst chore by far). You were hoping to pick up a topic that you could perhaps talk with him about, but some of the books you’ve seen are truly beyond your knowledge AND interest.  

Especially with “Factory Mass Manufacturing and Warehouse Management,” you think absently, as you cut slices of apples onto a plate. Considering how Alhaitham is the secretary of a prominent business, you can somehow see the relevance. But even so, you can never imagine reading something like that just for fun.

You walk over with the plate of fruit, crunching on a slice before gently placing the plate on the arm of the couch next to Alhaitham. You peer over his shoulder to look at his reading material.  The font is small, paragraphs thick and heavily informative almost like a textbook, but Alhaitham is close to finishing. Incredulous, you catch a glimpse of the title, and it’s the same warehouse management book you’d seen a few days before.

“You’re already almost done reading that?” You ask, bewildered. You look at Alhaitham as he pauses midway from picking up a slice of the apples you have cut. 

“It’s not that long,” he replies, flipping to the last page. “Only about 400.” 

‘Only,’ he says. You only nod. “Is it interesting to you? How do you choose what book to read next?”

“I don’t have a system, if that’s what you’re asking,” Alhaitham says. “I just choose whatever seems to be a good read for the time being.”

“Do you read just non-fiction?”

“Not always. I find that fiction and imagination can often explore various topics that reality cannot.” Alhaitham bookmarks his place in the book before shutting it. You blink when he turns to place his full attention on you. “Do you read?”

Fanfiction comes to mind immediately, but you aren’t planning to admit that right off the bat. “Nothing recently,” you say. He gives you a glance before standing up, and you follow curiously behind him as he sifts through his selection of books.  “I also usually read fictional works over non-fiction, but…”

“Are you interested in the sciences?” Alhaitham asks, pulling out a book from his collection, “Or history?”

Alhaitham ends up giving you two of the thinner non-fiction books to start with, both about topics that you surprisingly do have an interest in. You don’t remember ever talking to him about the specifics, but you garner he must have gained some sort of knowledge about your preferences in the times you’ve talked. You don’t have it in you to turn down Alhaitham’s book recommendations even though you really doubt you can find it in yourself to finish a book let alone read non-fiction. 

For one, you feel like this is a heaven-sent opportunity to bond with the man. Anyone can look at him and see how important books are to him, and you want to show interest in his hobbies, no matter how different they are from yours. And if you do end up reading, you get some more knowledge you can talk to Alhaitham about and- you try not to be too giddy at this– you might use this chance of reading to sit next to Alhaitham when he reads. (You believe they call it parallel play.) And two: you might get to understand Alhaitham just a little bit more if you delve into the books he cherishes so much.

And for that, you are motivated to see these books through to the end. 

If you sneak a peek at Alhaitham over the pages of your book ever so often, you hope he does not mind. 

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.

.

You and Alhaitham begin to develop a routine together with the awareness that he is no longer living alone. 

Alhaitham has had his share of roommates, has lived with his parents or grandmother for a period of time. But as an adult, he has the autonomy that regardless of where or who he lives with, he does everything on his own. It is different trying to live together with a spouse.

It means sharing the space in which the two of you inhabit. Alhaitham prefers to read on the couch before sleeping, and you always end up sitting on the other seat with the laptop, most likely browsing the internet. When glancing over, he can see you either shop online, scroll through social media, or play a game. It’s an open-world concept, you had explained to him when he asked once out of curiosity: Genshin Impact.  

You had looked at him then with a mix of embarrassment and anticipation, on the precipice of saying something more. You probably wanted to elaborate on what kind of game it was, but then you seem to hold yourself back, smiling at him before going back to your screen. Alhaitham has never been interested in video games, but he almost wishes you had continued to talk, if only to get to understand the hobbies you’ve touched upon during dinner.

Small talk is terrible, but with you, he can tolerate it to a certain extent. Even when asking about your day, the perspective that you bring to the table so differs from his own that he imagines if he went through the same day as you, the two of you would create very different experiences. 

Your hobbies, too, are very different from his own. His life has always revolved around books, while you have dipped your toes into whatever hobby suits your fancy at that time. Anime, gaming, baking, crocheting, embroidering, writing, photography: your interests are diverse and often fleeting, though some of those have stayed with you till now. Alhaitham is a learner- he has theories and knowledge filling his mind to the brim, and you are a doer, fueled by passion and creativity.

