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croworro · 2 months ago

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I found this song a bit ago London by badflower, and I think it would make such a cute schlatt fic bc it fits him so well 🫣

The quiet life

Pairing: Jschlatt (John) × fem!reader

NSFW 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word count: ~ 3.7k

Warnings: Slow burn, intense yearning, domestic daydreaming, emotionally intimate smut, friends-to-lovers, sharing a bed, soft boy feelings, whispered confessions, Schlatt being painfully in love, aftercare, cuddling, slight language, eventual smut

Summary: You’re just friends. The trip was just supposed to be to about making content. But now you’re playing house in a too-small LA apartment, pretending not to notice how close you’ve gotten. But Schlatt does notice—constantly. You wear his shirt, make him laugh in your kitchen, fall asleep inches away like it means nothing. And he? He’s rewriting his entire future around you.

A/N: Omg first of all, this song is going on my playlist IMMEDIATELY!! also I really really hope this is the vibe you were hoping for. I leaned heavvvyyyy into yearning schlatt, because men don’t yearn enough nowadays smh. Hope you like it anon! Also what do we prefer for schlatt, I’ve seen people use John and Jay for him but idk what I like better?

He wasn’t supposed to stay this long.

Originally it was just a weekend thing, shoot a few videos, film a podcast episode, catch up with his other friends in LA. But then you’d offered your couch. Then you’d started inviting him to late-night drive-thrus and mid-day coffee runs and content brainstorming on your apartment floor in pajama pants and a clay face mask.

And suddenly it was ten days later and his return flight had been “pushed” three times.

No one questioned it. Not even you.

You were used to people overstaying in LA. But you weren’t used to how soft he looked when he watched you talk. Or maybe you were. Maybe you just didn’t care.

He sat on your balcony now, pretending to scroll through his phone. You were inside, fixing your hair for some shoot you’d roped him into, humming a song under your breath he couldn’t place.

The sun was setting in that cliché LA way, rosy and fake and too warm for February. He hated this city. The traffic, the people, the way everyone was always looking past you, scanning for someone more important. He hated the fake smiles and overpriced restaurants and the rooftop bars that charged $40 for a drink he didn’t even like.

But he’d never been more comfortable anywhere than he was on your couch, in your too-small apartment, with your laugh echoing through the paper-thin walls.

He stared at the skyline, but all he saw was a different view.

Something quieter. Pine trees instead of palm. A kettle on the stove instead of a ring light in the corner. You with your hair tucked into a hoodie, his hoodie. Cold tile under his feet in a creaky kitchen. A radio playing something old. Your voice calling to him from the next room.

A life where none of this mattered, numbers, views, subscribers. Just you and him and a porch light that buzzed when it rained.

He could see it so clearly it made his chest ache.

“Yo,” your voice called from behind him, snapping the fantasy clean in half. “Ready to film?”

He blinked, startled. Looked up.

You were in cutoff shorts and a tank top, hair clipped up, cheeks flushed from rushing around. You were glowing in the warm light, realer than anything he could’ve imagined.

“Yeah,” he said, voice scratchy. “Let’s do it.”

You walked past him onto the balcony, brushing your fingers across his arm as you passed, totally unthinking. Totally unaware.

He sat there for another second, pretending it didn’t wreck him.

Filming took longer than it should’ve. It always did when he was with you.

You kept going off-script, cracking jokes that made him snort mid-sentence. Your camera overheated. You lost the mic pack for twenty minutes and blamed him like he’d eaten it. He didn’t even fight you on it. He would’ve gladly swallowed it whole if it meant hearing you laugh like that again.

Now the sun had long set and your apartment buzzed under the weight of warm LED strips and half-broken lamps. You were cleaning up the kitchen, barefoot in a pair of plaid pajama shorts, your tank top swapped for his old t-shirt, something he’d left behind on his last visit that you never gave back.

He leaned against the counter and watched you move around, sipping from the same water bottle he’d been using all day.

You handed him a plate to dry.

“Bet you didn’t think you’d be doing dishes in my apartment when you booked that flight,” you said, side-eyeing him with a smirk.

He shrugged, trying to keep his voice casual. “Could be worse.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re here enough. I should start charging rent.”

He wanted to say, Yeah, well you should just move in with me.

But he just chuckled and took another plate.

The two of you worked in sync, like you’d done this a hundred times. Like this was normal. Like you were just two people at home after a long day, worn out, comfortable, quietly tangled in each other’s orbit.

And that’s when it hit him again.

You weren’t his.

You didn’t belong to him. You weren’t building that life with him, not really. This was temporary. A glitch. A shared moment that wouldn’t mean the same thing to you as it did to him.

To you, it was probably just a fun week with a friend.

But to him, it felt like a preview of something he’d never be brave enough to ask for.

You wiped your hands on a dish towel and glanced over.

“What?”

“Huh?”

“You’re looking at me weird,” you said, laughing softly. “You okay?”

He forced a shrug. “Just tired.”

You eyed him for a second longer than normal. Like maybe you didn’t fully buy it. Like maybe you were starting to feel it too, whatever this was. But then you looked away and stretched, your shirt riding up slightly as you did.

He looked away fast. Took a breath. Let it sit.

“Hey,” you said, suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you stayed.”

And just like that, he was ruined again.

It was just past midnight when you padded into the living room, rubbing your eyes and clutching the edge of a blanket around your shoulders. Your voice was soft and half-asleep.

“Hey,” you mumbled, stopping in the doorway.

Schlatt was on the couch, curled uncomfortably with a throw pillow under his head and a YouTube video paused on his phone screen. He looked up at you, trying to blink himself more awake.

“Everything okay?”

You nodded, then hesitated. “I feel like a dick.”

He blinked. “Why?”

You came in a little further, chewing your cheek. “Because you’ve been sleeping on this stupid couch for like… a week and a half now. And it sucks.”

He sat up slightly, one elbow propped on the armrest. “I’ve had worse.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not the point. My bed’s a queen. And I don’t move around. You’re gonna wake up with permanent scoliosis if you stay on that thing.”

He opened his mouth to say something clever. Something to diffuse the way his chest suddenly got tight. But then you said it:

“Just come sleep in my bed.”

And he felt his brain short-circuit.

You said it like it was no big deal. Like it was a logical, normal thing. You were doing him a favor. Being nice. There was no hidden meaning in your voice, just sleepy kindness, the way you’d speak to any friend who looked like they were starting to fuse with your furniture.

But he wasn’t just any friend. Not in his head.

“You sure?” he asked, forcing a smile. “I snore. And sprawl.”

You gave him a look. “So do I. You’ll fit right in.”

He didn’t move right away. Just sat there, watching you yawn and pull your blanket tighter around yourself. You looked so soft like this. Bare-faced. Hair mussed. Half-asleep in the doorway like a scene out of a movie he wasn’t supposed to star in.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Yeah. Alright.”

You didn’t wait for him to follow, just turned and walked back down the hall.

He stared after you for a second, running a hand over his face like maybe that would help clear his head. It didn’t.

When he finally stood, grabbed his charger, and followed you to your room, he already knew he wouldn’t sleep. Not really. Not with you a few inches away, breathing slow and steady beside him, wrapped in that same damn blanket.

You lifted the covers without a word when he walked in. He slid into the space next to you, careful not to touch. Careful not to think too hard about how close this felt to the life he kept dreaming about.

The room was dark and quiet except for your fan humming in the corner. You were already drifting off when you murmured:

“Now you won’t have a broken back.”

He swallowed.

“So generous of you.”

He teased but inside, he was screaming.

Because this, laying next to you, watching the soft shape of your shoulder in the dark, breathing in your shampoo, this was the closest he’d ever been to that other life.

The one where you weren’t just letting him sleep in your bed.

The one where it was his bed too.

He layed there for hours, wide awake. The fan hummed quietly in the corner, stirring the warm air in slow, lazy circles.

Schlatt lay perfectly still. Not asleep. Not even close.

He was hyper-aware of everything: your breathing, the slight shift of the mattress every time you moved, the faint scent of your shampoo lingering in the pillows. His body was tense, coiled in a way that left his back sore and his thoughts louder than they’d ever been.

You hadn’t touched. You were respectful. Friends. Two people sharing a bed to avoid a shitty couch.

But still, he was in your bed.

You sighed beside him, kicking off the covers. “Fuck, it’s hot.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t dare.

You must’ve assumed he was asleep, because a moment later, he felt you shift, slow and quiet, like you were trying not to wake him. He felt the blanket rustle, the mattress dip behind him, and then the unmistakable tug of fabric sliding down your legs.

He nearly stopped breathing.

You slipped off your pajama shorts, nothing too scandalous, just something soft and loose. But now all that was left between you was his t-shirt and your underwear, and you had no idea he was awake and losing his mind.

He wanted to roll over. Just to look. Just to see you in that soft, sleepy state. But he stayed frozen.

Until you moved again.

This time, you rolled closer.

Not all the way. Not pressed against him. But enough that your knee brushed his under the blankets, and you didn’t pull back. You just settled there, warm and bare-legged and totally oblivious to the way you were unraveling him piece by piece.

He couldn’t do this anymore.

“Y’know I’m awake, right?” he muttered, voice low and gravelly.

You went still.

For a second, there was nothing but the fan and the thudding in his chest.

“…How long have you been awake?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“Since you kicked me in your sleep,” he lied. “Like, an hour ago.”

You exhaled, a quiet laugh. “Well, shit.”

He finally turned to face you.

And there you were, hair messy, face flushed, blanket pooled at your waist. His shirt hung off your shoulder, and the hem just barely covered where it needed to. Your legs were bare in the moonlight cutting through the blinds, crossed loosely like you had no idea how badly you were fucking him up just by existing.

“You could’ve said something,” you said softly.

He blinked. “And said what?”

“I dunno.” You shifted, propping yourself on your elbow. “Just that you were awake.”

He didn’t reply, he just swallowed. His throat was dry.

You looked at him, really looked at him, and something in your face softened.

“What are you thinking now?”

He hesitated, fingers curling in the sheets between you. Then:

“That I wanna kiss you,” he said, voice barely there. “But I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

You didn’t move for a moment. Just looked at him, blinking slow, the air thick between you. Then you leaned in.

“Then don’t fuck it up,” you whispered.

And that was it.

He kissed you slow, like he had all the time in the world to make up for. Your lips were soft, warm, a little unsure at first until you sighed into it, your hand sliding up to cup his jaw.

The sheets shifted as you moved closer, your leg sliding over his hip, pulling him in. His hand found your waist, then your thigh, gripping like he was trying to memorize the shape of you.

When your hips rolled against his, he gasped against your mouth.

“Wait,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, eyes dark and heavy. “I’ve been sure.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt on your body. He found your skin, soft and warm and his, and you shivered at his touch.

Everything slowed. Every movement was careful. Reverent.

He pulled the shirt up, and you let him. He pushed the blanket down, and you reached for him with shaking hands.

There was no rush. Just heat and breath and quiet moans pressed into each other’s mouths, like you were afraid to break the spell. He touched you like he’d imagined a hundred times but never dared. You arched into him like you’d been waiting for this just as long.

“John,” you breathed.

And he nearly lost it.

Because this—this moment, this warmth, this body beneath his, was real. Not a fantasy. Not a dream he’d take home and replay in his shitty bed in New York while he jerked off. This was happening.

And it was better than anything he ever imagined. You felt the way he trembled when you whispered his name.

“John,” you said again, slower this time, like it meant something heavier.

It did.

He looked up at you, eyes wide and glassy in the dark, his mouth slightly open like he couldn’t believe this was real. His hand slid along your thigh, fingertips brushing so gently you almost shivered from it.

“Say it again,” he murmured.

You leaned forward, your lips barely grazing his. “John.”

He groaned, low and wrecked, like the sound was ripped straight out of his chest. Then he kissed you hard, deeper this time, desperate. His hands roamed your body, worshipful but greedy, like he didn’t know where to touch first.

“You’re so—fuck, you’re soft,” he breathed into your neck, dragging his mouth down to your collarbone. “Been thinking about this for so long. You have no idea.”

You whimpered softly as his hand slipped between your thighs, cupping you through your underwear.

“I thought about this,” he said, voice hoarse and honest, “when you laughed in that shitty parking garage. When you passed me a drink and didn’t look away. When you wore my shirt and didn’t give it back. Every time you got close and didn’t mean to.”

You gasped when he pressed his fingers against the fabric, slow, patient pressure, teasing you through the damp cotton.

“I kept thinking—if I just had you once,” he continued, kissing up your jaw, “just once—maybe I could get it out of my system.”

He dragged your underwear down your thighs. You helped him, lifting your hips slightly, and he tossed them aside like he’d been waiting his whole life to do it.

“But now I’m here,” he whispered, running two fingers up your slit, slow and reverent, “and I know I’m never gonna want anything else.”

You whimpered, breath stuttering as he circled your clit in lazy, feather-light movements.

“Please,” you said, not even sure what you were asking for, just more.

He kissed your knee, your thigh, your hipbone. “I got you,” he murmured. “Just let me take care of you.”

He slipped two fingers inside, slow and gentle, curling them just right as your back arched. His thumb pressed against your clit again and again, and your legs trembled as you reached up to bury your hands in his hair.

Your breath hitched. “I’m—fuck—don’t stop.”

“Not going anywhere,” he said, voice thick. “Come on, sweetheart.”

You came with a soft cry, body shuddering, legs tightening around his wrist. He didn’t stop until you were gasping, until it was too much.

He kissed you again, deeper now, slower, letting you catch your breath. Your hand fumbled for his waistband, pulling at it clumsily.

“Take it off,” you whispered.

His eyes fluttered shut for a second. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, okay.”

He kicked his sweats off, crawled back over you, and lined himself up slowly, like he wanted to savor this, not just take it.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said.

You just wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging him down until your mouths met again. “I want you.”

He pushed in slowly, both of you moaning at the stretch, the warmth, the relief of finally having each other. He buried his face in your neck as he bottomed out, whispering your name like a prayer.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “You feel like—fuck.”

You rolled your hips, and he moved with you, slow at first, long and deep, dragging it out like he never wanted it to end. His hands gripped your waist, your thigh, your hands, anywhere he could touch, he did. He needed to feel all of you. Needed to memorize this.

“Look at me,” he whispered, pulling back slightly. “Let me see you.”

You blinked up at him, dazed and open, and the look in your eyes almost undid him.

“Christ,” he whispered. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

You pulled him in again, kissed him like you’d always been his, and when you clenched around him, he cursed into your mouth.

It was soft. Hot. Messy. You didn’t hold back. You said his name again and again like it belonged to you. And when you came a second time, with your nails dug into his back and your body arched into his, he followed, whispering something wrecked and quiet into your skin, something you didn’t catch, but felt deep in your bones.

After, he didn’t move. He just stayed there, buried inside you, your hands tangled in his hair, breathing in your scent like he wasn’t ever going to get enough. He hadn’t pulled out yet. Didn’t want to.

Your fingers traced slow, lazy lines along his spine. His lips were at your throat, soft and reverent, kissing gently between shaky exhales. His whole body was trembling, not from exertion, but from something quieter. Something that had been building for days. Weeks. Maybe longer.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

Just the hum of the fan. His heartbeat against your chest. The warmth of his skin slick against yours.

Finally, he shifted, pulled out slowly with a soft grunt and kissed your forehead before collapsing beside you, one arm still hooked around your waist. You turned toward him immediately, letting his chest become your pillow. He wrapped both arms around you and pressed his face into your hair.

You didn’t think you’d ever felt him this quiet before.

“John?” you whispered.

