#i dont know want to do something ill end up hating but i dont want my family to hate me or call me spoiled or something :/

[introvertedandscared]

i was recently given a writing prompt simply titled 'blue' on an online forum i use, and wanted to try my hand at doing something for it.

i'm actually really proud of it- i dont know if its my best work, it always feels that way after i make something new, but it was really therapeutic to write and hey, practice makes perfect. ill never be any good if i dont work towards it.

this piece is an expression of my gender and identity, told through a narrative perspective. most of these events are either heavily fictionalised or not actual events in my life, and i'm unsure if the main character is actually me or not, but it is heavily related to my personal thoughts, feelings, and history.

its about 959 words, a short read, enjoy! and keep an eye out for more writing on this blog if you liked this ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

Blue

My favourite shirt is blue. Not a bright, attention-catching blue, but a soft one. Like blue hydrangeas. That’s not why it’s my favourite—I don’t even like the colour blue all that much—but it’s what everyone notices about it. When my mother comes into my room and asks for the laundry, she’ll point out ‘the blue one that you wear all the time’. When my friends and I are coordinating our Halloween plans, they ask to borrow my blue shirt for their costume. My brother will tell me that my blue shirt has somehow ended up in his closet. I’ve come to think of it more as a title than anything else. My Blue Shirt. All words capitalised, because they are important.

The reason it’s my favourite shirt is because it’s mine. I bought it with my own money—I had a whole 15 bucks I’d earned from babysitting—at the small thrift store on the corner after school on a Tuesday. It had been the first thing I’d picked up off the rack, not even checking the price or size. I had a curfew, and I knew that if I didn’t buy something that afternoon, I never would. I was 12, and the shirt I grabbed was 3 sizes too large, but I didn't care. I wanted it.

I still remember the woman behind the counter that day. She was probably middle-aged. At the time, I was transfixed by strands of her greying hair. She seemed radiant and wise. Untouchable. She was beautiful.

When I laid the shirt out in front of her, she looked directly at me for the first time since I’d entered the store, an amused expression playing across her face.

“You know this is for a man, right?” She asked, taking in my short stature, my girlish pigtails and sport shorts. My t-shirt that had recently started clinging to all the wrong places on me. I hated my clothes; my mother bought them all. She asked me for my opinion, sometimes, but I was only ever given the option to choose between the lesser of two evils. This shirt or that one. Those skirts or these jeans. Lately, I’d just let her take over completely, letting my eyes wander through the aisles while she shopped. No matter what store we were in, my gaze would always land on the men's section. I always let it linger for a second too long.

“It’s… for my brother. Last minute costume change for his, um, dance team. He needs something blue,” I mumbled through my excuse, terrified the woman would question me more, but she’d already started ringing my purchase up. The bubble of hope that had been growing in my chest ever since I’d ridden my bike out of the school gates that afternoon finally burst, into something bright and fiery and right. Something completely new. 

Later, at home, I tried the shirt on in front of my mirror. It reached down to my knees and looked utterly ridiculous, but it also didn’t hug my torso and hips trying to accentuate not yet existent curves. It made my body little more than a formless mass of cloth.

Five minutes after I put it on, my brother walked by my bedroom door. He took one look at me and laughed, and I laughed with him. He said I looked ‘stupid as shit’—words I still found scandalous at that time—and I’d agreed, but once he left I couldn’t bring myself to reach my own eyes in my reflection. I was scared of what I’d see. 

It’s been four years, and I still have that shirt. I’m wearing it now, bent low over the bathroom sink, scissors clutched tightly in my left hand, watching my hair swirl down the drain. I feel bile rising up in my throat at the sight, but it’s not from… disgust or panic. It’s- fear. I am scared to see myself. I am scared to know, because once I do there is no going back. It may not seem like it, but I am not one to dwell on the past. I live in the now. The now where I have just sheared away all of my hair at 3 AM, in the house my great-grandparents built with their own two hands. I wonder if they would be disappointed in me.

I don’t know if my mother will be mad—it’s hard to tell with her—maybe she’ll scold me, or laugh and schedule an appointment to get the mess I’ve made fixed, or maybe she’ll reach out, eyes soft. Maybe she’ll finally see me.

But I need to see myself first. I have been blind for far too long.

