#like he'd sleep with my every night and was more responsive to me than other people

[jesuisgourde]

i would. like to stop doing things every single day. and being stressed.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

if the military wanted you to have a wife, they'd issue you one. Soap's heard that saying once or twice.

and here you are. claiming to be his... issuance.

you tilt your head. "you don't remember signing up for the program?"

no. no, he doesn't. his eyes dart down to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes. he'd remember that. more to the point, he'd remember whatever he did to deserve this. he looks you up and down again, disbelief and desire flashing across his face, and not in equal measure.

you’re like if someone wrung the starry slurry of thoughts constituting what makes a perfect woman directly from his brain matter, let it ferment and clarify like honey wine, put marriage papers in her hand, and dressed her in a… in a fucking… are those stockings stretching up under your skirt?

hell’s bells. you’re one part girl next door, one part muse—the one his hand can never quite shape on the page to match what’s in his head—and several shades of his favorite porn star. an old-fashioned pin-up doll in the flesh.

"you're not John MacTavish, then," you say, peering down at the papers in your hand with a small frown. "so sorry to bother you—"

“no, hold on.” he takes a step closer. “i’m him, aye. but the program...” the application questionnaire. filling it out was nothing more than a drunken bet with Gaz, but yes, he dimly remembers it. doesn't recall turning it in, but maybe he was drunker than he thought. “it's real?"

“completely real. i was selected for you based on the preferences you specified,” you tell him. you shift the clipboard into your other arm, pleasant smile turning into a frown. "but i couldn't possibly ask you to sign a marriage certificate sponsored by a program you don't even remember applying for."

oh, that is rich. you don’t seem to see the humor here. it’s absurd. have you not seen yourself? he'd be daft to pass on someone as bonnie as you.

not to mention you seem more than a little disappointed at the idea of being turned down. that fuels his ego even more.

 "you're sayin' you're a part of that military partnership program, aye? and you were handpicked as my spouse based on a few questions?"

you helpfully produce a copy of his responses in pink triplicate. sure enough, he recognizes his own drunken scrawl.

none of the questions have anything to do his preferences looks-wise. career aspirations, communication preferences, hobbies, his ideal saturday night. his sleeping habits. this is a psychological profile. CIA shite, as Gaz would say.

he doubts his drunken self read more than a few lines of this paperwork while he was constructing his dream girl in the survey blanks.

as he studies the page a little too closely, your small frown turns into a frustrated scowl. "john? um, i mean."

it instantly pulls his eyes back to your lips.

you twirl a strand of hair around your finger. "it’s nice to meet you,” you say in a tone that makes it clear what you’re really saying is ‘hey, stud, i'm looking forward to the honeymoon.’

that’s your attempt, at least. but Soap sees more than you mean to show. the way you play that card--the way you twirl your damn hair--is the clumsiest, most blatant attempt to flirt. somehow, that's what catches him off-guard the most. It makes his heart squeeze. god, are you nervous? you?

he runs over the back of his teeth in the split second before his signature lazy smirk slides back across his face. "happy you got paired up with a bloke like me?"

he hands the paperwork back to you. you take it back with great relief and nestle it securely into the crook of your elbow. you’re certain he didn’t sign every single blank he was supposed to, but he won’t remember that. you’ll check the signature lines later and forge his handwriting to finish it.

you smile prettily at him. then you make it a little more coy. you should be bashful--he's handsome. "i'm lucky. you're special forces. i’m a nobody, really. if you want, you could try filing for a spouse upgrade. if you want a really good fiancée..."

“fiancée." Soap rolls the word around his tongue. "is that what i should call you?”

"well. you saw my name on the paperwork," you point out. you know very well he didn't.

before he can ask any more questions, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek and pull away, walking down the hall with documents in tow. his gaze is heavy on your back.

the documents in your arm are real enough. Soap really did complete that questionnaire, just like how he remembers. getting the application turned in is what required a little creative effort.

but as long as nobody looks too closely at the military ID photocopied in the application file, they won't notice that the mostly-obscured face of the soldier who turned the application in doesn't look much like Soap at all.

...

more Soap / masterlist

[hedgehog-moss]

The lower rung of the ladder in my kitchen broke last month and I stuck a little Post-it note on the wall to remind myself to step over the missing rung so I wouldn't break my leg every time I go up or downstairs—but then my mum came to visit and she saw me hopping over the gap in the ladder with practised ease and her face was the definition of "you live like this?" And she went to get a screwdriver to unscrew the ladder from the wall so we could carry it outside and repair it.

Some people see a broken ladder and immediately open a toolbox to fix the problem; some people see a broken ladder and stick a Post-it note to the wall to train themselves to step over the problem forever. (I admit my response is inferior.)

I think I felt daunted at the thought of tinkering with this ladder because it's been here in the same place for over a century and I pictured the whole thing crumbling into dust if we tried to move it—but no, it's still solid, except the lower rung. Which wasn't damaged by time, but by Pandolf. (And some insects. But mostly Pandolf.)

When he was a baby, for a week or so after I took him home, he was extremely upset about having to spend the night in his dog bed in the kitchen while I went upstairs to my bedroom, he would cry and cry and one night in a fit of despair and rage he attacked the ladder. The next morning I found the lower rung (the only one he could reach) looking like it had been attacked by a termite colony, but it was Pandolf's pointy little puppy teeth. By the look of it he'd spent half the night furiously gnawing on it until he dropped from exhaustion—his reasoning was clearly that if he destroyed the ladder, I wouldn't be able to go upstairs anymore and would be forced to spend the night on the floor of the kitchen with him.

It's really hard to be mad at baby Pandolf, though. Go on, try.

Eventually he got used to sleeping in his dog bed and he abandoned his ladder destruction project, but the lower rung has been fragile ever since, and it finally broke last month.

My mum is extremely efficient; she sent me to the barn to find some kind of thick board (you can find anything in the barn if you have a torch and aren't afraid of bats or century-old spiderwebs) and when I came back she had prepared all the tools and taken all the measurements.

The worst part was tapering the sides so the rung would fit in the notches, because if one side was a little bit thinner than the other then it was wobbly—

—plus I used a file at first and it took forever (Pandolf was so bored), but then I remembered I own a sanding machine and it went a lot faster. So much so that my mum said I should make a second rung while I was at it—she was motivated to replace all of them, but then it started raining and we decided the rest of the ladder is solid enough and we'll replace the rungs two at a time.

I always forget that it feels satisfying to fix things! There's this little spark of pride from then on when you look at the repaired thing because you helped make it. I tend to procrastinate because I assume it'll take ages or I'm worried I'll do it wrong, until someone who's more confident with their hands than me goes like "no come on, we just need a saw, a file, a hammer, it'll take an hour tops" and we do it and it's never as difficult as I feared. (My mum: "We gave you a toy toolbox when you were little, to smash sexist stereotypes, and you're afraid of fixing things :( ...") (I cheered her up by reminding her that my brother smashes sexist stereotypes by being also afraid of fixing things.)

But yeah I spent half an hour sanding down the sides of these two lower rungs and now I look at my ladder and remember the delightful feeling of getting the tapering just right and inserting them into their slots effortlessly like a VHS tape into a VCR. I have a whole new affection for my kitchen ladder now.

[capricornlevi]

inevitability- nanami x f!reader

tags: friends to lovers, salaryman!nanami, breeding, unprotected sex, fingering, missionary, mating press, creampie, mild cumplay

cw: alcohol (all sex sober & consensual!), pregnancy mentions, rough but v v consensual sex, reader and nanami are both in their late 20s/early 30s

word count: 5.3k

a/n: in which your decide with your good friend of many years that it's time to get you pregnant <3 this has been festering in my brain and i know it's pretty different than what i usually write but ! here it is! ahh! sounds of me screaming!

//

"this is weird, y'know?" you blurt out, watching as nanami hangs up his jacket by your front door before settling down beside you on the couch. he keeps a respectful distance, resting his hands on his broad thighs and smoothing down the fabric of his slacks, clearly nervous. "this is very, very weird. like, weird at levels i don't think people have achieved before."

"i know," nanami replies diplomatically, as if he could be anything but excruciatingly aware of how unconventional this is. "are you having second thoughts? because i completely understand --"

you shake your head abruptly. "no, no, just ... thinking aloud, i guess. just getting used to this, because it's really ... um ..."

"weird?" nanami offers helpfully, and you turn to nod.

"weird."

because what else do you call agreeing to have a baby with your platonic friend of 10 years?

you first met nanami on the second day of college and knew right away he'd be a good dad, even back when having kids wasn't even a consideration for you. it was obvious; he was already a good dad back then, with how he looked out for his underclassmen even as he progressed through his degree. how he stayed sober when he knew people would be going overboard, not sleeping until you texted him to confirm you'd gotten home safe after a party.

he helped you study at the weekends and, in return, you provided him with a discount at the local cafe where you worked. through this time spent knocking back americanos and proofing each other's work, you grew close.

even with all his responsibility and good sense contrasting your exuberance and recklessness, you found yourself enjoying being with him. and he could be funny, too, delivering sharp and witty quips when you least expected it.

you became inseparable. insufferable, some would call it; the matching-halloween-costume type of insufferable, a borderline codependent but obliviously happy friendship that can only be fostered on a college campus.

then right after college, when you had dived straight into your quarter-life crisis and dyed your hair every colour under the sun, got piercings in too many places, slept with questionable people and dated some even worse, nanami had gotten himself a decent, impressive, well-paying job. it was a job that had him wearing tailored suits at 23, paired with fancy glasses that cost more than your rent, and you'd laughed at him, at how serious he looked. but you also worried at how the bags under his eyes grew deeper and darker, how the amused lilt to his voice started to dissipate as time went on.

his 9 to 5 turned to an 8 to 6, and then he was working weekends and skipping movie nights, missing out on meeting new boyfriends of yours, fading into the periphery of your life with you unable to do anything about it.

as with all relationships in your twenties, it was hard to stay in touch. the higher he climbed up the career ladder, the further you grew apart.

soon, it was only on holidays or birthdays when you both would reach out, cordial and civil but achingly unfamiliar.

then, on your twenty-ninth birthday, drunk at a bar and having taken a couple minutes away from your raucous friend group, you had stepped outside to grab some fresh air only to walk head-on into nanami's firm chest.

