#i love how his relationships shaped him

[strawberry-halla]

can we appreciate for a second how varric treats all three dragon age protagonists?

hawke was his best friend. varric was the constant supportive rock throughout their many years in kirkwall together. they shared grief over lost family, overcame bullshit dealt to them over their shared mistakes, and reveled in the few good things thrown their way. and in the end varric repaid that in full by protecting hawke from the inquisition. he didn’t want them to get hurt again after both of them lost everything.

the inquisitor was varric’s guiding light. he had been through some of the worst shit anyone had ever seen, blaming himself for everything that happened that led up to this point. but the inquisitor took him by the hand and showed him that it’s never too late and that not everything was his fault. shit happens. you can either lie down and give up or do something. the inquisition gave varric a new purpose. so he stuck around for the inquisitor (as his friend) and for the cause.

rook was his pupil. he saw their potential when everyone else saw their ignorance. it was varric’s turn to be the guiding light and shoulder to lean on. he took both of his relationships with hawke and the inquisitor and became the man his two friends were to him. even when varric wasn’t even there. rook was listening to him. becoming the next one to step up when nobody else would.

[batbux]

"Sometimes I forget they're gone."

Bruce looks up from work - a crossword he's doing to pass time until the gas chromatography finishes - and over to where Tim is rolling back and forth in front of a secondary terminal. The steady squeak of his chairs back wheel was almost meditative in a way. He stared up at a blank screen, face only illuminated in profile by the gentle glow of Bruce's own terminal.

"Who is?" Bruce asked when Tim didn't elaborate. For all that this was functionally his home now, the boy had a tendency to occupy space in a way that made Bruce's jaw ache from biting his tongue.

"My parents." Tim stopped rocking and the Cave was as silent as a grave between them. One grave in particular. "Like, something happens and I think, oh, Mom would love to hear about this. Or Dad would get all huffy and rant over something silly and it would be fun to listen to."

Tim, who loved his parents and, arguably was loved in return. He spent most of his time in his room or the Cave, exploring other rooms in the Manor like his parents did archeological sites. Interesting to him, but not a place to be.

"Sometimes I pick up the phone and get as far as putting in their international number, you know?"

Tim, who was parented through phone calls and post cards. Tim, who spent so much of his life in boarding schools that an actual home looked more like a museum than a place to live.

"I'm sorry, bud," Bruce murmured. There wasn't much else he could say, aside from reminding Tim that his father was still alive. Comatose, hanging in limbo, but alive.

Bruce thought it would be easier if Jack Drake died with his wife. Bruce also hated himself for thinking those kinds of things.

"I just keep thinking about Mohenjo-daro," he continued. "We're learning about it in school this unit and I keep remembering- I keep remembering that Dad said he's been there. I can't keep the dates right in my head and he would have helped."

"I can give it a shot," Bruce offered even though he knew it was the wrong thing to do now just as it had been the wrong thing to do when he offered to find a Romani language tutor for Dick when he realized he was forgetting things.

It would solve one part of the problem, but it would never replace the help a father could give.

Tim turned towards him, pale face washed out in stark relief under the light from behind Bruce. He wondered if Tim could even see his face in the relative darkness and found a cowards courage knowing he couldn't.

"He told me a story about it once," Tim said. "I can't remember the ending. I can't remember what he told me. Why didn't I listen better?"

Bruce had no answer for him. He set his paper aside and opened his arms.

Dick would have thrown himself at Bruce, taking comfort where and when he could. Jason would have slunk over and did his level best to press close enough to cave in Bruce's chest and make himself a home.

He was, in hindsight, too good at that.

Tim always hesitated. Weighting the pros and cons? Overthinking a simple comfort offered freely? Bruce never knew.

Still, Tim slowly abandoned his squeaking chair. He let Bruce tug him in for a hug.

Tim was older than Dick had been, around the same age as Jason. Even so, in moments like this he seemed immeasurably younger. Tim, cast off in a prestigious boarding school, had lived comparatively untouched by life's hardest lessons. He signed up for the work, but he couldn't have known how hard it would be. Bruce never should have let him in, but what could he do now? Tim came to him when he needed a partner the most and he was so, so grateful even as regret threatened to choke him.

A beep, then. Bruce's eyes drifted upwards.

"The drugs we lifted from the Iceberg Lounge?" Tim asked against Bruce's neck.