I steel myself—taking a sharp, shuddering inhale of air—and look up into the face of the mirror before me. I look up, and it feels like the final piece slots into place. The final piece of a puzzle I’ve been trying to solve for four years. For my whole life. 

The face staring back at me is no longer a reflection but a reality; the burning feeling in the centre of me flaring to life, consuming everything I thought I was.

I press a gentle hand to my chest, pressing down the two masses of fat and connective tissue that have always seemed to burden me more than my peers. I let the folds of blue obscure them until it almost looks as though they are not there. I wish more than anything that they weren’t.

I take myself in, gaze reverent and disbelieving.

My blue shirt is my favourite shirt, because unlike all my others, it fits perfectly. Ever since I first bought it, it has fit perfectly.

[evenmorecrows]

hi excuse me i got carried away. these were originally tags but uhhhh it got. long. so into the reblog proper it goes. i ended up just fully describing my modern au.

for the record this is all off the top of my head so its not all entirely fleshed out

origins protags:

hiram amell would be in college to be like. a neurosurgeon and play warhammer with whatever time he can scrounge up. meets loghain there and they beef especially because hiram keeps finding stupid ridiculous ways to beat him when loghain is like. the most decorated player in their community. that guy is a warhammer 40k legend.

i feel like he doesnt have the time or energy to really get fast food enough to have a favorite, ironically. he lives off of tv dinners and the cheapest + strongest coffee he can find.

ive also been turning around the idea of modern hiram having been a foster child to duncan (this doesnt really come up here but i do imagine duncan being a military veteran) in his later teens which is what gives him the financial ability to actually pursue college. meets alistair that way who was also taken in as a foster and then officially adopted a year before hiram entered the picture. i dont know if i want duncan to die early on i want these boys to have a dad.....

anyway alistair and hiram are probably roommates while hirams in college? idk if alistair would be in college too. maybe try it bc of the expectation but end up having to drop out? hm.

gunnr brosca is younger daughter to her norwegian immigrant mother who came to america for a man only to be left when she became pregnant with rica. this began their mothers downward spiral into both poverty and alcohol and soon enough there was no chance of her getting home. so both rica and gunnr were born in america.

gunnr works under the table to not bring attention to their family. not always taking legal jobs. really just whatever she could get to keep them afloat despite the hole in their saving from their mothers drinking habits. gunnr feels a lot of disdain towards their mother for the situations she's put them in (put rica in especially) and the life they live

rica does sex work and hopes to marry rich so she can lift them out of poverty. gunnr hates that she has to. hates the men that leer at her sister. pretty 1-to-1 translation of ingame brosca origin.

a job gunnr takes goes wrong and lands her in hot water and her best bet is to take the money she has to her own name and get the hell out of dodge. she doesnt want to leave rica alone but rica encourages her to go.

and so she goes on over to britain. she takes less risky but still under the table jobs from there out because im deciding she somehow got in through criminal means and definitely does not have the papers or documentation to be there. god knows what their mother did with their birth certificates or social security numbers but i think neither gunnr or rica has ever seen hide nor hair of either document so like yknow. gunnr barely exists.

also im calling it that duncan is just not important to gunnr's whole story or existence. if hes there its only by proxy of alistair.

hey speaking of alistair. idk how they meet. something casual like outside a bar or through a friend of a friend of a friend when something like. breaks in the apartment he has w hiram and the landlord wont fix this and one of alistairs friends is like. i know a guy who knows a guy who knows this woman. ill put you in contact. and alistairs like. Ohhhkay. kinda shady but. alright.

she comes over to fix it. he gets himself a little crush almost immediately. shes neutral about him at first but when he kinda stumbles over himself to exchange numbers she teases him like. oh in case this breaks again huh? but is kinda begrudgingly endeared and goes along w it.

strangely enough in this modern au i think hiram and gunnr's influences on alistairs college career (equivalent to the king choice) are swapped from what theyd normally be. hiram would be resistant to alistair quitting college and kinda hammer in duncan's expectations (which i mean i keep mentioning but hes Not gonna like. disown them or something. like hed be disappointed, to varying degrees, but this is something that hangs over hiram like a specter. like it would impact things but hiram kind of makes mountains out of molehills over it. probably because he's felt severely unwanted his entire life and feels that any mistake is The End.) and put the weight on his own shoulders onto alistair in that moment.