you had spluttered apologies, lifting your head to see who you had headbutted, only to find your old friend looking down at you with an amused look on his face.

and just like that, things picked up where they left off. you spent the night talking, catching up over drinks and laughter.

with a tone that was only half-teasing, you had asked him what brought him out tonight -- it was hard enough to get him to come out for drinks when you were both in college, much less now with his big fancy job.

but he had laughed in that gentle, airy way you'd heard a thousand times, explaining that he had been out socialising with clients who had just left minutes before. he was just on his way out before running into you.

perfect timing. painfully perfect.

you stayed talking until last call, making exhilarated promises to get in touch the next day.

and to your surprise, you both actually stuck to that.

in the ten months since then, you've met up every sunday for breakfast at your favourite cafe. over lattes and freshly baked croissants, you fill each other in on the details of the half-decade spent apart. he had a serious girlfriend, serious to the point of moving in together, but she'd gotten spooked and left him last summer to go travelling. he was hurt, obviously, but understood her perspective in that annoyingly calm, measured way that is just part of his nature.

and on your end -- despite the drunken circumstances in which you'd been reacquainted, which is all part of moderation, after all -- you've actually calmed down considerably since your early twenties.

you have your own apartment. you have a rescue cat you care for immensely, even when he tries wriggling out of your arms to go stare out the window at passing cyclists. you have a retirement fund, started yoga, learned to bake your own bread.

you're not boring, you still have fun and let off steam whenever you can, but you're having the sort of revelations about life that nanami seems to have had years ago.

fun is good. fun is important. but it can't be everything, because then it starts to come at a cost.

truthfully, the birth of your nephew is what prompted you to make some changes. you didn't want to show up to babysit hungover. you wanted to have funds to hand in order to treat him to little toys and sweets when your sister allowed it, and soon found yourself amazed at how his little face lit up every time he saw you.

it made you grow up, and fast.

in the course of your cafe hangouts, you had mentioned your nephew to nanami. showed pictures of the boy's pudgy little hands reaching for the camera, told stories of how he could tell the difference between new episodes of Bluey versus reruns, and how he's changed your entire life without even realising.

soon, talk about your nephew turned to general musings about your own future.

then one night, when you decided to switch your meetup location from the cafe to a cocktail bar, you shared something that you had barely admitted to yourself.

you wanted to have a kid.

this realisation wasn't borne from some crisis about entering a new decade, it wasn't something forced on you by others or general societal pressure. it was something that grew organically, inspired by the honour of watching your little nephew grow up.

to your surprise, nanami didn't scoff or dismiss you. you figured he'd have rolled his eyes, laughing off your confession since you weren't in a committed relationship.

instead, he expressed similar sentiments, but for slightly different reasons.

"i'm sick of work being my whole life," he had mused quickly, sipping an old fashioned with a funny look in his eye. "it was only when we started hanging out again that i realised how much of my life I've wasted at a place that wouldn't care if i lived or died."

"do i need to be worried about you having the type of rebellious streak the rest of us went through ten years ago?" you asked, smiling and fidgeting with one of your rings without thinking.

he waved off your suggestion with a fond roll of his eyes. "i'm not impulsively quitting or anything, don't worry. just want to take a step back, i suppose, or find something with shorter hours. i just think there's more to life than endless hours slaving behind a desk."

you toasted to that sentiment, knocking back the last of your cosmo.

nanami continued, watching you set your empty glass back down with a soft grin on his lips. "the whole family, kids thing ... i get it, you know? it makes sense."

"yeah?" you pried carefully, interested to see where this is going.

"i'd be lying if i said i didn't think about it, too. i have a nest egg saved up which means i'd be able to take time off to help with a kid, to actually be there to see them grow up. and it's not that i want to have one just because i think i need to -- i think i'd be decent at it, y'know? the whole parenting thing."

you obviously agreed. you'd thought the same for a while now, and getting reacquainted with the man has only spurred on those thoughts.

he really would be perfect.

the issue wasn't discussed further that night, but it was brought up again at coffee the following sunday, then at the bakery the week after that, and before long, it was your birthday again.

after a massive party with all your friends and family -- and a little too much wine -- nanami had stayed behind to help you clean up, because of course he would, and you got to talking again, got to revisiting that topic that had been at the back of both of your minds.

you can't remember the exact wording of the discussion or how many bottles of prosecco fuelled the conversation, but what you do know is that when you sobered up, you didn't regret agreeing to it.

you were gonna have a kid together.

you and nanami.

coparenting.

as outlandish an idea as it might seme on the surface, when looking at it a little deeper, it made sense to you. this wasn't decided on a whim. this was something that had momentum building behind it for months and months, perhaps even years, without you even realising.

when meeting up for coffee the following week, you both gave each other an out. said there'd be no big deal if things were called off. but neither one of you took it, despite laughing for what felt like hours about how bizarre it all felt.

still, no sign of backing out.

which brings you to tonight, the agreed-upon date of when you'd start trying.

nanami had suggested using artificial fertility methods if that made you more comfortable, but you politely turned him down, thinking it unnecessary. he wasn't a stranger -- plus, you'd be lying if you said he wasn't objectively attractive -- so if he had no objections to trying things the old-fashioned way, then you didn't either.

and he obviously didn't mind too much since he's now here on your couch, folding his arms and then unfolding them as he waited for you to make the first move.

he looks good, despite all the nerves. he's filled out over the years, though he was always strong, with every muscle in his body well-defined and perfectly proportional. his hair is still blond but with the faintest specks of grey, his skin brighter and more well-rested than that night you got reacquainted.

his deep brown eyes stay fixed on you and your skin heats as his gaze traces over you.

"do you want me to kiss you?" you break the silence, the words tumble messily from your mouth.

he looks taken aback, as if this was something he'd vaguely considered but never thought would actually happen.

"do ... do you want to?"

his earnestness has you smiling, cutting through the tension, and you meet his eyes properly for the first time since he arrived tonight. he always has this way of making you feel comfortable, his presence alone is like an embrace that calms the racing thoughts that constantly occupy your mind.

it's only now that you're close, so close, you realise that maybe you really do want to --

"i wouldn't suggest it otherwise," you murmur softly as if your heart isn't hammering against your ribcage, shifting nearer to him on the couch but keeping that last bridge of distance for him to close.

his tongue swipes over his lower lip, almost subconsciously demonstrating his wishes as his line of sight drifts down to your mouth. he nods then, dipping his head, only a couple inches of space between you now.

"yeah -- yeah, okay."

you can see how his pupils dilate as you reach out to slip his glasses off, setting them down on the coffee table, cupping his face in your hands.

he returns your smile at that gesture, just the slightest hint of nerves in his eyes that disappear when he finally decides to press your lips to yours.

his lips are softer than you imagined ... though until this very moment, you hadn't even realised that this was something you had imagined.

he lets you set the rhythm but doesn't shy away; he meets your movements, your energy at every kiss, letting you stop for a moment to adjust yourself as things progress.

this should feel weird, right? you should have some lingering feeling of awkwardness at making out with your best friend, at taking his hand in yours and setting it down on your thigh to show you want him to touch you?

this was supposed to be a relatively unromantic event, after all. it wasn't meant to be the start of anything. though it was never clinical or unemotional -- you're technically starting a family together, after all, if an entirely unconventional one -- you never foresaw it going down like this.

this feels like something that was meant to happen.

he pulls back ever-so-slightly, lips still grazing against yours as he asks softly, "this okay?"

you nod by way of answer, not wanting to waste another second not kissing him. nanami captures your lips with his again, and with renewed enthusiasm, slips his tongue into your mouth, probing gently and barely hiding the low rumble of a groan deep in his throat.

all thoughts of propriety start to fade into the ether. his hand on your thigh burns hot, shifting up and down the exposed skin. you'd worn a nice dress for the evening, unsure of the dress code for an event as strange as this, but you find yourself grateful for choosing something that fell so far above the knee.

his hands are rougher than his lips but not in an unpleasant way. you figure it's from his only out-of-work hobby that doesn't consist of hanging out with you; his renovation group. nanami is part of a volunteer organisation that helps build and renovate houses for those in need -- as if he couldn't get any more painfully perfect, obviously.

you stay like that for a few more minutes, exploring these new sensations and becoming increasingly more aware of the ball of anticipation burning in your lower stomach. everywhere he touches you feels warm, every soft nip against your lips feels electric.

then, against every instinct in your body, you force yourself to pause to take a few steadying breaths. nanami responds in the same way, pulling his hands back to his own thighs, adjusting his stance on the couch.

he's hard, you can see as much from the awkward way he shuffles in his seat. not to mention the bulge very obviously visible in the front of his slacks -- just seeing it fills you with want, with the need to touch and be touched.

this is moving more fluidly than you had expected, arriving at each decision without a second thought. in that vein, you decide to ask:

"want to head to the bedroom?", hoping you don't sound as desperate as you're feeling. "if you're ready -"

"yes," he responds before you've even finished your sentence. you feel grateful that the eagerness is not one-sided as you get to your feet, taking nanami by the hand to pull him up with you.

when you've reached your room and the door is shut behind you, revealing the modest set up of your freshly-made bed and a single scented candle -- any more than that felt a little too forced, too awkward -- you marvel at the feeling of nanami's hands on your hips, somehow gentle and firm at the same time, manoeuvring you onto the bed with a pre-rehearsed confidence that never verges on forceful.

your head hasn't even hit the pillow before he's kissing you again like he's starving for it. it's messy this time, the gentle exploration from before giving way to something more primal and urgent.

you have to remind yourself that this is your nanami you're kissing. the nanami who was there for you through the most painful college breakups. the nanami who knows your coffee order, who helped zip up the back of your graduation dress.

but now, with his tongue against yours and the stiffness pressing against your stomach, all you can think is why you didn't do this sooner?

just as you're about to combust underneath him, he pulls back, balancing himself on an elbow as his eyes flick down to see how your dress is bunched at the top of your thighs. he closes his eyes, his breaths ragged and unsteady.

"i don't know how--" he whispers, tongue gliding over his kiss-slick lips, "how ... technical you might want to go about this."

you let out a little laugh, craning your neck to kiss his jawline so he knows it's not at his expense.

"i never really thought about the technicalities, but it doesn't have to be too clinical, or anything. i know you, you know me. we can just ... have sex."

"have sex," he repeats slowly, eyes open again, the hint of a grin on his face.

