#he's not completely finished yet but this is good for now

[stxrslutrestored]

party girl ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

starring; rafe cameron . sweetie!reader

synopsis; when you somehow end up in the hands of rafe cameron at a party, you find yourself trying all sorts of things that you’d never imagine yourself doing

content; use of cocaine, intox, slight coercion, dry humping, exhibitionism, taking of virginity (depending on how u view virginity), topper and kelce’s existence 

note; trying a new layout to match my new theme

“uhm… I think I’m just gonna go find my friends.” you try to excuse yourself from the conversation you’d find yourself caught up in with rafe cameron, you’d heard from many that he would be very bad news for you. 

he chuckles, “oh, nah,” he shakes his head, smirking down at you, “you don’t even know where your friends are. a girl like you shouldnt be walkin’ around all alone at a party like this, why don’t you come sit with me and my crowd huh?” 

you hesitate for a moment, the more rational side of your head thinking you definitely shouldn’t follow and alleged drug addicted psycho and possible murderer to his second location. the less rational side is thinking that you don’t want to be wondering around for ages looking for your friends, as it would be easier to just go with rafe and hope for the best. 

you eventually nod shyly, “okay, i guess..” you look down as rafe smiles and starts to lead you through the party, you follow him all the way downstairs to a corner where there are multiple chairs and couches placed around a coffee table that is scattered with cups, plastic baggies, pills and powder. 

rafe leads you to one of the couches, sitting down in what was presumably his spot before he went on the detour on which he acquired you. there isn’t any more space on the couch so you make to perch on the arm next to rafe, he smiles up at you. 

one of his friends – you recognise him as kelce – speaks up, “what’chu doin’ here sweetheart?” his voice is loud and yet barely audible over the buzz of the party around you. “didn’t think you were the type for this scene.” 

you shake your head timidly, doing your best to speak up and answer him, “rafe brought me,” you tell him, “i lost my friends.” kelce smirks, so does rafe’s other friend topper and you watch all three of the boys exchange looks you can’t tell the intention of.

you feel quite out of place as the men around you are all completely comfortable. they are loud and rowdy, all of them drinking or doing lines or both. you are drinking a pink fruity cocktail that you didn’t actually want for the alcohol and only asked for because it was cute and you could. 

you feel scared to chime into the conversations, so you end up not speaking until you’re finally spoken to. rafe turns up to you, that same wicked smirk plastered across his lips, “you ever done a line sweetheart?” he asks, voice carrying a suggestive tone. 

you immediately shake your head, “of course not. that stuff is so bad for you… i couldn’t ever destroy my body like that.” you say confidently, but then immediately realise your mistake of criticising the use of drugs, in a room full of people who do drugs, everyone is looking at you now. you smile uncomfortably, “but i don’t mind that you guys do it.. that’s.. just fine.” 

rafe chuckles, patting your shoulder, “no you’re right. shits terrible for the body,” he affirms your point, “feels too good to stop though.” he finishes, before leaning down to snort another line off the table. 

topper looks up to you, “maybe you should try some,” he suggests, “would make you understand us, not be so quick to judge.” he smiles smugly up at you. 

“i’m not sure,” you rush out, “i don’t know if my tolerance will be good enough for coke.” you try to make an excuse. rafe sits up, looking right up to you, his hand comes up to wrap around your shoulder, making it hard for you to not slip off the arm of the couch and land in his lap. 

rafe speaks, “nah it’s not that bad.” he assures, “toppers right. why don’t you try it, to expand your horizons.” 

you shake your head, “I couldn’t possibly—“ but rafe cuts you off, clearly set on his motive now. 

“just a little bit,” he smiles, holding a line on his thumb, right there for you to accept. you feel like you can’t say no. 

“I don’t know how to do it,” you inform him and he chuckles, patting his leg. with everyone watching there’s really not much you can do, so you scoot over to sit on his lap, looking around the room self consciously. 

rafe chuckles, lining his hands up under your nose, “when I say, you just sniff, okay?” he says and you nod timidly. a few seconds pass and then rafe speaks, “go.” you immediately sniff, scrunching your face up as you feel the powder go up your nose. you feel the urge to sneeze but you just about manage to hold it back.

rafe smiles, rubbing your back as the others around the table cheer just a little. it’s already starting to hit you, the high, its weird, like everything is a bit distorted, sounds muffled, faces blurred, you feel good. 

soon you’re the highest in the room, despite probably being the one on the least substance. you’re now completely comfortable in rafe’s lap, leaning against his chest and almost constantly giggling at something in passing. 

something else is happening too, you’re starting to shed, that means you are beginning to want to get more comfortable, first taking your hair down and then removing your coat, now you want to take off the tights under your dress. with no social awareness due to the fact that well, youre up in the clouds, you stand from rafe’s lap and begin to pull them down as if undressing yourself. 

“woah there,” topper laughs, “bit forward don’t you think.” he jokes, looking to kelce as they both laugh at your behaviour. rafe smiles up at you, a different look in his eyes. 

“getting hot there?” he asks and you nod, assuming he’s referring to temperature. “need somethin’ to calm you down a little bit? i think you do.” 

you frown, “like what?” 

rafe smiles and leans back on the couch, spreading his legs and patting his leg, “come here and get yourself off.” he says, it’s blunt and forward and surprising. but in your drug addled mind, it just doesn’t take you aback.

almost without hesitation you start to approach, the only thing that makes you stop and think is topper and kelce in the back, laughing and saying something about ‘oh shit she’s really about to do it,’ and ‘didn’t think his plan would really work.’ 

you only look back for a second though, you decide fuck it! you climb into rafe’s lap, straddling him. you lean into his chest and without second thought you start to grind against his crotch. the material of his pants is rough against your pussy that is only covered by your thin little panties.

but you allow yourself to forget that, and soon you’re losing yourself in the feeling of deep, pleasurable stimulation. your head is thrown back and you’re moaning out loud, uncaring of the looks you get from all over the room. 

its minutes of total bliss for you until you finally reach an orgasm, you nearly scream in pleasure. you’re so high and happy that you don’t even register the fact that this is the first ever orgasm you’ve experienced. 

when you’re done with your moment of bliss you flop into rafe’s chest, completely spent and ready to crash from your high. the last thing you hear before basically passing out is something from toppers mouth, “guess she really is a party girl.” 

[s4kura-tr3]

Hello, is there a way you could do something like they saw us working out and they saw we had like... smexy muscles... (Wiggles brows)

ESPECIALLY WITH TOJI RAH

Definitely not my best work 😞

Tw: cursing, suggestive.

Gojo satoru — Gojo Satoru strolled into the room, his usual carefree energy radiating from him. But the moment his eyes landed on you, he froze, the sight before him wiping any thoughts of mischief or banter from his mind—well, almost.

There you were, mid-workout, your muscles taut and flexing as you pushed through your last set of reps. Your tank top clung to your body, damp with sweat, and the way the light caught your glistening skin made you look absolutely radiant. Gojo’s hand immediately went to his blindfold, tugging it down with a dramatic flourish to get an unobstructed view. His vibrant blue eyes gleamed with interest and something deeper as he leaned casually against the doorframe, taking his time to admire you.

��Holy hell,” he finally said, his voice low but undeniably teasing. “Did I just walk into an exclusive workout show? Because, wow, you’re putting the rest of us mortals to shame.”

You glanced his way, panting slightly from exertion, and shot him an unimpressed look. “Gojo, I’m busy.”

“Oh, I can see that,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering closer with that signature smirk plastered across his face. “Busy looking absolutely illegal. Seriously, you’ve got to warn a guy before you start flexing like that. My poor heart can’t take it.”

Rolling your eyes, you set the weights down, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from your face. But Gojo wasn’t letting you off that easily. He circled around you like he was inspecting a masterpiece, his gaze lingering on every inch of you in a way that made your skin flush under the heat of his attention.

“You know,” he continued, his voice dropping into a huskier tone, “it’s almost unfair how good you look right now. The sweat, the muscles, the determination—ugh, it’s honestly too much. You’re going to give me a complex. How am I supposed to compete with this level of hotness?”

“Compete?” you asked, arching a brow as you took a sip of water. “Pretty sure you’re just here to distract me.”

“Distract you?” he repeated with mock offense, pressing a hand dramatically to his chest. “Me? Never. I’m just here as a very supportive observer. You know, the type who notices how insanely toned your arms are. And your legs. And… wow, is that a new muscle definition I see? Babe, you’ve been holding out on me.”

Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t let him see how much his words affected you. Instead, you shot back, “Keep talking, and I’ll make you join me for the next set.”

Gojo’s grin widened, and he stepped closer, his fingers brushing lightly over your arm. “Oh, trust me, I’m tempted,” he murmured, his voice velvety smooth now. “But watching you like this? It’s honestly better than any workout I could ever do. You’re just… stunning.”

The rare sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you glanced up at him. His eyes were softer now, but still filled with that mischievous spark that made your heart skip a beat.

“Careful, Gojo,” you warned with a smirk of your own. “Flattery might make me think you actually want to work out with me.”

He chuckled, leaning down slightly so his face was closer to yours. “Oh, I’d work out with you any day,” he murmured, his tone dripping with flirtation. “But let’s be honest—if we’re sweating together, I’d much rather it be… another kind of workout.”

Your jaw dropped at his shameless comment, and you shoved him away, your laughter mixing with his. “You’re impossible!”

“And yet, you love me,” he teased, dodging your swats as he leaned in again, planting a quick kiss on your temple before pulling back with a wink. “Now, finish up, gorgeous. You’ve got me all inspired to work up a sweat later… with or without weights.”

Gojo walked off with a smug bounce in his step, leaving you flustered, exasperated, and, of course, completely enamored.

Geto Suguru — Geto Suguru wasn’t planning to linger when he walked into the room, but the moment he saw you working out, every other thought left his mind. The rhythmic movement of your body, the sharp focus in your expression, and the way the sweat clung to your skin caught him off guard. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms as a slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

For a while, he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, watching you in silence. There was something mesmerizing about seeing you like this—so determined, so powerful. He wasn’t the type to gush, but there was no denying that the sight before him was stirring something in him.

When you finished your set and set the weights down, panting slightly, his deep, smooth voice broke the quiet. “You know,” he said, his tone casual but with a teasing edge, “this might be my favorite version of you.”

You glanced over, startled to see him there, his lean frame relaxed against the wall and that damn smirk plastered across his face. “Suguru, how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he replied smoothly, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. He pushed off the wall and began walking toward you, each step deliberate and unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world. “I didn’t want to interrupt. Watching you like this is… fascinating.”

You grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat from your face as you raised an eyebrow at him. “Fascinating? I’m literally just working out.”

“Oh, it’s much more than that,” he countered, stopping a few feet away and tilting his head as he let his gaze sweep over you unapologetically. “The way you move, the strength in every motion—it’s impressive. Beautiful, even.”

His words caught you off guard, and you tried to brush off the compliment. “You’re being dramatic. I’m just trying to stay in shape.”

Suguru chuckled, the sound low and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. “Trust me, I don’t exaggerate. Watching you like this? It’s like seeing art in motion. Strong, determined, completely in control. You’re incredible.”