(to expand more on that ^ i think hiram holds alistair to the same standards that he feels he himself has to conform to. and it scares him to see alistair consider Not going through the hell of college because it solidifies that as an Option. it give hiram an out, one with consequences, And it leaves him alone in his burden. they patch it up later down the road but needless to say things get Very Turbulent.)

meanwhile gunnr would be like hey listen. you dont need college to make something of yourself. if it sucks hit da bricks. and i think that ultimately wins out and him and hiram have a big falling out because of it and alistair goes to stay with gunnr in her shitty little apartment (? if it could be called that. debatable.)

im not rushing their romance here at this point bc the end of the world isnt upon them so. they have time to just be friends for a while while alistair's squishy feelings grow and gunnr finds herself more and more endeared to him. its absurd to her and she doesnt know What to do with that so she just. acts normal

messes with him a bit more maybe. yknow to do Something. maybe he starts working with her on some jobs. hes not thrilled about that part but work is work. and its not Bad stuff so. i just think hes a bit of a goody-two-shoes and doing things in a Not Super Allowed way makes him squirmy.

also i need zevran to be in here SOMEWHERE for hiram but i honest to god dont know. how. i have to think on it auuugh. they probably meet sometime during him and alistair's falling out. hiram needs someone there for him besides that old man he antagonizes at warhammer and duncan

ok so hiram and morrigan. i have actually thought about this previously and i have notes but i dont want to look at them right now. we're freeballing.

morrigan is a friend he made at a small school he went to with one of his previous foster families (he was shuffled through a lot of homes). she has an abusive mother and hiram becomes really her only friend. everyone else avoids her and if you listened to her shed say 'good' and that she liked it that way but ultimately she is Not immune to being lonely. and she finds genuine companionship in hiram.

soon enough hiram is shuffled out again but he goes through hell and highwater to make sure the two of them stay in touch.

well eventually around the time hiram is preparing to start college morrigan calls him and talks about her mother's pressure for her to have a child and that she thinks she'd actually like to but far Far away from flemeth. she doesnt want her mother having any part in the life of this child. she also asks if hiram would be the one to father it and hes a ride or die kind of friend so he agrees.

they meet up. the event is kinda awkward considering he is gay and neither are attracted in any way sexually to each other but they put in effort and thats sweet in its own right. afterward she tells him that she has to cut contact and that she plans to skip country. she cant tell him where and he knows this. he doesnt ask. he tells her to be safe and good luck. they hug and then she leaves.

a lot of impulsivity on display here but theyre both like 18 so. yknow. also shes lucky this actually Does take. neither of them had enough sex ed to have had it occur to them that one night Might not be enough to conceive a child.

also hiram does not mention this night to anyone for a very long time. no one knows he has a son and most of the time he forgets until he wakes up in a cold sweat with misplaces guilt over being an absent father. anyway

my baby my beloved. renard hawke. he's a farmer who's family had to move to the city after too many years of negative profit and debt.

the farm had been on a decline for a long time, but a few years after the death of malcom hawke, it finally caught up to them.

hawke family tragedy speedrun: bethany dies a bit after they settle into the city in a car crash. im not really sure what happens to carver. he doesnt die. joining the military seems likely. im also not sure what happens to leandra. her being the victim of a serial killer seems a Little bit unlikely but it could still happen. she could also grieve herself to death, the stress finally getting her.

renard is actually the person ive thought about the modern version of the least! so im not settled on a lot for him or his friends.

he ends up with fenris of course. he forms a lot of connections really quickly in the city. hawke in every universe is just a guy ppl gravitate towards. i think him and gunnr would get to be really good friends actually, and through her he'd eventually meet the rest of the origins gang. well besides morrigan, as previously stated shes off and away, and people connected only to hiram would be slower to meet renard until things were better between hiram and alistair. no da2 companion is left out here i just dont have concrete ideas as of right now.

what i DO know. is that he eventually goes missing (here lies the abyss). he doesnt tell anyone that he's going, where he's going. he leaves a six word note for fenris, gets in his car in the dead of night, and drives. the last person on record to have ever seen him is Islanil Lavellan, at a diner in the early hours of the morning. renard and islanil did not know each other prior to that meeting, but varric knows islanil as he works with varric's publishing company.

fenris will not stop until he finds hawke. it doesnt matter how cold the case becomes or how many try to dissuade him, he Will find hawke.

ok thats where im stopping right now because i need to brainstorm the da2 stuff more and i havent actually played inquisition with islanil yet. and i have some ideas for faustus mercar (rook) but i havent finished veilguard yet.