He didn’t answer right away. Just pulled you closer, kissed your forehead, your cheek, your jaw.

Then, barely louder than a breath:

“Move back.”

You blinked. “What?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and wide and full of something that looked almost like fear.

“Move back to New York,” he said again, voice breaking a little. “Please.”

Your mouth parted, but you didn’t say anything yet. Just stared at him.

“I know it’s selfish,” he rushed on, kissing your shoulder, then your temple. “I know you’ve built a life here and it’s not that easy, and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t—fuck, if I didn’t feel like I’d fall apart when I go home without you.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

He cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb gently beneath your eye.

“I wanna wake up with you,” he whispered. “Every day. Not on some couch in your living room or a fucking rooftop party, but like—really. In some house where we cook the same dumb breakfast every morning and you wear my hoodie for real.”

You exhaled, shaky.

“I’ve been pretending it’s fine,” he said. “But I can’t do this fake life thing anymore. Not when I know what it feels like to have you like this.”

His voice cracked.

“I don’t want a version of you I get in little doses when I’m lucky. I want you in the quiet. In the boring. I want all of it.”

You searched his face. He looked… open. Scared. Hopeful.

So much hope it hurt.

You touched his jaw. “You really mean that?”

He kissed your palm.

“I’ve never meant anything more.”

And then, slowly, you nodded. Just once.

Dividers by @uzmacchiato

#jschlatt is hot #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt #jschlatt x reader smut #jschlatt x y/n #i love jschlatt #jschlatt x you #jschlatt smut

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ozzgin · 1 year ago

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hi! I'm the anon who said that Daitou is my #1 sweetheart, and I saw your post talking about time-skip Daitou kind in dilf vibes... I'm interested, take all of my money right now !!

also wondering how Daitou would react with a darling who wants kids 💭💭 imagine of she is having a hugeee baby fever ( not me projecting whattt)

Turning this into a general "Would the yakuza men want children?" and other bedroom habits. There's a more detailed answer for Daitou here. Content: female reader (pregnancy talk), mildly NSFW, fluff

You may think of Boss as old-fashioned, but he's seen a fair amount of depravity back in the day. Before gambling was deemed illegal in Japan, he'd owned several casinos in big districts like Ginza and Kabukichō, and consequently spent a lot of time in various parlors. Unlike many of his men, however, he never really cared much for adult entertainment. In his drunken rants he used to say that women would be his downfall, and no one would want to be involved with him, anyways.

He might be into you calling him daddy, although you should expect a lot of dad jokes to go with it. He’s a silly old man like that. Could be interested in shibari, because it takes a lot of patience and skill and he’d probably enjoy taking his time and gazing at you after each knot. It’s quiet and intimate, and he gets to tease you about it afterwards, especially if it’s an arrangement to go under your clothes. “What’s the matter, (Y/N) love? Tongue tied?”

His recurring humor around his age makes you wonder if he’d even be interested in children. When you finally bring up the topic, Boss is very casual about it. “Sure”, he’ll say with a grin, “whatever the missus wants.” You suspect he’s not taking you seriously, but after settling you on his lap and having a hearty laugh about it, he’ll conclude, this time with confidence: “Have a look outside this room. See all those rascals? I raised them! Ya think I can’t handle a bunch of kids?”

Daitou can be surprisingly (and unintentionally) kinky, especially if you encourage him to. He’ll apologize the day after for being too rough, even if you tell him it's fine and you quite literally asked for it (See Valentine's Day incident). Overall, though, I’d say it depends entirely on you. He can be dominant or submissive, according to your wishes. You can go all out with him, he’s sturdier than most and takes great pride in it. If you’re into more extreme hobbies like knife play, you’re certainly in good hands.

Daitou lives in the moment and hasn't really planned too far ahead. Such is the life of a yakuza: you never know when you might lose a limb or more in the next gang fight. He's therefore quite surprised by your proposal of having children in the future. Is it even something realistic for someone like him? On the other hand, it's hard to refuse that enthusiastic smile you're flashing at him each time the topic comes up. "Do you, uh...", he begins one day while looking at baby toys in the store. He fidgets with his prosthetic eye nervously. "Do you really think I'd make a good dad? Heh."

Kazuya can be quite kinky and loves teasing you in public about it. Last time you were hanging out with him and his underlings, you happened to pass by a park bench you'd recently used during your nightly strolls together. “This location is familiar”, he’ll hum with a smirk. “Isn’t this where we…ah. Nevermind.” Despite your frequent protests, he always struggles to keep his mouth shut. Can you really blame him for wanting to brag to others? You're an undeniable catch.

"Kids?" he repeats with a raised eyebrow. Good question, although something he's considered many times already. What, you thought he wouldn't notice your curious glances whenever some woman walks by with a baby stroller? He pretends to ponder your suggestion and declares after a long moment: "Well, you'd certainly make a great milf, and I obviously can't have anyone else do the honors." He picks you up with a mischievous grin on his face. "When do we start?"

[Main Story] | [More Yakuza]

#yandere yakuza #yandere x reader #yakuza x reader #daitou #kazuya #eiji ichiji #yakuza boss #yandere oc

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kitkat13001 · 7 months ago

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⋆⟡ ݁⚡︎ ₊ . 𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢

⤷ denki kaminari x reader

⤷ friends to lovers, mutual pining, coming-of-age vibes, inspired by the song “ultimately” by khai dreams

ultimately i don't understand a thing i try to do the best i can i know you try to do the same

denki kaminari was never the smart one. he liked to joke around a lot but the truth underneath his charming smile was that he was terrified of failure. he was afraid that people didn’t see him as anything other than the dumb but funny kid in their class. just a yellow sticky note with a joke written on it, here to be laughed at and gone with a mild breeze.

we’re just so bound to make mistakes you could call it a disposition i apologize for all your tears i wish i could be different

you were never the fortunate one. things just didn’t work out for you the way they did for other people. you could blame it on a lot of things, but you sometimes think that it boils down to the fact that some things weren’t meant to be. maybe you were one of them. maybe you never would be.

but i’m still growing up into the one you can call your love i don't know if i’ll ever be enough i’m throwing in my chips i guess i tend to push my luck

high school always feels like it’ll last forever but one day you’re waking up and suddenly it’s all over. and the graduation ceremony is beautiful and everyone cries and then the tears stop when yaomomo announces the party at her house and mina announces the after-party at her house. it’s so strange that after the fun dies down you all realize this is the last time that all of you will be here, under one roof, all together. and it’s sad, of course, but also some strange kind of beautiful. that you’re all going to different places and becoming different people.

and ultimately i believe we'll be okay it’s so cliché to say these things but repetition is a key

many promises are made the night of graduation. the usuals, to keep in touch and call every day and send pictures and meet up for the occasional hero team-up. but denki’s eyes have been fixed to you the entire night, and he’s got a promise for you too. of all the people in this room, you’re the one he doesn’t want to lose the most. so when the party is over, he swallows his pride and walks over to your dorm room on your very last night at u.a., trying not to stutter and not to trip over his own feet. you welcome him like you always do, and you spend a long time laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling as though you’re stargazing. the only stars are the glow-in-the-dark stickers still attached to the ceiling, though, but they’re enough to give denki hope.

i think i’m better when i’m with you but i worry when you're gone i think i need to learn to love myself i must learn to be strong

“america is a long way from japan, huh?”

you blink, as if you’re hearing about it for the first time. “i guess so. it didn’t really occur to me until now, i guess.”

“i don’t know how i’m gonna spend my nights without our 1 am study sessions.” denki means it as a joke but he’s entirely serious. his life is going to feel so empty, he thinks, without you in it.

“maybe you could try sleeping,” you giggle to yourself.

denki snorts. “nah. i think maybe i’ll still stay up, but on facetime with you. it’ll be daytime there.”

“it’s crazy. i never thought i’d end up so far.”

“you could always come work in tokyo with me,” denki suggests, a not-very-sly wink following suit.

you laugh. “as much fun as that would be, i think it’s time for me to be somewhere new. i can learn a lot in the u.s.”

he sighs a little. “i know.” he’s silent for a second before he asks the question that’s been weighing on him ever since you announced your departure for america. “do you think you’ll come back? after your sidekick residency, i mean.”

you think on it long enough to get denki’s heart racing with panic. “i don’t know. maybe. i guess we’ll wait and see, huh?” and then you smile and denki really wishes he could feel okay.

so, for now we'll say goodbye although it pains me in my heart your words they come to me in memories they sing to me like songs

denki cries when he walks you up to the terminal. you cry when denki cries. you sit, a puddle of tears, embracing each other in the middle of the crowded airport as onlookers swarm to get around the commotion to their flights.

he cries for several nights after you leave, and you cry in your hotel room while you scroll through your old pictures.

but like anything else, you get used to the absence. the silence.

it won't be long until i’m here soon i’ll make my arrival under shady trees, a quiet street the roads that i have traveled

tokyo is as lively as you remember it, you think as you watch the busy streets and bustling people and colorful scenery from your spot sitting in the patio of a corner café. you drum your fingers on your cup anxiously. you don’t know why you’re suddenly so nervous, but the idea of seeing denki after all these years makes your heart race.

what if you look different to him? what if he can’t recognize you? what if you can’t recognize him? what if-

you whip around when you hear a familiar nickname of yours called in an even more familiar voice.

a scream promptly erupts from a young blond man’s lips as he makes a beeline for you.

a giant smile appears on your face and you begin to scream as well, running for him.

“denki!”

you collide in the middle of the outdoor seating area, clinging on to each other with a surprising grip.

denki pulls away and his grin is so wide.

“you’re taller! and you’ve got a new hairstyle!” he exclaims, eyes roaming over you as he takes in your changed appearance. you look different, for sure, but you look like you.

you shriek out loud, eyes landing on the metal hoops through denki’s ears.

“you pierced your ears?!” you demand, bending his head awkwardly to better look at the decorations.

denki laughs. “i tried to tell you!”

“i thought you were joking! and your bangs, look at you…” your hands remain steady on his cheeks and you get a good look at him, squinting dramatically. you beam at him after a minute of scrutiny. “you look good, denks.”

if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was blushing. “thanks. you look good, too…you always look good.”

ultimately it's a beautiful thing like flowers blooming in a lonely field the petals drift through crossing winds

there’s a very brief moment as you hold him, his hands on your forearms, eyes interlocked and bated breath, where everything feels like you never left. like you’ve been here with him the whole time and there’s never been anything but you and denki kaminari forever.

it’s that ephemeral moment of beauty that lets you lean in and kiss him, like you both should’ve done so many years ago.

and it’s everything you ever dreamed. his lips are soft, his hands are warm, and his bangs are tickling your nose. and it’s so perfect you can’t believe it took you this long to do it.

that find their way to river streams that scent the water beautifully it takes me back to you it takes me back to you

you laugh breathlessly when you pull away after a very long moment. denki just stares at you in awe, dopey grin plastered on his face.

“god, we should’ve done that forever ago,” he admits, bashful and pink-cheeked.

“yeah, probably,” you agree, slinging his arm over you shoulder as you tug him along. he moves with you like a magnet, and it feels right to have him by your side again.

“guess we’ll have to make up for lost time.”

“i guess we will.”

icons from pinterest, not mine ; divider by @/saradika-graphics — i actually really like how this one turned out. i wrote the premise years ago and it finally hit me tonight to finish it. denki holds a very special place in my heart.

#kitty.writes!#denki x reader #mha x reader #denki kaminari #mha denki #denki x y/n #denki kaminari x reader #denki kaminari fluff #denki fluff #kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #mha x reader fluff #mha fluff #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha x you #mha x you #denki x reader fluff

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mari-lair · 2 months ago

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Koukane is beautiful, a solid rare pair that's dear to my heart, so let's talk about them!

Kou is easily overwhelmed by Akane, kind of stumbling into being his friend when it clearly wasn't in his plans.

Their first interactions are adorable in a pitiful way because Kou can't keep up with Akane's mood swings, he is so nervous he calls Akane "Sir" completely umprompted, constantly being at lost for words near the older boy.

And while Kou aknowladge Akane can be scary and unhinged:

This nervousness is born from admiration, he gets flustered near Akane when the older boy isn't even trying. Stuttering and startling and awkwardly reaching out for him without daring to approach.

His habit to awkwardly reach out likely involves wanting to help Akane, he just can't force himself to actually close the distance and be of help.

The one time Kou was able to help, delighted to the point of happy tears by the opportunity, Akane killed part of his pride by showing off a power Kou seems to think is much cooler and stronger than his own, judging by the way his big blush turned into sweat.

To further stab his poor heart, when he was honest about how cool Akane powers are, Akane dismissed his own as pathetic. So I don't blame Kou for being so nervous about trying to help his 'cool upperclassman' during the entire arc.

Akane has no nerves when it comes to Kou so he is the one that always approaches Kou and get them closer,declaring Kou his friend, kicking Hanako when it looked like he was mocking Kou's desperate determination to save Nene, and being the only one who touches Kou, Kou never dares to touch Akane.

Surprisingly, Kou's respect seem to extend to Akane's view on Hanako, cause we don't see his reaction to Akane's "you're a murderer, you make me sick" rant, but we do know Kou isn't nearly as unseatled as Nene about it, he isn't even angry, when he brings it up again later with Hanako, he is pretty casual about it. And in the recap he is just confussed.

Maybe Akane reminds him of Teru, and he is used to such a harsh stance, or he is thinking of the young exorcist arc where Hanako's beliefs were the same as Akane's 'I am being nice now but i murdered someone kid. What would ever justify murder? How can a murderer ever be good?' so I think Kou is mostly shocked someone with Akane's belief decided to go through with the alliance anyways. Teru would never.

Back to Kou being extremely nervous!

During the clock keepers arc, after Akane dons his clock keeper uniform, Kou never disagree with Akane directly. Even Kou's habit to back up Nene doesn't get in the way, hyping Nene up but not agreeing with her contrasting views like "hanako isn't bad" or directly refuting what Akane says.

This hesitation/nerves slowly dissapears as they grow closer, nowadays Kou isn't scared of speaking his mind, able to be extremelly rude and not filter his offence.

We aren't show them interacting much in the main manga but we are told that they do talk outside classes, likely alone (?), so Akane's declaration they're friends was not a thrown away line, he genuinely vibe with Kou, he even gave him his phone number.

Kou got more comfortable with Akane, able to express that the boy is a weirdo but still keeping his respects for Akane, seeing him as a wise older boy and following his lead without question: He is excited to hear about Akane's romantic advise and he listened to Akane's advise even when it comes to dealing with his own brother.

Akane likes Kou, he is the one who declared them friends. He admires his determination and want him to succedd in his goals, he wouldn't have stopped his time on what he consider an 'imposible task' to save Nene otherwise. He also really appreciates that Kou doesn't like Aoi. And he is constantly comparing Kou with Teru, baffled by how much they differ.

Akane grows to like when Kou is cheerful, either overwhelmed by Kou's expectations and feeling pressured into doing what Kou wants or charmed by it, unable to resist the urge to tease him.

There is a translation where he refers to Kou as Teru's 'cute little brother' and considering how he treats Kou, even if it is a mistranslation i wouldn't be surprised if that's how he think.

Specially with the way he acts as if Kou is too good to be related to Teru, touched by his kindness, seeing him as a sparkling/glowing figure.

Akane also loves his food, blushing when he eat it. He respect him as a chef.

Akane trying to cheer Kou after his fight with Kou up is really sweet to me because he sucks, they aren't close enough for hugs or shoulder pats but still enough for Akane to take his distress seriously. He is unconfortable and sweeaty, awkwardly reach out, as if he want to help Kou but has no idea how. It remind me of Kou's own awkward reaching out gestures in the clock keepers arc.