"yeah, have sex!" you answer with a chuckle. "or is there another way you'd like me to phrase it?"

he laughs then too, looking at you again as he shakes his head softly.

"what?" you press him with a mock indignance. "it's rude to laugh at my suggestion, actually. i felt it was pretty accurate."

"i'm not laughing at you," he says gently, lips still curved upwards. "just ... i must have pictured you saying those words a thousand times, and i never thought it -- it's just funny to hear out loud, is all."

it takes you a second to fully comprehend the words as they wash over you.

you'd be ignorant to say that the realisation never dawned on you, but it was something you thought was a relic of your college years. he had blushed a few times too many whenever the topic of sex came up at parties, had a hint of jealousy in his voice when giving advice about one particular ex-boyfriend. at your apartment complex's winter party in senior year, you can tell he was thinking about kissing you.

but that was when you were young and naive, inexperienced with life, and the thought of this nanami desiring you, of picturing you in his life, of imagining what you'd look like spread out underneath him like this --

you lift your head and grab his shirt collar, yanking him in for another kiss. when he's settled back against you, your hands weave down to unbutton his shirt. you feel him smile against your lips as he starts to unzip your dress in return.

you're a mess of limbs as items of clothing get strewn across your bedroom carpet. before long, it's all skin-on-skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours before he grabs your waist and flips you over until you're straddling him.

you feel the length of him pressed against your stomach, hot and painfully hard, but from the way he cups his hand against your neck and starts to kiss your throat, you know he's not going to rush this.

just as you gasp out his name as his teeth nip against your pulse point, he brings his other hand to the apex of your thighs, fingertips resting just over your pubic bone, barely brushing against the sensitive skin.

"want me to touch you?" he mumbles quietly against your throat, the way his breath fans over you making you shiver.

you nod pitifully, hips canting towards him, but he doesn't budge.

"need you to say it," he says low, quiet, thumb shifting down by the millimetre, "need to know how much you want it."

"i want it," you gasp, the arch of your back deepening the closer he gets to your aching core, all concerns about appearing desperate evaporating with every press of his lips to your skin. "i want it, kento, p- please touch me."

nanami obliges, fingertips trailing down until his thumb is brushing over your clit. he slides his hand lower, fingers slipping through your damp lips, and then uses your own wetness to start rubbing you in earnest.

any form of articulate thought slips from your mind, replaced with only those that can get you more of this -- nanami's fingers playing with your clit, the other hand possessively resting at your nape, his cock pressed between you with precum beading at the tip.

you want it in your mouth. you want it inside you, and as you go to shift your hips, nanami shifts his back.

"want to see what you look like when you come first," he says, slipping his middle and ring finger inside you as if to prove he's going about it the right way.

and he really is, because after only a few strokes of his fingers, your vision is getting hazy. you've never been this turned on so quickly before, never felt this desperate, all-consuming urge -- but then again, you've never had a man look at you like this before now either.

you try to focus on the sensation of his fingers stretching you open, his thumb still stroking your clit in the perfect rhythm, but your mind wanders to the thick cock pressed up against you. you want to rub against him, let him fill you up, make him feel good too --

but looking at his face now, pupils blown and lower lip raw from biting down on it, you can tell this is as much for him as it is for you.

less than a minute later it hits you, the explosion of warmth radiates out to every cell in your body, rendering you a boneless mess in nanami's arms.

he holds you as the aftershock subsides, strong arms keeping you steady even when your legs feel as though they've turned to jelly. when you feel capable of supporting yourself, you slide ungracefully from where you were perched on his thighs and fall back against your pillows, head spinning blissfully.

nanami leans down next to you and kisses your forehead, whispering words of praise that fill you with a strange sensation you can't quite place.

"want to take a break?" he ask after a few moments have passed, "or if you're tired, we can try again later --"

"no," you cut him off, turning your head to look at him directly, face splitting into a smile through the post-orgasm haze. "i just need a second is all, i still -- if you want to --"

"i do."

and so to ease yourself back into it, you kiss him slowly, intimately, bodies gently intertwining as he shifts closer to you on the bed. you guide his hands to your chest, gasping as his thumb circles a nipple.

"you're just ... beautiful in a way i don't really have words for," he mumbles, watching you squirm pleasurably under him.

"nanami kento lost for words? a first time for everything," you manage to quip through it all, earning a pinch of the other nipple that turns your laugh into a moan.

"we've plenty more firsts to get through tonight."

at that, nanami shifts halfway down the mattress and gets to his knees, hands gripping your thighs as he spreads them open. he takes his cock in his hand and slowly drags the head through your folds, up and down but not yet penetrating you, appreciating how you're almost sucking him in, the eager way you pull back your legs to accommodate him.

he stays like that for a minute. every time you think he's about to sink in, he holds himself back as if transfixed by the obscene sounds that come from playing with your pussy, of using you to stroke himself off.

he looks to be on the verge of a choice, like his brain is fighting between two options: taking you slow and gentle like you deserve, or sinking in and fucked into you desperately, filling you up until he knows he's bred you, that you're his and only his.

you soon glean that he wants you to actually say it out loud, wants to hear those words he's fantasised about for so long.

"fuck me, kento."

now utterly unable to hold off any longer, he heeds your request, lining up and thrusting inside you in one fluid motion.

it's a pleasant stretch; he's still careful to let you adjust to his size but you're soon relishing the feeling of being so full, and the fucked-out grin on your face spurs him on.

his hips shift back inch by inch until he's almost fully pulled out, letting out a low groan as he sinks back in again, and at that, he knows he's a goner, completely lost to the feeling of his entire length buried inside you.

this is nanami at his most possessive, fucking into you as you're caged in by his strong arms, your knees now pulled back as far as they'll go. the skin on the back of your thighs is raw from your nails digging into them but you don't care, single-minded in your aim to keep the head of his cock brushing against that perfect spot inside you.

your shoulder blades press into your soft pillows as you try to keep from writhing too much, wanting with all of your might to avoid upsetting this perfect rhythm.

above you, nanami's perfect cheekbones are flushed, his brows knit tightly together, your silky walls wrapping tight around his cock in a way that's driving him to the brink sooner than he'd like. against all better judgment, he slows down just slightly, allowing himself to indulge in the sensation.

"you take my cock so well, y'know that?" he mumbles in between quiet grunts, "with that pretty look on your face when i fill you up... you're trying to kill me, i swear to god."

you both laugh breathlessly before yours breaks off in a moan, slurring his name as he speeds up subconsciously. he presses his lips to every inch of your neck, jaw, collarbone, thrusts unrelenting but never too much.

if you weren't already aware of how soaked you are, the slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you provide more than enough proof, melding with the soft squeak of your bedsprings to just about cut through the muffled sound of your moans.

your body now guided more by instinct than intention, you slip your hand down to where your hips are pressed together, two fingers circling the swollen bud of your clit. the angle of his ruts means his cock grazes your fingertips as he pulls out, the desperate rubbing of your hand between your legs spurring him on.

"still want me to come inside you?" he says then, strands of hair coming loose, sticking to his forehead, "want me to fill you up?"

you nod feebly -- the answer clearly not sufficient in itself, since he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours as he meets you for a wet, messy kiss. continuing his question with his lips still touching yours, he asks;

"want me to take care of you? want to be my pretty wife, hm, wanna -- fuck -- wanna be mine, yeah?"

you slur something unintelligible, focusing on the second orgasm gathering quick and hot in your core. you lose your grip on your thighs and fumble to pull your legs back up.

nanami helps to hike your legs back up -- but not in their original position. instead, he guides them until your ankles rest on his shoulders, and after taking just a second to press a kiss to your calf, he sinks back to the hilt. feeling him bottom out, your vision nearly goes white; this new angle allows him to slide in so deep it's practically splitting you open, so deep you can tell he's serious about breeding you.

somehow, the sensation remains just shy of too much -- it's not too much of a stretch or causing too much sensitivity -- it's more than you've ever taken but you honestly feel you could stay like this forever, taking nanami's cock like you were made for it, with him looking down at you with a mixture of reverence and pure lust.

you want him like this for the rest of your life.

"i'm gonna need you to answer, cos I'm pretty close," he half-pleads as if reading your mind, his voice deep and strained, firm chest heaving as the thrusts get messier and less coordinated.

though your mind is near-blank and your lungs feel they can't get enough air, you manage to mumble a "fuck, yes. want -- want you to come inside, kento ... please."

that last word tips him over with you following almost immediately after, clenching around his cock as you feel him pulsing inside you, feeling more full than you've ever felt in your life. his head tips back as he cums, moaning beautiful praise you can just about make out, strands of sentences about you being the only one he wants taking his come, about how he's going to keep fucking you full for as long as it takes.

sparks of electricity reverberate through your body, hips pushing against his as you ride out your orgasm, pretty little whimpers harmonising with nanami's continued praise.

you stay like that for what seems like forever, basking in the wave of pleasure that's just swept you away effortlessly.

everything is just ... warm. purely and blissfully warm. the warmth of his hands still gripping your legs, the warmth of your own breath fanning over your sweaty chest, the warmth between your legs that starts to dribble down the backs of your thighs when nanami pulls out.

for good measure, nanami uses two fingers to push some of his come back inside, grinning as aftershocks pulse around the digits.

you lower your tired legs to rest on the mattress, thighs aching from being bent practically in half, but it's easy to disregard any physical exhaustion when you feel this level of contentment.

nanami's arms are soon wrapped around you, pulling you to rest on top of his chest where you spend some moments of perfect silence.

you can hear his heart beating in his chest, skipping a beat when you angle your head up to meet his gaze again.

"well?" you ask, a smile imbued in your words. "still lost for words?"

"just thinking about how every second of this was worth waiting for," he replies without missing a beat, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches how his answer flusters you.

with one hand behind his head as he rests of the pillow and the other wrapped around your shoulders, nanami looks more relaxed than you've maybe ever seen him.

this is a man who looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown when you reconnected less than a year ago; he's almost unrecognisable now, the dark circles under his eyes have faded, his face filling out a bit more, the smile on his face entirely genuine.

and in this moment you feel a burst of clarity, a sudden realisation that's eluded you since that first night you met in college.

maybe -- just maybe -- you're as good an influence on him as he is on you.