ATTENTION ALL DRAGON AGE PPL!!!

Describe any of your DA OC's as if they were regular modern people.

Favorite songs, fast food they would like, favorite movies etc.

[pickled-flowers]

Every time I go to a party I'm reminded that it's not that I can't interact with people, it's just not a desire I have :(

[nothing-nothing454545]

no, i dont think im obligated to still small talk an hour into my meet up with a friend group ive been a part of for 2 years, and i dont think im overreacting or showing a lack of loyalty when im unsatisfied with such a conversation. As someone who hates small talk, that friend group isn't for me, and i get nothing from it, and i will choose not to feel like a weirdo (derogatory) or a traitor (..because we didn't promise each other we'd be together forever afaik), for being unsatisfied and leaving. ive shown them affection (that i didnt fully feel) for as long as i could

[tiktaaliker]

why do i havs to have a nameeeee. just dont refer to me ever thank you

[todayisafridaynight]

this writing shit hard as hell

[saddlepunk]

i really didnt think of myself as being much of a travel/city person but

i think i just dont like most of the people i do that shit with ajdhhdhdg

"i dont just like to walk around looking at shops" ...in the walking around looking at shops district..?

[mayor-ghoul]

.

[thebigqueer]

its so funny to me that she was like 'you deserve better' because little does she even know she genuilnely was best. like no one is ever going to top her. and i know with my full heart that she will find better than me and im supposed to want that for her but i really really dont. cuz i know theres so much better than me but theres no one better than her

[this-doesnt-endd]

Sometimes im like yeah get fucked epilepsy i got meds ur powerless here and then i get violently humbled just sitting at my desk

[yelloworangesoda]

i hate the food situation at my house so much for the love of god. theres only so many times a man can eat ramen with nothing or tuna with nothing

[seiwas]

@soumies @crysugu

intoxicating | nanami kento

He's not the type of guy who picks up strange women at the bar. He's not really even the type of guy who goes to bars in the first place, but when his friends drag him along for a night out, he's glad he accepted their invitation- especially when he sees you.

Tags: f!reader, alcohol use for both nanami and reader, hooking up, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving); 2.8k words. a repost from an old blog. divider by @/saradika

Nanami is quiet most of the time. It's nothing new, really. He's rarely talkative or loud, and anyone can tell that each word he speaks, he chooses carefully. Not because it's hard for him to voice his thoughts, but because he believes there's no need to waste anything. Time, money, emotions, food– everything has a purpose, a use. Even people. He's no-nonsense with it all.

Until he meets you.

He doesn't quite understand the pull you have, the way you made him suddenly stutter and forget how to use his tongue. And his brain. It infuriates him, if he's being totally honest, and he doesn't quite know what to do with the sound of your voice in such close proximity. He watches the shape of your mouth as you smile and laugh across the restaurant, deep in some titillating conversation with your girlfriends at the bar. Under the soft, yellow glow of the lights strung across the ceiling, you look like some kind of angel, and he finds that right there and then, he has to know you. 

"...what do you think, Kento?" His companion smirks, cocky and totally aware that he isn't paying the least bit of mind to the conversation at their table. "Pretty crazy, right?"

Nanami nods absently, loosening his tie because he suddenly feels like he's suffocating. The room is too hot, the conversation too loud, the wine has gone to his head. 

“Which one?” Gojo asks, following Nanami’s line of sight to where you sit, leaning against your best friend, laughing loudly at something the bartender said. His eyes flit to Nanami’s, then back to you. “Ahhh, she’s a cutie. Well don’t be weird– go say hi!” he says with a swift clap to Nanami’s back. 

Nanami clears his throat and reaches for his wine. “No,” he counters, though it’s all he can do to keep himself in his chair at this point. Your laughter rings out again, and he shifts his posture. It’s intoxicating. 

“If you don’t, I will!” Gojo says, and the others in his party roll their eyes and laugh lightly. He talks a big game, but he’ll respect his friends. Most of the time.