"Yes."

"Show me."

Bruce let Tim out from the protective circle of his arms and did so. The moment lay broken behind them, like so many others.

[youandthemountains]

it probably is insane how much I wish I could express the thing about spones. the vibes about spones. Like there's the joking fun fandom vibes and I love them, I love to play with them, of course of course. but the THING. the CORE to me. i wish i could capture it and share it.

[pocketgalaxies]

Since you’ve now watched the wedding do you have any thoughts on Derrig especially with how important he is to Orym? I remember the first time I watched it I found him boring compared to Lieve’tel who came before him and he didn’t do much, like you said nobody really did for a while there, cause it was mostly role play since it was a wedding and he was just out of place in that aspect too as Keyleth’s bodyguard who they were just meeting for the first time; and even after all this time and knowing he is incredibly important to a main character in C3, I still can’t shake this initial impression.

hello sorry for answering this late i wanted to catch up on c3

it got kinda long. didn't realize i could have so many thoughts about this dude!

i actually really enjoyed derrig! i think liam established him very quickly as someone who is fatherly, practical, and friendly. no-nonsense when shit hit the fan but also i just Know that he loves dad jokes and he makes his kids cringe so bad with how much he brags about them. he went home after the wedding and played scanlan shorthalt records nonstop until everyone in the house went crazy. he has also lost hours and hours and hours of sleep over what might happen to his family if he ever dies in the line of duty, and he knows that he might, and he knows that he Would if keyleth needed him to.

i think in general he's just such a Dad and that makes him very endearing to me. he is significantly older than all of vm and was very patient fielding all of their super nosy unprofessional questions about what he "intends to do" with keyleth. he watched her grow up and he knew vax (probably a bit better than he let on) and i think he has seen how that loss affected her, and i think he understands that the worry he's felt for her over the last several months could only be a fraction of how vm feels. so he entertains their questions, and he stays by her side when she's panicking about her speech, and he tells vex he's sorry, and he's just there, in case he's needed. not just by keyleth but by any of vm. which speaks volumes imo!

SORRY you asked about orym not keyleth. i think it's all about how derrig's interactions with vm reflect what his family must be like. derrig is a bit of a jokester and he's a bit of a boomer (affectionate) but he is diligent and dedicated and very skilled. in my mind orym was always this constantly Serious person while will had more of that silliness in him and pulled orym out of his shell a bit. i think will took after derrig as a jokester but orym took after him as a Soldier. and it's very easy to imagine how orym fit in to this family – an only child, quiet and severe, who loves his single mother deeply, being welcomed into this bustling loud family with the pranksters and the annual vacations and the spontaneous competitions with dad that are judged by mom. they love him like one of their own. they love him because he is one of their own

and i think losing derrig and will was zephrah losing two brilliant sparks of life, and what was left was a family mourning joy and memories and unconditional love. and i think that explains quite a lot about orym, actually.

[stars-n-spice]

forever will be haunted by all the thoughts I have about my ocs that I don't voice/draw/write about because I don't have the skills/capacity/time/motivation to do so.

i'll think up of something that's got me chewing on glass and punching concrete and just ahhhughhh

i could write essays about them. i'm so tempted to make some whole ass powerpoint detailing them and picking them apart with the help of the enneagram just for funies

sometimes i just will sit in silence after thinking of something about them or i'll cry or i'll be like 'LET'S FUCKING GOO!' and then literally do nothing with it

aaguuuughhhh

So many thoughts just....there.

and i feel even crazier because sometimes it's just me screaming into a void about these guys

but i love and appreciate the couple of people who listen when i do scream into the void <3

but oh my god.

i'm being consumed.

[prettyflyshyguy]

............................................. I'm regretfully writing a fanfic.

It's not gonna be big, but dialogue has been running in my head 24/7 and if I don't write it down I'll explode. Writing is a fun break from drawing besides and I genuinely feel like slowly dissecting other characters is helping me revisit my original stories, and dissect my own characters and bring more continuity and subtlety into them.