You felt a blush creeping up your neck, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “Well, enjoy the show, I guess,” you said dryly, reaching for your water bottle

“Oh, I intend to,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, a playful edge lacing his tone. “But I’m warning you now—I might get addicted to this view. You’re going to have to let me watch you work out more often.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of water and trying to ignore the way his gaze lingered on you. “You’re ridiculous, Suguru.”

“And yet, you’re smiling,” he pointed out, his smirk softening into something more genuine. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm as he spoke, his voice quieter now. “You’re amazing, you know that? The way you push yourself, the way you carry yourself—it’s impossible not to admire you.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you found yourself meeting his gaze, your breath hitching at the intensity in his eyes. “Suguru…”

His lips curved into a softer smile, his voice warm and teasing as he broke the tension. “But don’t let it go to your head. You’re already impossible to resist—I don’t need you getting cocky too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you swatted at him with your towel. “You’re such a flirt.”

“Only with you,” he said smoothly, catching your wrist with surprising gentleness. His fingers lingered there for a moment, his touch warm and grounding. “Though, if you really want me to stop, you’re going to have to teach me how to keep my eyes off you. Because right now? I don’t think I could if I tried.”

Your cheeks flushed at his boldness, and you shook your head, pulling your hand away as you turned back to your workout gear. “You’re impossible,” you muttered.

Suguru chuckled, his rich voice filling the space as he moved to sit on the bench nearby, his gaze never leaving you. “Maybe. But you love me for it.”

You didn’t respond, but the small smile tugging at your lips gave you away. And as you picked up the weights to start your next set, you could feel his eyes on you, warm and unwavering, his presence a steady reminder of just how deeply he admired you.

Nanami kento — Nanami Kento wasn’t someone who indulged in distractions, especially during his rare moments of downtime. He valued efficiency and order, even in his personal life. But when he returned home earlier than expected and heard the faint clink of weights in the other room, curiosity got the better of him. He loosened his tie and set his briefcase down quietly, walking toward the sound.

He paused in the doorway. There you were, mid-workout, sweat dripping down your brow, muscles flexing as you pushed through your reps. Your focus was sharp, completely unaware of his presence, and something about that made him stop and watch.

Nanami wasn’t the type to ogle or make unnecessary remarks, but he couldn’t help the way his gaze lingered, admiring the strength and determination in your movements. You had always impressed him, but seeing you like this—powerful, resilient, and utterly in your element—it struck a chord deep within him.

When you set the weights down and reached for your water bottle, his voice broke the silence, calm and steady as always. “You’re working hard.”

You startled slightly, turning to find him standing there, his tie undone, his shirt sleeves rolled up. His expression was as composed as ever, but there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

“Kento,” you said, catching your breath. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he replied, stepping into the room. His gaze flicked to the equipment before settling back on you. “I didn’t realize you were so serious about this.”

You wiped your face with a towel, shrugging lightly. “It helps me clear my head. And, you know, staying in shape isn’t a bad thing.”

His lips quirked into the faintest smile, the kind that was easy to miss if you didn’t know him well. “It’s impressive,” he said simply.

The straightforwardness of his compliment caught you off guard. “It’s just a workout, Kento.”

He stepped closer, his hands slipping into his pockets as he regarded you thoughtfully. “It’s not just a workout. It’s discipline. Focus. You don’t do things halfway, and it shows.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the genuine admiration in his tone. “I didn’t think you’d care about something like this.”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady. “I care because it’s you. Seeing you like this… it’s a reminder of how remarkable you are.”

The warmth in his words made your cheeks flush, and you looked away, trying to play it off. “You’re making it sound like I just climbed Mount Everest or something.”

Nanami chuckled softly, the sound low and rare, but unmistakably genuine. “No, but the effort you put in is no less admirable.”

You hesitated, then shot him a playful look. “Are you sure you’re not just saying this because you feel guilty for coming home late all the time?”

His smile widened���just barely—but it was enough to make your stomach flip. “If I did, would it make you feel better?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Maybe.”

Nanami stepped closer, his presence calm and grounding as always. He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his voice softer now, “I mean every word. You’re extraordinary, whether you see it or not.”

You met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes leaving you momentarily speechless. “Kento…”

He straightened, clearing his throat as if to reestablish his usual composed demeanor. “Don’t let me keep you from finishing your workout,” he said, his tone professional again. But as he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder, his voice dipping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Though, if you ever want a partner, let me know. I’d like to see if I can keep up.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart racing and a small smile tugging at your lips. Nanami Kento didn’t need grand gestures or flowery words. Somehow, his quiet admiration and steady presence were more than enough.

Toji fushiguro — Toji Fushiguro didn’t mean to interrupt when he walked into the room, but the sight of you mid-workout stopped him in his tracks. For a moment, he just stood there, leaning against the doorway with a lazy smirk, watching you as you pushed through your reps. The muscles in your arms flexed with each movement, sweat dripping down your brow, and the sheer focus on your face made something stir deep in his chest.

“Well, well,” he drawled, his deep voice cutting through the quiet hum of your workout music. “If I’d known you were hiding this in here, I might’ve shown up sooner.”

You didn’t even look up, finishing your set before setting the weights down and grabbing your water bottle. “Toji, don’t you have better things to do than bother me while I’m working out?”

“Better things? Not a chance,” he said, his grin widening as he pushed off the doorframe and strolled into the room. His green eyes swept over you unabashedly, taking in every inch of your glistening, toned form. “You look good like this. Strong. Focused. Kinda sexy, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” you shot back, taking a sip of water and ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.

Toji chuckled, the sound low and rough, as he dropped onto the bench across from you. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze never leaving you. “C’mon, don’t play coy. You’re out here showing off those muscles—you can’t expect me not to look.”

You wiped the sweat from your face with a towel, throwing him a pointed glare. “I’m working out, Toji. Not putting on a show for you.”

“Sure,” he said, shrugging, though the playful glint in his eyes didn’t waver. “But it’s a hell of a show anyway. Seriously, you been hiding this from me? Those arms could probably knock someone out. I’m almost impressed.”

“Almost?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked, leaning back and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Yeah, almost. You’d have to spar with me to really prove it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth quirked up despite yourself. “Right. Like you’d play fair.”

“Who said anything about fair?” he shot back, his grin turning sharper. “I’d let you win. Maybe.”

Shaking your head, you turned back to your weights, but you could still feel his gaze on you, heavy and heated. “If you’re going to sit there and stare, at least make yourself useful. Hand me the heavier dumbbells.”

Toji barked a laugh, standing and grabbing the weights with ease before setting them down in front of you. “You sure about that, sweetheart? Don’t want you overworking yourself.”

“I can handle it,” you said, your tone firm as you picked them up.

“Oh, I know you can,” he said, his voice dropping as he watched you lift. “You’re tougher than most people I know. But seeing you like this? Pushing yourself? It’s… something else.”

The shift in his tone caught you off guard, and you glanced at him. For a moment, the teasing glint in his eyes was replaced by something warmer, more genuine.

“You’re impressive,” he said simply, shrugging as though it was no big deal. “Strong, determined, and hot as hell. I’d be an idiot not to notice.”

You paused, his words sinking in, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Toji…”

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he said, the grin returning to his face. He reached out, brushing a bead of sweat off your temple with his thumb, his touch surprisingly gentle. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head as you set the weights down. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stunning,” he replied without missing a beat, his voice low and steady. “Now finish up. If you’re this strong now, I wanna see what you can do with a real challenge. Sparring session, tomorrow. You in?”

You met his gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. “Only if you promise not to hold back.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his smirk turning downright predatory. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

With that, he stepped back, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before turning to leave. And as you picked up your weights again, you couldn’t help but smile, your heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the workout.

Sukuna Ryomen — Sukuna wasn’t used to being surprised, but when he materialized in the middle of your workout, he found himself pausing, an amused smirk curling across his lips. You were focused, muscles taut as you pushed through another grueling set, sweat glistening on your skin and making your form all the more striking. You hadn’t noticed him yet, and that only added to his amusement.

He leaned lazily against the wall, crimson eyes gleaming with interest. “You’ve been holding out on me,” he remarked, his voice deep and smooth, cutting through the quiet.

Startled, you looked up, your breath hitching when you saw him watching you, that familiar smug grin plastered on his face. “Sukuna,” you said, wiping the sweat from your brow. “What are you doing here?”

“Appreciating the view,” he replied, his gaze shamelessly roaming over you. “I didn’t know you had this in you. A little warrior hidden beneath all that charm. Makes me wonder what else you’re hiding.”

You rolled your eyes and picked up your water bottle, taking a long sip before answering. “I’m not hiding anything. And I doubt you came here to flatter me.”

“Flatter you?” he echoed, his smirk widening as he pushed off the wall and sauntered closer. His presence was overwhelming, a mix of danger and allure, and you could feel the heat of his gaze on your skin. “I don’t do flattery. I state facts. And the fact is, you look… enticing like this.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way his words sent a shiver down your spine. “Enticing? I’m covered in sweat and exhausted.”

“And yet, here I am,” he said, stopping just a few feet away. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in every detail of your appearance. “There’s strength in you. I can see it. Feel it. It’s… intriguing.”

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him fluster you. “You’re awfully chatty for someone who usually likes to mock me.”

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and almost predatory. “Oh, don’t mistake this for kindness,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “I’m just fascinated. You’re tougher than I gave you credit for. I like that.”

“Should I be flattered?” you asked dryly.

“Maybe,” he said, stepping closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. “Or maybe you should be concerned. Strength like yours… it makes me want to test it.”

You held your ground, meeting his gaze with a defiance that only seemed to amuse him further. “Test it how?”

His grin turned sharp, revealing his pointed teeth. “Sparring, fighting, maybe something else entirely,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. “You’re strong, but how far can you push yourself? How far can I push you?”

Your cheeks flushed, though whether it was from his words or the way he was looking at you, you couldn’t tell. “You’re impossible, Sukuna.”

“And you’re fascinating,” he countered, his tone softer now but no less intense. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, tracing the curve of your muscles with a deliberate slowness. “All this power, all this potential… it suits you. But don’t get cocky. I’d still crush you in an instant if I wanted to.”

You smirked, swatting his hand away. “I’d like to see you try.”

His laughter filled the room, dark and rich, as he stepped back, his gaze never leaving yours. “Careful what you wish for, little one,” he said, his grin wicked. “You might not like what you find.”

But there was something in his tone, something in the way he looked at you, that told you he wasn’t just teasing. He respected you—your strength, your determination—and that respect, coming from someone like Sukuna, felt like a victory in itself.

Megumi fushiguro — Megumi wasn’t the type to barge into a room without reason, so when he stumbled upon you working out, it wasn’t intentional. He’d been looking for you to ask a quick question, but the moment he saw you, he froze. You were mid-set, muscles flexing as you moved, sweat dripping down your skin and making your determination all the more captivating.

His face immediately heated up, a soft pink dusting his cheeks. He quickly averted his gaze, though his feet stayed rooted to the spot. “Sorry,” he muttered, voice barely loud enough to be heard.

You glanced over your shoulder, spotting him in the doorway. “Megumi? What’s up?”

He hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides as he tried to act like he hadn’t just been staring. “Uh… nothing. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll… come back later.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your weights down and grabbing your towel. “You’re not interrupting. What do you need?”