Nanami pushes his chair away from the table and claims a need to use the restroom, but his companions know he’s lying. Of course, he does head that way first. To piss, to wash his hands, to straighten his tie and scrub his face. He grips the counter and leans toward the mirror. Get a hold of yourself, he thinks, then takes a deep breath and tries to be as casual as possible as he reenters the restaurant, taking a detour to where you sit. Conveniently, there’s a space beside where you and your friends have gathered, and he leans his side against the bar, flagging down the bartender to order something stronger. Gentleman’s Jack. Neat. His back is to you, but he smells your perfume and his head spins again. The bartender brings his drink and Nanami tells him to keep the change as he slides a bill across the counter. He notices your conversation has taken on a hushed tone, and one of your friends tells you not-so-subtly to turn around. 

He stands and takes a step back, turning slightly toward you, drink in hand. Up close, you’re even more stunning. Your eyes are a little glassy from the drinks you’ve had and your smile is syrupy and easy, but he’s certain he’s never seen anyone more beautiful in his entire life. He almost hates himself for it– he’s not a man who gets hung up on physical appearances, but there’s something undeniably magnetic about you. 

You look at the crystal tumbler in his hand and giggle, lifting your own drink in a mock toast. “You’re a whiskey man, huh? It suits you.” You wink, and his breath hitches in his throat. 

“I’m spending the evening with an insufferable friend. I needed something strong to cope.” It’s the most he’s spoken all evening, but he’s not going to admit that to you.

It makes you laugh. “I like your honesty,” you say, tipping your glass against his before chugging what’s left. He watches your limp wrist push it back across the bar. 

“Need another?” he offers, raising a hand to flag down the bartender again.

You scoff, but your smile says otherwise. “Are you trying to get me drunk, misterrrr…”

“Nanami. Kento. And no. I think you’re doing a good job of that yourself,” he says. It’s quick and pointed, and your friends have suddenly become very interested in each other’s shoes. 

“Well, I’m pleased to meet you.” You tell him your name, then prop your elbow on the bar, leaning into the palm of your hand as you look up at him. “I’d love another drink, thanks.”

From across the room, Gojo flips Nanami the bird and sticks out his tongue.

“I’ve never seen you here before, Mr. Nanami. Kento.” You giggle and cross your legs, sitting up a little straighter when your drink is delivered. “Are you from around here?”

He nods and sits on the stool next to yours; one whiff of his cologne, and you’re glad you’re sitting down, too. “I don’t get out much these days.”

“A homebody. I bet you’re one of those guys who doesn’t see the use in going out and spending money when there’s food in the fridge, aren’t you?” Your tongue is loose, and you’re just spouting now, making any kind of conversation with this attractive stranger just to keep his interest. There’s a fleeting little pinprick of worry that you’re being obnoxious, but by the way he’s looking at you, he doesn’t seem to mind.

“An astute observation. What else do you know about me?” he says, a gentle smirk blooming on his lips.

Feigning deep thought, you press a finger to your lips and narrow your eyes. “Hmm…you’re also not the type to pick up pretty girls at bars you never go to, right?”

He stares at you for a moment, then nods, taking a long swig of his whiskey. “Right again.”

“I like this game,” you say, wiggling a little on your stool, a giddy, drunken giggle bubbling up from your chest. One of your friends tickles your back a little– a question, a need for reassurance that you’re alright. You reach behind and squeeze her fingers, pulsing twice. I’m fine, you say without speaking. She squeezes back and releases, nodding to your other friend with a smile and a wink. “Tell me something about myself.”

Nanami watches the exchange, glad that you have friends who are concerned for your safety. He likes that you have a language of your own that doesn’t require words. There are many other ways to communicate, and he appreciates the quiet ones most of all. “You’re careful– maybe too careful sometimes. You drink to take the edge off. Sometimes you take yourself too seriously.” His brown eyes meet your own, and he smirks. “How did I do?”

Slack jawed, you stare at him. You hold his gaze while you take a drink, then wipe the back of your hand over your mouth. It smears your lipstick, and he reaches over, thumbing it off your cheek. At first, you flinch, but you watch him carefully. “Good,” you say. There isn’t much else you need to say.

At least not with your words.

He doesn't make a habit of picking up women in bars. He is, however, the type of man that once he has his sights set on something, he doesn't give up easily. Thankfully, you've cut to the chase and shown him just how much you like him, which makes him feel a little less guilty for walking you back to his place.