Alhaitham concludes by the end of the month that even with all your differences, there is at least one thing he knows the two of you have in common: curiosity. Perhaps that is why he finds it even pleasant to converse with you. He finds genuine interest in the topics you talk about, and you listen intently when he speaks upon his latest book. The reason why he knows you’re truly listening is because you said just as much.

“Why read books when I can just have you explain them to me,” you tell him jokingly as you wash the dishes that night. “You’re really good at teaching things, Alhaitham. Thanks for being so patient with me.” 

Alhaitham is not unfamiliar with compliments, but he doesn’t remember the last time someone has commended him on his abilities to instruct. And for his ‘patience’? He’s more likely to leave mid-conversation than wait for someone to try and find a grasp on their words. 

He can recall tutoring someone or other during his undergraduate years, but people are rarely as willing to learn or conscientious as you. Perhaps that is why he doesn’t mind taking his time explaining things to you. Some things are harder to grasp for you than others, but he commends you for the effort. And he knows you put the effort into understanding, if the look of disconcert with your furrowed brows and slow nods are of any indication. Your questions are pertinent; they show that you’re actually listening.

It’s much better than some other people he has tried to teach who have only wasted his time trying to ask for help with something that they have no intention to use. It must be why with you, he may seem more patient, while others have found him either curt or intimidating. (He could care less about what people think of him, and the less he interacts with them, the better.) 

Alhaitham gives a simple ‘thanks’ before your attention is back on the dishes. He goes to sit on the couch as per usual to read, but once in a while, he glances up from the pages to look at you, the far more interesting thing in the room.  

If you are by any way bothered by his looks, you don’t say.

.

Living together denotes exactly that– being under the same roof for an extended period of time. On days that both Alhaitham and you stay home all day, a rare occurrence, are days that he fully understands what it means to live in the same space as someone else. 

It’s hearing you let out a huff of laughter after you see something funny on your phone. Or listening to the muffled music that comes from your headphones when the two of you are on the couch together. And you are often on the couch together, many times not speaking but simply doing different activities in the same vicinity, which Alhaitham finds he appreciates very much. 

One of his distaste for married life was the idea that he would always have to be doing the same thing as his significant other. He understands the appeal of it, certainly; seeing you open one of the books he recommended to you as the two of you sit side-by-side has a small smile forming on his lips. But to be doing the exact same thing as his spouse all the time? He much prefers the way you and him complement each other, doing things while still being considerate of the other. 

“Do you mind if I cook fish tonight?” 

“I’m planning to vacuum in an hour; will that interrupt your work?”

“It’s a little cold tonight. Can I turn up the heater?”

And when Alhaitham works out in the living room, he notices you staring at him as you read. 

His headphones are in, but when he pauses his workout, he pauses his music as well. “Am I bothering you?” He asks. He doesn’t think he makes a lot of noise when he exercises, aside from the obligatory breathes he has to take. Perhaps the constant movement in the corner of your eyes is distracting. He finds you frozen in place, mouth gaping open and closed as you try to answer him. He doesn’t particularly think it’s a very difficult question to answer, but he knows you often try to find the best way to word things so he waits.  

Alhaitham does not expect the very simple and stammered “no” that comes from you and the way you scramble to bury your nose back into your book.

You’re embarrassed, he thinks. Why? He looks at you for a while longer, and you seem more determined to not meet his gaze, as though refusing to look at him- ah. 

Alhaitham recalls that the first question you asked him was whether he found you attractive. You never provided an answer to him whether or not you found him attractive, but perhaps you didn’t need to, especially not now.

It’s a… strange feeling, to be admired for his looks. He isn’t exactly unfamiliar with them, but he never cared for how people viewed him– good or bad. Having someone like you look at him, on the other hand… He finds he does not mind the way you are flustered at being caught staring, yet respectful enough to not to purposely bother him and accommodating enough to let him exercise despite how obviously distracting he is.

It’s a little… endearing. And very amusing. If only you’d look at him now, you would catch him smiling even as his workout puts him through the wringer. 

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.

.

If you could go back in time to catch yourself before you started staring at Alhaitham– attractive, extremely fit Alhaitham who is working out in front of you– you would. You try not to make eye contact with him again after your weak response, and you feel his gaze on you for a moment longer before he goes back to his workout.