[ourhouseishaunted]

70% of my trigun thoughts are abt how plants (independent and dependant) work and what they symbolize and their relationships with other characters and the world and stuff and the implications of independent plants coming with the earth forces and what it says about how earth has progressed since SEEDS left the planet, 20% of my thoughts are "hope those guys (meryl milly vash livio ww knives) are having fun" and 10% is rotating trimax Rem Saverem around in my head at all times

[fernspirals]

am I being delusional and over dramatic

[bronanlynch]

obsessed w the choice to have reinhard & hilda hook up for the first time in the context of. reinhard is having a breakdown over his guilt at the death of his boy best friend like. very heterosexual of him, I'm sure

[buysomecheese]

I want a dissertation on brotherhood in relation to birth order and senses of responsibility focusing on Eric Matthews and his relationship to school, sexuality, *homo*sexuality, and masculinity and how he projects/protects Cory through all of this and I want it NOW!

(Lots of fun little unorganized thoughts in tags <3)

[theblobmaster]

it doesn't always bother me, but sometimes i really wish that fic writers (or romance writers in general) would stop undermining previous relationships the characters have had.

you don't have to undermine those relationships and the love felt for those previous partners to show how much the character loves this new partner.

there's something incredibly beautiful about how previous love have shaped someone and also about how each relationship feels different, not necessarily less, but different in how they feel to the character.

and for fics sometimes it feels so ooc for that person to think that, to downplay the love in previous relationships. even if that love fizzled out at some point or changed to more platonic love.

it doesn't always have to be better, more, deeper. sometimes it's just different in a way that's perfect for that time in their life.

[leyiorr]

i can't stop looking at her t-t-t-t, FACE!

mdni.

satoru gojo is doomed.

why is he doomed, you ask? well, put bluntly, you, his girlfriend of five months, are driving him absolutely crazy.

crazy is an understatement, actually. insane, mad, mental, unhinged, deranged, bonkers - whatever you want to call it. he's holding on by a thread; the thinly woven string known as sanity growing ever weaker as the days roll by and turn into weeks.

of course, he's only blaming you. you hadn't actually done anything wrong.

you're the first relationship satoru's had in his life, and he'd be damned if some inappropriate thoughts ruin his chances with the love of his life. he'd never been happier - dating you gave him the kind of happiness he thought only existed in movies; the kind of giddiness of a child in a candy store.

he was devoted to you in every way, shape and form - you are everything he's dreamed of and more.

more.

that's right, you were more.

recently, you were the devil's temptation personified.

surprisingly, even after twenty-odd years of being one of the most attractive guys around, and having women throw themselves at him like he's some kind of greek deity, satoru is a virgin. i'll repeat that, he is a virgin. a fact that only suguru knows. a fact that he's neglected to tell his girlfriend.

he may have a flirtatious personality and the ability to charm ninety percent of the human race with one of his thousand-kilowatt smiles, but in truth, he had never dated anyone. ever. let alone got his dick in a pussy.

so when he starts wanting to go further, he's not sure how to bring it up without sounding like a horndog.

it all started when you wore a sleek black dress to one of your dates. it clung to your figure, fabric wrapping shamelessly around your every curve and tickling your midthigh at its end. and if that wasn't bad enough, it had a plunging neckline, giving the world - satoru specifically - an eyeful of the assets god gifted you with. your boobs were practically spilling out of your dress, the light catching your cleavage as you held his arm. he could feel himself salivating like some sort of perv. how was he supposed to focus with aphrodite's personal creation hanging off his arm?

his eyes began to drift to the flesh of your chest more than he'd like to admit. all sorts of r-rated scenarios ran through his head and he dared to entertain every. single. one. he could do so much with them, tease them, spit on them, pinch them, suck on them, put his dick between them-

“satoru?”

his gaze snaps back to your face at record speed. you notice how he's chewing his bottom lip, flush creeping onto his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. his hands are clammy; there's suddenly too little oxygen in his room.

“did you listen to anything i said?” your arms fold beneath your bosom and satoru almost implodes.

what do you expect him to do? the necklace around your neck has his initial on it, and it hovers over your tits almost mockingly. if it snapped, the letter would fall right between the valley of your breasts-

“satoru!”

he's choking on his saliva, apologizing profusely as he encourages you to continue your story - though he hasn't heard shit over the blood pumping loudly in his ears.

it's a battle no, a war between his rationality and his desires and he doesn't know which is winning. his rationality wins when he's around you - he just sucks in a breath and thugs it out, no matter how much his dick shouts at him. but in private, he's letting the desires win as his fists himself to the thought of you, your lips, your ass; your boobs.

the first time he sees you in a bikini he has to take a breather before he can get into a game of beach volleyball with you and the group.