[cvnntagious]

☆ introducing... babydaddy!matt

you were woken up by your loud ringtone and the sound of knocking at your front door, both growing increasingly more impatient. with a groggy stupor, you slid out of your bed, careful not to wake the toddler fast asleep beside you. it wasn't a long walk from your bedroom to your front door in the small apartment you and your daughter lived in, giving you barely enough time to fully wake when you opened the door to feel the sun hit your eyes. you hissed, just hardly able to make out your child's father standing in your doorway with some bags in hand.

"i brought breakfast," matt explained simply, holding up what you were now able to tell were mcdonalds bags, "ya' weren't up? it's almost ten."

your small groan in response only made matt chuckle, pushing past you like he belonged in your home without a care in the world. "so, let me guess, she's still asleep too?" he then asked, turning to look at you shutting and locking your front door.

with a small frown at the way he'd already began to make himself comfortable at your dining table, you nodded apprehensively, crossing your arms to watch him rustle in the bags of food. "she wouldn't go to bed in her own bed last night either, so i had to bring her into mine... she's always a hassle to put to sleep,' you explained, clearly exhausted.

matt's small grin remained on his face as he placed some of the fast food he'd ordered in deliberate spots on the table. "weird, she always falls asleep quickly with me— snug as a little bug," he said, the last words much softer than the ones previously before his eyes flicked up to meet yours, "y'know, she could always start spending the night at my house sometimes." his tone made it seem like this were a new suggestion, as if he hadn't been saying that almost every time he'd come over.

only an exasperated roll of your eyes and the bags he'd brought were empty, placed in three spots - two on one side, and one on the other. "she's not staying there, matt. i already told you, a few hours is enough, then she needs to come home to me." even with how tired you were of always being the one taking care of her, you weren't willing to negotiate on this. you didn't want her staying places without you, and that was final.

he gave you another chuckle, this time a bit bitter as he shook his head. "i just don't see how else you're supposed to relieve all your stress," he replied, calm and collected as he could be as he made his way into your bedroom.

"I could think of a few," you quipped, laughing at your own joke.

matt huffed, choosing to ignore your comment and only grumble an incoherent "don't do that shit to me," so he could wake up his sleeping beauty - mazzy. cooing and caressing her soft baby face, he eased her awake before he lifted her out of the warm blankets her small body practically drowned in. he bounced her on his hip as she mumbled in her half-awake state, causing him to whisper things like 'it's okay, daddy's here," and 'how's my pretty girl?' before he walked to the door frame with her.

the sight of her face lit up as she began speaking softly in response to her father was enough to melt your heart, watching the two interact as he carried her all the way to her spot in front of some mcdonald's hotcakes. your features softened as he buckled her into her highchair, gentle in ways you'd never seen him be to anyone else with your guys' daughter.

he looked great in that plain white t-shirt, tattoos covering his arm, bent over to cut up the pancakes for his (your guys') child. his key fab dangled from his jeans, swaying with each movement. you couldn't help but feel your heart begin to beat a little, trying not to admire the way his curly, shiny brunette tufts of hair would shift on his head whenever he'd speak in such an adorable tone.

"it's times like these where i start to wonder why we ever broke up," you said mindlessly, not even expecting him to catch his words with how intensely focused he was on mazzy.

of course, to your dismay, matt's eyes instantly flicked up to meet yours once again, this time a bit of an unreadable darkness to them. "mhm... i can think of a few."

w/c : 767

[devoutekuna]

Getting woken up by his child

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

A/N- Toji's part is from my previous blog

Sukuna

"Get out" Gripping the poor boy by his shoulders, only making him kick and squeak for you even more. He was sick and tired of his son coming to wake you up in the middle of the night. Especially when it wasn't anything important. He treasured his alone time with you, anywhere away from his offspring who did nothing but terrorizing him.

"Get off!" Trying to slap and kick his father, taking the boy out of the shared bedroom, dropping him onto the ground before closing the door on him. The pink haired man walked back to your sleeping body, smirking at the sound of his son's pleas.

Nanami-

"Why do you need mummy?" Rolling over to fair the fair haired toddler, who was climbing onto the bed, trying to use his legs as a handle bar. A giant grin appearing on his face as he saw his parent. "Papa!" Hands sticking out as he wanted to get on the bed. "Upsies" picking up the kid as he sat him on his chest. Gently pinching his cheek as he waited for a response. "Me hungry" pointing to himself as he expected food to appear. Sighing as he knew that he had to tend to his son's needs but didn't want to leave his beautiful wife. Sitting up as he slipped on some slippers, latching the kid onto his hip.

Geto-

Hands wrapped around your waist as he held you close, his chest touching your back. Feeling the light taps of someone on his shoulders, glancing back to see who the culprit was. None other than his daughter. "Dad" tugging on his hair as it was the closest. "What is it sweetheart?" It had to be pretty important to disturb his sleep. "I wanna sleep in here." Not bothering to put up a fuss as he opened up the blanket towards her, quickly slipping under the covers with her toy. Letting out a puff of air as he felt the her body warmth rub against his back.

Gojo-

The feeling of hands slapping his face woke him up. The infamous grin of his son being the first sight to his day. "What the-" grabbing the child's hand as he inspected it, seeing the fresh colour of blue paint along his hand, knowing that it only meant that it was on his face. Sitting up as he grabbed the closest reflective item, seeing the blue paint adorning his face. His surroundings come to light as he scanned the room, hand prints falling upon nearly every surface he could reach. Knowing that you'd freak if you saw the mess he made. "Isn't blue your favourite colour daddy?" He knew exactly what he was doing with the teasing.

Toji-

The feeling of the duvet being pulled off him as he felt a light weight crawl onto his chest, opening his eyes to see the little black haired girl crawling onto his chest, he onesie somehow falling off her. Watching as she fell off onto the bed, slowly making her way over to you, she didn't even notice that he father was awake.

Standing up as she tried to keep her balance, falling over each time till she made her way to you. Hands falling onto your covered face. Growing annoyed as he saw how you slept so peacefully only to be woken up to your needy daughter, especially since you needed the rest because you always took care of her whilst he worked.

"Leave ya' mother alone" dragging the small baby off you. Much to her dismay as she felt her chubby clothed legs being dragged away. "Ma-ma" crying for you already as she felt his calloused hands grab her. Throwing her onto his chest, holding her legs down to make sure she didn't try to escape. "What do you want?" More like an order to respond, knowing that she probably couldn't say it since she was around 14 months old.

"Mama" pointing to your sleeping body, pouting her lips as she really wanted you. Sighing in defeat since he'd have to leave the comfort of his bed.

[theminecraftbee]

"Well hello there Secret Keeper!" Scar says, chipper. "It's a bea-ut-i-ful day today here on the Secret Life server, and I'm here for my daily hearts for winning! I have to say, it is gorgeous today. Really a lot easier to keep the rain away without other players, what with sleeping through the night not being a problem at all! Did you know, by the way, that sleeping and rain are connected? I didn't until recently, but by golly, they sure are! Can you imagine? The world is full of so many strange things."

The Secret Keeper, being a big dumb stone statue, doesn't reply. Scar's beginning to think it's just rude. It sure replies whenever he hits the button, which is the first step in his morning routine these days. He's gotten better at dodging damage, really, even with the nearly infinite hearts! He's just not so good at dodging skeletons and creepers and such that he shouldn't top off every day.

He hits the button. He feels his health return to him. He gets a new task: Win Secret Life.

He snorts, a little bitter, to himself as he reads it and folds it into his pocket. "You know, I don't know if I'm lucky or unlucky that you're such a moron that you don't know what winning means. Your machine is broken."

No response, again, because the Secret Keeper is, as established, a big old dumb rock. Well, whatever. Besides, if he lingers on resentment and upset for too long, it might catch up with him! He's certainly let it catch up with him before. Why, a few days after he'd won, when he really had it sink in that he was for-real alone on a server covered in lightning burn marks and blood, he had a bit of a breakdown! There was sobbing, screaming, yelling at the world, the whole works! And when no one responded then, well--

"Did I just call you a moron? I'm sorry, I didn't mean that!" Scar says. "You know how I get sometimes. The world is beautiful and warm, but sometimes it gets a little hard to breathe around here! Now, where were we... oh, right! The trading post terraforming project! Now, we hit a bit of a snag the other day, what with the wandering traders I'd caught all sort of--dying--and all that, but luckily, more of them might show up any moment, and they really are vital to making the place feel alive and breathing. So today we're taking a break from that to build up some trees!"

He waves his arms like someone is listening. He'd like to imagine someone is. Grian told him he won--just because all the ghosts are quiet now doesn't mean they aren't there! And if that was a moment of temporary insanity, well, he probably--he needs to think it's not, is the thing! He absolutely needs to think it's not.

He hums and gathers more logs. His makeshift tree farms are pretty nice, if he does say so himself. He pauses as he hears distant howling and sighs. "I guess we will also be spending today cleaning up the wolf population! I swear, I have no idea what those people were thinking making a wolf spawner. A man takes a nap for a day and then the entire server is overrun with stupid white animals! And you know, I do hate having to cull the things, but, well, you know me. I've learned how to kill pretty well, I think, and really, dogs are easier to kill than people."

He grabs a sword from his chest and sharpens it. He keeps it perfectly clean so that there isn't too much blood on it. Good thing, too; most of the blood would probably be his. He's a bit clumsy, after all. He cuts his fingers on it all the time. No matter how well he bandages up his hands, he just keeps making them bleed, drip, drip, dripping blood on every path he walks down. No matter how hard he works to clean up his massive building projects, the little splatters of blood follow him, so he's sticking to dark colors where he can.

The flowers will probably show the blood, he thinks. The flowers and trees he's building. Hopefully, the blood doesn't stand out too much. It feels wrong, in a world where there are no bodies.

He stands up. He heads in the direction of today's pack of unwanted pests. He sighs. "You know, I know your question is, well gosh, Scar! All the previous winners died. When are you going to finish it off and kill yourself? And wow, that's a pretty dark question. You should be ashamed of yourself for asking, really." He laughs. It's not funny. Who cares.

Instead, he shakes his head.

"And, well, you have to understand. I'm not done building yet! I can make my base so much nicer looking! And besides, you're still handing me hearts. If I get hurt, I can just come back and get more from you! If you want to die, you have to kill me yourself. You fucking cowards!"

No response.