Pushups. With one arm. Sweat glistening on his forehead, breath heavy from effort- 

You take a quiet deep breath in and think of less… distracting thoughts and back to the explanation of the downfall of the Byzantine Empire that you’re reading right now. It is unironically a riveting book to sift through, but it’s just that you have something else more entertaining in front of you. Respectfully, you avert your gaze.

“I can cook dinner after I shower,” Alhaitham suddenly says, and you look to your left, craning your neck up to look at him as he wipes his neck with a towel. 

“Okay,” you say automatically, mind still reeling. A brief pause. “Have a nice shower.” 

Alhaitham looks at you again, and you are used to it by now to know that it is neither a good nor bad thing, until you see a quip of a smile on his face. “Thanks,” he basically drawls. “I will.” 

The moment Alhaitham is out of earshot, you slam your face into your book, the cool pages battling the heat on your cheeks.

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Living together means Alhaitham can discern some of your habits. It’s the plate of fruits that you cut for him when it’s a quiet afternoon of reading. It’s the way you start or end your sentences, the way you refer to certain things to a point of his own recognition as though you are teaching him your own language. And although you did not do this in the earliest stages of his relationship with you, he suspects that you are beginning to at least become more comfortable living with him, because he begins to hear you sing.

Most of it is probably not meant for his ears. Alhaitham remembers coming back to the apartment with the sounds of your distant, muffled singing, which stops the moment he closes the door shut with a slam. (There is no other way to close this door securely, unfortunately.) He never brings attention to it, suspecting it would only embarrass you and discourage you from singing. 

Or would it do the opposite, he wonders, covering his yawn as he walks into the kitchen after his afternoon nap to see you starting to cook dinner. You’re humming along to the music on your headphones, oblivious to his approach, and Alhaitham takes to leaning against the refrigerator until you turn around and notice him. It’s the first time he’s ever seen you jump and yelp like that. 

“I’ve noticed you sing a lot,” Alhaitham says.

“Sorry, yeah,” you say sheepishly. “Is it distracting?” 

“Not really. There’s really no need to apologize. You’re actually on tune as far as I can tell.” He sees you press your lips together, trying to hide your pleased smile. “Are we eating pasta tonight?” He asks.

“Yeah, with tomato sauce,” you say, stirring the pot gently. “So you really don’t mind? Me…” You wave your hand in a vague gesture. “Singing and all.”

“I don’t mind,” he says. Alhaitham thinks he’s been quite straightforward with how he feels about things in general. You know by now that he does not give opinions in halves; what he thinks is as clear as day. You don’t look so convinced, but it is true: he doesn’t mind hearing you sing. He’s always been sensitive to noises, bothered by the interruptions to the serenity of silence, but your voice he finds he does not mind. Perhaps he is used to hearing you, having lived with you for some time now, but he finds it hard to separate you and your voice with the image of home. (He supposes he has two places he can call home now.)

That and he can always filter the noises you make if he really needs to. Being accustomed to living with you has its perks, after all, but he has yet to find a reason to do so. In some ways, silence is no longer a part of his daily routine anymore. Alhaitham finds he does not mind that either when it involves you.  

Alhaitham continues, “Though I do ask you don’t sing in the showers if it’s late; I do sleep quite early-”

“Yeah, no, no problem,” you stammer, staring at the pot as though it required more of your attention. (It does not as far as he knows.) “I- So you’ve heard me sing in there too?”

“Yes,” he says simply. When you stand there, stunned, he continues, “Again, I don’t mind it.”

“Noted.” You slowly grin, telling him teasingly, “Feel free to burst into song any time too, Alhaitham.” 

The comment surprises a huff of laughter out of him, and he walks to the living room knowing full well you’re still smiling ear to ear. “Unlikely, but thanks anyways.” He says, “I’ll be reading; let me know if you need help.”

Alhaitham hears you chirp out an affirmation before going back to cooking. The stove flickers out as you turn off the stove, turning around to separate the pasta from water. Alhaitham is a few pages into his new book when he begins to hear you hum again. He looks up from his book to watch you bob your head along with the song you’re singing, steam rising from the sink as the hot water is poured. 

He’s smiling as he goes back to read his book. 