He shifted awkwardly, his gaze flickering to you briefly before he fixed it firmly on the floor. “It’s not important,” he said quickly. “I didn’t know you were… busy.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his obvious discomfort. “Megumi, are you embarrassed?”

“No,” he said immediately, though the redness in his cheeks deepened. “I just—” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize you worked out like this.”

“Like what?” you teased, walking closer.

His eyes darted to you for a split second, taking in the way your skin glistened, the subtle definition in your arms and shoulders. He looked away just as quickly, his jaw tightening. “Like… seriously. You’re stronger than I thought.”

“Thanks,” you said, amused by how flustered he was. “It’s not that big a deal, though.”

“It kind of is,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “Most people don’t push themselves that hard.”

You tilted your head, studying him. There was something genuine in his tone, a quiet admiration he wasn’t very good at hiding. “Are you impressed?”

He hesitated, his fingers brushing against the edge of the doorframe. “Maybe,” he muttered.

You grinned, stepping closer until you were standing just a few feet away. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Megumi finally looked up, his dark eyes meeting yours. There was a flicker of something there—respect, maybe even awe—but it was quickly buried beneath his usual stoicism. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he said, trying to sound indifferent.

“Too late,” you teased, tossing your towel over your shoulder.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stepped back. “I’ll leave you to it. Just… don’t overdo it, okay? You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

His words caught you off guard, the unexpected softness in them making your heart skip a beat. “Thanks, Megumi,” you said, your tone gentler now.

He gave a small nod, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned to leave. But just as he reached the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder, his voice low and hesitant. “For what it’s worth… you’re doing great.”

And with that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there, a warm smile tugging at your lips. Megumi Fushiguro wasn’t one for big gestures or obvious compliments, but his quiet support spoke louder than words ever could.

Yuji itadori — Yuji Itadori was never one to hide his emotions, and when he walked into the room and saw you mid-workout, his reaction was immediate—and loud.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with awe as he froze in the doorway. “You look amazing!”

Startled, you paused mid-rep, glancing over at him. “Yuji? What are you yelling about now?”

He stepped further into the room, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of you. Your muscles were defined, your skin glistening with sweat, and the sheer determination on your face left him staring. “I’m yelling because you look like a total badass!”

You laughed, setting your weights down and grabbing your water bottle. “It’s just a workout, Yuji. Nothing special.”

“Nothing special?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “Are you kidding me? Look at you! You’re like an action movie hero or something!”

“An action hero?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

He shook his head furiously, his pink hair bouncing with the movement. “Not at all! I mean, you’re strong, you’re focused, and—” He gestured at you with both hands, his cheeks turning pink as he stumbled over his words. “You’re, uh… really cool-looking right now.”

You couldn’t help but grin at his enthusiasm. “Thanks, Yuji. But you’re kind of embarrassing yourself.”

“I don’t care!” he said with a laugh, plopping down on the floor nearby and watching you with wide-eyed admiration. “Seriously, how often do you do this? You’ve got muscles I didn’t even know existed!”

You rolled your eyes but felt a warmth spread through your chest at his genuine excitement. “I work out a few times a week. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal!” he insisted, leaning forward with his chin resting on his hands. “You’re so strong! I bet you could bench press me if you wanted to.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration, Yuji.”

“No way,” he said, grinning. “You’re a total powerhouse. I’m actually kind of jealous.”

“Jealous?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” he said, standing up and flexing his arms dramatically. “I mean, I’m strong, but you’ve got this whole ‘unstoppable warrior’ vibe going on. It’s inspiring!”

You snorted, throwing your towel at him, which he caught with a laugh. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his grin widening. “But I mean it. You’re awesome, and I’m lucky I get to see you like this. It’s motivating!”

“Motivating?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Yeah! I’m totally working out with you next time,” he said, his eyes shining with determination. “I need to level up if I’m going to keep up with you.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Alright, Yuji. You’re on. But don’t complain when I make you do squats.”

“Deal!” he said, holding out his hand for a high five. When you slapped your hand against his, his grin grew even wider. “This is gonna be awesome. You’ll see—I’ll be your workout rival in no time!”

Somehow, you doubted that, but his infectious energy made you laugh all the same. Yuji Itadori was a whirlwind of enthusiasm, and having him around made everything a little brighter—even your workout.

[rebelfell]

Sigh…just been thinking about running into him on Small Business Saturday.

While everyone in town is at Star Court caught up in the feeding frenzy and the vainglorious pipe dream of finishing all their holiday shopping over one weekend, you're happily perusing the semi-deserted downtown district in an attempt to support the local shops barely hanging on.

The Christmas-ification of the streetlights and storefronts is much more subtle than the gaudy and ostentatious displays at the mall. Just some touches of simple greenery and a few strands of twinkly lights strung up here and there.

And this little record store is like a quiet haven completely immune to the onslaught of rampant cheer. (They’re not even playing Christmas music yet thank-you-very-much. Thanksgiving was only two days ago, in case you’ve forgotten.)

It’s perfect.

You let your mind turn off and lose yourself thumbing through one of the bins, reaching a kind of meditative state, so wrapped up in your thoughts you don't realize someone is standing across from you until he clears his throat softly.

You jump, breathless when your eyes meet the warmth of his amber gaze, and he smiles as he gives you a chuckle and a little wave.

“Sorry,” he says, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

You try and assure him he didn’t, but the race of your heart in your chest tells a different story. He nods knowingly and goes back to his own bin in front of him, sneakily stealing glances from behind the shield of his long, dark curls.

Your instinct is to flee. Clear the area in case he’s waiting to get into the bin you are. But he seems perfectly content with his own…so you stay. You pass a few minutes in comfortable silence until you pull a record and set it aside to buy.

“That’s a great one,” he says, nodding at it.

His voice doesn’t startle you this time. In fact, you seem to surprise him a bit when you shrug your shoulders and squish one of your eyes shut.

“It’s a good one, I don’t know if I’d call it great,” you answer. “But I have a friend who’s really into them and needs it for their collection.”

“A friend?” he asks, a note of plaintive hope in his voice. “Not a boyfriend?”

You look up at him again, clocking how his throat bobs and his already large eyes round even more with a hint of panic. He’s cute when he’s worried. You’d bet money he’s cute when he’s anything.

“No,” you say slowly. Coyly. “Not a boyfriend.”

“O-oh,” he sputters, trying to clear his throat at the same time. “Th-that’s cool.”

“Is it?” you ask with an arch of your brow.

You’re messing with him now, and he knows it. But rather than slinking off in shame or backing down, it seems to ignite something within him: a daring sort of flicker in his eyes you can’t wait to prod at and stoke and into a roaring blaze.

“For me it is,” he flirts. Leans forward on the bins and looks you up and down. He recovers quickly, you have to give him that. Doesn’t stay down.

His eyes dart to the record you set aside and he reaches for it. You give him a curious smile as you watch him tuck it under his arm that’s sheathed by leather. The chains on his jacket cuff jangle.

“What are you doing?”

“My treat,” he says with a smirk. “So that you can treat me to coffee.”

Do not repost. Do not use without permission. No crossposting on other social media.

browse more edits here

[scorpioriesling]

GIRLIE i have been reading 4th wing and holy hell, why havent we got an azriel x fourth wing yettt? like just imagine, that man is literally perfect for ANY book crossover, I would pay good money to see Az beat the frick out of jack (ew)

Our Worlds Collided

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Azriel x reader

Warning(s): Violence... I mean, read the ask. Lol.

Summary: Living in a different place than your boyfriend is hard, and the moments you can be together, you don't want to waste. But, being in school, there are still obligations and tasks you must complete -- even if it means spending time with your man in a less-than-ideal place.

SR’s Note: This ask was *chef's kiss*. I've been doing so much lately with smut + the Invisible String series (which is finished btw, go read it if you haven't yet) that I haven't really got to write a cute little short story in a while. I hope this is what you wanted -- I'm happy with how it turned out!

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"I'm so glad you made it!"

You threw your arms around your boyfriend, his tall but strong frame engulfing you as he held you close. Grateful for the familiar scent of pine and mint, you inhaled deeply.

"You missed me that much?" The low timbre of his voice was like a caress against your very soul.

Nodding wordlessly, he pulled back, only a bit to look into your eyes. His shadows danced around him in a joyful parade, signaling his inner happiness he so rarely showed on the outside.

"I missed you too, Y/N." He leaned down, pressing a kiss against your lips and smiling when you tugged him close for more. He slid his rough hands along your waist, settling on your hips while his lips moved against yours.

The moment, one you'd been desperate for for weeks now, was harshly interrupted by the mid-afternoon bell, signaling the end of classes for the day. You pulled back, watching your boyfriend grimace at the sound.

"Don't tell me you've never heard a schoolbell before, Azriel," you chuckled. His ears perked up at the sound, and only when it finally ended did he resume his usual, unassuming posture.

"I'll have to get used to the sounds here again." He says. It was true -- where he was from, Prythian, sounds were much softer as the fae hearing had adapted that way. But, in Basgiath, for your kind; it was quite the opposite.

"Yes... and the dragons." You'd taken his hand, making way for your dorm as he sighed.

"Ahh, yes. Almost forgot about those."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

He truly could not have come to visit at a worse time; not to sound ungrateful, you loved seeing your boyfriend and all, but between all the training, challenges, and courses you were balancing -- well, there were many hours of the day that you had to leave him to attend those duties.

But, you couldn't complain. Spending every evening, curled up with Azriel, your back to his chest as you got the best sleep of your life? You were counting down the days to graduation.

"So... a first year... that's when we met," Azriel says slowly, flipping through one of your library books. He'd chosen Basgiath's War College History, and was all the more quizzical.

"Yes," you confirmed. "That was when I took Ramir to... well, Prythian." You shrugged. "Accidental, of course, but, look what it got me."

He glanced up, chuckling as you threw him a wink. It was an unusually rainy Friday, and though you'd rather be exploring the town with Azriel, Emetterio had other plans.

"But, how were you even able to leave the college with your dragon?" He asks, frowning at the next. You wrap a few more strands of your braid, reflecting on the distant memory.

"Oh, I got in trouble all right." General Sorrengail had been furious with you upon your return, having clearly stated that dragon riding was for Basgiath-grounds only. "But, like I said -- at least I met you."

He doesn't look up this time, flipping the page and reading more of the text intently.

"So, now that you're a third-year," he starts, his attention only faltering for a moment when you sit down on the mattress beside him. "You can go anywhere you want?"

You nod in confirmation. "Yup. That's right -- Ramir doesn't particularly like long-distance flying, but he does just fine going to Prythian and back."

Azriel looks sidelong at you, and in the dim afternoon light, you can count every freckle on his face. His hazel eyes gaze at you, flickering between your eyes and lips. You lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips as his hands slide along your upper thigh.

Your alarm buzzes from your phone, causing Azriel to pull back and cover his ears with his palms. You scramble to turn it off, leaning across your boyfriend to reach the night stand in the process.

"Sorry! I'm sorry," you apologize. Your movement to sit back down is halted; his large hands pulling you to straddle him.

He smirks at you, appreciating your cute giggle as you sit on his lap. His hands run up and down the sides of your waist, and in an instant his lips are on yours again.