He sighs. "Well, that's enough of that for today. Sorry, I'm feeling kind of morose. It's all this sunshine! Can't be good for a man. Did you know populated servers rain more often than unpopulated ones? It's true! It's because people don't sleep enough. But here I am, getting all the sleep I need. Now, time to go kill some dogs and build some trees! I can't think of a better way to spend an afternoon, can you?"

His hands hurt. He ignores it. He ignores a lot of hurt, these days. It's not like it's hard.

[loveforneteyam]

Hello! I would like to request for Neteyam x reader angst-to-fluff headcanons for how he would react if his s/o flinched during an argument, please and thank you!

❝flinch❞ ( neteyam suli )

summary: even in the heat of an argument, neteyam wouldn't dare to hurt you, so it breaks his heart when you think otherwise. pairing: neteyam x omaticaya!reader wordcount: 782 contains: some angst! fighting/arguments, neteyam's kinda mean note: my first request and first fic! this idea is so good!this is so perfect for our favorite boy. i'm not the best at headcanons, i hope this is good...thank you for your request!

ma syulang : my flower ma txe'lan : my heart

masterlist

You and Neteyam don't easily argue. Every relationship has a few up's and down's, but you have always been able to calmly work through it. You know just how to calm him down if he's ever stressed or flustered with his duties as the future olo'eyktan, and he knows just how to soothe your nerves.

So when you have your first real, emotional argument, it's completely unexpected.

Neteyam had an exhausting day that consisted of keeping Lo'ak in check, making sure that Tuk wasn't running off into the forest again, and following any other orders that his father gave. Most of the time, Neteyam could compose himself until he'd join you in bed at night and you would hold him through whatever was bothering him.

However, this particular night, Neteyam returned to your shared tent in silence. You could see the frustration in his eyes, so you immediately ran to console him. "What is wrong, ma 'Teyam?"

"Nothing, ma syulang." He was lying and you could tell. He practically threw his bow onto its stand. You rested your hands on his shoulders. "Please, it has been a long day."

"Let me help you," you cooed, pulling him to a seat. He sat down and you began to pluck the colorful feathers from his braids. You'd collected newer, cleaner ones earlier that day. "Is it your father?"

"It is not just him, (y/n)," he sounded annoyed with you and you couldn't tell why. What had you done to bother him in the few minutes he'd been home? "I just want to go to sleep."

You pressed a kiss to his temple. "I found new feathers today, ma txe'lan. Let me remove these and then we may rest."

He huffed out a harsh sigh that felt like a cut in your heart. Your hands stopped their movements; your eyes softened. "Neteyam...have I done something wrong?"

The only thing that was wrong was that Neteyam felt like all of his responsibilities during the day were piling up on top of him. Although he loved to spend time with you more than anything else, it felt suffocating to be insistently questioned when all he wanted was to fall asleep with you in his arms.

Unfortunately, he didn't communicate it that way. "Ma (y/n)," his voice was unusually deep and agitated. "I want to be left alone."

Alone? This was completely foreign to you. Neteyam had never wanted to be alone before. "What did I do?" Your voice almost cracked as tears collected in your eyes.

"You have been irritating me this whole time!" He shot up from his seat, causing you to stumble onto your bottom, knocking over the small bowl of feathers that you collected. "When I come home, I just want to spend time with you...I do not want to be bothered!"

Neteyam had never raised his voice at you like this. When he turned towards you, you closed your eyes and flinched your head to the side. His heart broke.

It was silent for a few moments. Your eyes remained shut until you noticed that Neteyam could barely breathe. When you looked to him, his lips parted with small, panicked breaths. "Ma syulang..." he began, falling to his knees and moving closer to you.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, trying to ignore the tears that were now evidently running down your cheeks.

He shook his head while you tried to hurriedly collect the feathers in the bowl again. "Oh, (y/n)," his hand gently grabbed yours. You would not meet his eyes. "I would never hurt you. I am sorry."

"'S alright, Neteyam."

Neteyam pulled you to him and cupped your face with his hand, gently rubbing the tears away. "You've done nothing wrong. I should never raise my voice like that with you, I'm so sorry, ma (y/n)." You leaned into his hand and wrapped your arms around him to pull him closer to your frame. He embraced you, holding your head to his chest. "Please, don't cry, I would never hurt you. I'm so sorry, can you ever forgive me?"

[devoted-tiefling]

a/n: my astarion brain rot has produced a thing. i've finally obsessed over this stupid scene to the point where i regurgitated this. have fun becos i certainly didn't

warning: allusions to spoilers, allusions to a lot of astarion's scenes, spoilers okay there's spoilers, mentions of mistreatment by others, no names or pronouns but this is my blind tiefling ranger oc, still in second person reader insert point of view though LOL

You sat almost stock still, your eyes looking like they were staring thoughtfully into the bonfire but, in reality, you saw only darkness. Your tiefling ears, though, heard everything. They twitched as you took stock of where everyone was.

Your bear familiar laid beside you, his fur brushing against your side, his head pressed to the outside of your thigh. You could hear the ever present grinding of Lae'zel as she sharpened her weapons for the dozenth time. You couldn't hear Shadowheart but she meditated so often that it was common not to know.

Wyll was somewhere near his tent, rifling through his things, preparing for the journey ahead. Gale was looking at himself using magic.

Of course, all of that didn't seem to matter because Astarion, as always, sat silently beside you, his calloused fingers making pleasant sounds against the parchment of the book he was leafing through.

"Astarion," you called out, your own hand still laid atop your bear's sleeping head "Can I ask you for a favor?"

Astarion stopped flicking through the book in his lap to hum, his red eyes darting to you in suspicion. "And what would your favor be, darling?"

You wouldn't have been able to tell, of course, seeing as you couldn't see, but he looked at you with a doubt that could only come from people who've been burned by others too much.

When he had hummed, you turned your head to face him, the jewels hanging from your horns twinkling. Your eyes were unseeing but Astarion always felt slightly unnerved by how it felt like they were staring straight into him.

Your hands lifted into the air, poised as if you were cupping some invisible thing in between them "Can I touch your face?"

Astarion was definitely taken aback. He even flinched a little, eyebrows scrunching, mind reeling.

You were asking to touch his face?

When you didn't hear a response, you smiled almost sadly, a pitying chuckle leaving your lips "Sorry, i-it's fine if it makes you uncomfortable. You don't have to. I know some people react badly when I ask."

"It's just. I'm able to find my way around through the noise and my other senses but I've never been able to put physical features to all of your names and voices." You explained, fingers curling a little, hesitating, hovering as if you weren't sure you could convince him "But out of everyone, I've especially wanted to know the face behind your melodic voice."

That didn't end up clarifying anything for Astarion.

First of all, though he'd been through his share of flattery and praise, he'd never heard his voice described as melodic before.

Second, he'd never told anyone but even he didn't know what he looked like. Astarion had a mirror he'd carry with him, something to peer into with desperation, but he always saw the same thing he'd always see: nothing.

That was, maybe, where his hesitation came from. He didn't know how monstrous he looked as a vampire.

Not hideous, of course. He knew he was handsome because he'd been able to lure many a woman and even a few men to their demises. No, he feared he looked monstrous the same way Cazzador looked monstrous; more than beautiful enough but always the cruelty bled through and revealed itself.

Still, Astarion couldn't find it in himself to deny you. You, who so graciously defended him against all the others in your little group. You, who bled for him every night and still looked at him like he had some humanity left in him. You, who intrigued him at every step.

"Perhaps you can tell me what I look like then." He decided to joke in that same pompous tone he used when he felt a bit too vulnerable "I haven't been able to see myself in hundreds of years."

You frowned at that but your expression immediately turned to one of curiosity "Really?"

"Astarion nodded before moving to place his face into your hands.

Your hands were almost unbearably warm against his almost chilling skin, your claws, as long as his, brushing against the apples of his cheeks.

As soon as you realised his face was in your hands, your face scrunched into an expression of concentration.

First, you brushed your thumbs over his skin, under his eyes, to his cheeks, up to his temples. You looked contemplating, like you really were forming a picture in your mind.

"Well, you have very nice laugh lines." You smiled, gently, sweetly, in a way that made Astarion's undead heart almost beat.

"Preposterous. I'm a vampire, not your homely grandmother. I do not age." He answered you, rolling his eyes, and you could feel the way his expression contorted into an exasperated one underneath your very hands.

You just laughed "I like it. You know, you sound very handsome when you laugh."

Another exasperated noise but you ignored it in favour of brushing your thumbs over his eyebrows "I can tell you furrow your eyebrows often."

"You can tell something like that?" Astarion sounded disbelieving.

You nodded "I lived in Baldur's Gate but we didn't have a home really. We moved from place to place. But I had my own little ragtag family and they would let me practice on their faces; they'd let me touch as they laughed and smiled and grew angry or sad."

Astarion almost wanted to ask you to continue but, from your expression, he felt as if it wasn't the time or place.

"My mother always fretted over everyone; she'd have wrinkles right here because she furrowed her eyebrows so much." You pressed in between Astarion's eyebrows, thumb running over it as if trying to flatten away his worries, before moving back to the corners of his eyes "And whenever my friend smiled, her eyes would upturn right here."

"I bet you look gorgeous smiling, Astarion."

Then, you moved on, moving back down his face, down to his lips. You traced the corners of his mouth, feeling for something that Astarion couldn't understand.

All of it was beyond Astarion's comprehension. He wasn't a stranger to compliments but it felt like yours reached somewhere deep inside him and brought it peace.

Something about it all both tranquilized him and unnerved him all the same.

"You must smirk a lot. I bet you look boyishly handsome when you do. Your voice always sounded so mischievous to me." You huffed, sounding jokingly tired of his antics before running your left thumb over his lips, feeling both the softness and the roughness of it under your fingertip "And you bite your lips a lot. I can feel the scars of it. Though I doubt it would be noticeable to anyone else. Your lips are soft either way. It's a very pretty shape."

Astarion recalled all the countless nights of him biting away cries of pain, cries of agony, the way he'd always bite his lip in frustration and anger. Nobody had ever noticed that, not until you, and it felt like sharing a secret.

Then, as suddenly as your request had come, you pulled away, that gentle touch that soothed a part of Astarion gone as soon as it had been offered.

"Sorry." You looked sheepish, embarrassed "I know a lot of people don't like others touching their face, especially a Tiefling."

Before you could truly pull away though, Astarion pulled your hands back to his face, sandwiching them in between his cold calloused palms and the soft chill of his cheeks.