(and even then he was struggling. every time you jumped for the ball the only thing he was looking at was your tits.)

he should be neutered. effective immediately.

it drags out for so long that you finally notice, and force him to talk to you about why he's avoiding you, and if you'd done anything wrong. but all you get is:

“baby, i'm so sorry- you're so pretty and i can't help myself. i didn't know how to bring up that i wanted to take our relationship to the next step, you mean the world to me and i'd hate to make you uncomfortable-” he trips and stumbles over his words-

“...is that it?”

and his eyes bug out of his head as he stares at you. weeks, months of agony over this and all you have to say is 'is that it'?

he doesn't even have chance to respond; to process your words before you're popping the top button of your blouse.

yeah, satoru gojo is doomed.

[vanilla-ending]

Happy Father’s Day to my real and actual dad Peter Quill (i had a second part but its only sketches so you get this)

Sketches for part 2 heh,,

[makismei]

cw: pleasure dom toji!!!, overstim, he’s sweet, squirting. 18+ content, penetration, little hint of anal play, fingering, oral f! receiving, established relationship

“baby, chill out,” he scolds, grabbing you by the hips and dragging you back. he knocks your legs open and you whimper, resisting.

“tojiii,” you whine, all drawn out and pretty, “please, it’s too much, i can’t cum.”

he scoffs, wet fingers rubbing against your pussy. your body locks up and he holds back a groan at the tears in your eyes. “it’s only too much because you can’t stay still. you did this to yourself, doll.”

you shake your head, stubborn as ever. “‘s not my fault! you just suck!”

eye twitching, toji presses two fingers inside without warning. “i think i’ve been too nice to you, baby.” he hums, scissoring his fingers and relishing in the way your back arches. “look at ya, talking back to me.”

he thrusts his digits, forcing your leg to open wider, while his thumb massages your clit. he presses down, applying pressure and making out little shapes.

you wriggle, tears pooling in your eyes like the drama queen you are. “no! not like thaaaat!”

“why, baby?” he questions, “you cum so quick when i have ya like this.”

you whine loudly, legs starting to shake. toji licks his lips, eyes training hungrily on your cunt. you’re almost there, but you’re fighting the urge to cum, knowing it pisses him off.

it makes him regret the fact he used to make you hold back your orgasms, only letting you cum if he said so—because now look, you’re using it against him.

but toji is competitive and he loves to win.

so he crooks his fingers just right, hooking onto that one spongey spot that guarantees his victory every. single. time.

“yeah,” he goads, watching your body suddenly lock up and wetness spew from your pussy like a geyser, “‘s what i thought.”

he rubs your pussy, just to make your squirt splash around. it’s humiliating, how he toys with your body and forces you into endless pleasure until you go stupid.

but you love it, despite the fact you like resisting, toji knows all too well that it’s just an act.

you turn onto your side, quivering from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

wordlessly, he manhandles you onto your knees, shoving your face into the mattress. you moan at the feeling of his tongue lapping at your pussy, muffling a scream when his lips latch onto your swollen clit and suck, his tongue playfully flicking your little bud.

he alternates between nibbling and sucking, reducing you to a babbling, incoherent disaster.

“cumming!” you warn, more squirt splashing shamelessly onto his face and all over the sheets. you fall forward, head turned to the side and panting.

“what a mess,” he chides, clicking his tongue. “aren’t ya ashamed?”

it’s teasing, but you’re so turned on. you hike up your knees again, wiggling your ass enticingly. you look over your shoulder, pouting. “‘m sorry, toji. didn’t mean to be messy.”

“sorry?” he asks, frantically you nod. burly hand slides up and down his cock, catching your slit and using your fluids as lube. his gaze flits to you momentarily, “yer really sorry?”

you nod again, squirming, “i am! m’ so sorry.”

toji grins, watching his cock disappear into your cunt, “then cum for me again, c’mon, hurry.”

you yell, arms unable to hold yourself up.

he plows into you mercilessly, fingers digging into the plush of your ass. your eyes widen when you feel his thumb on your other hole, rubbing it teasingly.