Their friendship is beautiful and funny but every flavor of koukane is good, so let's add a puppy crush on Kou. He already finds Akane attractive.

This is attraction by the way, he isn't flustered because Akane is being suggestive. Even if we put asside how pretty Akane was drawn here, Kou is not weak to sexual comments, he is used to Hanako, whose pervy jokes are far more explicit, but he isn't a fan of them, always gets mostly annoyed not flustered.

In the spin off it is revealed a girl Hanako isn't 'his type', but when Hanako possessed Nene's body (who Kou used to have a crush on so he consider her an attractive girl) he becomes imcapacitated. It is a big weakness.

So Akane's smirk is what got Kou flustered. Reading Kou's nerves as half admiration and half the poor boy feeling way too bi to know how to handle Akane would be fun.

I can imagine Akane talking about Aoi, since Kou is one of the few boys who doesn't have a crush on her and Kou feeling awkward cause everytime Akane send him a cute smile thinking of Aoi, Kou short circuit.

Considering we only see Kou call Akane "sir!" after his transformation I headcanon he is more attracted to Akane's keeper form than his usual apparence. If Akane teases Kou while on the keeper uniform Kou may explode.

If we keep this ship one sided, it would never leave the dock, Kou would never go after Akane, but I can see him trying to help Akane get with Aoi when they become close friends, similar to how he had helped Nene with Hanako during the donuts chapter. Boy got the 'he is so out of my league i won't even try' doubts mixed with a sprinkle of i don't like boys' cause internalized homophobia is one fo the ingredient of Kou's 'i want to be tough and reliable! I don't want to be a housewife' complex.

(Just realized Kou think using your bare fists to fight is the peak of toughness and guess what Akane's fighting style is. Guess.)

Akane liking him back is amazing because they both got the acts of service displays of love, something Akane will be touched by and Kou will be comflicted because he is the acts of service guys that's his one thing he can do right, let him do stuffs!! What Kou is weak to is words of affirmation, so he would explode if Akane says he does a good job, is handsome, or kiss well or anything really.

Akane can consistently overwhelm Kou when he is being confident so if he say "Sit down I'll clean today," Kou would try to argue but inevitably cave in and have to awkwardly let someone help him. I am telling you right now, when they live together breakfast will become Akane's role.

Kou may be a hard working boy that carries his family on his back but he is NOT a morning person. A single sleep over would be enough for Akane to notice that and let his wondeful boyfriend rest. Depending on how sappy he is feeling, or if it is a important date like birthdays or valentines, he'll give Kou breakfast in bed.

Kou being easily overwhelmed/having low self steem and Akane's habit of being very open about his love, puting his partner first, would result in Kou being super flustered and flattered and uyguygyugu at the start but slowly turn into a problem if unchecked.

Akane is reliable so he can help Kou with chores, studies, or supernatural problems, which Kou would appreciate, and rely on, but it would slowly make Kou feel useless by comparation.

(It would feed into Teru's fears that his siblings are growing out of him too buuut i'll make a post on Teru's amazing potential roles/affect in the ship for later)

Even when Kou does help he has a habit of focusing on what he can't do instead of what he can, feeling like all he does right is cook, and that Akane doesn't trust him, since Teru is the one Akane goes to when it comes to supernatural troubles and help him in the student council. He worries about Kou more than he ever relied on him, at least, when it comes to battle.

Unlike with Mitsuba, I can't see Kou being angry Akane doesn't rely on him, there was never any illusion that Kou can 'grant his wish' or that he is the only one trustworthy in Akane's life. Kou is the one who usually seek him for help from the start, and he respect the people Akane work with more than he respects himself, so he would just be extremaly frustrated with himself that he isn't capable enough to be Akane first option in troubling times.

Thankfully, unlike Aoi, Kou's poker face sucks, and he is an incredibly bad liar, when he bottle up his emotions it easily overflows. Anger, sadness, nervousness...

Just look how he acts with Nene after he learn about her lifespam, how easily his smile breaks after his visit with mitsumom, how reactive he get with Hanako, and so on...

So Akane, who is used to playing hard mode (since he grew up reading Aoi's eternal smile) would notice all of Kou's mood swings right away. If Kou dismisses it, Akane will let him be, but when it keep happening, or he is visibly very troubled, a talk would occur.

I think the first time a misunderstanding would hapen relatively earlier, over something small: Such as Akane thinking Kou is cute when Kou wants to be cool. Kou would be embarrassed at first, he is never complemented on his apparence in the manga in any way, in fact, he is comparaed to a delinquent in apparence, but find it kind of pathetic after a while that the main thing Akane calls him is cute.

Imagine Kou trying out cooler clothes and Akane being somewhat baffled but endeared. Akane won't even question, if Kou want to have a punk era, good for him, but when he finally connect the dots at his anxious behavior he will figure out exactly what kind of compliment Kou craves and overwhelm the poor kid.

Eventually every little piece and small issue would connect and Akane will call him out on his "I need to be useful" complex. Probably result in tears from Kou and regular training sessions.

Kou is incredibly powerful, he is a Minamoto! The only one who caught Mirai mid air, and all the monster he killed at the aquarium was while his weapon was sealed, so Akane would absolutely grow to respect him. Kou would also be a non tradicional fighter, knowing some tradicional exorcists attacks and some judo tecniques.

Akane consider getting homemade food the peak of displays of love (it's a fantasy that is brought up a LOT/ he was extremelly flustered when Aoi gave him a little homebaked sweet)

So despite Kou not thinking much of every bento he makes for Akane, his upperclassman would be delighted. Specially when Kou's meals become more and more tailored to Akane's tastes everytime Kou learns more about his preferences, made with Akane in mind. Add in how Akane naturally loves Kou cooking, even ship lenses, and every meal will be Akane's favorite time of the day.

Instead of leaving Akane to his fate when he is having even day to day troubles Kou would try to help now that he isn't so nervous anymore, and can move instead of reaching out and awkwardly staying in place. Just like when Tiara was troubling him and Kou immediately went to help.

They teamed up for damage control flawlessly. Just saying if they ever live together the chores would be split and all would be nice.

Akane always try to do things alone, and we are constantly said Akane get stuck with jobs no one want to do, helping others but not asking for help. Kou naturally always tries to do things for others, so he would tell him to relax when he is too tired and offer help in small tasks he can, like delivering papers to various clubs, things he would consider pretty unhelpful but Akane would be touched by, specially pre-relationship/the very start.

ALSO! Their height difference is cute! It would start with Akane being taller:

And if grown up Kou REALLY is the same as Teru, he'll become a little taller than Akane.

The idea of Akane either in complete denial his Kou looks like Teru when he gets older, or him genuinely being so in tune with every detail of his features that he is the only one who sees Kou as completely different and far more beautiful than Teru are equally funny to me.

#There is still a lot to talk about but I'll leave it to another post since this one got long.#which hopefully i'll do soon but who knows #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #jshk #jibaku shounen hanako kun #minamoto kou #koukane #aoi akane

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vientoverde · 1 year ago

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First Master of Spinjitzu first student was Nineko. Wu's first student was Morro. Lloyd's first student is Arin.

And the first two have something in common, they abandoned their teachers and became evil.

Nineko was an orphan who stole to survive until the First Master took her in and trained her. But when something was missing she blamed Nineko immediately, she assured that she didn't do it but they didn't believe her so she fled (or was expelled) from the monastery, years later being the main villain in one of the Spinjutzu Brothers books.

Morro, we all know his story. Orphaned boy from the streets that Wu took in at the monastery and trained him, things did not go well when destiny denied him being the green ninja so he fled to prove the opposite, years later returning from the dead to take revenge (and redeem himself). to the last second).

And then there is Arin, the orphan boy whose parents were taken from him by a "natural disaster" (can it be considered that way?) lost somewhere, living alone with his friend in a strange world until adolescence where he met his idol and who fell would become his teacher. He doesn't run away and turn evil like the other two, right?

Because something tells me that there is a pattern for the first students.

Nineko: I speak the truth. I didn't steal anything!...please trust me, I didn't do it.

Morro: Fate is wrong, I am the green ninja! You made me believe it!

Arin: But... you promised that we would find my parents.

I think Arin could fill the villain role or at least the resentful student vibe of the other two if you put him in the right situation.

Part of Arin's internal conflict is finding his parents, now, imagine that after the entire ninja team joins Lloyd leaves that issue a little aside, not because he doesn't care, he just doesn't realize it, plus he himself doesn't. He is necessarily close to his own parents. So Arin would have this thought of "you take me to look for your family, but you won't help me look for mine?" maybe not like that, but you get the idea, plus Arin seems stressed or angry in the new trailers, that could set off a little chain reaction.

I'm not saying that Arin would become a villain by any means, but it would be interesting to see him questioning or confronting Lloyd about something similar.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #ninjago lloyd #ninjago arin #ninjago morro #ninjago nineko

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blowtorchappliedtosugar · 1 month ago

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Purgatory- Joel Miller x F!Reader

𝖕𝖚𝖗𝖌𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞 (4.1k words)

Summary: You were a tried and true catholic even despite the apocalypse, and Joel had slowly learned to accept it.

Warnings: LOTS OF RELIGIOUS JOKES/REFERENCES, a lot of blasphemy whoops. Explicit smut, unprotected sex, slight dom/sub undertones, does this count as religious smut? pinv sex, oral, fingering, language, barely beta read lmfao

Author’s Note: this is pretty much just filled with Tyler Childers references, sorry in advance LOL. This is also my first tumblr fic as well as my first Pedro/Joel fic <3

(P.S. If you really like these vibes, I wrote this almost entirely off of two Tyler Childers songs: Purgatory, and Feathered Indians. Def recommend listening to this while listening to the Purgatory album <3)

Nobody in the town really could figure Joel out. He was outwardly grumpy and cold, but he had a soft underbelly of kindness and warmth that came out when you really got to know him.

For example, you. You were everything Joel wasn’t. A girl, younger than him, short, long hair, soft features… and a devoted catholic.

It wasn’t common out here. Most people knew God abandoned everyone long ago and had lost hope. It was a waste of time at best and borderline offensive at worst. But the rosary around your neck never left, and you prayed every day and night.

You couldn’t blame anyone for not being faithful. You had spent many nights awake, questioning yourself and your religion, wondering why you couldn’t let this go like everyone else had.

But it just… stuck. You worked as a nurse in Jackson, spending your days faced with death and sickness and pain. It was all worth it, of course, and it was necessary work, but if saying a few prayers after each patient made you feel a little more human, you figured it wasn’t that bad.

Joel was certainly off put by your beliefs. He saw your rosary and he assumed you were another insane fanatic who was lucky to not find herself in one of those Seraphite cults he’d heard of. He wanted nothing to do with you, and he was certain you could simply sense that he was filled head to toe with sin and keep the distance yourself.

You refused to keep your distance. You didn’t see him as evil or sinful. You saw him as a sad, lonely person who had undoubtedly seen so many horrible things in his life. You couldn’t give a single damn if he believed or not.

It took him a while. A longwhile- about 8 months of leaving baked goods on his doorstep, getting to know Ellie, offering gardening help. Pretty much anything you could think of to make him interested in actually getting to know you.

It took him getting insanely sick in December for him to finally realize that you were just a caring soul with a big heart, not interested in scolding him or converting him. You sent Ellie to her room in the garage, insisting she stay away so as to not get sick, and cooked every one of Joel’s meals for two weeks. You brought his medicine, new water, washcloths and blankets to fight the fevers and chills. When he started to feel better- but not well enough to get out of bed yet- you brought him books, crosswords, and journals to entertain himself.

By the end of it, Joel felt like he was seeing you for the first time. Seeing who you truly were, and not just seeing you as some scared and shy woman. You were the only person he had ever met, especially now that the world was an apocalyptic wasteland, that was so selfless and giving.

Ever since, the two of you had a… friendship… of sorts. You brought him and Ellie goodies, he brought you ingredients and fixed things around your house for you. It just worked, and you never had to think too much about it.

Until you did start thinking about it. Too much. You thought about his strong, worn hands. Hands that you wondered how would feel wrapped around your waist, or your legs, or inside you.

You were absolutely fucked. He was nearly 30 years older than you, and he certainly had no interest in chasing some random girl who couldn’t leave him alone.

Except, you had only assumed as much. But one night, while Ellie was away at one of her friend’s houses, Joel had convinced you to have a glass of whiskey with him. And you, being the lightweight you were, slurred your way through a drunken confession about how badly you dreamt of him.

Joel’s eyes twinkled as you mumbled your love affair with his hands and arms, listening intently.

Truth was, he had eyes for you since the moment he saw you. Your soft lips and gorgeous eyes had him drawn in since the very first moment.

You woke up in his bed, but the night ended with nothing more than a hot and heavy make out session. Joel was a gentleman through and through. He wanted you to remember when he fucked you, anyway.

You both insisted the relationship go slow and steady, but the way he was wrapped around your finger was instantaneous. The secret was out as soon as Ellie put two and two together, and you moved into their house only a couple weeks later.

It was unusual, the way you and Joel just… got along. As mentioned, he was rough around the edges and stern and grumpy. You were emotional and affectionate and sunny. You brought sunshine into the house again, and often were the only source of peace when Ellie and Joel had their disagreements.

And he was surprisingly accepting of your faith. In fact, especially at the beginning of the relationship, you had kept it strictly to yourself. But as you began to open up and learn more about each other, his curiosity and mindfulness did as well.

It started with small questions, laced with the usual judgement and failure to understand. How could you possibly believe? Why would you do that to yourself?

You answered every question with patience, and Joel seemed to find peace with it over time. He would never believe himself, and that was more than okay with you. But he loved you, and he respected your faith. He let you keep your bible on the bedside table, surrounded by the bottles of beer he would drink while you both sat quietly in bed reading, or chatting, or tracing every square inch of each other's skin.

He was hopelessly in love with you, and he wanted to give you the world.

Your favorite was like today, when Ellie decided to go out for the weekends- undoubtedly up to some kind of mischief with her friends. Joel was always on patrol until 4 on Fridays, giving you enough time to get home from the clinic and start dinner.

Him walking in the door to the scent of a warm dinner and you in one of his flannels and a pair of shorts was practically heaven on earth.

You hum to yourself as he leaves his muddy boots at the door. He felt like a horny teenager all over again, sauntering up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist while you cut the vegetables up.

“Catholic girl, pray for me. You’re my only hope for heaven,” He says, grinning while he places soft kisses against your neck. He always managed to say the things that made your knees go weak.

His hands trail from your rosary down your chest, tracing his fingers over your stomach. You could feel the back of his belt buckle pressing into your thigh, leaving an impression you wish would never disappear.

“Joel… dinner first.” You murmured unconvincingly, pressing into his kisses.

“Just appreciating what God put on this earth for me. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, is there, darlin’?”

You felt yourself blush hard. He knew exactly which buttons to press to get you to surrender.

“No, of course not…” You replied, feeling his touch get lighter and less purposeful. It left goosebumps forming.

You found yourself grabbing for his retreating hands almost instantly, longing to have the warmth back. Joel chuckled but allowed you to pull him back in.

“Oh, no, baby. I thought you had to finish dinner. Can’t finish dinner with me all over you.”

“Can to. Just let me…” You moved to the side slightly, his fingers still attached to your hips, throwing the cut vegetables into the soup pot boiling on the stove. You replace the lid and return to your spot in between his legs, this time facing him. “See? Now we have all the time in the world.” Your smile grew as you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding onto him as if he would disappear.