"It's fine, darling, I don't care." He tried to build his walls back up and, at the same time, let you in "I, for one, always welcome compliments, no matter what the type."

Your thumbs hesitantly, slowly, reached his eyes. You felt his eyelashes flutter close before you were feeling his eyelids, velveteen and twitching. Your thumbs mapped over it, over the shape and the dips of his eyes.

"What color are your eyes?" Your thumbs moved on, again feeling the corners of his eyes, brushing over them in circles as if comforting Astarion somewhat.

"Red, like any vampire's." Astarion answered easily enough, swallowing down a memory of Cazzador's striking red eyes.

"I can tell they're very kind; sharp around the corners but round everywhere else. I bet your stare is very enchanting." You laughed a little in that breathy tinkling way you always did.

Astarion frowned a little, still disbelieving, unable to accept words like 'kind' to describe him.

Then, finally, your hands moved away from his face entirely, your fingers suddenly combing through his hair, feeling it in between your fingers and with your very fingertips "Oh, you have such curly hair!"

"It used to be something else, I think." He tried to recall but quickly grew frustrated when the information didn't come easily "But now it's white."

"Oh, Astarion." You sighed, hands finally coming out of his hair to cup his cheeks "You're so handsome. I'm so glad to finally know what you look like."

Astarion nodded, trying to brush your painfully sincere words off but, instead, they struck him, buried deep inside him.

If you felt a slight bit of wetness in the corners of his eyes, you didn't mention it.

[aspenous]

As an absolute sucker for A/B/O Au's I love the idea of Kim Suho getting thrown into that kind of verse.

Imagine living your life, dying (?) And waking up to the concept of alpha, beta & omegas being the norm???

Plus the number of changes he'd have to deal with in his new body (omega!Lloyd hc).

This naturally brings only trouble for Javier (ノ^o^)ノ

It turned into a ramble more than anything tbh. Don't mind that <3 if there's anything plot vise I forgot/overlooked thru this it's cause my memory is A s s)

Javier POV lowkey:

Lloyd couldn't get any weirder. To add onto his sudden change in demeanor, he'd begun to get reckless with his scent as well. A scent similar to a Clementine or Tangerine that wafts in waves whenever Lloyd is particularly pleased with himself or got his way with another contract. Its a sharp contrast to the smell of booze everyone was used to, and it more often than not left a few townsmen sputtering when they spoke with him. Javier was left to deal with this change too, except he was beside his master 24/7. When that scent would hit him full force every morning, leave his nose twitching when Lloyd gets into the rhythms of his new work and when it calms into something comforting around noon; when the days almost gone and Lloyd decides to rest.

Javier first chokes up this lack of scent control to Lloyd's cold turkey sobriety. But it's been weeks now. Almost two months and Lloyd still hasn't tried to restrain his scent. Worse, others seem to be picking up on it as well. Loitering around the young master when they get the chance, chatting it up now that Lloyd wasn't defaulting to throwing chairs and yelling. Lloyd himself doesn't seem to enjoy it either; after a few minutes of chatter his lip would start to twitch and that scent of Tangerine (it was definitely closer to tangerines than clementines) would sour. Javier learns to take that as close enough a hint to pry his master away from the crowd, spill a white lie about how he's needed elsewhere and get Lloyd some air. He tries not to be pleased about how Lloyd visibly relaxes when it's just the two of them.

"Master Lloyd–" Javier is at his wits end. He's a patient man. Strong willed and resilient when it comes to most obstacles. His Master however? His loud , arragont, obnoxious at times master being this stupid? Javier is a patient man but he's a man nonetheless. A Knight who's had to deal with his masters turbulent scent that just doesn't want to leave him alone. And worse, Lloyd turns back to him with a genuine look of confusion (as genuine as it can be). Javier ends up questioning his master through a locked face and Lloyd in response looks bewildered. "The drinking must have hit me worse than I thought" is all he gets. Javier refuses the sleeping spell that night, throws a hand over his masters mouth before he can get a word in and declares to help him control his scent again. From then on they spend an hour every night before bed going through the motions, and Lloyd (after months) finally learns to control his own scent. Javier sighs in relief, and tries not to think about how he misses that familiar tangerine scent.

Master Lloyd seems to loose his filter as well. Not when around the staff, count or contracted men he's hired no. Only when it's just the two of them, in a moment of what Javier could've hoped was peace before his master opens his mouth. "You smell like mint." he says unabashed. "I'm safe when you're here aren't I?" He laughs with no shame. "I trust you." He declares. Javier understands this is comradery of some kind. A trust and faith in him that no one else has given him before. His master is far too good at feeding that quiet voice in the back of his mind, and Javier let's him. (Alpha instincts have low standards lmao)

It's after they get back to the estate that Lloyd gets his heat. It's not hard to notice. He asks for seconds during meals, sleeps late into the mornings, speaks more with his summons than with anyone outside the estate and avoids half the staff like the plague. It's rather obvious when that overripe scent of tangerine clings to his skin and his expressions screams dazed more than anything. The count had noticed, Javier had as well, but Lloyd hadn't. Despite being days into Pre-heat, his master still drags himself out of bed and goes about the motions, despite how miserable he looks. It ends up being Javier's job (once again) to pull him aside and question him. "My what-" is all he gets before Javier realizes he has more on his plate than he expected.

(+I like to think heats can be sexual and non-sexual given the circumstances!)

His pillow is missing. Javier turns his room inside out and still can't find it. He assumes he'd left it where he last slept; Lloyd's room. When he enters said room however, he doubts he would've found it if he tried. The beds drowned in pillows and blankets. The summons are jumping around in their own world until they notice Javier and greet him with small chirps and sounds. Javier ends up smelling Lloyd coming before the door opens. Sweet Tangerine and hints of earth that hit him when the door opens. He finds his pillow then, tucked under his masters arm as if it belonged there. Javier blanks out for a moment. "Ah Javier! Great timing. I was just looking for you." Lloyd smiles. Something often quiet in Javier's gut comes to life then and there. He doesn't end up on the chair that night. Lloyd doesn't let him. Spouts nonsense about how the chair isn't comfortable and how important sleeping positions are and only shuts up when Javier relents. He ends up in Lloyd's nest, the only barrier between him and the other being his own damned pillow. He falls asleep without the sleeping spell that night.

That's it for now? That's a lie my brains rattling with more HCs but I should stop here lmao. If people like this word vomit I'll make a part 2.

[forgetmaenott]

Experimentation - SHOWTIME

SUMMARY: Pomni isn't sure if Caine knows what he feels towards her, so she experiments a little bit. She's just curious. Nothing else. Nothing at all.

a/n: Title is also a double meaning for me, as this fic was written more so as practice for the sillies more than anything else. So apologies If it's a bit all over the place. I wasn't going to upload but Showtime fans are deprived of content so I will give you what you need 🙏

Pomni was far from oblivious to the things that Caine did to impress her.

Initially, it had been small attempts at making her happy--no doubt as a result of her first few adventures being particularly unpleasant. Caine didn't seem to understand most things about human responses, but it was of Pomni's understanding that it was in his programming to make everyone happy. And Pomni, from day one, had made it exceedingly clear just how unhappy she was. If anything, she was a challenge to Caine's coding, just begging to be fixed. Why wouldn't he put in a slight more effort for one of his superstars?

With time, though, his check-ins and side quests for her grew into...something else. Lingering touches on her hand or shoulder, seeking opportunities to show her, and only her, a preview of an upcoming adventure. Sometimes she caught his lingering gazes, his artificial eyes searching for validation of his work, and it made her wish to shrink away. He'd move his thumb lightly across her hand experimentally, sending a rush of nerves through Pomni's system. Or he'd fly around excitedly--often at the expense of Pomni's stomach--to show her something new he had coded into the circus. Or he'd show up in her room under the guise of a check-in, only to stay and talk with her for nearly an hour. He hung onto her every word, and Pomni had to admit to herself, she rather enjoyed his presence in those times. Getting to explain bits of her real life memories to his fascinated gaze; as she regained the pieces of what real life had been like, he was just beginning to understand it.

Just a day ago, she had found herself mindlessly recounting vague details of reality that she had once adored--the flickering of stars in a quiet night, the humming of crickets, the feeling of a slight breeze, the slight running of water nearby. She didn't know where that memory originated from, but she could still feel it. It was strange, not remembering facts but remembering feelings.

And now, she found herself recounting these thoughts as she waited for Caine on a "special adventure", staring at the way the digital stars twinkled in the night sky, and how her wisps of hair gently brushed across her face in the breeze.

His favoritism wasn't subtle, but Pomni had always tried to deny it to her friends. But now, standing here and seeing the ripples on the digital lake, she couldn't help but wonder. Was it really so bad? Wasn't it almost endearing that Caine had found himself so enamored with her? That he was falli--

"Good evening, my dear!"

Pomni stiffened at the sound of her ringmaster's enthusiastic voice, jumping out of her thoughts and flushing at the realization of what she had been considering. "AGH--Caine! How many times have I told you--"

"Ah, apologies, my dear. I just can't help but be over-the-moon about your private adventure!" Caine winked at his not-so-subtle play on words, zipping around excitedly above her.

Pomni rubbed her head. "Uh...okay...that's great," she said quietly.

"Isn't it?? I stayed up ALL night working on this just for you! Not that I need to sleep, of course," he chuckled before lowering to her level, carefully grabbing her hand in both of his, "But I did it! Just for you, dear."

"Just for me?" she repeated mindlessly. Her mind screamed the same words: AI, Program, NOT REAL, but she couldn't help but gaze again at the flickering stars and wonder--

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"O-oh." There it was. His favoritism showing itself once again, his devotion to her and her alone. He brushed his thumb over her knuckles, gazing down at her hand as though he wished to memorize each detail. This was crazy. She couldn't let him be so foolish as to be interested in her, she couldn't let this go any further. "Caine--"

"Ah, ah, ah! This adventure is about you. I have SO much to show you!" His gentleness faded instantaneously from the excitement, the pressure on her hands growing tighter as he pulled her in. Before she could even process the closeness or the fluster, he grabbed her waist and graciously flew her above the lake. He set her down on a digital cloud, which she was able to step on as though it were a solid surface. She avoided looking down, tensing as she looked around her. "As your ringmaster, it is my sole purpose to make YOU and all of your co-stars happy," he exclaimed, pointing an exaggerated finger at her, "and I couldn't help but notice how your mannerisms changed when you told me about your world. My dear...I cannot return you to your world. But perhaps, I can bring your world here."