"Hmm, quite handsy today, are we?" You mumble, eliciting a chuckle from him against your mouth. He enforces his feelings as his left hand lightly pats your behind, and you squeak.

"I wonder why you've got all this on, anyway?" He mutters suggestively. You peer down at him with a scolding expression.

"Though I'd love to have it all off," you punctuate. "I have to be in the training room in 10 minutes." His smile falters a bit, and you realize too late that you slipped up.

"Training room? For what?"

Realization hits you, and you hastily hop off his lap to grab your phone and boots.

"Uh, we have, umm..." You fumble, quickly yanking your boots on and tying the laces. "Training. Tonight."

He looks at you, unimpressed. "Really. Training, at 5 in the afternoon? On a Friday?" He raises an eyebrow.

You huff, standing as you adjust your leathers. "Y-yes."

He continues his blank stare, clearly not buying it.

"Don't worry, I won't be long -- I promise, I'll be quick." You reach for the doorhandle, making up for the time you you'd spent on your boyfriend's lap.

"And, safe." He calls, just as the door shuts.

As you jogged through the corridors, you felt anything but safe. Azriel hated when you got hurt, and of course, before the long weekend, Professor Emetterio was holding challenges. It made sense to choose tonight so injured riders could rest up before classes resumed Tuesday -- but given your situation, it really, really sucked.

Especially because of who had chellanged you; none other than Jack Barlowe.

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Girl, you're lucky Emetterio is running behind," Violet says, shaking her head as you finally make it to the training ring. Rhiannon places a light hand on your shoulder, making sure you're okay, but you only nod to her in thanks.

"I.... I lost, track... of time," you say between pants. Rhiannon nods in sympathy, but your silver-haired friend only smirks.

"Mhm, I'm sure you did. Too caught up with the Shadowsinger?" She teases. Rhiannon gasps.

"I didn't know Azriel was in town!" She beams. You roll your eyes at Violet.

"Oh, like you've never been late before," you grin wickedly. "Too busy playing with shadows, and such." Rhiannon claps a hand over her mouth, giggling at the insinuation.

Violet can't help but laugh too. "Oh please -- we know you love your boyfriends little playmates just as much."

Just then, the training room door swings open as Professor Emetterio walks through. He walks straight to the center of the room, clipboard in hand.

"Students!" He bellows, and the entire room hushes. "I have the list here of challenges for this evening -- now, I want to remind you all, the goal of these scheduled fights is not to kill, but rather build your own strength as a rider against an opponent."

Your eyes flicker to that familiar head of blonde hair across the room. Bile rises in your throat as he snickers, whispering something to his friends before meeting you with a menacing stare.

You look away.

"...we'll try to make this quick, as I do understand it is a long weekend and most of you have plans." He clears his throat, adjusting his glasses on his nose and squinting down at the first names.

"Ridoc and Merlin -- please step onto the training mat!"

Everyone clears off the mat, instead lining the outer edges to get a view of the impending battle before them. You stay close to your friends, your attention interrupted by Violet's voice in your ear.

"We've always kind of had the same type, haven't we?"

Rhiannon giggles again from her other side, and you loose a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

"We do not -- for example, I would've never dated a guy like Dain." You quip. Violet groans, stratching her forehead.

"Okay, that was definately one mistake," she says. Rhiannon glances between the two of you, counting the similarities on one hand.

"Hmm, tall, tan, brooding shadow masters? Yeah, I'd say your type is the same." You blush, thinking of the handsome male waiting for you in your dorm room.

Violet chimes in. "Don't forget about the tattoos."

Rhiannon nods, holding up another finger. "Right, right -- definitely can't forget the tattoos."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Three more pairs are called after the first fight, and you're so caught up in conversation with your friends that you almost miss your name being called.

"Y/N and Jack -- please take the mat!"

Violet looks to you in horror, as Rhiannon gasps.

"Y/N! Why didn't you tell me you had to fight-"

"It wouldn't have changed anything." You glare ahead, watching Jack's pompous, blonde head part through the crowd of onlookers.

It was true, your friends couldn't have done anything to change the fact that Jack had challenged you. In a twisted way, you kind of wanted the opportunity to punch him in the face -- but, the niggling fear of him punishing you to the near brink of death had you mostly thinking otherwise.

Taking the mat, you watched as Jack sized you up, smirking and rolling his lip between his teeth before taking his beginning stance. You mirrored him, fists raised, though they shook.

"Begin."

Jack wastes no time, slowly stepping around the ring as he continues to look at you menacingly. You move in opposition, trying to keep as much distance as you can.

"Awww," he coos mockingly. "Not so tough now that were in the training ring, are we?" He smirks.

You glare at him. "I've always been tougher than you, Jack."

He chuckles, lunging forward and clicking his teeth together in front of your face. You step back, your boot stepping onto the cold concrete floor outside the training ring. Emettario clears his throat, before breathing out a sigh.

"Y/N, please. Step back onto the mat."

You take a half step onto the mat, it's surface not much more forgiving than the concrete it sat on. Jack snickers, backing up to allow you an inch of room.

"Y'look scared to me, Y/N." He moves, slow and stealthy. "Almost as scared as Baide when I-"

"Shut the Hell up." You grit out, glaring hard at him. Reflecting back to the moment that caused all this to begin with, your blood boils. Finding Jack out late that night last week, all of those weapons, how he had mistreated his own dragon-

"Ooooh, hot are we?" He sneers, ignoring the fearful faces of your friends standing just outside the ring behind him. "That's the difference between dragons and us -- they are easier to control."

Rage bubbles over the surface, your own words drifting into the back of your mind. They're no different than we are, you'd tried to convince him that night. They deserve our respect.

You lunge at him, respect be damned for the asshole before you. Adrenaline pumps through your veins at the silent victory; your fist had hit him exactly where you wanted it to. He staggers back, clutching his face with one hand as he gasps, his other hand raised before him.

"Fuck, you!" He growls, making to grab you but you're too fast. You snake to his side, kicking your boot against his stomach. He doubles over, falling to his knees in pain.

The memory of Violet in this position from your first year sends you reeling, remembering the horror of watching your best friend beaten and bruised so badly that Xaden had to come finish her challenge for her.

You grap him around the neck, flexing your arm at a 45 degree angle in an attempt to put him in a headlock. He'd never hurt anyone again; not you, not your friends, not any dragon, whether it be someone else's or his own-

His hands grip your arm, pulling you over his back and slamming you straight onto your back before him. You let out a cough as the wind was knocked out of you, your vision blurring as you tried to refocus on the ceiling above you.

"Shouldn't have fucked with me, Y/N!" He shouts, scrambling to his feet, only to land a harsh kick to your ribcage. You cried out in pain, grabbing your side as you felt his boot shoving against your ribs, and fingers, again.

"I do what I want with my dragon," he grunts, ramming his shoe into your side over and over again. Pain explodes across your body, your fingers cracking beneath his repeated blows.

Black spots begin to fill your vision, the overhead lights blinking out as the last sounds feel your ears. You're blacking out. You're surely blacking out.

You try again to rise, weakly as your arms shake beneath you. It's no use -- his foot connects with your hipbone, sending you right back to the floor. The shouts of your friends, Emetterio's calling, the world around you; it all begins winking out.

Curled onto your side, you heave one last final breath, waiting for the final hit to send you into darkness.

But, it never comes.

You crane your neck, confused as the shouting around you grows louder. Wincing in pain, you make it onto your back, only having to turn your head to watch as the horrific scene unfolds from the other side of the mat.

Tall and terrifying, you watch those familiar scarred hands throw the blonde to the ground, his body literally bouncing in recoil at the impact. Large, tanned muscles yank Jack back up; only to twist his arms behind his back, the angle unnatural.

Your enemy cries out, writing in pain as the wispy black shadows hurl punches of their own at the bastard. Dark, large wings flare behind the male; the talons enough to send anyone away screaming.

"Please... you don't have to do this, I-"

Azriel punches him clean in the jaw, Jack's head jerking as he falls limply to the ground. The growing crowd around the mat erupts, their screams so loud it felt deafening.

You now understood why Azriel hated the sounds here so much.

The black dots clouding your vision increase, your heart rate slowing before you finally black out -- the last thing you see are his familiar leather boots stalking toward you.

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"She's going to be just fine."

The light from the overhead bulbs is blinding as you squint your eyes open, muffled voices and beeps becoming more distinguishable. You blink a few times before everything comes into clear view -- the white operating bed, the heart rate monitor beside you...

...the brooding, winged male in the chair across from you.

"I... what..." you look side to side, taking in the mender watching over you. He begins to grab his things, preparing to leave.

"Your challenge with Mr. Barlowe left you with a few... injuries," he settles on the word lightly. You don't miss his quick glance to Azriel before he continues. "But, not as many as he recieved himself."

You swear there is a hint of a smile behind his words.

"I'll leave you two for a moment."

No sooner than the door shuts behind him, Azriel is on his feet and approaching your bedside, opting to sit next to you on it as he looks down at you. Concern etches his features, underneath the unassuming mask he puts on; then, the memories of what happened start coming back to you.

"Why would you step in like that?" You say angrily, and Azriel huffs.

"Seriously, Y/N? Why would I step in?" He raises his eyebrows. "Maybe because I wasn't comfortable watching the shit get beat out of my girlfriend, that's why." He takes your wrapped hand in his, though his brows still knit on his forehead. "Why didn't you tell me about the fight beforehand?"

You relax your features a little, your heart softening as he rubs small circles against the back of your palm with his thumb. "I didn't think you'd particularly like it, or understand-"

"You're damn right I don't like it." He says, giving your hand a small squeeze. "What would have happened had I not been there?"

His hazel eyes stare right into yours, and you bite your bottom lip. Truly, what would have happened?

"I-I don't know, I guess, Emetterio would have-"

"He wasn't doing shit, Y/N." He sighs, leaning on his elbow to cocoon you in an embrace. He presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck, and you find yourself relaxing a bit more against his warmth.

"I don't like that you have to go through these things." He says after a moment of silence. His voice is softer now, his hand lightly running along your bandaged side. "I don't like to see you hurt-"

"I have to do this though, Az. It's part of training." You turn to face him, wincing in pain as the fresh bandages do little to ease you. "And, I'm much tougher than you think."

A ghost of a smile graces his lips, his rough fingers reaching out to brush a piece of hair out of your eyes.

"I know you are. I just... I don't want anything to happen to you. I love you too much for that."

Your heart practically bursts out of your chest at the sentiment, and in that moment, you snuggle closer to his chest.

"Good thing I have a big, strong male that I love to protect me then."

[jjkfanfic]

Nanami kento X Y/N

The Forgotten Anniversary

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a gentle glow over Tokyo as Nanami finished up yet another long day at work. It had been a grueling battle against a particularly stubborn curse, and he was grateful for the quiet in his office as he finished the report. But as he glanced at the clock, the realization hit him like a wave—he had lost track of time.

He had meant to be home earlier, but the curse had demanded his attention. With a sigh, he collected his things, promising himself he would make it up to her for being late.

As he entered their quiet apartment, the first thing he noticed was the warm, sweet scent that filled the air. His heart sank a bit as he spotted the flickering candlelight, casting soft shadows on the walls. A beautifully set table awaited in the dining area, complete with a fancy dinner and an elegantly arranged dessert, and then it hit him.