His hands, in the meanwhile, wrapped around the rosary around your neck. One of his nervous habits was to play with it, absentmindedly running his hands over the beads. His eyes didn’t meet yours until you put one of your hands on his face, soft fingers meeting the rough and harsh hairs of his greying beard.

He smiles softly, finally meeting your gaze. You swore he had the most gorgeous eyes, eyes that had cried so many tears, that had seen such horrible things. You were the only thing he wanted to see, standing in front of him for the rest of his life- however long that may be.

You may believe that there was a heaven beyond this life, but Joel was sure that you were his heaven.

You brought your lips to his, kissing him gently. Usually your kisses were sensual and desperate, but this was slow. A type of intimacy that was rare for the two of you.

He pulled away only when he had to. You could feel his erection fluffing up against you. “Ellie…” He mumbled, knowing that if this were to keep going, it would have to be taken to the bedroom.

“Ellie’s over at someone’s house. We got the house to ourselves this weekend.” You assured before sinking to your knees in front of him.

He smiled down at you, hands smoothing through your hair. “Someone’s house? We really need to be better about watching that girl…” He sighed.

“Hey… Turn the dad mode off. You’ve got me to yourself for an entire weekend. No work, no chores, no interruptions. You can worry about Ellie at 8 A.M. Monday morning.” You say, beginning to pull at his belt.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, his eyes going dark. He never would’ve bet that the shy, God-fearing girl he met those years ago would be in his kitchen, on her knees, looking at him like he hung the stars.

You continued unbuckling his belt and opening his jeans, pulling down his boxers enough to expose him.

He was thick, and you breathed in the scent of his musk. He always teased you, but you constantly found yourself all over him when he got back from patrol, all sweaty from hard work and sunshine. You could’ve sworn that the pheromones or something drove you insane.

Much like kissing, you very rarely had the chance to take your time when giving Joel head. Usually it was quick, sloppy bedtime blowjobs, just to hold both of you over when you didn’t have time to fuck.

This was the exact opposite. You had all the time in the world, and you intended on making him aware of that.

His breath hitched when you licked a strip from his shaft to his tip, just taking in the taste against your tongue. It was salty against your mouth, encouraging you to taste more. You let your tongue run between the space between his tip and the rest of his cock, worshipping every last inch. You felt the way he throbbed against you, already struggling to keep his composure.

That was exactly what you wanted, though. Usually you didn’t have the opportunity to build him up, flip that switch and make him take control. You wanted to feel him for the next week.

“Fuck, baby, I can’t handle all that kitten lick shit. I’ve had a long day at work, darlin’.” He sighed, grip on your hair tightening.

You smirked up at him, biting your lip and instead pressing the side of his cock against your face. “Hm? I’m not doing anything.”

His jaw tightened after a moment, realizing what you were doing.

“I’m going to give you one more chance, babygirl. Be a good girl for me, sunshine. I know you can.”

You didn’t let the smirk fall from your face. You pulled back slightly, paying close attention to how Joel was unsure of what your next move was, and then took him entirely in your mouth. No warming up, no acclimatizing. Just his tip straight to the back of your throat. You gagged, of course. Hard. His hand practically pulled some hair out with how hard it gripped your scalp, not expecting such amazing stimulation. He grunted out a series of curse words, pulling you off of his dick.

He had to catch his breath for a moment, being reminded of his age. He stared down at you, and you could practically already see what was coming.

“Fuck… I fucking told you, baby. Just can’t fucking behave, can you?” The malice in his voice thrilled you straight to your core. He was so good at playing this part, at creating this anger and dominance, it always made you feel like you were floating.

As painful as it was, he tucked himself back in his jeans, wincing. You were still catching your own breath when he hauled you up, handling you like a rag-doll as he held your hands together. He turned you away from him before gently slamming you against the counter, crowded by his body behind you. The counter was just high enough for you to be bent at the waist.

He made quick work of your skirt and panties, pulling it off of you, but he left your top in place for the time being. Instead of bothering with anything else, he found his place behind you again, pulling your top half against him. He was just a bit taller than you, so his nose rested against the top of your head.

“Now, I’m only going to say this one time, darlin’. You listening?” He asked, gripping your face tightly.

You nod, your heart speeding up. Feeling his rough fingers against your face was nothing short of incredible. “Yes, Joel. I’m listening.”

“You better tell whatever God you believe in- whatever God is up there right now, to look away. ‘Cause the things I’m gonna do to you, sunshine…” He trailed off with a sleazy whistle, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. You practically rolled your eyes back.

“Fuck, Joel…” You gasped, wiggling your hips back in an attempt to speed him up.

All it did was make him laugh and grab onto your hips. “Mm, cursing… Not very holy.” He teases.

“Fuck you,” You reply quickly. He sniffs, trying to hide his obvious amusement.

“Other way around, darlin’.” He finally returns his fingers to the rosary, but this time, he trails them down after rolling a few of the beads. Instead, his fingers dip into your shirt, pulling the hem down to find your breasts.

“Always so perfect. Made just for me, huh?” He comments, feeling you relax against him as he squeezes and prods at your tits.

“Just for you…” You nodded, feeling the pleasure start to take over your brain.

You particularly loved when he did this to you; made you stop thinking about anything else but him. It was the break you needed, the peace that praying couldn’t bring you.

You moaned softly, his fingers bringing so much titillation but not enough at the same time. He could sense the way your mind went dumb for him.

“Joel, please…” You whimper, starting to feel desperate.

“Shhh, darlin’. Y’don’t gotta beg. I know what you need.”

He bends you back over the counter, pressing his back against yours again. He only moves back to remove his aching cock from the confines of his jeans. He kicked his jeans and boxers off, leaving you chuckling as you craned your neck to watch him throw his shirt to some corner of the kitchen.

He smiled back at your grin, wanting to wipe it right off of your face. He quickly spit onto his fingers, finding your cunt dripping for him already. He, copying your move earlier, had no hesitation or reluctance to shove to fingers inside of you.

You yelped, mainly out of surprise. He quickly found your spot and was curling against it, watching as your eyes rolled back, not expecting him to be so precise and quick.

“Not so funny, is it, sunshine?” He questioned rhetorically, eyes lighting up watching and feeling you grind against his fingers, your greedy pussy begging for more.

“Joel, please… Want you inside me. Need it, God, I fucking need it.” You cried out.

“God’s not here, darlin’. Just me. And ‘m gonna fill you up.”

He pulled his fingers out of you after feeling you squeeze them so perfectly a few more times. Unable to stand waiting much more himself, he finally guided his cock towards your cunt.

You felt the stretch as he breached you, the delicious contracting of your walls pulling him in. It made the back of his neck tingle. He was unable to hold back moans of his own, already feeling so destroyed by the warm perfection of you.

He reached the hilt, trying to go slow as to not hurt you, but you were both pretty wrecked.

He thrusted slowly, just wanting to feel the absolute bliss of the tight drag. Wanting to feel every last inch of being inside you. It felt like you were built just for him, perfectly made just for his pleasure.

Meanwhile, the feeling of his tip crowding against your spot was practically ethereal. You arched your back aimlessly.

Joel was lost for a few moments in the ecstasy, but after a minute he came to and realized that you still had your shirt on. He wanted this slow and he wanted to be able to feel every centimeter of your flesh, not a single thing covered by fabric, as God had made the both of you. He wanted to become one.

“Joel… Fuck. Need to see you.” You blurted out, your hands resting below you on the counter to support yourself.

He stopped immediately, not sure why he didn’t have you facing him in the first place. He pulled out, as painful as it was, and flipped you around. The cabinets supported most of your legs, so even though they felt weak, you were still supported while Joel reconfigured.

“Perfect girl. Just needed to feel me like this, huh?” He asked, before pulling you against him again. Now, your ass rested on the counter and allowed you to wrap your arms and hands around him.

He pulled your shirt off haphazardly, banishing it to the same corner as his shirt. Your tits pressed against his chest.

You were both surrounded by each other, hardly a bit of skin that wasn’t touching. It was perfect.

“Love you so much,” You moaned, taking advantage of having access to his neck by kissing and biting at the skin. His eyes softened, a small smile on his face as he tried to focus.

Your nails found purchase in his back, leaving little indents. You had never been bold enough to ask him straight up, but you were pretty sure that the pain egged him on, as well as the little scratches left over. Like proud battle scars, scars that he wore happily- unlike a lot of the other scars he bore.

Trying not to get distracted was a difficult task. Feeling you nip and lick as his neck had him closing his eyes, letting his head go slightly slack against yours.

He managed to line himself back up to your hole, pushing in much more slowly this time.

And this time, at this angle… Both of you were gasping for breath. All he could manage to do was hold onto you like his life depended on it, probably leaving bruises on you this time too, and roll his hips.

“I can feel you so fucking deep,” You sigh.

“Love you more than anything above or below, my sunshine. Fuck.” He groaned. He wanted this slow and sensual, but it was so hard to not just speed up and take you apart.

Each thrust was punishing, though. The slow pace managed to accumulate so much more power and the lingering build up had you struggling to breathe after only a couple minutes.

“Can feel you, y’know? Gonna come fr’me, angel? Show me how good it is, darlin’.” He encouraged, feeling your pussy start to stutter deliciously.

As if feeling him fuck you to hell and back wasn’t enough, his grunts and groans in your ear could’ve made you come all on their own. You felt the tension build in your stomach, desperation taking over.

You chanted his name as you came, and he resorted to grinding his cock inside you instead of long, hard thrusts, which made you see stars.

Joel had to grit his teeth to not come then and there, almost going completely feral at the feeling of your orgasm.

Once you felt like you could properly breathe and see again, you realized he was holding off just for you. The feeling made your cunt spasm again, and you couldn’t help but chuckle as he responded.

You wanted him to use you. You wanted to feel that carnal heat of sin, the type of sin that made you feel like bathing in holy water wouldn’t save you.

“Joel… Wanna feel you come inside me. Please. Make me yours? Want everyone to know.” You whispered, taking your turn to encourage him.

He groaned, starting to speed up, bouncing you against him softly.

“Everyone to know, huh? Whole town needs to know how I fucked you six ways from Sunday?” He grit out.

He couldn’t handle talking anymore, finally just letting his animalistic instincts take over and thrust into you. The two of you were so close, so together, so… one.

Maybe this world was some sort of sick purgatory, fighting for your lives and for everything you loved, but being in Joel Miller’s arms was as close to heaven on earth you could possibly get.

The realization had you feeling dangerously close again. It was almost like he could sense it- either that or he noticed your sobs of pleasure, and one of his hands blindly navigated to your clit. The message was clear, even if he couldn’t use his words anymore, just one more for me, angel, and you came again, your orgasm hitting like a train, feeling the wetness drip onto both of your thighs.

He moaned loudly, his grunts filling the kitchen while you whimpered at the feeling of him using you. At the last moment, you tangled your fingers in his hair and bringing him even closer as he came, deep inside of you. It was desperate, bestial, but you couldn’t waste another second not kissing his perfect lips. You shoved your tongue in his mouth, tasting him and just taking it in.

After a couple minutes of heavy breathing and kissing, you both were pretty worn. You both chuckled softly, smiling.

“Hey, there, pretty girl.” He sighed happily, in a way that made it clear he just got laid. It made you burst out into laughter.

“Hi there, sexy man.” You nuzzled your nose against him, taking in the smell of his musk again.

He pulled out softly, setting you on the counter while he grabbed his boxers and your panties and top. He pulled his boxers back on before kneeling to help pull your panties back up, but not without leaving trails of kisses on your thighs and stomach. He pulled your top back on after that, but secretly wished he could convince you to keep it off the rest of the night.

You smiled and bit your lip the entire time, feeling like a giddy teenager the entire time. He was so perfect at taking you apart, but also incredibly perfect at building you right back up, making you safe and comfortable.

Your legs, surprisingly, were not that wobbly when you hopped down from the counter, holding onto his arm.

“Go sit down and relax now. You must be exhausted from patrol.” You command, shooing him away.

He put his arms up in surrender, not wanting to argue with the idea of curling up on the couch while you finished dinner, but his smirk didn’t drop.

He slapped your ass before you even knew it was coming, and said, “Y’know, next time you want to feel the Holy Spirit enter you, you could just ask nicely.” He said.

In the end, you decided that it didn’t really matter where you ended up in the afterlife- heaven or hell, it was all the same. What mattered was whether Joel was by your side in this life.

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ashtxrie · 6 months ago

Text

we stay locked in

— alternatively, enhypen as (my) high school classes!

PAIR. high school! enhypen x gn!reader (rest under cut) GENRE. humor, high school au, blurbs WORD COUNT. 1.3k total NOTES. hello enhablr i am BACK. sorry guys this is alternatively known as a super self-indulgent enhypen as my classes this year so i don’t crash out in semester 2 post

이희승 — lee heeseung

philharmonic orchestra. he’s there for the vibes (and to fulfill his performing arts graduation credit requirement) but he’s secretly super invested in music theory. the type to say “i didn’t practice at all lol” the day of the audition but still eat that shi up anyway?? people tell him to stop the cap but honestly, he has the raw talent to pull it off as well so nobody really knows. he WILL be that person clocking people who use the restroom for the nth time in the middle of the firebird suite though, but man, sometimes people really do need that bathroom break for their mental and physical wellbeing. as his stand partner, he’s really good at covering for you if you make a mistake and even takes mutual blame for coming in early even though it was definitely your fault for taking a nap during your 5-measure rest... he’s that one student who gets to conduct the orchestra when the conductor is absent (or “sick” on a vacation to disney world) and the ensemble actually respects him enough to take him seriously.

박종성 — park jongseong

ap us history. we all know this man loves history; he would actually be the type to read the textbook for fun and not just search up summary pdfs or upload the whole dang thing to chat gpt! i feel like quizlet would be his best friend and would probably terrorize all his other friends to build their quizlet flashcard streaks with him. lowk he’s just in this class so he can flex random history facts on uninformed people I’M SORRY he secretly enjoys somewhat resembling the “umm actually!” meme. but honestly you go jay, being educated IS rightfully a flex. i feel like he’d actually talk to the teacher after class just to ask a clarifying question or just to confirm something totally random; he’d be like “was there really a u.s. entomological warfare field test called operation big itch?!” and the teacher would absolutely love him for that. on practice dbq days, he’s the best person to have on your team — you know you’re set when he gives you the look and little nod that communicates that he 100% got this.

심재윤 — sim jaeyun

ap calculus bc... THIS MAN WILL GLAZE THE HELL OUT OF AP CALCULUS BC. just like how he is adamant about his physics glazing, math is no exception. tell me why he’s legitimately taking advantage of ten minutes at the end of class to get started on his homework? put that TI-84 AWAY and look me in the eyes. he’s the one classmate who’s super nonchalant and sporty and sits in the back of the classroom, but is secretly an academic weapon. “jake sim, wonderful work. you were the only one in the class who got 100.” HELLO??? good thing you always go over to him for a post-exam debrief, because he’s basically the answer key anyway. during class, he’d be quietly doing his own thing and joking around with the people around him, but the teacher lets it slide. everyone in the class is conflicted between loving and hating him, but he’s genuinely so nice and is always eager to help the people around him who need it — that still doesn’t stop the entire class from naming him their D1 opp though!