Pomni's heart skipped a beat at the gesture, which she tried to ignore. This wasn't the same Caine from her bad dreams when she'd first arrived. This was...different. Entirely different. "For...all of us?" she asked slowly.

His demeanor broke for a moment. "Ah--yes, yes. Of course! My role is to assure everyone at the circus is happy," He paused in thought for a moment before he flew down by her side and cautiously approached her, "but admittedly, you've been quite the challenge for me since you've arrived here. You're a bit stubborn, you know."

"Is that a bad thing?" Pomni cracked a smile.

"Not exactly, dear. It's one of my favorite traits of yours. It's what keeps me coming back to you," Caine said with what she assumed was a smile.

Pomni felt a light blush dust her pale face. "I don't think you know what you're saying."

Caine titled his head curiously at her. "Why is that?"

Pomni blinked. He really didn't know what he was saying, did he? Did he even know what he was feeling? Could he even feel anything?

She glanced sidelong at the flickering stars, the lake below her, the way the clouds swirled up and floated around them--enough to give her the courage to test the waters. Before she could listen to the voices in her mind screaming at her, she grabbed his gloved hand in hers. "So...you like that I'm a challenge to your purpose? Or is it something else?" she asked experimentally, hoping the quiver in her voice wasn't too obvious.

Caine's eyes widened at the sudden contact, too afraid to move his hand an inch at the risk that she would let go. Not that Pomni could see his reaction, as she was too busy looking at her red and blue shoes to avoid meeting his gaze with her flushed one. "Something...else? What would that be?"

She lightly traced her index finger along the edge of his hand. Oh, God. She didn't even know what she was doing. How does she even answer a question like that to an AI? "Well...what do you, uh, feel?" She sealed the gap between their fingers, interlacing them together carefully.

If Caine could breathe, his breath would have easily caught in his non-existent throat. "I feel that I want you to be happy."

"Because of your programming? Or...something else?" Pomni said before she could cringe at her own words. She was just asking because she was curious, that was all. She just wanted to know if he knew what romantic feelings even were, nothing more. Or so she told herself.

"Well, I want you to be happy all the time. Because of me. That is my purpose, isn't it?"

Pomni smiled half-heartedly. Intentional or not, he was making this extra difficult for her. "Yeah..." she agreed quietly, a strange pit settling in her stomach. Maybe he was just coded to be this way. Maybe she was just being extra difficult. Before she could think of anything else to say, the sudden sensation of his smooth teeth against her hand sent shockwaves up from her hand and into her digital heart. She stilled at the sensation, gaining the courage to meet his gaze as he lifted his teeth from her hand, a cartoonish flush appearing on his lower jaw.

"But, I do find myself feeling more...drawn to your happiness, dear," he admitted, looking to the side sheepishly. He brushed his thumb against her knuckles where he had left a kiss, causing Pomni to shiver. "My dear? Did I do something wrong?"

Pomni squeezed her pinwheel eues shut, tensing her shoulders. "No, no--Caine you--" she stuttered, "I..." God, what happened to her composure? She had never been like this around him before. But suddenly every movement against his hand sent chills across her body, every thing he'd done to make her happy felt significant, and--oh, God. She couldn't possibly be--

"Darling," Caine said, so quietly Pomni almost couldn't believe it was him. His hand trailed up to the curve of her chin, gazing at her so softly she felt dizzy, "you don't need to worry around me. You've taught me so much about your world, about how the human mind works. So dear...don't be afraid to teach me more."

Pomni couldn't tear her eyes away from his gaze, tongue tied by his intense adoration in his eyes. "What is it you want to know?" she asked quietly, her lips seeming to move before her mind could catch up.

"Anything you have to show me."

There was certianly no way he understood what he was implying.

And there was even less of a chance she was actively considering all the things she could show him. She blushed at the thought.

"Caine?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"I love this. All of this. Everything you've added to the grounds for me. It's sweet of you, and...it really feels a bit more like home. I-I just thought you'd want to know that it...you made me happy. Thank you."

Caine's eyes glistened cartoonishly, unable to tear his eyes from her. "Pomni," he sighed, saying her name for the first time all night somehow felt more intimate than any contact they'd had, "why is it that I feel this way?"

Pomni flushed. "What way?"

"I have made you happy, my very purpose as your ringmaster. But now, I don't want to stop making you happy. I..." he tightened his grip on her hand, "I've never been close like this to anyone before. Truly. Would it be so bold as to call you a friend?"

Pomni struggled to contain an incredulous laugh--he really didn't understand what he felt, did he? "I...think you're becoming a friend to me, as well," she admitted, staring down at their hands still clasped together. He had moved the hand on her face down to hold the top of her hand, gently rubbing circles against it. In the back of her mind, she still felt the imprint of his teeth against her hand, her heart speeding up at the thought. "Caine?"

"Mm?"

"Is it...well, um...would it be okay if...I taught you, one more thing?"

"Why Pomni, I'd love nothing more than that!"

Pomni smiled. "Okay, it's just..." she hesitated, allowing herself to get caught up in the way the stars twinkled around them before tracing her hands up to his chest, then his shoulder, then below his lower jaw. She could see him gazing at her curiously, stiffening at the way her hands slid up him. Before she could regret it or think twice, she moved closer and tilted his teeth to her right before planting a quick, firm kiss to the left side of his lower jaw.

Time stilled for Caine, pupils dilating and jaw frozen slack in place as she pulled away. The stars he had created just for her reflected in his eyes, her touch lingering everywhere they made contact. He didn't even realize he had placed his hand on his lower jaw until he saw her flushed face pulling away. His tongue tied, breath stolen from his metaphorical lungs, he could do nothing but stare at the woman before him that somehow seemed more beautiful than ever under his starlight.

Pomni's heart raced at the way he was looking at her. This was all too much. Why had she even done that? What was going on with her tonight? When he stared at her, frozen in time, her face burned more and she twiddled her thumbs. "U-uh, can you put me down, now?"

It took Caine a moment to register her words. "Y-yes. Of course, darling."

He didn't even have it in him to carry her down with him. No, she had left his code too starstruck with the gesture that mystified him. He simply snapped and the two of them were by the digital lake. She walked towards it and experimentally dipped her gloved finger into the waters, relishing in the sensations around her digits.

She looked back at him with a small smile, his code seeming to thrum excitedly at seeing her joy because of him.

Her taking the next step of intimacy left him confused, to say the least. There was far less about human emotion and mind that he understood, and if anything, the static-like feelings in his chest were nothing short of a mystery to him. Perhaps he'd have to check himself for a bug later.

No matter. He shook the thoughts from his head, the feeling still lingering as her floated by her side, unable to stop smiling at her quiet demeanor. She took in every detail he had added just for her, smiling to herself.

She'd have time to regret her forwardness later. Or scream into her pillow about developing a crush on an AI. For now, there was only this moment.

"Thank you, Caine."

"Anything for you, my dear."

And he meant it.

[tuiccim]

Lost in the Dark (Part 2)

Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 673

Warnings: Dark content! Non/DubCon, and other dark elements. This fic contains dark themes and may include potentially triggering topics. You are solely responsible for your media consumption.

Summary: Bucky has been home for a few days, and you don't think you can take anymore.

A/N: Special thanks to my beta reader @whisperlullaby ! I'm not sure why Dark Bucky keeps rattling around in my brain, but while he's there I may do a few more snippets like this.  

Part 1

Four days he'd been back and he hadn't left you alone for more than a few minutes at a time. It was as if he feared that you would disappear if he took his eyes off of you.

He had fucked you every way he could think of. The serum in his veins made his stamina entirely unmatched. You were exhausted and broken down. It had been almost four months since he had kidnapped you. For the last month, you hadn't spoken a word to him. The occasional sound slipped out but you refused to engage him in hopes he would grow frustrated and let you go. Instead, he was infinitely loving and patient.

Night had fallen and you laid on the bed waiting for him. He had fed you well but your entire body hurt, especially between your legs. You were more sore than you'd ever been. When you felt the bed dip, you braced yourself.

“Come here, baby,” Bucky pulled you against him.

You broke, you couldn't help yourself. It was all too much for you.

“Please,” you sobbed, “please, I can't. Not again.”

“What are you talking about, doll?” Bucky asks solicitously.

“It hurts. I'm so sore. Please don't make me do this,” your body began to wrack with sobs as he held you.

“Aw, baby, why didn't you tell me sooner? It's okay. If you're too sore we don't have to. Here, I'm going to draw you a bath so you can relax,” he kisses your head before swinging out of the bed.

You started shaking and you didn't know why. He was always so calm, it was terrifying. That he had been so understanding made it worse rather than better. He should be angry. He should be holding you down and fucking you without a care for your feelings, but not this man. He was kind and patient. He always made sure you came during sex which annoyed you immensely that your body betrayed you each time. He brought you little gifts and made your favorite foods.

You had smashed his first gift and expected him to go into a rage. He had simply picked up the pieces and said not to worry, he'd glue it back together. He was unwavering. His eternal calm was unsettling.

“Here we go, doll,” Bucky appeared and scooped you up. He carried you to the bathroom and gently laid you in the tub. Your favorite candles burned, all of your products were next to the bath and the water was perfectly hot. You let out a relieved sigh when the warm water enveloped your sore muscles.

“I put some Epsom salt in to help with the muscle aches. This is why you have to talk to me, baby. I can't take care of you well if you won't communicate,” he gently admonishes.

You simply nod. He hands you a glass of wine and then takes up the soap and a washcloth.

You should have known it would be too much to ask for a bath alone. He was always too keen on being with you. He rarely left your side when he was home and when he wasn't the security system still allowed him to keep close tabs.

You decided to just give in. You allowed him to wash you while you drank the glass of wine. He massaged as he cleaned and you found yourself relaxing more than you thought possible. By the time the water had cooled and you stepped out, you felt lightheaded. Bucky dried every inch of you down to your toes and then guided you back to the bed.

As you sat, you felt unusually out of it. The glass of wine had apparently gone straight to your head. You felt like you were in a dream. Bucky gently laid you down and your eyes began to flutter but before you lost consciousness, you heard him whisper, “You know I can't sleep until I've had you. But don't worry, doll, you won't feel a thing. Good night.”