“what if i put my thumb in here, baby? what do you think will happen?” you feel a line of spit hit your ass, his thumb collecting it before returning to teasing your other hole. “remember your little treasure chest? swore i saw some plugs in there..”

weakly, you try to support yourself on shaky arms, moaning incoherently. “i— toji, i… ahh, mmph!”

you fall back down, face first, and he just laughs, “s’ okay, you don’t have’ta say anything. ya know why?” he goads, thrusting just a little bit harder, teasing you. “‘cause your little pussy is telling me all i need to know.”

toji groans and it’s loud, feeling your cunt squeeze down, trying to milk him for everything he’s worth. “that’s right,” draping himself over your back, his hand sneaks its way to flick your bud, relishing in your squeals and they way your body squirms.

“cum, pretty, c’mon,” he breathes, leaving spit-soaked kisses on your back, “need ya to feel good for me.”

he sings praises in your ear when he hears you gush all over the already damp sheets, moaning into your skin as his thrusts grow sloppy, before he’s dumping wads of hot cum into your battered pussy.

“fuck me,” he sighs, dragging his lips along your shoulder blades and nape, hips still pushing into your ass.

you’re whining, tears blurring your vision as you ride out the pleasure toji relentlessly gives. you’ve fallen into prone bone, too fucked out to utter words besides incoherent babbles.

his hands find purchase beside your head, dropping to his forearms, but refusing to pull out but littering your skin with feverish kisses, “did so good for me, sweets.”

he’s reassuring, knowing it’s intense for you. but toji has a mean streak that he likes to keep up, so naturally he’s teasing. “my baby, so fucked out, huh? it’s okay, you’re so cute like this. always so sweet after i dick you down enough.”

he pulls out, knocking your legs apart to watch his cum drool out of your slit. “mm, yer perfect, baby.”

you flop onto your back, pinching toji’s arm and refusing to look him in the eye. he grins, “what? you want a kiss?”

you nod slowly, cheeks burning. he just knows you too well.

but he complies, all too easily. it’s you, after all.

swallowing up your little moans, he devours your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth. burly hands cup your face, opening his eyes to see yours squeezed shut. he grins, biting your lower lip when he pulls away.

rough thumbs wipe your teary cheeks. “there’s your kiss, baby. you happy?”

“yeah…” you mutter, eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him. “another one?”

he smiles and it’s warm and full of love, leaning down, toji brushes his lips against yours. “sure doll, anything you want.”

[nereidprinc3ss]

fixation

in which you love spencer reid's hands so much you could... well, you could practically eat them. or at least let him put his fingers in your mouth.

18+ (fluff, suggestive) warnings/tags: finger sucking...lol....., established relationship, ummmm d/s adjacent dynamics, like softdom spencer but there's no sex, pet names, teasing a/n: this was inspired by @gublersg1rl who said 2 nights ago she would suck spencer's fingers as he was reading a book. my beautiful angel with so many great ideas in her beautiful head. anyway this will not be my magnum opus in terms of quality but its just a fun short little thing I hope u like :D

Spencer is reading. 

He got home forty five minutes ago, and he’d hugged you and he’d kissed you—and they were good hugs and kisses, but as you sit curled on the opposite end of the couch from him, watching him read, it doesn’t feel like enough. Three days isn’t the longest he’s been gone, but you missed him like he was gone longer. And now, he’s not truly ignoring you—but he’s not giving you enough attention. It’s unintentional, but it’s making you feel all kinds of needy and overly-affectionate anyway. 

Especially when he’s so gorgeous. Ankle crossed over knee, lithe fingers skimming over the page to keep track of his place. Those hands are truly distracting. It’s unlike you to be struck by such wildly inappropriate thoughts so out of context, but here you are, having been without him for days, practically feverish on the couch as you imagine all the things they could do. All the things they have done. The way they've traced down your bare spine, up your side, so lovingly in the middle of the night... how they've touched you elsewhere...

And... that's enough.

Despite the whole committed relationship thing, you still feel a bit scandalized picturing him like that. And you know from experience these thoughts will only get worse if you stay over here, staring at him, wanting him, so you crawl across the couch and under his arm, settling your head in his lap and looking up at him expectantly. He chuckles—a quiet, dry thing, that says he’s only partially surprised by your behavior. 

“Well hello,” Spencer says, taking one hand off the book to settle on your leg. 

“Hi.”

For a moment he just studies you, affection seeping into his eyes along with the humor already there. “Can I help you?”