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Taglist:

@crowbird @thetwinkims @jaguarthecat @loki-zos-galvus @fantasy-enthusiast @tanspostsblog @dxstopiaa @theprinceofkhaos @homeinhobii @nagisuterus

[shinycrybaby]

The good in losing? (Haitani Ran x Fem!Reader

Genre/Tags: Highschool AU, No gangs AU, One-sided enemies to lovers?, Izana and Reader are childhood friends, Protective bff!Izana

Warnings: Profanities, Typos

Word Count: 2.6k

Synopsis: Pairing you with Ran for the three-legged race was a disaster.

Maybe the class should’ve thought this through. It’s only then did they come to the realization that you and Ran don’t work out really well, as they watch the two of you on the track field, pulling on each other’s hair like two girls fighting over their crush.

Two weeks ago

The annual school festivities were nearing. Students were balancing both sport practices, performances, booth planning as well as their studies and usual club activities.

A month ago, it was already announced that the annual event was nearing and that a date has been set. Students were given the time to think of theme for their classrooms for when they showcase a talent or mini event of their own. Or to some an opportunity to do their dream classroom café.

Class 3-C, however, seemed to be blessed with a hoard of procrastinators, and were only now planning for everything. From the classroom activities, down to the very last sport where they will choose their classmates to participate in.

It was around their break time that the class president has finally acted, and was now making a poll of choices for their classmates to choose from as they all ate their snacks.

One thing that came out good from their class or procrastinators, was that they listened well to their president.

“Okay, make sure that everyone votes for their theme of choice. One vote per student; no doubles in one category or else I’ll have those who doubles, do all sports. No excuses allowed.” Izana spoke clearly to the class, as his arms crossed.

Yeah. They listened well to their president.

“Oh! Let’s do a café.” Someone from the back suggested.

“That’s already taken by class 3-E. Rules said that no themes alike per class year.” Izana explains, making the student who suggested, sulk. “Keep the suggestions coming, I’ll write down really quick the themes that are already taken.”

The silver haired boy instructs the vice president – Muto, to take down notes of the class’s suggestions while he wrote all the themes that were taken for their year, while also writing the lower year’s themes in case someone takes inspiration for one of the existing themes.

“A pirate ship!” One of the students suggests.

“What about fairytale? We can be knights and princesses and princes, and fairies—” Another student suggests but was quickly shutdown by some of the boys in the class.

It went on and on, their suggestions. And you were just watching it all go down.

To be honest, you were fine with anything. What you were excited about was just roaming around during the 1-week event. You hoped so bad that Izana would take pity on you and not let you join any other activities because you were having a severe case of ‘senioritis’.

Soon enough, the class settled on a theme, which was a curious combination of circus, and junkyard. After that came the discussion of what decorations to use, the layout of the classroom for their desired theme, and then the funds. Then also came the service in which they will provide for the other students that will visit their classroom.

“Alright, now that that’s settled. We can now move on to the sports.” Izana announces, after taking quick notes of all their classroom plans, he erases the writings on the board before replacing it with the sports that needed to be filled with students who will willingly participate.

“As much as I hate to be that person,” Izana starts, “I suggest everyone to participate in at least one activity.”

There goes your hope of doing nothing for the sports portion.

Time ticked along with the speed with which Izana wrote each player per activity.

“Alright, now for the three-legged race.”

A slap on the table, and then Shion stands up. “I vote for Ran on this one.”

Izana rubs on his temples, “I just said to raise your hand when suggesting something.”

His statement was ignored by his friend, explaining to the class why Ran should play in the race.

“And that’s why, I think Ran should play.” With a playfully curt bow, Shion takes a seat.

“And did I say yes to this?” Ran voices out, his brow raising at his friend’s stupidity.

“Come on Ran, you’re one of the fastest in class. We can’t have you on the 200m race otherwise it’s not a challenge at all for the others. You’d be winning instantly, with those long-ass, lanky, stick man legs.”

Ran doesn’t know if it’s a compliment. He doesn’t take it as one.

“Yeah, Ran!” Some of the girls in class chides in. “Then I’ll be your partner.” And he knows exactly that was the catch.

“Okay, then Ran it is.” Izana writes down Ran’s name on the board.

“What?! I didn’t even say yes!” Ran whines, standing up to make a point for his displeasure.

Izana ignores him, writing his own name on the 200-meter race so that Ran won’t have any choice if he ever brings up the suggestion.