박성훈 — park sunghoon

ap biology. the one who spites people who obliterate the curve. he’s also the best frq peer-grader though, he’s going off of vibes! if you mention anything remotely close to the answer key, you bet he’s giving you the point because people suffer enough already. sunghoon is surprisingly good at the labs though, he managed to not kill a single fly in the mendelian genetics lab and he’s super diligent at counting them too. your other lab mates had exhaled a bit too harshly one time and the sedated flies went FLYING across the lab table from under the microscope — you swear sunghoon’s eye twitched because he had JUST sorted them all by phenotype. he didn’t say anything to them though, and just started recounting the flies again because he’s just a chill guy like that. what people don’t know about him is that he actually scores high enough to potentially set the curve, he just chooses not to raise his hand when the teacher asks for top scores because he’s #taking one for the team. what a legend.

김선우 — kim sunoo

advanced journalism. producing a newspaper? more like an excuse to know ALL the gossip and put everything under the name of investigative journalism. it’s literally his JOB to be on top of all the school events and the niche hobbies and passions that students have, and he absolutely loves it. combined with his social personality and strong writing, he’s for sure the editor of the “spotlight” category. and honestly, he’s the best the school has had in a long time. his feedback is always something to look forward to too — as one of his staff writers, your drafts are handed back with a colored pen circling a particular phrase you used, with the words “someone cooked here” or “OH YES GIRL” written in the margins. he brings the best food for after-school mandatory work days too, from donuts to chips to canned drinks — sunoo knows that the people need the snacks in order to gain enlightenment mid-article! his pages in the newspaper are also the most visually appealing too, this man knows how to use adobe indesign.

양정원 — yang jungwon

ap english language and composition. with how diligently he uses duolingo, i have no doubts that jungwon will succeed in ap lang. imagine if he applies that study technique to memorizing rhetorical devices? he would be reading something completely random like the instagram terms of service and going “omg wait guys this is anaphora” like okay english king. and the effort he puts in shows in his results too. when jungwon checked his grades to see a 100% on the timed write while every one of his friends complained for a whole week about getting an 80, he knew he was locked IN. he participates a lot during class discussions too, so everyone knows who he is. as a fellow #taking one for the team legend, he always agrees to be the sacrifice to share out to the class the table group’s ideas. also — something not exactly english-focused, but he’s also so alarmingly good at time management. like how is he maintaining a solid sleep schedule and clear skin while watching alchemy of souls during his pomodoro breaks? the world will never know.

西村力 — nishimura riki

ap chemistry. hear me out he signed up for this class thinking he could blow stuff up. he did not, in fact, get to blow stuff up all year — the blowing was done instead in the form of a huge blow to this man’s gpa. like what do you mean there’s solubility rules, polyatomic ions, vsepr geometric structures and their BOND ANGLES, plus gas law equations to memorize?! he went slightly delirious mid-semester and came up with insane, unhinged references just to drill all the content into his memory, from connecting acetate (CH3CO2-) to his “esteemed rizz mentor” heeseung (3 letter e’s in his name and he breathes out CO2!) and imagining his friends on a fucking seesaw to memorize the <90 and <120 degree bond angles. he tried explaining his logic to you (rapping out the equation for the van der waals real gas law?) and you just went along with it. he actually pulled through though with a B+ at the end of it all, but he swears to never have jake in charge of his course selection ever again.

TAGLIST: @star-sim @boyfiejay @jlheon @jwsdoll @dimplewonie @suneng @en-gelic @mygnolia

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gretavangroupie · 1 year ago

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Goldenrod

Word count: 8.1k

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Angst, Toxic Themes and Behavior, Jealousy. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Fluff.

A/N: I blame Josh Kiszka, entirely.

It’s a nice place, with tea light candles and fresh flowers on every table. Tucked away on the West side of Nashville, far from the wide eyed tourists and the flashing city lights. It’s quaint, but always busy. A reservation here would cost you. A name or your checkbook, either one will do. You wonder how he managed it, who he knows or what he does. You’d been here only once before, strings pulled and names dropped no doubt.

The hostess led you to your table, smack dab in the center of the restaurant, commanding all the eyes and attention of the patrons around you. With a curt smile you tucked into your chair and waited for your date. You weren’t really sure why you agreed to this, but after several failed attempts on your own you finally caved. Cambry is a terrible influence and you knew better than to go on a date with a man of her choosing, but here you found yourself in a swanky restaurant at a table for two.

You didn’t put too much effort into your outfit, opting for a tight black dress and a pair of gold earrings. It showed off your figure without revealing too much. It was tasteful and sexy, everything you want on a first date.

You knew nothing of the man you were meeting apart from his name. Simon. Cambry assured you that he was perfect for you, claiming how similar the two of you were and citing you had similar taste in music. So, you agreed.

You couldn’t fault him too much for being late, the traffic absolutely horrendous as you made your way through Midtown. You perused the drink menu, placing your order for a dirty martini when the waiter stopped at your table. As you sipped at the briney drink you felt a presence behind you, and you knew Simon must have arrived.

A tall man, with long dirty blonde hair stepped up to the seat across from you, lifting his hand to shake yours.

“Hi, I’m Simon. Sorry I’m late, the traffic–”

“Was terrible, I know,” you laugh, shaking his hand. “Y/N.”

He takes his seat as his eyes dart around your face taking you in. “You got a drink I see, any recommendations? I’ve never been here before.”

“I was wondering how you were able to pull a reservation so last minute,” you answer, pushing the drink menu towards him.

“Ah, called up one of my buddies, works tickets down at Nissan Stadium. Was no trouble,” he boasts as if entry level ticket sales is something to be proud of.

You smile politely and nod your head, “I got a dirty martini, they are heavy handed on the vermouth so I order gin instead of vodka.”

“Dirty, huh?” he smirks, opening the drink menu.

You offer a clipped smile, already not liking this guy too much. His frat boy vibes are a little too strong for your liking, and quite frankly is the opposite of what you have ever been into. The waiter steps up a few seconds later, noticing that your date has arrived.

“What can I get for you sir?”

“I don’t know what all this fancy shit is, do you have Bud Light?” he asks, rapping his knuckles against the table.

“Um, no sir, I believe the only beer we have on tap is Thunder Ann from Jackalope,” he offers with a pleasant smile.

“Was that English?” Simon jokes, however, it is not well received by your waiter or yourself.

“I could bring you a sample if you’d like?”

He blows out a breath of defeat, “I’ll just have what she’s having, but make mine stronger.”

You raise an eyebrow at his demand, silently kicking yourself for ever agreeing to this.

The waiter nods and heads off and a sense of dread washes over you as you realize you are about to enter into forced conversation with this stranger.

“So how do you know Cambry?” he asks, leaning back in his chair like he's at his mothers house.

You swallow down the distaste and try to answer his question, “Cambry and I work together. She is my office suitemate.”

“Oh so you work at the little music place, too?” he asks, downplaying your career to boost his own ego.

“I don’t think Sony Music Publishing is a ‘little music place’ but I guess everyone is entitled to their opinion,” you jest.

“What do you do there?” he asks, accepting his drink from the waiter. He takes far too large of a sip before you can answer, shocking the both of you.

“I’m an account executive, so I do sales, client management, data reports, that kind of thing. How about you? What do you do?” you ask, genuinely curious about what he could possibly do that he would need to belittle your career.

“Oh well, right now I am kinda just playing the corporate field so to speak. I’ve got a few sweet options in my pocket, but uh, right now I am working down at AT&T. You know that Batman looking building. It’s pretty chill,” he says in an attempt to flaunt.

“Yeah, I know it well actually. What do you do there?” you ask.

“I’m a field sales representative,” he answers, his voice dropping a little. You feel your eyes practically bulge from their sockets.

“So, you don’t like, physically work in the building,” you confirm.

“I mean, I report there at the end of the day,” he replies, trying to blow smoke.

“So if you report there at the end of the day, where do you spend your day?” you ask.

“Kind of everywhere. I do a lot of driving around. I was able to secure a deal with a new Mexican restaurant over in Hendersonville. They want full fiber and phones. Pretty sweet, might even make a commission on it,” he says pridefully.

“Wow, a commission too? They are spoiling you,” you taunt.

“Yeah, I’m about to move up, gonna put me into commercial sales. More office time and less road time,” he says, folding up his menu. Your mind is positively racing at how Cambry thought you two would be a perfect match when he couldn’t be more different than you.

“So uh, what are you thinking you want to eat?” he asks.

“I think I might do the farmhouse pasta, the sun dried tomatoes sound good,” you answer, closing your menu as well.

“Yeah I’m gonna get a steak, I bet they are good here,” he says waving over the waiter. Your face blushes red as he makes a scene to grab his attention.

“Yes sir, we are ready to order,” Simon states, opening up his menu. “I’m gonna have the Porterhouse with mushrooms well done and can you bring a side of ketchup?”

You think that if your eyes rolled any harder you could see your brain, but alas you must keep your composure and make it through this trainwreck of a date.

“For you miss?”

“Yes, could I please do the farmhouse pasta? I will also do one more dirty martini,” you smile, hoping the waiter can sense the apology in your tone.

“Great, I will be back,” he says, stepping away with the gentle nod of his head.

The evening continues on as you listen to him tell you every uninteresting fact about himself while he dips his shoe leather of a steak in ketchup. You have a hard time finding your own meal appetizing as you watch him eat, a tiny dribble of ketchup at the corner of his lips. He barely gives you a chance to speak as he relives his fraternity glory days, telling you every close call he has ever had with the police and every famous person’s door he’s knocked on since he moved here from Mississippi.

You down your drink probably a little too fast, trying to decide if you will need another to make it through the last part of this date. You know you will never speak to this man again, and you know you will be giving Cambry a firm talking to come Monday morning.

The waiter steps up to the table with the check, placing it in front of Simon who sends him a puzzled look. “Oh, actually she’s getting the check tonight.”

“Am I?” you ask, a little confused yourself. You had no problem going dutch, but to be told you were taking the entire responsibility of the bill was a bit of a shock.

“I mean, yeah, Cambry said you wanted this date, so… I figured since it was your idea, you were paying. I didn’t bring my wallet.”

You feel your mouth go dry at the audacity of his assumption. “I have no problem going dutch,” you say.

“Yeah, it’s just I didn’t bring my wallet,” he counters, shrugging his shoulders. “I can Venmo you later or something.”

You bite your tongue as you reach for your purse, knowing there is an extremely high chance that this meal will drain his checking account.

“It’s fine, I can get it. No problem,” you say, pulling your wallet from your purse. Just as you unzip it you feel someone walk up behind you, and the sight of a hand on the waiter's arm. The person leans towards the waiter, saying something quietly in his ear as he slips a silver metal credit card into his hand.

As you look up you recognize the mass of curls and the crisp white linen. The smell of his cologne forever ingrained in your memory. Your eyes flash over to Simon who is just as confused as you are, watching the interaction. A few more words are spoken between the waiter and the man you now know is Josh. Your ex.

The waiter scurries off with Josh’s card just as he turns to face you with a shit eating grin. He then casts a lethal glance to Simon, who at this point is looking rather small.

“Don’t you know it's distasteful to make your date pay?” he asks, venom in his voice.

“And you are?” Simon snaps.

“Well, from my place at the bar I thought I was the competition, but now I’m fairly positive that is not the case. My name is Josh, and I would ask yours but quite frankly I don’t care to know.”

“Josh!” you yelp.

“What darling, you can’t deny the facts. I’ve been sitting at the bar since you arrived. Was quite the unexpected show, I must admit,” he pauses, “If I’ve misjudged your evening, which, I’m sure I haven’t based on your body language alone, please do feel free to correct me.”

“We’re actually on a date, man,” Simon speaks up, taking you and Josh both by surprise as you turn to stare at him.

Josh just snickers, shaking his head before turning to you. “Have you had enough, sweets?”

“What do you want, Joshua?” you ask, a little annoyed at his brazenness.

He cups your chin with his thumb and forefinger as he gives you a knowing look, “Is this what you want? You want me to go?”

You push his hand away and cross your arms over your chest, refusing to answer his question.

“Fuck this,” Simon spouts, pushing away from the table and storming out of the restaurant.

Josh quickly takes his seat, sitting across from you as he folds his hands on the table. “You’re welcome,” he taunts, accepting the check book back from the waiter.

“A pleasure Mr. Kiszka,” he nods, walking away.

“Mr. Kiszka? They know you by name here?” you groan, watching a sideways grin pull across his full lips. His eyes glance down to the plate of half eaten food in front of him.

“A well done steak with ketchup? My, my, darling have your standards dipped that low?” he asks, signing the receipt and closing the book. You roll your eyes and reach for your martini glass, however his hand snakes out to grab it first, tossing the rest of it back.

“What the hell,” you growl.

“You dumped me for a broke asshole?” he asks, sitting back in the chair.

“He might have been broke, but I bet he could fuck me more than once every three months,” you snap, pulling ammo from your failed past.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “Now, now, retract the claws sweetness, be my good girl, yeah?”

“I’m not your anything, Josh, and I don’t know what you think is about to happen here, but I can promise you it’s not.”

He stabs at the olive in the martini glass, popping it between his lips. “You sure about that?”

“You completely derailed my date,” you bark.

“Oh, please Y/N. You were ready to go the moment he introduced himself, late, might I add. You were entirely repulsed through dinner, and you couldn't get a word in edgewise. It may have been a year or so since we called it quits, but I still know you like the back of my hand, darling.”

“You don’t know me like that anymore, Josh.”

He chews the olive as a hum rings through his chest, “Is that why your thighs are clenched together under the table right now, for the first time tonight? Why you can’t seem to sit still, squirming everytime I look at you? The pretty pink blush on your cheeks that happened to appear as soon as I stole his seat? Because I just don’t know you anymore?”

You shake your head and look away, pushing him out of your mind.

“Look at me, Y/N,” he demands, and instinctually you turn your head. “Own it.”

You meet his eyes and huff out an annoyed breath. “You can’t just walk up to me and think we are going to pick up where we left off. I left you for a reason, Josh.”

“Are you ready to go now that you’ve said your piece?” he asks, pushing his chair away from the table.

“I drove myself here, and I’ll drive myself home,” you quip.

“After two martinis, I don’t think so, sweetness. I’ll send for your car in the morning,” he insists.

“Send for my car? What are you, the Pope?”

“Only the one time if you remember correctly,” he jokes, offering his hand to help you stand from your chair. You take it begrudgingly, grabbing your purse and smoothing out your dress.

“Stunning as usual, love. You know I love that silhouette on you,” he says, ushering the two of you out the door and into the parking lot. He drives a different car now, which is probably why you didn't recognize it in the lot when you arrived.

“It wasn’t for you,” you gripe.

“But it was for him? Mister can’t even split the check?” he counters.

“Again, he may not be made of money, but he at least listened the few times I was able to get a word in,” you snap.

Josh sucks his teeth as he opens the passenger door, helping you climb inside. It’s spacious and smells of new leather. A string of beads hangs from the rearview mirror and a tiny crystal lays haphazardly in the center console. He joins you seconds later, starting the car and backing out of the parking space.

“Where are you taking me?” you question, although you’re fairly certain you know the answer.

“Home,” he snickers, taking a right out of the parking lot.

“You don’t know where I live, I moved,” you say, shifting your body in the seat.

“No, no. I said, I am taking you home.”

“What if I don’t want to go?” you ask, fully lying to yourself and to him and he knows it.

“I did always like it when you played hard to get,” he smiles, moving his hand to rest on your bare leg. “But your body gives you away everytime.”

“Where’d you find him?” he asks, letting his eyes flick over to yours for just a second.

“Cambry,” you answer, a twinge of defeat in your voice.

“Cambry? Come on, baby, you know she has the worst taste in men,” he groans, merging onto the freeway with ease.

“I didn’t really have a choice, and she oversold him, clearly,” you answer.

“So you’re still at Sony, then?”