"Are you sure-" he begins, and you cut him off with a firm press of your lips to his, all drunken courage and playful tongue, your hands already slipping under the soft cotton of his button down shirt. There's a cool brick wall at his back, and it makes for delicious contrast to your warm hands. 

Seems you're pretty sure. This, too, makes his guilt a little less heavy. He slides his arms around your waist, broad, strong hands fanning out across your lower back as he bends you back a little your way, deepening the kiss. You squeal onto his tongue and nibble his lower lip. This is reckless for you, too, but your friends wouldn't have let you go if they didn't trust him.

"He's gorgeous."

"So what if he's gorgeous, is he sane?"

"I think he's alright. I didn't get any weird vibes."

"Expensive suit! And he's really well spoken."

"Big hands…"

"Yeah. Wonder what he could do with those."

"My apartment is up ahead," he says, all grit and anticipation. The sounds of traffic blend in with your ragged breathing. The street lamp overhead buzzes and blinks, and the rowdy sounds of other bar goers add to the overall chaos of this entire situation. You're not in your right mind, but nothing has ever felt so right in your entire life. Nanami takes your hand and walks with you. Calm, cool, seemingly collected, while a stormy desire builds inside.

Up six steps, a key in the lock, a slam of the door, and he's got pinned against the door, legs wrapped around his waist, one of your heels dangling from your foot. He takes you apart with his mouth; every inch of skin he's able to reach is covered in ravenous kisses. Fleetingly you think he wants to eat you– quite literally consume you from the outside in. There isn't much left for you to do except hang on for the ride, and you can already tell by the way he's acting that it's going to be a wild one. 

"Hang on tight," he says, gripping the underside of your thighs to carry you off to his bedroom. You take the opportunity to give him a little gift on his neck to remember you by. His hiss when you bite down is delightfully satisfying, and he responds by gripping the meat of your thigh a little harder.

His bedroom is minimalistic. You really hadn't paid much attention to the main living area, but now that you're sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him shrug out of his expensive suit jacket, you notice that he has great taste. Clean lines, warm lighting, solid colors. There's a single leopard print pillow on the bed, and you laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. 

“It matches your tie,” you giggle as you lean back and toss the pillow at him from where he stands at the foot of the bed. If he’s trying to look intimidating, he’s doing a piss poor job. He catches the pillow and studies it with care, an amused grin curling on his kiss-swollen lips. 

“Everybody needs a little pizzazz their life, wouldn’t you agree?”

When he drops the pillow and crawls over you, you don’t see it coming. You were about to say something witty in return, but it’s lost when he pushes his tongue into your mouth and rolls his abdomen down on you; God, his body is warm and firm and you want to just sink your teeth in and get a taste, but it seems Mr. Nanami has other plans. 

He takes his time peeling off your dress, your bra, the pretty silk panties you’d picked out. He saves your thigh highs for last, rolling them down your legs and following the exposed skin every inch of the way with his mouth. He lifts your ankle with delicate care and looks you straight in the eye before kissing his way back up your leg. 

“You’re a work of art,” he murmurs, and you know he means it. And when he lifts just behind your knees to rest your legs on his shoulders and push his mouth against your pussy, you’re certain that he’ll make you feel like one, too. 

He takes his time, this mysterious not-quite-stranger, making sure to spend extra time on the places that have you fisting his bedsheets in your hands, crying out his name amid a string of sacreligious curses. He follows every dip and buck of your hips, remaining buried in your slick until you’re crying for mercy; one orgasm, then another in quick succession. 

“Had enough?” he chuckles. When he presses a curious thumb against your clit, you jolt and shake and push his head away with your foot. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

You need him on you, over you, inside you so badly your body aches. He’s quick to oblige before you can even get the words out, dominating your space and your thoughts by claiming your mouth in another mind-numbing kiss. This one tastes like you– warm and slick, but his hand is on your cheek and it’s so intimate it brings tears to your eyes. His cock rubbing against your leg feels huge, and when you reach down to stroke him, you’re pleasantly surprised when your hand barely spans the girth. 

“Is that enough for you, gorgeous?” 

A choked laugh is your reply, along with a tilt of your hips and a swipe of your tongue up and over his prominent Adam’s apple. You find a word, too. Just one. “Plenty.”