“If I’m playing, then I’m choosing my partner for the race.” He scoffs, which then earned his statement a flurry of girls raising their hand and saying ‘pick me, Ran’.

You watch in feint amusement how things were unfolding, and then switch your attention back to the notes you made during this class meeting. Thinking back to the class theme and what you should wear after Izana gave out the dress code for your class.

You raised your head, pondering, but were met with Ran’s amethyst orbs. That time you were paying attention to your notes and spacing out, Ran had made his way to your desk.

Your confusion was evident as to why he was suddenly sat on the vacant seat in front of you and just staring straight into your soul.

You look around the class and they were staring silently at you two. Some of the girls were even glaring at you.

You turned to Izana for help. Eyes staring into him in slight panic because you absolutely hated being stared at like this.

Izana sighs, “look, she doesn’t even want to.”

Ran turns his body, holding up a hand at his friend. “Wait, I need to hear it from her.”

You feel annoyance start to boil at what Ran was doing. You already weren’t on good terms and now he’s pulling this on you. “Hear what?” You ask.

“Your answer. I said that you’ll be my partner for the three-legged race.” He grins, eyes gleaming with a playful glint that always irked you.

You turn your head away, the frown seeming to sew itself on your forehead to give you a permanent look of displeasure from your interactions with the older Haitani. “No fucking way. I’m not doing it.” You say with finality in your tone.

Izana was about to move the class’s attention to picking a new participant when he was cut off by a classmate.

“But you two are the fastest in class! I’m sure you guys can win us a medal!”

And so, a chorus of agreements from the others arouse, making it hard for Izana to counter and side with his dear childhood friend. “Okay, then we’ll have Ran and Y/N for the three-legged race.”

You look in horror at the betrayal committed by Izana. Ran was grinning, and the former was basically avoiding eye contact with you, proceeding the meeting further.

And they should’ve known from that day alone where the frown never left your face, that their choice of players was a mistake.

“Who suggested Ran to play again in the first place?” A comment was heard from one of your classmates on the sideline. The class points towards Shion.

“Hey! It’s not my fault. He didn’t have to choose Y/N for this! Who even pushed the Ran and Y/N agenda?” Shion fires back, not liking that the blame was all on him.

Izana hushes everyone before a fight starts to break out among them. Muto was quick to cover Shion’s mouth, already knowing that the boy won’t back down.

“Maybe if you didn’t have long fucking limbs, it’d be easier to move!” Your voice was heard, and the class lost all hope of winning the medal for the game.

“Well maybe drink your milk so you’d actually grow some height.” Ran fights back, agitated from the heat blaring down on them.

This aggravated you further, pulling on to one of Ran’s braids, making him stop from his attempts to move you two to the finish line. “Annabelle!” You throw the name, referring to how his braids always made him look like the haunted doll.

Ran gasps dramatically, “you bitch! I spent hours on this!” The taller boy flicks his braid away from you, before pulling on your hair. “Grumpy!” Ran insults back, referring to one of Snow White’s seven dwarves.

Class 3-C watched, not knowing what to do, until the two of you were full on fighting that you two were on the ground, kicking and pulling on each other’s hair.

“Grumpy!”

“Annabelle!”

The teachers came rushing in, trying to stop you both. Your homeroom teacher pulling on to Ran, as Izana hurried over to pull you away from the tall braided boy.

“You two, office. Now.” Your teacher drags you two, with Izana followed. “Yasuhiro, please take charge of the class while I’m away.” Your homeroom teacher turns to Muto, before the boy gave a thumbs up, turning to your classmates, readying them for the next game while the race was still on-going.

As you walked – more like were dragged – to the teacher’s office, you heard the commentator through the speakers on the field, “due to a cat fight ensuing, class 3-C is out of the three-legged race!” You rolled your eyes, blaming Ran on your mind for everything.

Once seated on the chairs that was pulled for the two of you, you suddenly felt small under the scrutinizing stared of your homeroom teacher.

He was pacing around, feeling the stress nip at him. He was supposed to enjoy this week with his students, but now he had to control two of his students to behave more properly.

The older man pinches the bridge of his nose. “I really don’t want to deal with you two, but since we’re here. Explain, now.”