“I am, though I’ve been considering a career change, maybe even a city change,” you lie.

“Had enough of Nashville?” he jests.

“The people that reside here,” you taunt.

“Fair enough,” he concedes.

His fingers trace circles into your skin, lighting little fires with every pass. “You stopped answering my calls,” he trails off.

“That is typical of a break up Josh…”

“Baby–”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap.

“What can I call you?” he asks.

“Nothing, you can take me home and send my car in the morning,” you answer.

His grip on your leg tightens, his thumb passing over your knee. You feel warm beneath his touch, a calmness washing over you. This is always how he got you.

“It was one fight, Y/N! I know I fucked up, but–” he shouts, losing his calm and cool composure for a millisecond.

“Josh…” you whine, not wanting to hash this out again.

As you pull up to a red light he turns to look at you, moving his hand from your leg and grabbing your hand instead.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. Just– come over for a little bit. Let’s talk. Catch up a little. Don’t let your night be a complete loss, you look too pretty. Let me appreciate you,” he says, squeezing your hand.

Your eyes meet his, sparkling and encased by his thick lashes. “Okay,” you murmur.

“Yeah?”

You roll your eyes and nod your head, “Yes, fine. Just to catch up.”

The light changes and you swear he did twenty over the speed limit the rest of the way to his house. He has a smirk on his lips that he can’t seem to shake, and his hand hasn't left yours.

“Why were you at the bar alone?” you ask, the gin making you feel a little more brave than usual.

“I like the food, and they make my drink the right way. You know I don’t like going into the city, too many people, and the guys were all busy tonight. I think I was right where I needed to be though. Got you out of that shitty date,” he laughs.

“It was pretty shitty,” you agree, flashing him a smile.

“Missed that,” he says, turning into his driveway. “That smile. Lights up a room.”

“Stop,” you say, playfully pushing his shoulder. “Don’t suck up now after you were all bossy and demanding at the restaurant.”

“Worked though,” he grins, shrugging his shoulders and shutting off the car.

“Did it?”

“You’re here…” he says, tipping his chin.

“To talk. To catch up,” you counter.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” he says, helping you out of the car and shutting the door behind you. He guides you up to the front door with his hand on the small of your back, shoving his key into the lock and opening the door.

You’re instantly transported back in time. A time when this was your safe place, when this was your landing pad of comfort. A home you shared together. Warm and welcoming. Until, it wasn’t. It was a big empty house with nothing but the echo of your own voice for months on end. The place you would listen to your calls ring out with no answer and texts would sit on delivered for days.

It was hard to leave him, your personal ray of light. The good times were the greatest, and the bad times were worse than the worst. You met your breaking point and all you could think of was starting over. Living a normal life with a normal job and a normal relationship.

You’d grown a little since that day, finding yourself and establishing your own roots in the city. You cut off contact completely. Josh never gave up though. He was persistent, you’d give him that. He tried to reconcile things, promised to fix it, promised to do better, but after so many failed attempts, you couldn’t do it anymore. You needed to see this through, for yourself.

It took almost a year but he did stop calling. Stopped checking in. Your heart ached for him. You wondered if you’d made a mistake. You knew you never really stopped loving him. How could you stop loving someone like him? He took your heart and cast it in gold, giving a piece of himself to you to carry when he was away, but still it wasn’t enough. You needed more than he could give you then.

“You redecorated,” you ponder.

“A bit. Just some new furniture, art and things I picked up on the road,” he says, tossing his keys on the table. “You like it?”

You nod your head, “Yeah, I do. It feels very… you.” you pause, “It feels warm.”

He walks into the kitchen, pulling two lowball glasses from the cabinet before reaching for the tequila on top of the fridge. He holds the bottle up towards you in question and you nod your head, knowing you aren’t leaving tonight.

He pours the tequila into the glasses, topping them with sparkling water and a handful of ice as you walk over to join him. He slides the glass to you and holds his up to tap against yours.

“Glad you’re here, baby,” he breathes.

“Josh…”

“Sorry, old habit,” he blushes, taking a sip of his drink.

You join him, taking a long pull from the glass letting the bubbles slip down your throat. He made it perfect, just how you like it.

“Shall we?” he asks, pushing off the counter top and making his way into the living room. You follow behind him taking the seat next to him on the couch. You settle into the leather cushions as he shoots up again.

“Wait, hold on,” he says, walking across the room. He struts across the wood floors carrying himself in a way much different than you have ever seen him. He looks confident and seems to be floating. He grabs a small remote and turns down the lights, casting the room in a much dimmer light.

“Do you always walk around like that?” you ask, sipping from the rim of your glass.

“Like what?” he asks, returning to his place next to you.

“Like…like you’re made of gold,” you giggle, letting the tequila warm your blood.

“What if I am?” he challenges.

“What, made of gold?”

“Mhmm,” he hums.

“Kinda seems like it sometimes,” you confess.

“Yeah?”

“You kinda glow,” you answer.

“Optical illusion, sweets,” he grins.

“I don’t know, you’ve always kinda been that way. Glowy…” you offer, feeling a little hazy.

“You flirting with me now?” he asks, his lips turning up into a grin.

“No,” you growl, “Can I not give you a compliment?”

“Absolutely. Please do continue, I’m quite enjoying it,” he laughs, throwing his arm across the back of the couch. His fingertips brush your shoulder and you shudder at the contact.

“Has it been that long, darling?”

“What?” you question, turning to meet his eyes. His fingers graze against your skin again, goosebumps rising to the surface.

“Oh, say it isn’t so, baby. Break my heart,” he whines.

“What, Josh?”

“You’re touch starved aren’t you sweetness,” he says, his eyes searching yours.

“No, I’m fine,” you lie. You look away, knowing he was always able to read you like a book.

“Look at me, Y/N,” he snaps. You turn your head and meet his eyes again. “Don’t lie to me again. You know that never went well for you.”

You bite your lips together as your cheeks grow red hot. Part of you wants to push him a little more, force him to make good on his threat. The other part of you knows you should leave before he sucks you in.

“Tell me how long,” he says, resting his hand on the curve of your neck.

You blow out a breath and shake your head, “It’s not important,” you answer.

“Is to me, always important to me,” he urges.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I want to know that you were being taken care of,” he pauses, “I don’t think that’s a crime.”

“It’s been… a minute,” you confess.

“Baby,” he breathes.

“It’s fine, Josh. Really.”

“It’s not,” he snaps. “How long, love? You can tell me. It’s just me.”

“God! Since we split! Okay?! Is that what you want to hear?! That I haven’t fucked anyone since you?!” you shout, burying your head in your hands. You feel his hand rest on your back, warm and firm.

“Oh, my love. No wonder you’re so feisty. Wound up tighter than a two dollar watch. My girl needs a little relief, doesn’t she,” he asks.

You turn your head in your hands to look at him, his face serious and dripping with lust. You push yourself up off of the couch, pacing around the living room.

“I don’t want your pity, Josh.”

“It’s not pity darling, you’d know if it was,” he retorts.

“Well whatever it is, I don’t want it,” you snap.

He blows out a deep breath and clears his throat, “I’ve had just about enough of your mouth tonight,” he growls. “Why don’t you come back over here and try again, yeah?”

You stare at him from across the room, arms crossed over your chest in an effort to conceal your nipples that have grown hard just from the demanding quality of his voice.

“You can drop the act, I know you want me just as bad as I want you. If you want me to beg, crawl on my hands and knees for you, you know I’ll do it, but I think your body is begging for me harder than I ever could.”

You roll your eyes, and look away.

“Am I wrong? Tell me I’m wrong.”

You huff out a breath, “No,” you whisper.

“What’s that?”

“I said no,” you answer.

A smirk pulls across his lips, “No, what?”

You feel your chest grow warm and you swallow thickly, “No, sir.”

He clicks his tongue, “Don’t call me sir, that's my brother. Try again, love.”

“No, baby,” you breathe.

“That’s better. Much better. Come back over here,” he says, motioning you over with two fingers.

He reaches for your hand as you approach him, pulling you down onto his lap. Your legs fall to either side of his hips as you straddle him, the position feeling familiar and comforting.

“There’s my girl,” he growls, leaning forward to place his drink on the coffee table. His hands move to grip at your hips, holding you in place as he sinks a little further beneath you. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t enjoying this, feeling his hands on you and the evidence of his want as it grew beneath you.

“Not yours, Josh,” you say, letting your hands land on his chest.

“Liar,” he breathes, rolling his hips into you, eliciting a whine from your chest. You hear him laugh, “Your body says otherwise.”

“My body has never been able to say no to you,” you admit.

“And that's what I love about it, baby. Mine even when you aren’t.”

A sigh falls from your lips as his thumb drags over your lips, “Kiss me, Josh,” you beg.

A grin pulls across his lips as he pulls you by the back of your neck towards him. His soft, warm lips brush yours just slightly, enough to pull a whine from your chest.

“Now who’s begging?” he murmurs. Your eyes meet his, dark and lust filled before he crashes his lips to yours. His hands grip at your head as if he’s afraid you might fly away, his fingers twisting into your hair.

His tongue slides against yours, the taste of him so sweet and familiar. There would never be anyone that tasted better, you were sure of it. His hands slid down your face and over your shoulders, reaching for your hands as they sat on his chest. He wrapped his hands around yours, linking his fingers with yours the best he could, just holding you in a way you’ve desperately missed over the last year without him.

“Josh…” you breathe.

His lips break away from yours, his cheeks pink and his lips glossy, “Yeah, baby?”

You hesitate asking your question, momentarily debating whether you truly want to know or not, but you know if this night is going to continue, you have to know.

“How long…” you pause, “How long for you?” It comes out breathless, his warm hands in yours as his lips hover over yours.

He pulls back a touch, licking his lips and swallowing harshly, “A month or two,” he answers honestly.

Your traitorous eyes fill with tears and you do your best to blink them away. You drop your head in an effort to conceal your emotions, knowing this is all entirely your fault to begin with. His hand releases yours and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“They were never you. Not a single one of them could ever be you.”

You nod your head and swallow the lump in your throat, “Then why?”

“It’s been a year, baby. I never thought I’d have you again,” he confesses.

“But you want me?” you ask, just wanting to hear him say it.

“Is that not clear? Of course I want you. I never stopped wanting you. You stopped wanting me.”

You shake your head, “I didn’t. I swear I didn’t, I just– It was too hard, I couldn’t do it anymore. It hurt too much.”

He grabs your face in his hands again, holding eye contact with you. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I know I messed up. I’ve thought of it every single day since you left. I’m so sorry.”

You can see it in his eyes that he means it this time. The urgency in his voice and the trembling of his hands against your face prove it. You decide at that moment to cast the memories of the past to the wind and fall headfirst into him, the way you’ve dreamt of for months.

You press your lips to his, smiling, “Tequila always did make you all mushy, baby.”

A smile pulls across his lips as he stands from the couch, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he makes his way to the stairs. His lips connect to your jaw, peppering kisses up and down your neck with every step he takes.

It’s seconds before you’re tossed onto the bed. The bed you’ve missed so terribly. The bed that smells of him and his linen sheets. You melt into the comforter, your body relaxing almost immediately. Your eyes close and all you can hear is the shedding of clothes across the room, and the tinkling of beads as Josh places his necklace on the dresser.

You feel his hand as it comes to rest on your foot, sliding up the length of your body and stopping just as it reaches the hem of your dress. You sit up on your elbows to look at him, standing at the end of the bed in his boxers.

His gaze is fixed upon you, devouring your every inch.

“Joshy?” you breathe.

He drops his head for a second before looking back at you, “God I haven’t heard that in so long,” he whines. “What sweetness?”

“Come lay down with me,” you ask.

He licks his lips and crawls onto the bed, laying down next to you and resting his hand on your hip. “Hi beautiful.”

“Hi baby,” you whisper, rolling towards him. You lay your head on his shoulder, listening to his heart as it pounds erratically in his chest.

“I missed this bed,” you whisper against his skin.

“I missed you in this bed,” he pauses, “Terribly lonely without you.”

“Not too lonely it sounds like,” you tease, sitting up and stepping off of the bed.

“Baby, I–”

“I’m kidding, Josh. I don’t mind. Well, not completely anyway.”

You pull the zipper on the back of your dress, letting it fall to the floor and instinctively kicking it to the chair at the side of the bed like you'd done a thousand times before.

“So you care a little?” he smirks, taking in the sight of your matching lingerie. “Jesus, was that for him?”

“If all went well,” you answer cheekily, crawling back onto the bed.

“Over my dead body,” he growls, grabbing your arm and pulling you to lay on top of him.

“It was for me. I needed a little confidence boost.”

“Baby, what? Why? You were always so confident and cool,” he asks, furrowing his brow.

“Not lately… A few failed dates will do that to you I guess,” you admit.

“No, no no no no. Don’t let a few pricks dull your glow, sweetness. You’re everything. They’d be lucky to have you.”

You push up off of him, crawling backwards down the bed as you place a few errant kisses across his stomach. Your eyes never leave his as you stop above his waistband, sliding your nails against the elastic.

“What if I never wanted them,” you ask.

He sucks in a breath as your finger dips beneath the band, slightly tugging at the fabric.

“What do you want?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

You pull his boxers over his hips watching his cock spring free to slap against his groin. You take him in your hand, watching as his face twists up in pleasure.

“Tell me,” he growls through gritted teeth.

Instead of answering him you let your tongue lick a hot stripe from his base to his tip, tasting the bitter sweetness of his precum on your tongue. His core tightens as you take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue against his length, feeling every vein and the rapid pulse pounding through him.

His hand finds the side of your face, tucking your hair behind your ear as he watches you take him down so easily, remembering exactly how he likes it. You grip his base as you work him, hollowing your cheeks as you eyes meet his. His lips are parted, a heavy breath leaving his chest as his grip on your hair tightens. You take him farther, swallowing around his tip as he nudges the back of your throat, sending him spiraling in his own bliss.

“Fuck, baby, please…” he begs.

You pop off of him, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his length. “Please what?”

“Please let me fuck you,” he asnwers, panting as he desperately awaits your mouths return to him.

“I’m kind of enjoying myself here,” you tease, taking him into your throat again.

“Fucking hell, you’re so goddamn sexy. I fucking– I–” he stammers, groaning as you swallow around him again.

“You think of this, baby? You miss sucking my cock? My good fucking girl,” he asks, jerking his hips up off of the bed. “You think of me like I think of you?”

You groan as your tongue swirls at his tip, letting your eyes meet his.

“Answer me,” he demands.

You pull off of him quickly, a spit covered mess, “Yes, yes baby,” you whine.

“Missed your mouth, your perfect fucking mouth. Your lips, your tongue, everything,” he growls, a moan leaving his chest as you suction your mouth around him. “Pull off baby, not yet. Not ready yet.”

You do as you're told, pulling off of him and wiping your lips on the back of your hand. He grabs your chin and pulls you toward him, his wet cock laying against your panties. His lips meet yours, swollen and pink and still glistening with your spit. He’s desperate to taste you, to devour you completely. You feel his hands slide over your waist and up to your bra, unclasping the hooks and pulling the straps from your arms. He pulls it from between you in one move, before turning you to your back to take in the sight of you.

His eyes practically bulge from his head as he looks at you. “You– You pierced your nipples? When did you? Wha– Fucking Christ.”

A smile spreads across your face. It's not very often you can catch Josh off guard like this, so you’re taking this small victory.

“About seven months ago, on a whim,” you answer.

“Anything else I should know about before I have a stroke?” he laughs.

“Why don’t you just find out?” you say playfully, just wanting to see his reaction.