“Mhm.”

His brow darts up. 

“With what, baby?”

Baby. Your whole body tingles. He only calls you that when he’s feeling especially soft toward you and your whims. In turn you soften, and you both become rather mushy. 

Unfortunately your brain is not excluded from melting, and you look up at him helplessly. 

“Um…”

Spencer’s hand falls from your knee, taking an unnecessary but appreciated route down your thigh and up your stomach before settling on your cheek. He brushes away a few baby hairs before two knuckles begin drawing soft lines from the corner of your mouth up toward your ear and back again, and your stomach becomes a hail of butterflies. He’s got this soft smile on his face and you love him so much and he’s so sweet and perfect, you could just—

You’re not thinking very clearly when you tilt your head, angling your chin up until you catch his fingers against your lips. His eyes remain on yours as he traces the shape of your mouth with those same two knuckles—until you’re slowly parting, obstructing his path and offering a very different kind of invitation. Spencer’s eyes narrow fractionally and you watch the way his focus changes, the way he only tests the waters at first, letting the tips of his fingers trace the length of your bottom lip, before barely tugging down just enough to feel the soft warmth of the border of it. They skate over the ridge of your teeth and find the tip of your tongue, at which point you can’t help from closing your lips around his fingers, eyes fluttering contentedly as you draw them deeper into your mouth. His brows draw together, and those pretty pink lips part soundlessly like you’re the eighth wonder of the world in a way that has your thighs clenching. You hear the book shut and fall carelessly to the side table. He doesn’t even bother saving his place—too busy bringing that newly freed hand to your hair and combing gently against your scalp. 

It’s strangely calming to have him like this—he’s undeniably with you, undeniably close, against your lips and tongue. All your worries about his distance dissolve and you feel incredibly comforted. With his other hand, his thumb begins stroking a line from the bridge of your nose up your forehead, and you could pass out. 

“Comfy?” He asks after a long moment, slowly withdrawing his fingers from the heat of your mouth. You pout. 

“I was.”

Spencer hums, eyes soft on you. “I don’t think I should be nurturing your oral fixation, angel.”

“You didn’t like it?” You challenge, turning your head inward to nose at his stomach. He  cups your cheek with damp fingers and pointedly turns your head outward again. If he wasn’t so blushy and flustered and cute you might’ve cared more about the feeling of your own spit on your skin. 

“Don’t make it about me.”

You allow a minute to pass in silence. 

Fine.

“I liked it,” you say shyly. 

Spencer’s response is deeply fond as he smiles down at you. “Did you?”

Like he couldn’t tell. 

“Mhm. You should let me do it all the time.”

His smile flickers wider the way it does when he’s about to tease you. 

“I don’t know if you deserve it. I don’t know if you can be good all the time.”

You make a face. “Shut up.”

“Is that what we say when we want something?” Before he can pull his hand away, you nip at his fingers. He laughs. “You’re off to a terrible start. I think you need to work on your manners. Not bite the hand that… goes in your mouth.”

“Is that the saying?”

“I’m pretty sure,” he nods sarcastically, helping you up until you’re sitting across his lap. He lovingly tucks hair behind your ear, eyes warm as they flit across your face up close. “You know, that was incredibly unhygienic. So much bacteria it boggles the mind.”

“Yeah? That kinda turns me on.”

Spencer leans in to kiss you sweetly, choosing your mouth over his worry about bacterial transmission. “You are so psychologically concerning,” he whispers against your lips. You sling your arms around his neck. 

“Because of the bacteria thing or the oral fixation thing?”

His hands settle on your hips. “Both, lovely. For so many reasons.”

It’s only another tease, but you pull back anyway so he can see the full force of your pout. “Don’t say that. It’s mean.”

“I was kidding! It was a joke. I was joking.”

“It was mean.”

“Okay,” Spencer begins, patient and happy to untangle this ridiculous snag if that’s what it takes to make you content again, “Freud’s psychosexual stages of development are contentious at best. I’m not worried about your oral fixation because I don’t really believe in such a thing. I was just teasing you, but I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

“So you’ll let me do it again?”

Spencer pulls you back into another kiss. 

“You’re kind of insatiable, you know that?” 

When you don’t answer, only wait for him to respond, he sighs goodnaturedly. 