Ran raised his hand, opening his mouth before he was cut off. “You know what, I don’t want to hear it. Write it. I want an apology letter; a detailed one. I want to know exactly what happened why you two fought. I’m not giving you two detention, because I still want you two to enjoy this week and I’m not ruining it. But that apology letter, I want it written and done today.” The older man fumbles about on his desk, looking for two sheets of papers, and two pencils and then handing it to you and Ran.

“Give me the letters once you finished, look for me. Don’t leave it on the table.” With that the man leaves, instructing Izana to follow suit.

Izana nods at your homeroom teacher, before turning to you two and sighing. You see your friend’s distressed look and it added to the shame and guilt in your gut. “I’m sorry.” You look down to your lap.

It was enough for Izana. He knows your words were sincere, and he didn’t want you to beat yourself up over it. He turns to Ran, waiting expectantly.

“What?” Ran looks up as if he wasn’t part of the fight and added fuel to the fire.

Izana picks up a notebook from your homeroom teacher’s desk, rolling it and then swinging it on Ran’s head. The notebook hitting the tall boy’s head, as Izana gave him a warning glare. “Make up.” He hisses at the boy.

“You’re worse than any of the teachers here, I swear.” Ran mumbles, rubbing on his head.

Izana holds up the rolled notebook again, warning him. Ran holds up both hands in surrender, making the class president lower his “weapon” and place it back on the teacher’s desk.

With that, he leaves, and it’s just you and Ran, your papers waiting to be filled with a detailed incident report and apologies.

You got to writing as soon as Izana left while Ran basically just lounged about. You were halfway to finishing when he peers at your paper.

“Let me copy yours.”

You stare at him as if he’s the stupidest person on earth. You actually think that he is at this point.

“Are you dumb?” You say incredulously before turning back to your paper, practically ignoring him.

“Hey, come on~ You keep ignoring me. What have I ever done to you to deserve this treatment?” The boy was basically being a drama queen, sighing heavily here and there.

You grumbled, slamming the pencil down and then turning to him. “You get on my nerves. You annoy the heck out of me. You draw me unwanted attention and I hate that the most.”

“Then, what shall I do, oh my lady, to garner your attention?”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics. “Nothing, just leave me alone.” You turn back to your paper.

However, this is the only time that you probably hated the spinning chairs in wheels, because the two-tone haired boy turned you around again, this time, he drew closer to you with his own chair, trapping you in between his legs as does his arms while his hands rested on the edge of the teacher’s table.

“Look at me,” Ran whispers, staring straight at you.

You were never one to have your personal space invader like this. Ran was the first, and it bordered on feeling butterflies at the pit of your stomach, and feeling uncomfortable. You don’t stare at him. It was hard.

The boy sighs, tilting your head with his fingertips. “If I get serious with you, will you finally pay attention to me?”

“That depends...”

“On what?”

To be honest, you don’t know. You just let the silence envelope the two of you. Ran was still observing you, until his eyes landed on your lips.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispers under his breath.

Maybe it was the tension, or the way this side of Ran brought something out in you, but you nodded. “Okay...”

The next thing you know, his lips were on your own. It was short, with minor movements, but enough to light something in your chest.

You both pulled away and just stare at each other, when a voice breaks the silence that settled between you. “I said ‘make up’ not ‘make out’.” Izana exasperatedly spoke, already exhausted from his 200-meter race, and from handling his rowdy classmates. Now he was faced with another pain to mind.

Your cheeks flared up as you replied, “we did not make out!”

“Yeah! If we were making out, I’d be having my t—” you slapped the taller boy’s shoulder, hard, knowing how he’d use his colorful words to explain you two’s supposed situation.

“I don’t need to hear that. I’ll deal with you later,” Izana points at Ran with a glare in his eyes. “For now, you two need to finish that apology letter, because the whole class is being called for a competition against the other 3rd year classes.” Izana pulls another chair where he sits and observe you two.

“No funny business,” the class president crosses his arms, as he watched Ran jut out his bottom lip in a pout.

With no other choice, Ran sulks as he wrote whatever dramatics he wanted to put in his apology letter. He’d glance at you whenever, smiling to himself as he sees the light blush on your face, noticing how you’d sometimes space out mid-writing. He definitely likes to see this side of you show such adorable reactions, and he hoped he’d see it more in the future.

© August 2022, shinycrybaby. All rights reserved.