He pulls the elastic of your panties over your hips, tossing the lacy garment to the floor. His tongue darts out over his lips as he looks at you, as if deciding where he wants to start. Though, you knew Josh, and he would forever be a victim to his own fascination with shiny objects.

His lips wrap around your nipple, his tongue gently flicking over the golden barbell. You lace your fingers into his curls, scratching at his roots as his teeth graze the sensitive bud in his mouth.

“Josh,” you whine, arching your back beneath him.

“Mhmm,” he whines, not letting his lips detach from you.

“Missed your touch,” you answer.

He pulls off of your right breast and kisses his way to your left, treating your left nipple with the same reverence as the previous. You grab his hand and pull his fingers to your lips, sucking his first two digits into your mouth and letting your tongue twist against them.

You hear him groan against you, the sensation becoming a little too overwhelming for him.

“You okay, baby?”

He pulls off of you, still staring down at the shiny gold bars adorning your nipples.

“No, fuck no, I’m never gonna stop thinking about these,” he says through a pant.

A laugh bubbles up from your chest as his hand meets your chest, sliding down your stomach and stopping at your hip.

“You gonna let me in, sweetness?” he asks, biting at his bottom lip.

A smirk pulls at your lips as you look at him, nodding gently. His hand slides down further, his fingers dusting across your folds. Your body quivers at his gentle touch, a small grin of satisfaction on his lips.

“You want it?”

“Stop teasing, Josh,” you whine.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know you need it. I’ll give you what you want. You know that, right?”

You nod furiously, just wanting him to touch you. Needing it more than anything. “Yes, yes, I know. Please…”

He bends forward and presses a kiss to your stomach, two fingers sinking into your wetness. You jerk towards him as his fingertips press to your clit, a whine escaping your lips before you can stop it. He hums as his fingers start to circle through your wetness, his lip bitten firmly between his teeth. His eyes are dark as they stare into yours, watching your every move and memorizing every expression.

“You feel so good, baby. Missed this so bad,” he breathes, teasing your entrance.

“You could have had anyone,” you whisper.

“I didn’t want anyone. Just you.”

His fingers dip into you, finding the place they once knew so well. Your hand moves to rest on his bicep, stronger now than they once were, the muscle rounded and defined. In fact, all of him is that way. Lean and fit, stronger and more chiseled. The thought alone makes you clench around his fingers.

“Yeah?”

“You feel so– so different. Stronger,” you say.

“Needed something to fill the time,” he smiles, curling his fingers inside of you. You cry out in bliss as your stomach starts to tighten.

“So good, baby,” you cry.

“Yeah, you gonna come for me? You gonna come right on my fingers, so needy and sweet,” he urges. His fingers are moving rapidly, working you toward your release better than you could have imagined.

“Ease into it, baby. Don’t rush it. I’m right here, not going anywhere. I’m yours,” he says, his voice soft and comforting.

Your eyes meet his, desperate and lust filled, “Mine?”

He nods his head quickly, “Yours,” he pauses, “If you want, I just– I’m here, okay? Take your time, feel it. Breathe it in, savor it. I’m here.”

“I want it,” you plead.

“Have it, have me,” he breathes.

His fingers move at a relentless pace, fingertips massaging into you with such precision it’s like a year never passed. Your chest grows hot and your stomach tightens as his eyes meet yours, both of you knowing you’re on the edge of release.

“Do it. Take it baby,” he growls.

“Josh,” you whine, reaching for his hand and twisting your fingers with his. His grip is tight on you, grounding you the way you need him to.

With another flick of his thumb across your clit, you’re sent spiraling into your release. You’d never been able to replicate the way it feels when it's by his hand, and you were sure no other man could. His hand slows as your eyes open, finding his full of desire as they stare back at you.

He grins as he presses a kiss to your mound, slowly pulling his fingers from inside you. Your body is shaking with adrenaline, the want for him coursing through you like never before. You need him. You need him now.

“Josh, now,” you pant, your chest still heaving as you catch your breath.

He doesn’t hesitate. There are no witty remarks, no jokes, no playful banter at all. Just the need the two of you share for each other taking center stage. He pushes up and crawls up towards you, falling into the space between your legs. He pushes them further apart with his knees, fisting at his base as he stares at you. You swear you can see his heart pounding in his chest, and you know he needs this as badly as you do.

He lowers himself down to you, brushing his tip through your folds. Your hands come up to his face, cradling his cheeks as you press your lips to his. It's different this time, a little less desperate, more intentional. He lets himself slowly sink inside of you as his lips dance with yours, filling you so fully and so completely, the way he always had.

He bottoms out inside of you, sliding his arm beneath your hips to pull you in close. His eyes meet yours in question and you nod, letting him know you need more. He begins to slowly move his hips, rolling into you at a fairly gentle pace, soaking in every inch of you and savoring every sound that falls from your lips.

Your hands wrap around his waist, pulling him in tighter, desperate for all of him. He groans as your chest presses against his, the coolness of the metal bars against his warm, dewy skin pulling a groan from his chest.

“Baby,” he whines, snapping his hips into you a little harder.

“Josh,” you answer, more of a moan.

“I need this,” he says, moving his hand to cradle your jaw. “I need you.”

“I know, baby,” you cry out, “I know. I need you, too. I fucking need you.”

He groans as he drops his head, letting his lips connect with your neck. His hot tongue slides against your skin before he sucks the skin into a fresh pink bite. His pace quickens, his skin slick with sweat as he pounds into you.

“Tell me that you think someone could fuck you better than this,” he growls.

“Fuck, no. No one. No one but you, Josh. I only want you,” you answer, gripping your fingers into his ass.

His demeanor changes, he’s grown animalistic, grunts and groans falling from his lips as he nears the peak of his release.

“Tell me that you don’t love me anymore,” he demands.

“Josh, I–”

“Say it,” he barks.

“I do! I do love you! You know I still fucking love you!” you cry, feeling the coil tighten in your groin.

A cry falls from his chest, echoing around the room as his lips crash to yours. It's rough and desperate, and you know you just told him everything he’s been waiting to hear.

“I fucking love you, Y/N,” he pants, “Don’t you ever fucking leave me again.”

You nod your head desperately, needing to feel his lips on yours again. His strokes start to quicken, hitting you long and deep as you both teeter on the edge of your orgasm. The wet sounds dancing through the air are deafening, and the heat of his breath on your face has you dizzy.

“Josh, baby,” you whine, knowing you won't last much longer.

“Yeah? Yeah you gonna come again? Bloom like a pretty flower just for me?” he urges, knowing the sound of his voice will push you over the edge. He nods his head, and bites his bottom lip as he watches you, squirming and panting beneath him as his cock hits you right where it belongs.

“Come on sweetness, be my pretty flower, come for me,” he whispers against your lips.

His hand cups at your breast as his fingers brush your piercing, letting his thumb and forefinger pinch at your nipple. The sensation is enough to bring you to the brink, letting you dive headfirst into your release. You cry out beneath him, his name falling from your lips in succession.

“Just like that, my love. I’m here, I’ve got you,” he says, pulling you closer to him as his hips continue to work you through it. “I’m there sweetheart, tell me where.”

“You know where, I’m yours,” you plead.

He snaps his hips into you again, holding you in place as he spills inside of you, the most beautiful noises falling from his lips. He comes down, loosening his grip on your hips as he falls slack on top of you. Your arms wrap around him, your hand drifting up into his sweaty curls as he catches his breath.

“I mean it,” he breathes, “I do love you.” He props his head up on your chest, letting his eyes meet yours.

“You know I love you, Josh.”

He cranes his neck forward and kisses you again, and you can almost feel the smile on his lips. “Does this mean you’ll come home? Let me love you again?”

“Is that you asking me?” you tease.

“I’ll call the movers right now,” he taunts.

“You forgive me for leaving you in the first place?” you ask, a hint of nervousness in your voice.

“I deserved it. I know what I lost.”

“I keep my apartment,” you counter.

“But you’ll be with me when I’m here?” he asks with questioning eyes.

“If that’s what you want,” you answer.

“No more dates with assholes who don’t deserve you?” he smirks.

“No more dates, just you,” you nod.

“I’ll do it right this time, give you everything. I promise.”

His lips press to yours, soft and sweet and barely there, sealing his promise and setting your heart aflame. He rolls off of you, laying next to you as close as he can get.

“You said I’m your flower,” you pause, “What kind?”

He pulls you into his side, hitching your leg up over his waist. “Hmm, a poppy perhaps? A bright red one, maybe orange.”

You giggle at the fact he has picked such an outlandish flower. “Why’s that?”

He turns his head to look at you and raises his eyebrow playfully, “The seeds are an opiate and can provide intense pleasure to the consumer, and you, my sweets, are certainly a drug to me.”

You roll your eyes and shove at his chest, feeling him pull you in tighter. He kisses your head and lets out a sigh.

“What about me, am I a flower, darling?”

“Of course you are,” you pause, looking at him. “Too easy, you’re Goldenrod.”

“Isn’t that a weed?” he laughs, running his fingertips against your bare thigh.

“Technically, but it’s beautiful. It’s wild and free and vibrant. Thrives in the warm sunshine and sways in the breeze. They’re made of gold, just like you,” you smile, flashing him a wink.

“Although, it is poisonous,” you add.

He rolls to face you completely, cupping your face in his hand as he smiles, “You know what they say…”

“What’s that,” you question.

“The worst poison always tastes the sweetest.”

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zo1nkss · 2 months ago

Text

I've been on my "Babe Defense Squad" bullshit for the whole week atp but I wanna take a minute and earnestly talk about Babe's flaws in a way thats not borderline homophobic or outright victim blaming, because I see WAY too much of that in this fandom. I wanna talk about it because I actually love that he's an imperfect, flawed human being with significant trauma that informs so much of his daily life.

1. Terrible Communication

Let's be real okay. Babe is NOT good at talking about his feelings. He's emotionally constipated and has almost no patience for serious conversation. Instead he jumps to conclusions and makes snap decisions based on Vibes, and it has classically Not Worked Out for him. He's just lucky Charlie is stubborn and refuses to let him get away that easily, because Babe's #1 coping slill is aggressively pushing people away.

I was actually surprised and highly impressed to see how much he had improved on that in s2. Even when he wasn't admitting the whole truth to Charlie, he wasn't quite as resistent or bothered by the questions as he would have been in s1. He just genuinely doesn't see Willy as someone who matters whatsoever so he doesn't see a reason to bring it up to Charlie, even when prompted.

Still needs work because he definitely should have been honest about that because the secrecy is what's going to sow doubt in Charlie's heart, but ik Babe's heart is in a good place he just needs to be more honest.

2. Self-absorbed

Let's be really real for a moment. I don't think any of us liked hearing him joke about leaving Charlie for Willy. Many of us know and understand he was just trying to get a rise out of him, because he likes when Charlie is possessive. This is now a well-known fact among Babe fans. But it still hurts knowing Charlie is genuinely insecure about Babe finding someone more interesting, even if we and Babe all know that's never going to happen. It sucks that he wasn't able to recognize the hurt in Charlie's eyes because it was kind of obvious to me.

But that just speaks to his lack of awareness of other people's feelings and needs. Because the moment Charlie admitted how insecure he was feeling, Babe entirely changed his tune. No more joking about that, and he sincerely assured him that no one would ever compare to how much Babe loves him. It's not that he doesn't care, he's just fucking clueless and a little bit of a stupid horndog.

Admittedly, I think a part of that is insecurities Babe is afraid to admit to, as well. I think part of why he loves when Charlie is posessive is because he feels the distance in their relationship and he just wants proof that Charlie still wants him, still loves him, and would still fight to defend their relationship.

I think they're both struggling with the way things are between them and they both have unique ways of showing it. Babe riles Charlie up because it reminds him that Charlie is still invested in him, and isn't going to disappesr even if they don't spend as much time together now. Meanwhile Charlie just wants to be told he matters and holds value in Babe's life, and no matter how little or much they see of each other Babe will never stray or find solace in another man.

Different love languages, they just need to find a healthy balance that works for them both.

3. Over-confident

I think he very easily forgets that Charlie is just a guy who showed up and found himself in an extreme bout of luck. He wasn't confident and sure of himself when they met, he was simply determined. But that determination can easily be mistaken for self-confidence because he wore it with pride. Babe is a little too confident that the people around him know how he feels without having to express himself. He thinks they can read his mind a little bit and that his actions don't speak louder than his words.

And yes his actions have largely said "I only have eyes for Charlie", but Charlie hasn't been present to witness any of that. He's getting bits and pieces of the story as Babe chooses to reveal them, and it's left him with a lot of uncertainty and insecurity about Babe's true feelings. But thats mostly just because Babe feels confident that he's been clear about his feelings, when really he just hasn't.

He puts too much faith in his own capabilities as well. Thats part of why Willy has been able to outdo him so easily. He refuses to entertain the possibility of failure, and blames outside circumstances rather than addressing his own short-comings. That attitude is present in his relationship, but to a much lesser degree.

4. Extremly dismissive

If a problem effects him directly, he doesn't see it as a problem but an inconvenience. He doesn't address the Willy situation head-on because he just sees him as an annoying fan (until he starts to suspect him working for Tony). He doesn't take the time to study his lost race to find out what he did wrong because he thinks of it as a fluke. I feel like that in particular is going to come back to bite him and it's not going to be pleasent for him.

He sees his relationship strain with Charlie as a mild misunderstanding that can largely be ignored until it blows up in his face, and we all know it's going to do exactly that.

He just doesn't take things as seriously as he should, and it keeps leading to all these small hiccups that are going to become bigger speed-bumps the more he pushes them aside.

All this to say,

Babe is in for a rude awakening in the coming episodes. I love him but he is in desperate need of a little perspective, and I think facing the reality that Charlie is willing to walk away if Babe doesn't treat him with the care and respect he deserves is going to shift his priorities significantly. I honestly can't wait for him to have that fact kind of dropped on him because he really needs to understand that he can't just take Charlie for granted. Unless he shows him how much he means to him, things sre just going to continue getting more turbulent between them.

And I know he's capable of realizing this and letting his actions speak for him for once. I'm honestly excited for the upcoming breakup plot, because Charlie got his rude awakening that he can't just lie and hide everything in s1 and now it's Babe's turn. I'm excited for how much he's going to drop the macho act and actually stand by his man. I know Charlie is his whole world and I know he won't just let him walk away that easily.

The character growth that's already happened since s1 is impressive. I have faith Babe will do what's right by Charlie in the end.

Anyway if you made it this far, thanks for reading my errent rambling about blorbo. Stick around for more mildly unhinged character analysis.

#pitbabe #pit babe #pitbabe the series #pit babe the series #babe pit babe

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bartletslesbians · 3 months ago

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I'm rewatching West Wing and Amy Gardner was just introduced.

I am trying very hard to like her but it's really not working. Please give me propaganda, she seems like a cool character in theory.

Ohhhh hell yes! I absolutely love this question (and I'm so flattered you asked me? You know I love talking about any of the women on this show but especially the disliked ones lmao)

Okay. Now I wanna say that I completely understand why she rubs people the wrong way. One thing I'd like to start with is that, in order for the show's portrayal of feminist issues to work, she has to be Like That, and that's really shameful to see? In the same episode where she's introduced, CJ is arguing about Qumari women's rights, and in order to not to have to dig too deep into the actual things she's saying, she is written to be so stupidly over the top and emotional and unprofessional for most of the episode, that even if you start out agreeing with her, she loses you because of the way she's acting. Similarly, the temp calling out Sam's comment in Night Five, written to sound as dramatic as can be, so her actual point doesn't need to be taken seriously.