He eases in, slowly, experimentally even. He’s watching your face for any signs of pain or discomfort, because he knows his size, and though he's never experienced it himself, he's been clawed at and cursed thoroughly by past lovers who pleaded with him to go easy. He's big, for sure. But you've never felt more full. It's heavy and velvety smooth and nestled perfectly inside you, and you're not sure you really ever want to be anywhere else that isn't here. 

"Ready?" He is, and he moves without waiting you to reply. Feeling you quiver around him makes him borderline angry. He needs to move, and he needs to move now. He needs the friction, the satisfaction of dragging himself along your insides, watching as he disappears again and again inside you, lost in the way your body seems to rise like gentle waves with each thrust. You wouldn't know it, of course, but he's one of the most stoic, put-together kind of guys you'd ever meet. Straight laced, no-nonsense, always poised and put together, but perpetually exhausted. World weary. The kind of guy you meet in a fancy bar and think: He just needs a good, hard fuck. 

Good thing you're here to help with that.

Nanami is intense, but he's focused on you as much as he's riding the high of his own pleasure. You're fine with a little vanilla missionary, but when he folds your legs up against your ribs and really starts to rut into you, that's when you really lose your mind. He does, too, and it's obvious in the way his balls are slamming against your ass and he grunts with each piston of his hips, his pretty blonde hair damp with sweat and beginning to stick to his forehead. 

He doesn't warn you when he comes, but you feel it in the way his cock twitches inside you, and you're gripping his forearms to stay grounded through your third orgasm of the night. There are stars on the ceiling for a few blissful seconds, then all you see is the top of his head when he collapses onto your breasts, breathing heavily, arms wrapped fully around your body like he's not about to let you go anytime soon.

For a little while, you just breathe. You smell him. You trace patterns along his skin and furrow your brow a little at each tiny (and not-so-tiny) scar. Part of you wants to ask him, but you're afraid he wouldn't tell you the full truth of it. So you vow that if you see him again after tonight, you'll ask. 

"What's the protocol here?" he asks, face buried in your neck.

"Hm? Protocol for what?"

"Do you spend the night, or do I send you away with cab fare?" He shifts so that you're able to breathe a little easier, but your laughter kind of throws a wrench in that. 

"Excuse me? Are you kidding me right now?"

His brown eyes widen, and he lifts your chin as he lies there, propped on an elbow, naked and relaxed. Now that you're not quite as drunk, you see him a little clearer. His body intimidates you; it's incredibly defined and toned. Nanami is long, lean, and beautiful. "I don't do this. In fact, I've never done anything like this. I'd like you to stay, but I don't want to force you."

You touch his cheek, scoot closer, and kiss his lips so softly that he thinks he imagines the whole thing. "I want to stay."

And you do. He drives you home in the morning (after he cooks you breakfast) and you exchange numbers. He promises to tell you about his scars, and you promise to tease him about cab fare.

[strwberri-milk]

hello can you do lads men with a hyper-independent reader? just the mc, who grew up doing everything on their own, slowly learning how to rely on the men with fluffy scenarios.

i appreciate you and your work so much and will be extremely grateful if you end up doing this one🫶🏽

AHH yeah this is why i love some of rafayels tender moments bc he directly confronts independent tendencies and tells you not to be like that around him - i dont really write like!! scenarios/fics unless i feel super compelled to so i hope you dont mind the hc format <3 thye just take a lot out of me and a super long time for me to write :(

Zayne is similar in that regard so the two of you can sometimes come off as a couple that don't have time for each other to people who don't know much about your relationship. However, it doesn't take long for Zayne to realise that you aren't depending on him at all. You try to hide your pains from him and at first he doesn't say anything to you about it. He doesn't want to make you feel forced to speak to him but there's something nagging at the back of his mind to talk to you.

He decides instead to try and passively imply you can trust him. He makes his routine known to you and communicates whenever his shifts run late. He did before but now he does so in a more regular manner, wanting to make it easier for you to know what to expect and when. The days that he isn't working he cooks and cleans for you even if you insist that he doesn't need to.

He'll tell you that he's glad to see how independent you are but sometimes he just wants to spoil you with his attention and make you feel safe around him. You can tell him all you want that you do feel safe and he doesn't have to do anything to gain your trust. He'll just keep taking care of you in quiet manners that don't threaten your independence.

Over time you begin to depend on him more. He's a comfortable presence who allows you to finally relax. You want to do the same thing for him, repaying the favour by doing the same things for him on the days he works. You figure out some sort of system wordlessly, your relationship strengthened due to a mutual trust.