He had forgotten their anniversary guilt consumed him.

“Y/N?” he called softly, hoping she was just in another room.

No response.

He stepped further into the living room and found her curled up on the couch, fast asleep. Her hair fell gently over her face, and a soft smile lingered on her lips, even in her dreams. His heart ached at the sight, realizing the effort she had put into this night—the decorations, the food, the ambiance. It all felt like a stark reminder of how he had let the day slip through his fingers.

Quietly, he tiptoed to the dining room, to the dinner she had carefully prepared. He gently placed the food and dessert inside the fridge, not wanting to disturb her any further. The sight of the untouched anniversary meal made him feel even worse.

With a soft sigh, Nanami turned back to the couch. He knelt down beside her, brushing a few strands of hair from her face.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, feeling the weight of regret. He should have been here with her, not working late.

Carefully, he scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against him. She stirred slightly, but her grip instinctively tightened around him as if sensing his presence even in her sleep. He carried her gently to their bedroom, where he laid her down softly on the bed, he pulled off her jeans and shirt so she was comfortable and pulled the covers over her to keep her warm.

As he tucked her in, he whispered an apology once more, wanting to make it right. He stripped oit of his work clothes and settled next to her, pulling her close, feeling her warmth seep into him. A sense of comfort washed over him as he closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax for the first time that day, with his wife curled into his arms.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a golden hue across the room. Y/N stirred, but it wasn’t the natural light that woke her. It was the soft warmth of a kiss against her forehead. She blinked her eyes open to see Nanami sitting beside her, bare chest, low hanging sweat pants and a warm smile on his face.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice low and soft, like the sweetest melody. “Happy-late-anniversary.”

She furrowed her brow in confusion, still half-asleep. “Nanami, it’s morning?” she murmured. Confused as to why he was home from work.

He chuckled, the sound warm and rich as he pecked her forhead again.“Yes, but I called in to work. Today is for us.”

Her heart swelled at the thought, her disoriented mind piecing together last night’s events. “You didn’t have to do that...” she said, voice sleep-heavy.

“I wanted to,” he replied earnestly, leaning down to place a tender kiss on her lips. “I felt terrible for being late yesterday.”

Y/N’s heart sank a little at the memory of the forgotten anniversary, but his presence washed away that sadness. "You’re here now.” she said with a smile

He brushed his thumb over her cheek, his gaze sincere. “I want to make it up to you. I made you breakfast.”

With that, he kissed her lips softly and stood, walking out, where the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Y/N sat up, feeling more awake, she stood and grabbed one of Nanamis sweaters, slipped it over her head to keep warm, as she walked into the dining room, she took in the sight before her. The table was filled with a spread of fluffy pancakes, eggs, crispy bacon, and a small fruit arrangement.

“Wow, you really went all out,” she said, her heart fluttering.

Nanami shrugged, a hint of bashfulness creeping into his demeanor as a blush dusted his cheeks lightly. “I wanted it to be special. Just like you.”

She smiled, feeling warmth envelop her. “You’re too sweet,” she said, she aalked up to him and hugged him tight and kissed his chin before pulling away.

As he poured her a cup of coffee, he added just the right amount of cream, it was like he had been married to her for 6 years for something, she giggled st the thought. “I hope I didn’t burn anything,” he said, a touch of worry in his tone.

“It smells perfect,” she said, taking a seat at the table and admiring the spread before her. The sight of the delicious breakfast made her stomach growl in anticipation.

Nanami slid the steaming cup of coffee in front of her with a soft smile. “I hope it’s not too much,” he said, taking a seat opposite her.

“It’s just perfect,” she reassured him, taking a sip of the coffee and savoring the rich flavor. “Thank you for this. You really didn’t have to take the day off work.”

“I wanted to. You deserve to be celebrated, especially after everything you put into last night,” he said, a hint of remorse in his voice. “I’m really sorry for working late.”

Y/N felt a pang of sadness looking back on the previous night. The candles, the carefully set table—it had all been for this moment. But as she saw the sincerity in his eyes, that sadness melted away. “It’s okay, Nanami. I understand. Please stop apologizing"

“No, it’s not okay,” he replied firmly, his expression shifting to one of determination. “You’ve always supported me, and I should’ve been here for our anniversary-for you. I want to make it right, not just today, but every day.”

Touched by his words, Y/N felt her heart swell. “You already are, just by being here,” she said softly, her eyes glistening.

They dug into breakfast, conversation flowing easily between bites. Laughter filled the room, as they talked, playful teasing mixing with heartfelt moments. As they finished, Nanami reached across the table and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. “I Love you" he murmured

Y/N smiled at him and whispered "I love you too"

[moonjellysfeast]

My Own Galatea- Crybaby x Top Male Reader

cw; (C/n) is Code name, manipulation, abuse, unethical science, dehumanization, Crybaby is @yanderefarm's character

You were probably too young to be involved in such an experiment, not even proper college age nor finished with your classes. But, you were very advanced in your studies, you were still top of your classes despite moving up several grades when you were younger, and they were getting desperate. You remember sitting in the meeting, this company had really only planned to discuss simple matters as a way of showing you how you were expected to interact once you finished school and they actually hired you. They got caught up in more urgent matters and forgot you bore witness to their panic and desperation until you raised a hand to silence the room and flatly announced.

"I have the darling gene... I could probably further his infection. He'd listen to me, I promise" They weren't happy about it, but they were truly desperate, so you were hired.

You first met him in the facility's basement, he was in a large glass room, a small hole cut into the bullet-proof glass to keep you safe when talking with him. You had several psychology classes and so you felt confident in your scheme to make him obedient.

"Hello" You spoke softly and he turned to you, clearly upset, "It's nice to meet you. Do you have a name?"

He glared at you for a bit before walking towards the hole in the glass and quietly grumbling, "I do... A real one..."

You smiled at him, he was only a year or two younger than you, but you would have to treat him more like a child until he knew you were safe. You approached him, ensuring you looked as confident as you felt, you weren't scared of him and he had no need to fear you yet.

"Give me your name, then. We can't be friends unless you tell me at least that much" Your words were laced with honey, he eyed your sweet smile with suspicion and you watched his eyes shift. He was coming around to the idea.

"Elias... I think... no, I am right... I am named Elias..." Even just at the confusion of his name, his eyes were round and damp. You held back the tug of a grin to give him a gentle smile instead.

"You can call me (Y/n). Elias is a beautiful name. It suits you" He looked at you with awe now, like it was the first compliment he'd ever heard, "You know, the people here call me (C/n), isn't that a funny name? Do they call you something like that?"

"Yes. Crybaby... I don't like it" He'd looked so adorable, crouched on the other side of the glass, confessing his thoughts like deep secrets, and watching you with those wet eyes.

You had been completely correct in your assumption that you could further his infection, when you next saw him, his irises were clear heart shapes and he hopped up to greet you at the glass.

"Good morning, Elias~ You seem energetic" You mused as he fidgeted a bit and nodded. "I'd like to play a game today, if you're up for it"

"A game?" He was clearly wary, surely experiments had been done to him in the form of 'games' previously, but he had to trust you.

"It's like simon says. Do you know that game?" he shook his head slowly, "Well, I'm going to tell you to do things, but I only want you to listen when I call you Crybaby, Ok?"

"Why?" He whined

"Because, It'll be fun. Friends play games all the time and we're friends now! We'll start easy; Crybaby, sit down," He sat with little hesitancy, "Very good. Stand up, Crybaby," He stood, "Elias, please come closer"

He walked toward you and you made quite a show of disappointment, causing him to scramble back into place and apologize, already welling up with tears.

"No, no, it's ok. You forgot the rules. Like I said, we're starting easy so it's not a big issue. Crybaby, come here" He hesitated before scrambling to the glass window, tears streaming down his face already.

The games continued each day, once he was good at listening as crybaby, you started referring to Crybaby and Elias as different people, even giving them rules.

"Crybaby doesn't know my name, you only know me as (C/n), right? You pet his head, watching him nod along to your words. "Who am I?"

"(Y)- no... (C/n)..."

"Good boy, you're really learning. I'm sure Elias would be proud of you as well, Crybaby"

You also had begun entering his cell, he adored when you did and would cling to you until you demanded he stop. With becoming so close to him, you also had to begin enforcing all of your rules more strictly.

"(Y/n) I don't kno-" He crumpled to the floor the moment you hand landed on his cheek.

"That's not what you call me, is it, Crybaby?" You sneered as he cradled his cheek and began to tear up again.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'msorry- mhhn, Please don't be mad! (C/n), sir, please!" You placed a hand over his own, silencing him.

"I know you didn't mean it, but we can't have you being bad, can we? No, Crybaby, you have to be a good boy and listen to me. Now, you remember where it is, mark the artery I told you to."

He shakily got up and made an x on the mannequin's neck, precisely where you told him to.

"Good boy" you smiled a bit, " We'll have to work on your crying. as much as your name is apt, no one will like you crying so much when you start to actually work..."

There will be more of this fic but I am stuck.

[rdr2enjoyer]

Can I get some 'dirty talk' headcanons? 🙏🙏

Their dirty talk is tbh one of my favorite things to theorize about. I’m a slut for some good dirty talk.

Long and very NSFW post beneath the cut

Arthur- Arthur is a little more talkative during sex than one would imagine. His dirty talk is all praise and encouragement, talking you through it with a soft yet authoritative tone meant to make you feel like he’s got you.

“That’s it, take it just like that. You’re doing so well, sweet thing.”

“Just breathe…there you go. Told you you could take it.”

“Eyes up here. Focus on me, darlin’.”

Charles— Charles is characteristically quiet during sex, but what does slip out tends to be surprisingly filthy. It’s as if there’s another Charles hidden beneath his skin that occasionally breaks free with a mix of reverent and raunchy outbursts.

“Gonna make it so you ain’t walking right for days, little bird.”

“You want me to fill you? Make you mine?”

“Don’t look away. Let me see those pretty eyes.”

Dutch— Degrading, possessive and filthy. Dutch treats you more like a pet or a treasure than a lover, and his dirty talk reflects that. He’ll praise you when you do well, and admonish you when you fail him. He uses his words to train you into the perfect toy for him.

“Uh-uh, don’t you dare spit it out. Swallow it all.”

“Oh you can take it. Every last inch…”

“Further. I wanna see the shape of my cock in your throat.”

John— John is borderline obnoxiously talkative during sex and his dirty talk is straight up perverted. He tends to get completely lost in the moment and all shame just goes out the window. He’s almost always embarrassed about what he’d said as soon as he finishes.

“Gonna make a goddamn mess outta you. Leave you leaking me.”

“That’s my boy/girl. Taking my cock like you were made for it.”

Bonus sub!John

“H-Harder, Fucking wreck me.”

“Don’t care if it hurts. Just need you.”

Javier— Javier’s dirty talk toes the line between romantic and straight up filthy. Indecent words fall from his lips with a tone of reverence so stark in contrast it leaves one dizzy.

“You look gorgeous like this, Mi amor. Taking my cock down your throat…”

“You’re going to get me addicted, baby.”

“That’s it…keep looking at me. I wanna watch your face as you cum for me.”

Sean— As talkative and hyperactive as Sean is in his day-to-day life, he is equally so in bed. His dirty talk is a bit over the top and sometimes a bit embarrassing, but every now and then he drops these insanely earnest compliments and praises that make your heart stop.