“You know you can have any part of me whenever you want it.”

You give him a winning smile and kiss his cheek in reward. 

“You’re so nice, Spence.”

“I thought I was mean.” 

“Now you’re nice.”

“Because you got what you wanted?” You nod enthusiastically. He seems not quite as thrilled, though perhaps distantly amused by his own helplessness when it comes to you. “Yeah, I feel like that happens a lot, doesn’t it?”

But it clearly doesn’t bother him that much. He’s still smiling when you kiss him again. 

[zaczenemiji]

I really wanted to ask if you could do like a GN! It can be fem too it doesn’t really matter—

The Reader where like Ultraman can transform bigger too but they're more inspired by Mothra (like a mothra suit). I think it would've been like so cute to see Emi go all awe and clingy to the reader because how bright and heavenly they look💕

Kenji gets all jealous seeing his kajju daughter prefer the reader over him a lil bit. tall parents raising baby monster

Emi’s Favorite

Kenji Sato x Reader

Word Count: 1,546

Genre/Warning: Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Jealousy (very slight)

Author’s Note: Loved this idea so much, thank you for this first request! Emi with a moth mommy ⋆˚ʚɞ

MASTERLIST

Something about your boyfriend changed the night after Gigantron’s “attack” on Tokyo Dome. That night, you were supposed to help him fend the kaiju off but he insisted he’d do it on his own.

For some reason, you were glad you did not join in because (1) their fight became a pursuit in the sky, and (2) you could not zoom in the air the same way Ultraman does. The only reason you’re able to fly is because of your wings—moth wings on your suit, which would put you at a disadvantage in the case of an air chase.

You were supposed to come over to his place that night to check on him because you were sure that the skirmish had caused more damage to his already injured shoulder. However, your calls were left answered by Mina, telling you that Kenji had already fallen asleep.

Deciding not to disturb him, you simply let him be. But in the days that followed, something surely wasn’t right. He couldn’t focus on his games, he looked so fatigued and restless all the time, and oh good gracious, there were now dark circles under his eyes.

He just looks so stressed and you were so upset with the fact that he didn’t want to tell you what’s going on with him. The time he got into a fight with the other players was the end of the line for you.

You barged into his house, finding him by his bathtub, in front of a TV, watching the news about him. The usually peaceful atmosphere in his house was now charged with tension as you made your way towards him. At that moment, Kenji was praying so hard the kaiju in his basement would keep still.

He still wouldn’t tell you what’s wrong. “It’s not about us. It’s about…” he said, “…something bigger. Something I’m not ready to share yet.”

Your eyes softened at his response, though the ache in your chest remained. You made him promise to talk to you when he’s ready and he agreed. You can’t stand seeing the love of your life like that but at the same time, you didn’t want to force him to do anything against his will. Taking up Ultraman was already enough of that.

Almost two months, after the incident, he seemed back to his old shape. Better, even. And thank heavens, finally, he could now tell you about what happened.

“There’s a what below?!” You asked in disbelief. The two of you were standing in front of the elevator and for a moment, you think your ears are playing tricks on you.

“A baby kaiju,” he replied and went on to explain everything. Still in disbelief, you took in everything with a nod. He placed his hand on the small of your back as he guided you into the elevator.

The moment you saw the big pink baby, you gasped. Emi made happy noises as you approached. However, upon noticing you, she suddenly began to cry.

Kenji was tapping on the glass containment in an attempt to shush her. But to no avail, Emi just cried harder.

“I’m sorry, she doesn’t know you yet,” Kenji apologized. “But I assure you, she’s a sweet big baby.”

Remembering how, at first, Emi only recognized Kenji when he was Ultraman, you decided to try something.

“(Y/n), what are you—“ Before Kenji finished, a soft glow enveloped you, and moments later, you emerged in your giant form. Your wings spread wide, shimmering with black patterns and warm tones of yellow and orange.

Emi’s cries slowed, her curiosity piqued by the sudden change. She opened her eyes, sobs turning to soft hiccups as she stared up at you in wonder. Her claws tapped the glass as she reached out, trying to grasp your wings.

Kenji watched in awe as Emi’s distress melted away. “I think it’s working,” he whispered.

“May I?” You asked, gesturing to the lid of the containment unit. Kenji gave a nod of approval. Carefully, you turned it before lifting it off.