Xavier wishes he was a little better at cooking to take the load off of you. The second it seems you can jump into action to do something for him you do, making him feel pampered but he's also not very glad for it.

It's not until you're housebound for a few days that he's finally able to take care of you. You were too sick to do much of anything, relying on Xavier to help you get through the day. He's more than happy to spend time with you, feeding you meals and keeping you company. You try to tell him he can just drop the food off and you'll take care of everything else yourself but he absolutely refuses, telling you that since you're too ill to get out of bed you need to let him care for you.

You can be quite stubborn but due to illness you're too tired to really fight against him. Despite what you tell him you know you're actually very happy that he's here to take care of you. You grow a little needy under him spoiling you and Xavier notices. He doesn't mind continuing to spoil you, making it clear that as long as you're with him he's going to do his best to take care of you. His behaviour doesn't change even when you get better, insisting that you let him in so he can help you out wherever you need him to.

Rafayel hates that you won't let him dote on you. You're constantly fighting him and telling him that he doesn't need to do anything. You're more than capable of taking care of yourself but despite that it takes him no time to wear you down.

He buys you anything you look at, cook meals for things you tell him you're craving passively, spoils you with his attention. He gives you all the things you were never given and becoming someone you can rely on. He wants more than anything for that to be the case so when you slowly start relenting and allowing him to take care of you.

You realise very quickly that he really does love caring for you. He happily moves around the home and gives you little things to do so you feel included but other than that he ends up doing the bulk of it. You think that it's an uneven distribution of labour and try to argue against him but you realise that he's taking his payment from you in the form of attention to him.

Sylus, in the kindest way possible, doesn't care that you're hyper independent. He's going to take care of you anyway, giving you anything you need and cooking meals for you. You can try and fight against his efforts as much as you'd like but it doesn't stop him at all.

He doesn't directly say anything to you about not doing things and letting him do them for you. He just simply does them and you can't really argue back against him - he just continues and you don't want to waste his efforts because it's very clear he's doing it because he loves you.

He doesn't like the idea that you can't depend on him because he also wants to feel like you trust him. Not trusting him hurts him to an extent so he's going to be a little insistent on getting you to let him take care of you. Once you start depending on him a little more you see how happy he is to just do these little things for you, giving you a soft smile when he thinks you can't see him.

[todayisafridaynight]

i hope this ask finds you chilling! it's too bad i missed the stream this week, but i figure i should give you my review of pure or else i'll never remember! that being said sorry in advance if this is annoying at all T.T

anyway overall i really liked it! that's my boring answer haha

my more in-depth answer is sets 100, the set design did not have to do all that but i love that they did. i have to say from the jump the dog made me so nervous but i really did think the dog thing would serve as a catalyst instead of the sawatari thing but they got me, double whammy.

i understand the ryo beef and i'm with you on it he really entered yuka into the competition, did all that, and then got mad about the consequences of his own actions...

i also can get why ppl would say it doesn't have a lot of rewatch value because it was fairly low-stakes and not too bombastic, but i also think there could be a lot to take in from future watch throughs anyway so...

it was really charming to me that sawatari was awkward in his own way, like, he was competent socially no doubt and pretty good at expressing himself but in a way that came off (to me at least) like a d&d kind of low charisma if that makes sense haha just like blunt and to the point but not unkind.

idk where i'm going with this, i just wanted to make sure i made good on my promise to report back 🫡.

THE PURE REVIEW OMG yay im glad you enjoyed it !!!

AND YAYA i LOVE sawatari. Like yeah he’s an asshole but because of The Conflict regarding yuka and how people shelter her too much, i enjoy his character a lot for being. A Cunt LMAO i can always appreciate honesty.. even if it wouldnt hurt to be a bit softer with it sometimes ☠️

The dog had me stressed cause i just know by now 90% of the time a dog’s involved it’s kicking the bucket at some point (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)

And yeah. Im a ryo hater 5ever like bros mad about a competition he was the only one participating in 😭 also thats your cousin who trusts and loves you you freak go away 😭😭

I agree with the general consensus that pure’s rewatchability is low, but ngl i love yuka and sawatari enough to rewatch some episodes sometimes ( ´ ▽ ` )

[littlebitluckywc]

tag vent tw

[tiredeyes1975]

ive been so stressed about college recently ….