“Oh darlin’, the things I’m gonna do to you’d make Lucifer himself blush.”

“That’s right, call my name. Who’s your daddy?”

“Christ I…I need you. Anything you want. Just please…”

Kieran— Kieran has a tendency to ramble when he’s nervous and this does not exactly get better in bed. There is a point however when he goes from a nervous mess to someone completely drunk on you, and he goes from nervous rambling to affectionate and needy babbling.

“Please. Please I-I’ll be good. I need you. Anyway I can have you-“

“However you want me y-you can have me. Please just touch me—“

“Feels…so good. Y-You’re amazing.”

Micah— Degrading and filthy and mean. His dirty talk is all wrapped up in stroking his own ego and his pride.

“Look at you, ruining yourself for me. You’d do anything for me wouldn’t you?”

“That’s it. Tell me how good it feels.”

“Gonna ruin you for all other men. Make you mine.”

[tootiecakes234]

Busy

NSFW(MDNI) ; Character Aged Up

Kinda fluffy, kinda smutty...

It was Saturday afternoon and you were on the couch all comfy. You had cleaned and cooked dinner. Now you were impatiently waiting for your boyfriend to get home.

The two of you have been dating for 2 and a half years now and living together for 6 months. You decided to take that step because you wanted more time together. Between your job and Katsuki's as a pro hero, you guys were always trying to find time for each other. Moving in had made this a lot better, but this past month has really been hell.

Kat left for a week on a mission out of the country, and a day after after he got back, you had to leave for a business trip for a few days. As soon as you thought the worst was over, there was attack after attack from the League of Villains. He was getting called in to work even on his days off.

The time apart was driving the both of you a little crazy. Your mood has been down and you haven't wanted to do much besides stay at home and sulk. You knew Katsuki was getting to a breaking point because you were hearing more complaints about him than usual.

He'd never admit it, but you are a big factor in him keeping his attitude in check. You had a very calming affect on him, so when he goes too long without real time with you, he reverts back to his asshole tendencies.

You are completely caught up in your show, when you hear the front door slam shut.

“Katsuki, why are slamming the door?” All you hear is him in the walkway tugging off his boots and grumbling to himself.

You get up and walk over to where is and all the frustration on his face starts to melt as soon as his eyes land on you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask as you walk over to him and slide your hands into his sweaty hair. “You stink ‘suki”

“Wow thanks. I just worked an 8 hour shift kicking ass all day” he rolls his eyes, “sorry hard work doesn’t smell good.

Even though you complain you don’t move away from him. You feel like you haven’t seen him more than an hour at a time recently.

“You should shower and then come out and eat. I made your favorite for dinner.”

“Yeah, I smelled it outside the door and my mouth was watering. I didn’t have time to eat lunch today.” He says a little hesitantly because you’ve chewed him out more than once over skipping meals when he puts his body through so much.

And you probably would have again, if you didn’t see the exhaustion in his face.

“Then do you wanna eat first, then shower. I don’t want you to pass out in there.”

“If you shower with me you can keep watch. Make sure I make it out alive.” He says as sweetly as he can muster right now.

And you do shower with him. You end up washing his hair for him and giving his shoulders a little massage that almost puts him to sleep standing up.

After that you get dressed and go dinner plated for the both of you. While you’re in the kitchen Katsuki hangs off of you like a backpack everywhere you go refusing to let you go.

You have 0 complaints to offer because you’re both touch starved by this point.

You end up eating thigh to thigh in the living room on the floor with some trashy show on. Katsuki inhaling his food in 3 bites and then nodding off while you attempt to finish yours as fast as you can before you completely lose him.

You get up and take the plates to the kitchen and Katsuki is standing at the bedroom door waiting on you.

“Baby, I’m not really sleepy yet. If you want to lay down, I’ll come in a little later.”

“We’re not going to sleep yet. I haven’t held you,awake anyways, or been inside you in almost 2 weeks.” He comes over and starts pulling into the bedroom. “I have a plan. First, I’m gonna make you cum… on my mouth. Then I’m gonna make both of us cum with me inside you.” By this point, you can already feel the wetness starting to pool inside your undies.

“And then, depending on how much energy I have left, I might repeat steps number one and two” this makes you giggle a little and his eyes are twinkling and mischievous. More bright and alive than you’ve seen them since he got home.

“By then, I promise, you’ll be so exhausted all you’ll wanna do is cuddle with me until we pass out.”

“You’re really cocky for someone that was just falling asleep. You probably won’t even have enough energy to complete step one”

By then he has you right on the edge of the bed. He pushes you so you fall back against the mattress with light “uumph”

You look up at him standing there all shirtless and sweatpants hanging low, and the hard outline in those sweatpants.

You think to yourself He might not have to touch to complete step one.

“Y/N the world would have to fuckin spontaneously combust to make me deviate from this plan.” He says as he crawls over you on the bed. “Now, you can either slide these fucking shorts off or I can tear them off you. Your choice.

*little did you know that Katsuki turned off both of your phones while you were in the kitchen and his work phone. He was being literal when he said nothing was getting in the way of this… not tonight. You he would MAKE time for.

Katsuki Bakugo Masterlist

*ummmm this was long but I’m trying to find my groove so…. Thanks for baring with me🤭

[xxepherr]

hasan blurb/fic idea or request (idk if your taking requests?)

hasan blurb/fic based on the tree decorating stream but reader is very particular about how she thinks tree should be decorated and hasan just sits back and observes her lovingly decorating the tree while chat is saying he's down bad the whole time 😩

.ೃ࿐HEART EYES

summary — in which hasan can't help but sit back and watch with adoration while you decorate his christmas tree

pairings — hasan piker x reader

pronouns — she/her

word count — 736

note — they're not dating in this one but you can assume they're unofficially dating or not yet at the point of sharing their feelings. up to you! (also this is super late but i was away for the christmas period so!!)

YOU'D STAYED OFF YOUR phone ever since you last watched hasan and murat go to home depot with rae, marche and qt. you technically had other things to be doing — for one, finishing wrapping christmas presents — but you also wanted to be entirely blindsided by what hasan would be bringing home with him.

to be fair though, you hadn’t expected him to bring home multiple dog statues. when you knocked on the door to hasan’s house and his dad welcomed you inside, you were hoping that he’d come back with a tree and decorations, maybe some lights that you could string up across the trees in his yard.

the tree you were currently staring at was ugly. seriously ugly. apparently it was qt’s choice ( like the dogs ) to get it, and apparently it was the least ugly according to murat.

YOU stood there in the most disappointed fashion anyone had ever seen. once glance at chat and they all shared the exact same sympathy.

“hasan,” you interrupted his mindless chatter about how he was decorating the tree. you weren’t even sure who he was talking to anymore — it sounded more like he was trying to reason with himself that he was doing a good job. “can i just—“ you cut yourself off, now wanting to sound demanding when you were his guest. “nevermind.”

he had stopped the second he heard your voice directed at him instead of chat anyway, the baubles forgotten about in his large hands. “what’s up?” he asked, all his attention on you.

you blinked. “uh, tinsel and lights usually look better if you put them on first.”

without a word, he scooted the box of baubles away with his foot and pulled the tinsel off from where it was hanging around his neck like a scarf. “then it’s all yours,” he announced, placing the tinsel around your neck like a silver medal.

the atmosphere was different because qt and rae weren’t sticking around for the decorating. you kind of wished they had stayed because the vibes would've been easier to deal with. you hadn't been alone on stream with hasan since the recent . . . development in feelings that had started to bubble up into existence.

the second the ornaments were in your hand, you were in complete control of decorations. years and years of being the designated tree decorator as a kid were coming back full force. you started at the top, walking around the tree to sit the lights in an evenly spaced manner down the tree, and then did the same with the tinsel.

hasan was — uncharacteristically — at a loss for words. his eyes were on you the entire time, capturing every movement you made as if he would miss a thing if he blinked. he had very little commentary, fixated on every aspect of you like you would disappear, slipping away like you were never in his house in the first place.

the chat was not helping his case.

"shut up, chat," he tried to keep his voice low and serious, "i am not down bad. shut the fuck up."

you heard him of course, the space between you not large enough to whisper secrets. that, and you'd felt his eyes burning holes through you, a silent shadow across every one of your movements. every ornament

you heard him of course, the space between you not large enough to whisper secrets. that, and you'd felt his eyes burning holes through you, a silent shadow across every one of your movements. every ornament — all of it. you could only imagine what his twitch chat was saying as he cleared his throat uncomfortably at being caught.

he didn't have the pleasure of staying in the unknown, unable to tear his eyes away from every chat message, peripheral vision on you through the monitor. every down bad, whipped, are they dating? multiplied tenfold, then triple that. and triple it again. he was in for it now, and you were — supposedly — none the wiser to any of it.

you knew, you could tell. heat burnt across your cheeks as you kept your back turned, yapping on about decorations to chat to provide an out to hasan, a way for him to involve himself in the conversation to change the topic.

there was really no use in keeping it a secret now.

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

41

i don't know what i did with this, and i'm certain it's not what you meant - but here's your fic for 41. "...because the world is saved."

~

Ash falls like snow, peppering Harry’s hair and coating the scattered stones of Hogwarts, softening their jagged, ruined edges.

Harry stands at its centre, his wand still warm and loosely dangling in his grip. His chest rises and falls as he catches his breath. He feels Voldemort before he sees him, fighting a wince as his scar throbs faintly. Voldemort’s presence had stopped feeling oppressive ages ago… so it must be all that hovering he’s doing over Harry’s shoulder—too close, too familiar, too worried.

“You were reckless,” Voldemort says, right when Harry feels the reprimand building in the air reach its boiling point. Voldemort’s voice is hoarse from battle, his face streaked with dirt and blood. Harry knows it isn’t his; he frowns at Voldemort nonetheless.

When Harry turns, he physically feels the weight of his exhaustion. It pulls down his shoulders, droops his head, and lines his face. Suddenly, he can’t imagine that he looks much better. “Reckless worked, didn’t it?” He asks, just to be annoying.

Voldemort’s mouth spasms in something that might be amusement or disdain—it’s hard to tell. “Barely. If you had died before finishing the incantation, they would all be dead.”

‘Again.’ Hovers in the air, silent and stretching.

“Well,” Harry huffs, “you’d have just had to try and save everyone on your own.” And he can’t help himself when he reaches up to thumb at the drying blood on Voldemort’s face—the near flinch he feels under his attention is so so satisfying. “Isn’t that right?”

He tilts his head away from Harry’s touch and sighs long and low. “You are insufferable, Harry Potter.”

Harry pulls his hand back easily, and a smile tugs up his lips. “Stop suffering me, then?”

The throbbing of his scar had faded with Voldemort’s settling (his needling is a way of reassuring himself, Harry now knows), but it’s back with a vengeance. Harry flinches this time. “Hey now, it’s just a joke—ease up, would you?” He waves Voldemort off, cooling him down or fanning the flames? He never has the slightest clue. 

For a moment, Voldemort says nothing; his dark eyes study Harry’s face like he’s almost got him all figured out, like he constantly unearths more questions with every answer, like if he just looks at Harry long enough—he’ll understand him completely. It’s been happening a lot lately. Harry’s not sure how there’s much left of him to discover with the way Voldemort digs and pries. 