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A/N: I'm quite hmmmm .... I dunno if it's good that I'm writing 🤔

@softbajis here is the first ran fic i mentioned 🫡 I'll finish up the other one soon after work kkkk

[loudlooks]

Day 29 - Take my hand

30 day challenge notes: quantity over quality, limited editing, stand-alone/unrelated stories unless specifically stated otherwise, not always tiva, chronologically randomly set in whatever pre-s11 season seems to fit

A/N: Tony's car broke down and Ziva is giving him a ride to work, fake dating ensues (WIP rescue from years ago)

Tag for blocking/following: 30 days of spring

Prompt: Take my hand

Word count: 723

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The small Toyota parking across the street made Tony lose all focus on what Ziva was saying. “Take my hand,” he told Ziva, as he watched his perky new neighbor—the one who was half his age, yet had been hitting on him ever since she moved in—cross the street towards them.

Ziva looked at him in confusion.

He leaned closer to her, and repeated his request with more persistence.

“What? Why?”

With Sally now within hearing distance, he simply grabbed hold of Ziva’s left hand and pulled her right next to him, ignoring her look.

“Tony!” Sally said, all smiles.

“Sally, fancy seeing you here,” Tony said with a fake smile.

Sally frowned. “In front of our apartment building?”

“Ha, yeah,” Tony said at a loss for words.  Feeling Ziva’s burning stare, he held up his and Ziva's conjoined hands. “Sally this is Ziva.” He glanced at Ziva, who looked at him in amusement. “Ziva this is Sally, she moved into Patterson's apartment last week.”

Ziva narrowed her eyes, never having actually met Patterson, so he squeezed her hand, willing her to play along.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Ziva said with exaggerated pleasantness.

Sally’s smile faded significantly as she glanced at their hands again. “Oh, yes, I think I saw you in the hallway a few days ago, and Tony mentioned your name...are you two...?”

Tony smiled widely and looked at Ziva affectionately. “We’re partners.”

“Yes, we have worked together for six years now,” Ziva added.

“Must be fun working with the person you love every day,” Sally said.

Ziva looked at him like the cat that ate the canary, and he knew he had to be on his toes for whatever she was about to throw at him.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said sweetly.

Tony forced out a chuckle, and brought her hand up to his mouth to kiss it, before giving Sally a conspiratorial look and saying, “Strictly business at work.”

Sally gave them a conflicted look. “Right…well, I have to go.”

As Sally walked away, Tony leaned down to grumpily whisper in Ziva’s ear, “Thanks, I don’t think she bought it.”

“Easy enough to fix,” Ziva said with a hint of mischief in her voice. She placed a hand on his cheek and guided his mouth to hers.

His heart skipped a beat as his mind focused fully on Ziva, giving as good as he got, and god was it good.

She pulled away, biting her bottom lip, gaze flicking to his mouth before meeting his eyes.  “More believable?”

“No,” Tony said, getting lost in the desire in her eyes and the need to stay close to her. “Not at all,” he breathed against her lips and kissed her with fervor.

All too soon, Ziva broke the kiss, a small gasp leaving her lips. She kept her face close to his. “That should definitely do it.”

“I don’t know…” He grazed her lips gently.

“Tony, she’s inside,” Ziva murmured.

He nuzzled her nose, not wanting this to end, fake or real. “She might be watching us through the window.”

Ziva pulled back and looked at him with a bemused smile. “Her apartment is on the side of the building.”

With a grin, and a last glance at her lips, he said, “I guess we should get to work, anyway.”

As they walked towards her Mini, his heart skipped another beat realizing she had not let go of his hand. Mindlessly he gave it a light squeeze, drawing her attention.

She let go of his hand, brows knitting together as she unlocked the car, but didn’t open the door.

He reached the passenger side, opened the door, and hesitated as he watched her seemingly lost in thought.

She glanced back at his apartment building, then met his gaze over the roof of the car. “When did you say your car would be fixed?”

“Tomorrow,” he said, then caught another glimpse of mischief in her eyes. Tony glanced at the same spot she had glanced at, and felt a flutter in his chest. “Maybe next week, who knows with mechanics, right.”

She opened the car door, a slow smile building as she held eye contact. “Do you think we’ll run into your neighbor again?”

Tony smiled his million dollar smile. “I never thought I’d say this, but, I hope so.”

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Tagging @hopeless-nostalgiac