You lowered yourself closer to Emi, your wings fluttering softly as she climbed up her containment. The gentle breeze they created seemed to soothe her further.

Emi let out a delighted squeal, her earlier tears forgotten. She toddled closer to you, her claws gently touching the edge of your wing. She let out a happy chirp, eyes sparkling with joy.

Kenji stepped closer, a relieved smile spreading across his face. “Wow, she loves you in this form,” he said.

You smiled down at him. “She’s just like her dad,” you replied. “She knows a good thing when she sees it.”

Kenji chuckled before he himself transformed into Ultraman. He sat beside you with Emi in between the two of you.

Your wings gently enveloped Emi in a comforting embrace. She was now calm and happy as she traced the pattern of your wings with her claw.

“Gentle, baby,” Kenji said as he rubbed her head.

She continued walking around you and playing with your wings until she tired herself out. She walked in front of you and climbed on your lap, nestling her head on your stomach.

“Awww, baby,” you cooed. You gently picked her up into your arms and gently swayed.

Kenji moved close to you, wrapping an arm around you. You nestled into his arm, head resting on the junction of his neck and shoulders. The three of you slept like that for the night.

The next morning when Emi awoke, she immediately looked for you. Realizing that the moth lady was missing, she cried. Mina was quick to assist her, playing videos of cartoons and Kenji to calm her. To Mina’s surprise, none of them worked.

“Who’s making my baby cry?” Kenji asked as he approached. He expected her crying to cease once she saw him. However, that is not the case.

“Huh?” He questioned. Emi always calms when she sees him. “Mina, try showing her pictures of (y/n).”

Mina did as told and as miraculously as yesterday, Emi stopped crying. “It seems like she got herself a new mother,” Mina commented.

With Emi’s growing fondness of you, you found yourself frequenting at Kenji’s house more than ever. She was just so cute; like a live plushie when you’re in your giant form.

“Hi babyyyy,” you cooed as you transformed into your giant form. You scooped her up, her head nuzzling against you. Her earlier play was abandoned in favor of your presence.

You walked in on Kenji and Emi playing baseball together. And you didn’t mean to interrupt but when you saw her walking towards you, you knew you had to transform.

Kenji smiled at the scene. “She really loves you, you know,” he said.

You smiled back, feeling a warm glow inside. “I love her too,” you replied. “She’s such a sweetheart.”

Emi chirped happily as she climbed up your torso and onto your shoulder where she could watch and touch your wings.

Kenji watched the interaction, his smile fading slightly as a twinge of jealousy crept in. His baby kaiju shows a different kind of joy when you’re around.

He loved Emi dearly, but lately, it seemed like she preferred your company over his. He couldn’t help but feel a bit sidelined.

“She really lights up when you’re here,” Kenji said, trying to keep his tone light.

You glanced at him, noticing the slight edge in his voice. “She lights up when you’re here too, Kenji,” you replied. “She loves you.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, but… it feels like she’s more excited to see you than me sometimes.”

You tapped the space on the floor beside you, gesturing for him to switch to Ultraman. Thankfully, he did not resist.

You moved close to him as he sat beside you, his hand finding its way to your thigh. Your head automatically rested on his shoulder.

“You’re her dad, Kenji,” you said. “She loves you so much. Maybe she’s just fascinated by my wings right now.”

You felt Kenji nod, although the jealousy still lingered within him. “Yeah, maybe,” he replied. “I just want to be enough for her.”

You leaned back to look at him. Your other hand which was not holding Emi on your shoulder, moved up to hold his face. “You are enough. You’re everything to her,” you said. “And to me.”

Emi squirmed out of your hand, gently jumping off your shoulder and landing on your lap. She toddled over to Kenji. He looked down at her, his heart melting as she reached up, wanting to be held. He picked her up, and she nuzzled against his chest, purring softly.

“See?” You asked with a smile. “She adores you.”

Kenji hugged Emi close, his jealousy fading into thin air. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess you’re right.”

You spent the rest of the day playing with Emi, taking turns holding her and making her laugh. By the time evening rolled around, she was content and sleepy in Kenji’s arms.

Before reverting to your original form, you kissed Emi’s head and then leaned in to kiss Kenji. “I’ll be back soon,” you said. “Take care of our little one.”

Kenji smiled, his earlier worries forgotten. “We’ll be here, waiting.”

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