The pain gets worse and spikes to near unbearable before abruptly fading altogether. Voldemort rolls his eyes when he says, “Your humour remains of poor taste.”

Harry opens his mouth to retort, something sharp and teasing to ease the odd silence and to avoid the masses a bit longer, but the words catch somewhere in his throat. His humour isn’t for anyone but himself to enjoy, yet a slight hint of guilt forms in the pit of his stomach. It makes home next to the strange tension that hasn’t let up since Voldemort caught sight of Harry from across the battlefield. He doubts Voldemort has stopped watching him since. 

The look on Voldemort’s face—half-exasperation, half something else—roots him in place. It’s a superficial crack in the otherwise unyielding wall, and Harry wants to see more, wants to pry back.

“You’re staring,” Harry says, his voice quieter now, though the quip still lingers on his lips. It feels too fragile to tease properly.

“You are hard to ignore,” Voldemort replies, his tone just shy of biting. The words lack venom, and something in the way his gaze shifts—falling briefly to Harry’s mouth before darting away—makes Harry’s stomach twist.

The words stamp themselves into the walls of Harry’s mouth before he has the good sense to think about them. “Then don’t.”

Voldemort freezes. He’s eerily still usually, but Hary can feel this pause like he’s stopped the very air around them. It feels alive, heavy, charged with magic—residue from all the fighting? Or is it all from Voldemort himself? And Harry doesn’t know why he said it, doesn’t know why his heart is hammering, but it doesn’t stop him from taking half a step closer.

“I do not think this—” Voldemort starts, his voice low, but Harry cuts him off without a second thought.

“Quit thinking for once,” Harry says a bit too forcefully, his fingers curling instinctively into Voldemort’s robes. His exhaustion somehow vanishes with the movement, like touching Voldemort, even barely grazing, renews him, every nerve alive and burning.

For a second that feels like eternity, neither of them moves. Harry really wants to. But now his brain seems to be operating like usual, possibly even thinking for the both of them, and it’s swearing up and down that he might have pushed too far…

But then Voldemort leans in. It’s not sudden, nor is it hesitant—it’s deliberate, as though he’s weighing every centimetre of the distance between them and making peace with crossing it. Their lips meet, soft and strangely tentative despite Voldemort’s near-constant certainty in his every action—though, has ever truly been certain around Harry? Especially recently?

Voldemort’s hand brushes against his jaw, cool and surprisingly steady. Harry’s breath catches in his chest, his hand tightening slightly in Voldemort’s robes as if to anchor himself. 

It lasts only a few moments, but it’s enough to leave Harry reeling when they part, their foreheads nearly touching. Ash still falls around them, the quiet of Hogwarts’ ruins amplifying Harry’s heartbeat. He needs to will it quiet, needs to let go of Voldemort, needs to rethink his life’s choices—

“Reckless,” Voldemort murmurs, his voice tinged with something like disbelief, cutting through Harry’s spiralling thoughts.

Harry lets out a shaky laugh, his smile soft but undeniably smug. “Yeah, well. Reckless works, doesn’t it?”

This time, Voldemort doesn’t argue.

~

i hope you like it 🥹

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Hello! Can i request headcanons for haruchiyo with a partner who struggles with family issues? I feel like he would be kinda supportive since he struggles with similar issues as well :(

+ i literally only open tumblr to see what you've posted. thank you sm for making this blog a safe place ^^ ♡

I agree, I think he would be too! I went with the good timeline for this one because this probably wouldn't go as well in the others!

He picks on the signs something is wrong before you tell him anything, he's always been observant of you in particular so he notices small details in your behaviour pretty quickly. Doesn't mention it though, instead he waits for you to want to explain it to him.

When you eventually do explain your family situation to Sanzu he just sits and listens, occasionally nodding in understanding. Just let's you let it all out and then he hugs you when you finish.

He completely get's it

Actually opens up about his own family experience, he's never really shared this stuff before, especially since he's fine with his family now but he feels comfortable telling you, knowing that you'll understand.

Asks you if he can say bad things about them, he's already thinking it but doesn't want to voice anything if you're not comfortable with that (one time he made the mistake of insulting Takemichi after Senju complained about him always being late to their ice cream hangouts. Senju did not take kindly to his words so Sanzu always asks now). 

Get's so protective of you whenever your family get's into contact with you or you see them. Will glare at them while having his arm wrapped around you.

If you still live with them/ near them then he'll offer for you to move in with him instead.

Introduces you to his (slightly found) family (Takeomi, Senju, Mucho, Shinichiro, Baji, Mikey and then all of toman) to try and help you not feel lonely at all. As long as they don't take too much of your attention away from him he's fine with it.

Makes sure you know that he'll support you with anything you choose to do about this.

And lastly, he's also very patient towards you, he took him awhile to come to terms with his own experience so he understands you may not be ready to talk about everything or to do anything yet.

[more-mara]

Here’s an old WIP of mine that I have yet to finish.

Only now did Oscar actually get a good look at the captain's face. The man who had basically ruled the seven seas for the last 8 years, the man whose name alone could send a man trembling to his knees. Oscar didn’t think he’d ever get the misfortune to meet him.

Oscar bowed his head, looking away from the scarred yet shockingly young looking face of the captain. He flexed his hand in his binds, feeling the rope start to burn and chafe against his damp skin.

“What is your name, boy?” The captain asked as Oscar raked his eyes up from the pristinely polished boots to stare at the sword hilted in the captain's belt.

Oscar bit the inside of his cheek, knowing that giving his name would probably be the last thing he ever did, no one survived a run in with Captain Sainz- it’s why no one knew for sure what he looked like. Oscar felt a little defiant, wanting to at least die with dignity.

Suddenly, a booted foot was planted against his back, Oscar fell forward with a groan as his face planted straight into the wooden floor of the ship, his hands still tied behind him.

“Answer when the captain speaks to you,” A voice said. He sounded French, maybe. Oscar struggled to place it exactly but as he turned his head to look at the man, he had an amused glint in his eye- as if he was enjoying Oscar’s guts for defiance.

“Oscar,” He grunted, gaze fixed on the man behind him- decidedly not at the captain. The man’s face lit up. Yeah, he was definitely enjoying this.

“Oscar? Not a very nobel name,” The man said with a smirk.

“I am not a nobel,” Oscar said, straining in his confines. The man behind him seemed to take pity, removing his foot from Oscar’s back to haul him back onto his knees. Oscar was faced with the captain once more, whose face was deep in a frown.

“What are you, then? You don’t look like you can fight,” The captain said, his eyes raking across Oscar’s figure, taking in the tattered clothing and overall dishevelled appearance.

Oscar bit his bottom lip, eyes meeting the captain’s once more. He tried not to let his voice shake as he spoke.

“Women are prohibited on our ships by the articles, sir, bad luck, you see?” Oscar said, looking almost a little desperately at the captain- praying he knew what he meant without having to explain.

“Are you seriously explaining pirate code to me?” The captain asked. He looked completely unimpressed and almost angered. Oscar winced a little, straightening his back.

“The men- they need…they are still men, and men have needs…”

The wave of silence crashed over them quicker than the ripples on the ocean. Oscar could see the tension in the captain's face and he heard a small gasp coming from his left- another of captain Sainzs crew.

“If I spare your life, will you be useful to me?” The captain asked, his gaze narrow and steely. Oscar swallowed thickly- he had done this ‘job’ for years now, a different crew would be no different. He knew how to please- how to be of worth.

“Whatever you ask, I will do, sir” Oscar said and he hated how his voice shook. When his previous ship was attacked, he thought he was saved. They flew the flag of the navy and Oscar felt his heart lurch in his chest when he spotted it. Freedom, at last, after 6 gruelling years. But no, it appears Captain Sainz had flown the flag of the monarchy as a ruse to capture their cargo. And it worked, with Oscar being captured along the way.

“You will help the men clean their weapons, you can start tomorrow morning,” The Captain said, and Oscar felt himself frowning.

“I thought-“

“You said you will do whatever I ask, correct?”

Oscar nodded.

“Well, this is what I am asking. Charles, keep him straight,” The Captain said, nodding to the man behind him. So Charles was his name, good to know, Oscar supposed. Charles gave him a smug grin before unsheathing his sword, cutting away Oscar’s binds with swift accuracy.

“Welcome aboard, matey,”

[creepsterdreams]

vere x virgin!reader is eating at my brain. would he be kind to them or would the monstrous instincts take over??

18+

I just wanna preface this by saying that Vere and virgin!reader would probably be an interestingly strange mix

Not saying he's someone to completely disregard it as a whole and do as he pleases, but the idea of "being gentle" is hard when every one of your instincts is screaming at you to fuck them into next week.

Firstly, upon even telling Vere that your a virgin, I deeply apologize but he will laugh

Not because he's making fun of you, but because you are probably the first person he's been with that hasn't had sex before

"A virgin hm? Well....maybe we should change that, don't you agree darling?"

Now he does in fact have a romantic bone in his body, instead of jumping straight to bedding you, he takes you out for a nice dinner somewhere in hightown (he even bought you an outfit just for that, but he won't tell you the price), then a walk through the streets later in the evening talking about whatever came to mind

It was mostly him gossiping about things he's heard from strangers but shhhh

But finally, it came time for him to bring you home (he did not want to do it in the Wet Wick btw) and start the fun stuff

The setting is probably at some hightown inn he spent god knows how much on

But when you get there, he has an entire set up

Roses, candles, very expensive wine, and the works

NSFW

He would start off by softly pinning you to the bed, planting soft kisses on your neck leading all the way up to your lips

Even as he's making out with you, tugging at your clothes to loosen them further, he continues being soft, not wanting to show you the more monstrous side just yet

He's saving that for later

Then he moves on to eating you out, slowly circling his tongue around your hole before dipping it in occasionally, looking up and smiling smugly at the sight of your pleasure filled expression

He makes you orgasm at least twice just on his tongue before he even gets to intercourse

Just because it's your first time doesn't mean he's any less of a tease

Now that he considers you "prepared" enough, it's time to get to the good part

He preferred if you remained in missionary the entire time, he wanted to see your face as he brought you to true bliss

He stayed still for a minute, wanting you to get used to his size

But after he began slowly trusting inside you, it took every bit of self-restrain not to ruin you

His head is thrown back and lets out a groan that sounds almost like growling, bearing his teeth and holding your hips with a bruising grip

“My my, you feel even better than I thought, pet.”

He stays true to his word and keeps a good pace as you both go on, but as he nears finishing, that’s when things get a little more rougher

He starts speeding up the thrusts before leaning down and harshly kissing you, lifting your legs so both are wrapped tightly around his waist

“I know I said I’ll be nice, but I don’t know if I can hold back any longer.”