Amy Gardner is the embodiment of that type of writing. Her whole character seems to embody the "angry feminist" who might have a good point or two, but you just can't take her too seriously because "she's always irate about something".

That framing means that if you just never vibe with her? Can't blame you. It's a major (and I don't think accidental) flaw in how she's written. It also means that my main suggestion is to try and look past that, in a way? See it for a writerly Thing, and not the character's own fault? I'm not sure how much sense that makes put into words.

But okay. Things I love about Amy Gardner!

One of the things I really adore about her, honestly, IS that she ruffles a lot of feathers with the way she acts and the things she argues. She knows what she believes, and she's not a part of the administration, she's working for several feminist lobbying organisations and such. This means it's not her responsibility to be nice to republicans or balance any budgets or make sure centris democrats don't get too offended; her responsibility is to make the white house listen to feminist concerns (and point out the myriad of ways in which they fail to). And she is not afraid, in any way, to be seen as too much, too unlikeable, too demanding, too ANYTHING, in her pursuit of real feminist policies. Which, even today, women are punished for being too loud, too mean, too aggressive, too anything, so quickly; I love that she does not give a damn. I love that unapologetic energy around her.

And I like that she does a lot of different things in that vein! We see her pursue that agenda working for Abbey, we see her run the Women's Leadership Coalition, we hear that she was a director at EMILY'S list, we see her work with that temporary democratic presidential candidate (and explicitly tell Josh that she pokes the President BECAUSE she loves him and believes in him, she just doesn't want to see him drift to the center too much), we see Santos call Amy for debate prep because he knows she's helped dozens of Congresswomen with their debates and campaigns. She has her loud opinions, but she's also spent a career putting her money and time and experience right where her mouth is. And I love that drive.

Another piece of propoganda is to ignore her relationship with Josh if you have to. I think they're a fun temporary thing, personally, there's chemistry and matching levels of insanity. But, especially from a josh/donna perspective, and the fact that it very obviously would not work longterm, I get that that's hard to enjoy! Amy's character suffers from being almost entirely written around being Josh's love interest (similar to how Andy suffers from not existing in the story outside of Toby's plots). Like, one of Amy's most loveable moments by far, in my opinion, is when she's having drinks with Abbey, CJ, and Donna, and Josh is not really talked about. Or when she's coaching Santos, and they don't have to talk about Josh. Bless Josh Lyman, but it helps to think about Amy as a person outside of him, immensely. (Imagine an Amy Gardner but she's single and a good friend of CJ or Abbey or Donna? Or still with Josh, but given more moments developing her character outside of him?)

And then, personally, I just love the chaos. Just like how I enjoy seeing Toby at his desk burning papers he's writing on, and the ridiculous lengths Charlie goes to pranking CJ, I love when these characters are a little over the top. Amy has more of those moments than anyone else, and some ARE bothersome, that's fair! (Which, imo, does come back to "she has to be a little insane, lest we take her policies too seriously", but alas). The dead fish? Overdoing it. But personally the phone in the stew? Like yeah, RUDE, but also it's immediately followed by her cutting her OWN phone cord, and it's followed by Josh getting her fired, so I love it as an example of how over the top both of them are willing to go to do their job. (Which is why they like each other, and why it'll never work). I think part of really enjoying her character is taking those moments for the dramatics they are and enjoying that. Where I think part of it, not to get back to Josh but, Josh clearly does not seem to mind outside of being frustrated over the issue itself. The phone and the job aren't the end for them, we still have a season and a half of their chaos to go, so I don't want to take it as more of an offense than Josh himself does? They're two impulsive and competitive people playing the game, and that's fun to watch as long as they're both vibing with it.

Some small moments I love with her: the fact that she plays nintendo, her practicing balloon animals for her nephew, giving Santos the advice of always keeping extra pantyhose in your bag, being SO direct about "are you dating your assistant?" and "are you in love with Josh?", resigning as COS of the First Lady because she knows when she's not in the right place and she's not one to pretend, the whole ice cream eating thing is cute as fuck, the way she's playing with Abbey's dress when they're drinking, the way she eats the shrimp during Process Stories, the fact that she runs a huge betting pool on election night. She is SUCH a chaotic character in this sense. I love watching her.

But in general, I think it really comes down to that she's confident and sexy and so loud about her opinions, designed to rub you the wrong way while having so much to say and putting in so much work for real important causes. She's a little out of her mind, she's ready to fight at a moment's notice, she's not trying to get anybody to like her. She exists so incredibly unapologetically, and I think that is my personal favourite thing about her. There is no attempt at making herself more palatable, and that will naturally lead to big chunks of the characters and the fandom disliking her, but I genuinely think it's fun and refreshing to see. She doesn’t give a damn, while caring a Lot about the issues that actually matter. It's admirable.

#this became so long omg #what a delightful ask #having said all that #if you don't vibe with her that's fine #i take issue with the comments about how she deserves to fall off a building and die #but she's not the most likeable character #which is what i love about her #but it really doesn't matter if you don't #but !!! i hope this gave you some perspectives on her!#she's genuinely so much fum #fun #amy gardner #the west wing #anonymous #answered asks

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ashipikaur · 3 months ago

Text

ASHI’S 24 MANKAI CHALLENGE REVIEW! ☆

overview HERE ↑ ashi comments DOWN BELOW ↓

↑ my opinions and takes on how the a3! boys look in my style!!! 😭😭😭 and then VS how drawing them went……….. ↓

<\3 the correlations are strong on some BUT OTHERRSSSS… EEUUUUU. the banri azami was a struggle but at least it paid off 😭😭. otherwise thru out the entire process i did reviews on every chara!!! you can see my individual notes about them allllll below. and in order!!! this post will be very long HAHAHA. tho i did the tierlist after doing them so 🧍‍♂️ their rankings and numbers may not correlate……..

HARU 🌸

MASUMI 8/10

- eyes lowkey suffered me THEYRE HARD FOR ME TO STYLIZE. MAYBE IF I TOOK MORE TIME ON THEM cuz tbf these are more on the doodle side 🤔 could do them better but they’ve always lowkey been a struggle

- thought the colors would kill me BUT SURPRISINGLY NAWT. my only issue was that I was afraid his skin would be too light but ISSOK!!! was really funsies to work w

- hair is gen so peak i love his ahoge. it’s peak

- his highlight thingies have me questioning my rendering sometimes 😭😭 i can’t think too hard about them

ITARU 6.8/10

- ikemenisms are a hit or miss sometimes. HIS EYES ARE STUPID. HARD TO STYLIZE ALSO!!!!! stupey face ong

- hair is very funsies I LOOOOOOOVE DRAWING IT ITS SO FLUFFY AND RENDERING IS SUPER FUNSIES TOO

- his fit is butts tho. ITS SO DULL AND LIKE SAD TO RENDER ITS A FLOP <\3 he’d probs be better to draw in other fits but review is for this experience overall

CITRON 8/10

- WHIMSY. HOW MUCH WHIMSIER CAN YOU GET

- thing is that citron’s energy is just hard to capture…… he’s Saur ethereal…….. AND HIS EYES ARE HARD!!!!

- funsies to render tho a good chunk of detail and his hair is hard to render at times

CHIKAGE. 2/10

- IF I KILL MYSELF BLAME CHIKAGE UTSUKI.

- nothing about him is fun. HIS EYES ARE HELL. VIBES ARE HELL. HAIR IS LOWKEY HELL. CLOTHES ARE BORING!!!!! GLASSES SUCK TO DRAW 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

- he turned out fine but made me go thru hell. the cheeb is best way to illustrate chikage

SAKUYA 6/10

- his hair is very funsies. that is it

- 😭😭😭😭 LIKE HE ISNT HARD TO DRAW? BUT HES LIKE NOT THAT INTERESTING. he’s fine

- 😔 unfortche i hate rendering and drawing hoodies and his fit is a little boring. eyes can be inturrestin cuz I’m not used to drawing them saur big 🤔 uuum. YA. I DUNNO. OK

- he gets bonus +1 point because his hair is just fun to draw I LOVE FLUFF

TSUZURU 5/10

- the most mid guy to ever mid

- LIKE SAKU. NOT HARD TO DRAW. JUST THERE. tbh their vibes are both kinda hard to like show

- ????? for some reason i feel like my tsuzurus give off like a maekawa yuuki (stage actor) feel to them

- his hair isn’t fun AND I HATE DRAWING HOODIES so ya 🫶 mid

NATSU ☀️

TENMA 6.2/10

- i really wish he wasn’t this low but GOD

- i really dislike rendering jean jackets. i dunno if yall have tried but i do NAWT recommend and as much as i wuv tenma’s jacket as a concept I DONT LIKE DRAWING THE SHAPE EITHER. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 HELL!!!!!!

- his eyes kill me everytime i draw him and his face in gen he never turns out right SORRY TENTEN

- my second fave 🧍‍♂️ i swear. plea

YUKI 4.8/10

- he causes me visceral pain

- I LIKE GENUINELY DONT REALLY KNOW WHERE I THOUGHT HE WAS MY FAVE TO DRAW ??????? BECAUSE HE IS REALLY HARD TO DRAW. IM SOAAAUUUUR BAD AT DRAWING BIG EYES and especially like the judgy eyes IM SAUUURRR BADDDD. his hair is fun if you don’t think about it too much. it killed me here

- i finally found out how to draw his collar w/o making him look stupid 😭😭😭😭 AFTER FIVE YEARS. bow is fun to draw slightly annoying to render

- he turns out cute at least. Eu

MUKU 9/10

- PEAAKKK MAYBE WHAT I USED TO SAY ABOUT YUKKI IS ACTUALLY JUST TRUE FOR MUKKUN NEOW

- his eyes are so cute. his face is so cute. his hair is SOOOOOOOO FUNSIES HIS FIT IS SO PEAK!!!! I LOVE HIS SLEEVES

- all of his colors are so nice to render i have sm fun like it’s saur funsies. quick and easy. peak

- not a 10/10 cuz his hair and skin can merge at times <3

MISUMI 8.3/10

- yessu the three is especially for him

- IVE DEFO GOTTEN A LOOOOOT BETTER AT DRAWING SUMI WITHIN THE PAST YEAR i’m actuallys satisfied w how he turns out 🫶 . the thing be that

- his hoodie kills me. REITERATING I HATE RENDERING HOODIES

- HIS HOODIE IS ALSO!!!!!! HARD TO RENDER 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 ISSODARK. SO DARK. alsos half the time i barely know how to render the yellow accents but i think I’ve figured it out neow. maybes

- i can’t think too hard about his hair or else it makes me tweak. it’s annoying to render

- good things are his eyes cuz sankaku pupils are v fun and ALSO HIS SLEEVES ARE SOOOOOOOO IM ACTUALLYD OBSESSED E THEM I LOVE THE SHAPE SM. PEAK <3

KUMON 4/10

- he’s saur. average

- LIKE. I DUNNO I THOUGHT HE WOULD BE A LITTLE HARD TO DRAW OR SMTH BUT HES NAWT HES JUST KINDA MID TO DRAW? 😭😭😭😭 he’s kinda hard to stylize but it’s just cuz i don’t like small pupils

- whiter than i thought he was. too used to fanon kumon

- YA I DUNNO HIS FIT IS OK TOO. KINDA DETAILS BUT YOU CAN SCRIBBLE IT SO I DUNNO

- ended up docking a point because his colors wacked me up

KAZUNARI. 7.2/10

- it’s been 5 years and i still don’t know how to draw this stupid twink

- IVE COME TO REALIZE KAZUNARI IS VERY. STYLIZED. LIKE IMMENSELY IN MY STYLE AND I DUNNO IF THATS A GOOD THING OR NAWT? 😭 😭 like it’s fine but I DUNNO. oftentimes i feel like he’s missing that spark………..

- his spring outfit isn’t v funsies to draw for me personally cuz it is a LOT of white and doesn’t give a lot of diverse fun colors to work w. the blue is kinda dull and he just looks kinda empty w/o the hat but EEUUU. whatev

- stockholm syndrome

AKI 🍁

TAICHI 9/10

- immensely funsies to draw I LOOOVE DRAWING HIS EYES AND HIS HAIR AND HIS ENERGY

- the chain is so peak btws. Saur peak

- only downside is that his face is ugly sometimes and I have to fix it cuz I always draw him :D

- his sweater is kinda wack to render

SAKYO 8/10

- HIS HAIR HAS TO BE DRAWN IS A VERY SPEICIFC WAY. IT LOOKS SIMPLE BUT ITS KINDA NAWT?

- glasses are a downside obvi

- SAUERRR CUUUUUUUTEEEEEEE i really wuv rendering him it’s REALLY funsies 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 peak colors. i really like rendering like this yellow???? shade

- lotta black/dark coloes but tbh it was fast and simple to render. it’s like a 50/50

BANRI 3/10

- i’m gyonna kill banri settsu

- HIS FACE IS FUN TO DRAW. HES FUN TO SKETCH. THATS IT. BECAUSE WE DONT FLIPPIN TALK ABOUT THE RENDERING

- rendering banrj is gen saur butts. you suffer and cave and go like ok whatever i’ll render his eyes then he looks BETTER but then his hair still looks like SHITE!!!

- FOREHEAD /NEG

- sm details on his jacket for what. AND FLANNEL. FOR WOT

- what i have realized from this expiernce is that i draw banri like a woman 🫶. take that as you will

- his eyes are his only saving point

AZAMI 2/10

- honestly braur probably the reason for the azashi drought

- 🧍‍♂️ . where do i start

- EYES ARE HELL. SO HARD TO STYLIZE AND MAKE SURE HE DOESNT LOOK LIKE A DEAD FISH.

- hair is whatever to sketch but GOD the rendering is so BADDDDDD 😭😭😭😭😭 GEN HELL. LIKE. braur

- he’s so white. i actually cpuldn’t like i needed to add like the tiniest bit of overlay color because i genuinely couldn’t

- his jacket is fun to draw but butts to render. IT GETS MUDDY REALLY FAST 😭.

- sorry azamin </3

JUZA 4.8/10

- pretty average guy

- if i draw banri like a woman i draw hyodo like a GREASER.

- his hair is really funsies but hard

- ALSOS he just comes out kinda Stiff so it knocks him down

- his everything takes me a while to sketch

- I DUNNO. both the hyodos are fine 🫶

OMI 5/10

- average guy

- HIS FAIR IS FUN. IF YOU DONT THINK ABOUT IT TOO MUCH

- outfit is fine

- i do think he looks super cute in my style tho <3 that’s about it

FUYU ❄️

TSUMUGI 5/10

- he really is just a fellow guy

- I DUNNO. HES NAWT LIKE HARD. HIS FAIR IS FUN? fun to render skin + hair wise too

- i just don’t think i captured his tsumuginess 🧍‍♂️ it could be the eyes. maybes. OR I DUNNO. it’s a mystery he doesn’t really look like Tsumu to me. he’s missing the freak my Tsumugi looks too nice IMO

HISOKA 5.2/10

- hair is a liiiittol hard to draw but it’s fun when you get it

- smol

- I HATE HOODIES. otherwise fine to render <3 hair is fun to render. again

- he gets +0.2 cuz i just think he’s cute in my style 🫶

HOMARE 4/10

- i don’t like drawing his face

- his hair would be really funsies if it wasn’t for the Long Strand

- his hair is very funsies to render and his eyes are SUCHHHH A PRETTY COLOR

- clothes suck to render

- 😭😭😭😭😭😭 homare is a lot of extreme highs and low but unfortche the lows overpower by a lil. SO. less than average

TASUKU 2/10