Manages to hold off his own orgasm so you both can cum together

What a nice fox am I right?🩷

Afterwords your both laying there, with him on top of you, out of breath and trying to recover from the euphoria

Eventually (as in after like 5 minutes) he slowly pulls out, causing you to whimper at the feeling but he coo’s at you and says not to be needy

After care so good you thought he switched personalities for a sec

He walks over to a large tub and fills it up with warm water, and then grabs a towel to gently wipe you clean with it, claiming he wouldn’t be able to stand sleeping with you “all sweaty” in the bed

He puts some of the rose petals in the tub and pours some wine for you both, before picking you up and setting you down in the bath so he can sit down behind you

Both of you proceed to talk and drink for some time, basking in each others presence

He keeps insisting on “helping” you wash yourself but we both know those are NOT his intentions

After the bath is done, he leads you towards the bed again and says that he’ll clean the tub tomorrow, right now you are his highest priority

You cuddle for some time, him whispering sweet words into your ears as he holds you in a possessive embrace, and he watches as doze off, slipping into a deep sleep

You couldn’t have asked for a better first time ^_^

[anikabooker]

Finish him. It wasn't her voice, but another, in the forefront of her mind. Whispers that turned into screams in her ears. The familiar echo of a sound she knew too well; a familiar ring to each scream, chanting to end his life. And a promise, she swore to keep. Her hands twitched and shook, when the last bullet found his skin and then the floor leaving bloody evidence of a barrel all lost on a beast she couldn't kill. A promise. she swore to keep, but couldn't. Not because she didn't want to, but because her hands did not feel like her own, and her face — numb and pale, did not feel like her own, and her heart slamming uncontrollably against a fragile cage, did not feel like her own. She'd never felt her body more alive; every nerve set on fire, skin hot to the touch. Before him, her heart was as fucked up as his was; black and motionless.

Anika couldn't remember the last time she let a beast walk away from her. The last time she granted somebody her mercy. Pity wasn't something she felt — not for someone like him, not for anybody.

Every man she'd ever met had been nothing but cruel. When was the last time someone pitied the woman who had to kill parts of herself to survive? When was the last time a beast showed her mercy?

Because it was monsters like him that had taken everything from her. And yet, her eyes were filled with sorrow for the dead man on the floor, squirming in agony, twitching violently, gasping for air. She only stood over him, with a gun long empty. The sharp blade of her self-hatred glided across her throat, threatening to rip at the skin with every moment passed that allowed him time to heal.

All those bullets meant nothing, when not one of them punctured his heart. Not one of them rid her of him. He was still alive, in the most monstrous way. Dragging himself upwards, struggling to keep his body straight, to become once again a worthy opponent, a punching bag for her to use and then dispose of. She was supposed to dispose of him, not the other way around. I regret you. No, no — not the way this was supposed to be. His fault. This was his fault. His fault, for giving an abandoned hound like her attention, because now she wanted nothing but.

She hissed through gritted teeth: "Good." What a terrible time to be given something she didn't want to lose. What a terrible time to be given something that would completely shatter her to watch turn to ash. What a cruel fuckin thing to give her, when she had decided a decade ago, that she would rid herself of wants and needs, and stupid things like finding comfort under someone else's covers, the only person she'd trusted enough to fall asleep next to, wake up next to — their own little fucked up, domesticated, mundane universe, in which she was blind and foolish, and he was alive and warm. And they were both free — of self-hatred, and pain.

She watched that world disintegrate, while it spat them out into the vast cosmos. And back so quickly, into a world familiar and dark, deadly and completely ravenous where he was a monster and she was his executioner. Only she couldn't swing the axe high enough to slice his head clean off, instead uncertain, trembling hands got the weapon stuck half-way — not letting him die, but not letting him live either. "That's your fucking problem now, isn't it? At least I didn't fucking know, but you did. And still — what did you hope for here, huh? What did you think would fucking happen?" bitter tongue spun cruel words into existence, fabricated them from lies to truths.

Cruel, and despicable things were her lies. Cruel and despicable like putting him on her path and expecting her not to fall for the touch against her spine that whispered safety, the brush against her arm that grounded her — offered her trust, the kind that urged her heaviest burdens, and her heaviest losses to spill out of her. The ones that twisted her, and bent her out of shape, that made her less mortal man and more his kind of beast. The kind of tenderness she hasn't known for years, and had to give up after only a moment. She couldn't mourn the loss, not when she could do something better, something familiar, that was very much her, the version of her that she'd built for years, only for him to turn into dust over a couple of months. It was him holding the stake over her, buried deep into a hollow chest. That sorry excuse of a heart that only he— Don't be fucking ridiculous, Anika.

She wanted his fury, and his hatred. Let's see how far that regret go.

Her hand swung at him, backwards with the sharp metal of the gun slamming into his cheek. Stop fucking talking. His head almost unscrewed itself right off. Burning eyes, like a forest on fire, screamed at him — to be seen, to be acknowledged for the raging disaster it was, "Fight back!" spat out, as if an order. Then she banged small, but mightily fists into him; across his chest, and over his face. Pushing him into the corner of the room, right against his door. "Fight back—" louder, like a beast. She wanted to take every broken whisper, every trusted word, every shared weakness and shove them down his throat. She wanted to fuck him over, like he had. Those kicks to the gut came quicker and harder. "I said— fight the fuck back." Anika would relish in his hate. He was right. It was better, easier— than to mourn the loss of his love.

Pain is always often sudden and unwanted. He'd known it had been the wrong thing to say when he'd fired his own bullet in their verbal tennis; competitive about match point, where he'd forgotten all his sensibilities. Entirely too ignorant to everything when there's the idea of insanity swimming around in his head. Foolishness takes precedent, kicking himself for never knowing that she'd been a fucking idiot — because regret stung like a needle puncturing his lungs; taking the breath he didn't need in a sudden flash. In those holes, blood fills the pockets of air, leaking in from the outside.

He soon knows it's the bullets ripping him open. One after the other, in a series of fireworks — bang, bang, bang — It's second nature to count them; to know how many are left in her barrel. It's almost a guessing game; how many can he survive, before one takes him entirely? But boy, does it fucking hurt.

Far more than the anguish in his chest now. No faux bullshit about weeping hearts, or how his soul is fracturing with loss. The bullets are tearing up his lungs, shattering his collar bone, and bleeding poison into all those organs that should be black and rotting. He doesn't get to say anything, other than release a sound of protest when he's kicked back. He thinks maybe, he deserves that as she peppers holes into him and sends him tumbling into the sunlight.

There's no longer discernible pain. It's simply everywhere because he's on fire. There's blood, and burning flesh. His boxers (god help him, the only thing he's wearing) are soaked in red as his skin peels away underneath the rays. There's no stopping the cry of agony as he fights to escape it, limbs aching, crumbling under the weight of a curse he's got no power over. He's lost the majority of vision, as he blinks furiously in dire hope he might find a shadow instead of the sun. Managing to roll to the other side of the apartment. He hits the wall adjacent to his bedroom; a charred, bloodied thing with bloodshot eyes. Muscles tremble as he stares at the blank of his ceiling. Tatters of skin crumble to dust where he's left them at the mercy of the morning light.

If he had any strength then, he'd have told her that he'd have known all about her tribulations because he knew her father; her story had been new, but not unknown. The fuck does he think it's going to mean shit now. Shaking and groaning as he feels the skin fight to heal; knitting over scalds and fighting off the verbena she's pummelled him with. A few bullets are in the wall behind him, clean shot through. Others, he can feel rolling around in his gut and scraping against his spine.

It takes too long for his vision to straighten, he's already flopping over, trying to push himself to his feet. Arms shaking on all fours, he manages to get to his knees, head rolling back to look at the ceiling. Exhausted, in the only way a monster can be; hungry and fighting; survival instincts want to tell him to do something. It takes everything within him, to contain it, to tell himself he isn't one of them.

You're pathetic. The voice in his head that once told himself that, is replaced by hers; it's going to be there, as his conscience, for a long time. He knows that. Weak. In more ways than Anika knows. But he's let her do this; allowed her, in his stagnant state, to land every shot without retaliation. He's said enough, before. And he's still healing by the time he plants a hand on the bullet-marked wall and claws himself up on unsettled, bloodied legs. He slumps against it, for support and whines a little too miserably as he fights for those bullets inside him, again.

He's not even looking at her, on the other side of the sunlight. Fuck you, Booker.

There's another two clatters, when he discards those bullets to the ground and remains defeatedly against the wall, hand pressed to his shoulder, one eye able to restore vision whilst the rest of him slicks over from its zombie-like decay of burns and gunshot holes. He should be dead. He knows, long ago — long after.

His question still stands; she can land non-fatal things, all day. But there's only so much they can take before it blows up in their face; as though, it hasn't already. What happened to 'I want you', Anika? You had your hand against my chest; you heard the absence of a heartbeat — he's unable to know exactly where she went wrong, in her blindness. In his, too.

It takes a while before he can speak and tolerate the pain without echoing sounds that equate to how pathetic he is. Nearly a hiss, when it's voiced: "I regret you too, don't worry." It's lingering on his head, the hope and the violent way it's torn away from him as quickly as one hand had been on a breast, to being stung in the sun. To how easy it was to kiss her after telling himself it was never his future; he didn't get to have things meant for mortal men. This is why. He's burnt his own heart and left it in need of a transplant; a waiting list, a century long. He'll never live that long. He'll never let himself. He's already dead a second time, long before ash breaches his fingertips.

The scoff is half cough, half bloodied. He spits a mouthful on the carpet next to him, tasting the copper and verbena soaking his insides, souring his system and making him desperate to lick the blood she's painted the walls with. Dignity says he needs to go to the fridge and act like she might not reload and empty another round in that goddamn fucking revolver.

He's not going to fight her. Don't be ridiculous.

"I've never hurt you," Never stabbed her (like she has to him), or left her wondering if he might. Never brought a knife to the bed, and let it get lost in the covers, like she has. Never let an unchecked hand wander, or overstep his boundaries. Like she has him. Hasn't gone through her drawers, or raided her room — like she has, to him. And for the unlife of him, he doesn't fucking understand how she can stand there, with an off-aim and tell him she'd never known. He can hear her words of twenty minutes prior; the drunken desperation; the consent, playing over in his head ��� the corridor when legs wrapped around his now reddened flesh, hands wandering, lips stealing —

Let it go. She cannot matter when his existence isn't for her. He doesn't endure for the sake of her, as much as he does his family. She's lying, if she doesn't understand that, he's certain. He's finding it difficult to push himself off the wall, tired muscles craving to be satiated, a raw throat as his body acknowledges that he's burned through (literally, and figuratively) the deer and the hare he's recently fed on. "As if I'm going to war with you now, Anika."

Is that what you want? "Or would that justify this for you?" Probably. He realises, as more pieces of her jigsaw puzzle slot into place. "Make it easier?" If he's the monster he guesses she wants him to be. It shouldn't make a difference to a hunter — actively committing an atrocity or not. A monster is a monster.

And he should never have truly let himself believe for a second, she'd ever see him differently. This, was inevitable.

But everything in her face and her gaze; appeared fresh again in his recalibrated vision. He swears tears bead at her ducts and the violence in her hues is burying something she never likes him to see. He always does. But that could easily have been a well-constructed lie too. He's tired of looking down the barrel of the gun, at her face; picturing how different it'd been before morning ruined them. Head lolling to the side, to survey her; he wonders how long she might stand there, waiting for a battle he doesn't want to give.

Who is the coward now, Booker?

[cynicallyscorned]

guess who made it into SL!

[hoofpeet]

I'd probably have to read the printed version and web version back to back at some point to note all the differences but... ough