Part 3

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series will be made on Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

[anonymousbardd]

Character Headcanons

꒰ ☕ ꒱ ┊: My Man

↳ Various x FemReader

The following characters are Gun Park, Goo Kim, Samuel Seo, Jake Kim, and Gongseob Ji.

ʚɞ ┊: Gun Park

↳ When he first heard (F/n) call him "my man", because a random girl was drooling all over him, he couldn't help but think about that moment every night before sleep.

'Cause of that, he's been a bit more affectionate which isn't really his thing, this confused his lover a bit but hell she ain't complaining.

Now whenever Gun teases (F/n) he'd say something like, "Come help me out with work, after all, I'm your man, aren't I?"

And now, Gun repeatedly asks what he is to (F/n) whenever they make love in front of the mirror.

ʚɞ ┊: Goo Kim

↳ When Gun had asked what Goo means to (F/n), the blonde man was eavesdropping and was surprised when he heard his lover response.

"Goo...? He's silly and well, goofy, but even so, he's still my man."

He got so excited and came out from his hiding place, catching the young woman off gaurd.

"Cutie piee! I'm your man?! You called me your man!" He kept repeating it over and over again.

(F/n) had been smothered in gifts and kisses the next few weeks after.

ʚɞ ┊: Samuel Seo

↳ It was just a normal kissing session between the two in Samuel's office, it was getting spicy when someone had knocked on the door.

Samuel pulled away and cleared his throat while (F/n) fixed her blouse, Samuel then sighed and let the person who knocked in.

It was a young girl who seemed to be nervous to be there.

"Uh-uhm... Mister Goo Kim wishes to see you..." She said, (F/n) huffed and crossed her arms.

"Tell him that my man is busy and will get to him in a bit," she said in a stern voice.

The young girl nodded and left the room, Samuel turned to (F/n) and chuckled, "Your brother's going to kill me, you know."

(F/n) rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, "I'll take care of him, don't worry."

Samuel chuckled and kissed (F/n)'s lips, before Samuel even got the chance for his lips to reach her neck, Goo came barging in with a sword in his hand ready to remove Samuel's existence.

ʚɞ ┊: Jake Kim

↳ It was a lovely day, Jerry and (F/n) were playfully claiming Jake for themselves.

"Sir Jake belongs to me!" Jerry said, "Nuh-uh! He's mine!" (F/n) argued, Jerry and (F/n) had a sibling like relationship.

They continued to argue like that for a while.

"Humph! Sir Jake is my boss!" He said, "Oh yeah? Well he's my man so let him go!"

Once those words left the young woman's mouth, a grin crept on Jake's lips, the other members who were in the same room stiffened as the atmosphere tensed.

Jake turned to (F/n) and leaned down, "What did you say? Could you repeat that please?" He said.

The young woman shook her head and let go of Jake, "I-it's nothing..! Forget about it!" (F/n) turned to Lua in hopes to get away.

Jake held the young woman's wrist and dragged her out the room, "Come now, I want to hear you repeat what you just called me in bed."

ʚɞ ┊: Gongseob Ji

↳ (F/n) would rather be caught dead than to call Gongseob her man, she's still in pretty much denial phase that the young man had taken interest in her.

Though she slowly started to warm up to him, she still wanted to keep their relationship a secret.

The typical good girl x bad boy romance.

(F/n)'s friends had noticed how close Gongseob is, or rather, how close Gongseob tries to be with (F/n).

Eventually, they asked (F/n) what Gongseob is to her.

(F/n) paused and thought for a moment, then, a random girl was talking about how hot Gongseob was.

(F/n) huffed and crossed her arms, in a loud voice, she stated, "He's MY man, Gongseob Ji is MY man!"

It was loud enough for the girl to hear, and for the passing braided man to also hear.

"Oh-ho ho? You're finally admitting it?" He asked as he wrapped his arms around (F/n)'s waist.

"Humph! Shut it," she replied, still, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pecked him on the lips.

She then shot daggers on the girl who was overly complimenting her lover and stuck out her tongue.

༝༚༝༚𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚍

[bexdrey]

READ MORE???

The sun was setting and Drakken had just landed the hovercar. Another failed attempt and this time Drakken was at his wits end. He got so focused in his own thoughts he had forgotten Shego was with him briefly. She'd tried a few times to get his attention but failed. This confused Shego, normally Drakken would go on and on about how next time would be different. He'd immediately try delving into another plan, but this time was different. This defeat felt worse than the others. Drakken found himself walking down parks path, his hands folded behind his back. His eyes fixated on the ground. Until he paused, lowered his arms and looked up at the sky. "I have failed time and time again. I've done countless plans, some... worse than others, but some of them were brilliant!" Drakken suddenly spoke. "And yet every single one of them end in some kind of failure. Heck, I can't even convince you to come with me to Karaoke night anymore." He didn't meet her gaze and only kicked at the ground slightly before furrowing a brow. He didn't even feel Shego's hand start gently stroking his shoulder. There was a good long pause before he finally spoke once more. "Shego... why do you stick around?" He questioned, his tone unreadable. "With every failure, you complain and tell me everything that went wrong, everything I should've done instead. You'd probably take over the world on your first try if you wanted to." His gaze finally lowered. He stared at the ground for a moment before looking over at Shego, who looked stunned and who's hand had stopped moving. "So why do you keep helping me?" His gaze bore into Shego's, desperately looking for an answer, something that made sense. Shego's hand finally left Drakken's shoulder and she began to run her fingers through her hair. She glanced away, her heart racing. What did she say to this? Did she even know why she stuck around? It was true, she probably could successfully take over the world if she wanted... and yet she didn't have the desire. Something about the thought didn't sit quite right. It was almost like some form of Deja Vu when she thought of it. So then why did she stick around? "Well..." She began before clearing her throat and glancing to the ground, a brow furrowing. "Unlike other villains... I can trust you. I can sleep comfortably at night knowing you aren't gonna try and do something to me while I sleep." She couldn't meet Drakken's gaze as she spoke. She wasn't entirely sure why this was so important to him, it was incredibly rare for Drakken to get like this. Normally she'd give some snappy response, such as the pay being good and her having a free room to bunk in every night instead of some shady hotel. She gave a little shudder at the memories of hotel jumping. "Not to mention you give me my own space to sleep." She muttered slightly. "And you know, you're really fun to bicker with. Easy to mock. Someone like... I dunno, Killigan or Monkey Fist either don't give me good responses or just don't respond at all. You make it interesting." She felt herself relax a little as it seemed she was beginning to understand, herself, why she stuck around. "And you aren't lazy. In fact, I'd say you work a little too much. You're creative, so even though plans fail, there are some that even I fully believed would work." She had stopped playing with her hair at this point and was gesturing with her words. "But I think... I think I stick around because I trust you. You think I'd trust someone like Dementor to help pull off a proper heist? He's too loud! And he doesn't think." She finally met his gaze and Drakken looked surprised. His brow was raised.

"I can't trust anyone else." She stated, matter-of-factly. She remained silent for a moment, trying to garner some expression off Drakken other than processing. "Now, are you gonna mope around the rest of the night feeling sorry for yourself, or are you gonna turn around, get back in the hovercar, take us home and start planning the next 'take over the world' scheme?" With this, Drakken blinked and smirked. "Yeah! You're right, I'm an evil genius, not a sad... lazy... erm.. man!" With this, Drakken turned heel and ran towards the hovercar, but not before grabbing Shego's hand and practically forcing her along. "Come Shego, we've much to do." Of course, at this point, Shego expected these sudden grabs. A part of her even liked them. She'd never admit this though.

--------------------------------------

Weee story and picture :D Mindless doodles turned finished lol

[kitorin]

sweet dreams.

in which, nanami kento finally goes on a long overdue vacation

contents. nanami kento x gn!reader, 2.965k words, fluff but then heavy angst (mcd and hurt no comfort), mentions of murder (true crime stuff) but no detail of it, reader is a coward and really can't handle horror (sorry that's just me projecting)

"What did you do?"

Guilt makes your lips purse, tongue swiping over them out of habit. You didn't want to call him, to interrupt him during the night shift he ever so loathes, contributing to the things he has to do.

But with demons lurking in the dark and the sense of impending doom beginning to latch onto you, it felt necessary, especially when fear decided to be quite clingy.

"I got scared."

A tired sigh comes from the phone. "How many times do I have to tell you not to watch anything disturbing at night?"

"This documentary got really interesting. I wanted to know what happened next..." Explicit content was fine, with Kento there to cling onto and his never-ending reassurance. Your husband watched these intense shows and documentaries without so much of a flinch, unfazed by quite literally everything displayed on the screen.

You, on the other hand, was a completely different case.

The slightest raise in volume managed to steal a scream from you, and jump scares had you flinching just a bit too hard. The mere build up and suspense of the music had your heart racing, even if nothing happened and it served as a little trick.

"I'm so sorry Ken, I'll hang up so you can focus on work." You're an adult, you shouldn't be so cowardly towards a mere genre of entertainment, and you should know better not to consume it.

Your thumb reaches for the red button, and your emotions hold you back, while rationality argues not to.

"No. Neither of us are going to be hanging up."

One part of you celebrates quietly, while another insists. "But you're working. Overtime nonetheless, and I know you hate those shifts. It's best to get everything done as soon as possible and get out of there."

His voice is raspy, garnished by a sultry tone. "Love, I belong to you, not my job. I do appreciate your thoughts, but you're more important than a mere paycheck."

Fuck. There it is, his eloquent, smooth way with words.

"Still. I can wait." That was a lie, though one you were willing to utter if it meant he'd prioritise his job. "Besides, what about that higher up you mentioned? The irritating one that's childish and overtalkative?"

Kento chuckles. "He's here, but he takes his job seriously and is highly capable. I'm on break anyways. Talk to me. If you can."

"I read about the Sapporo murder case. I still feel like the culprits from the case is going to sneak up on me. Or one of the zombies from Happiness." You adored the show and its cast, but god forbid you sit through another one of its jump scares.

"That's fine, it's normal. The point of this type of media is so scare. A lot of effort is put into making sure they elicit emotion." You cling onto every word he speaks, the world around you still there, only a bit blurry now. "Breathe in through your nose for four second, pause for two. Then breathe out through your mout for another eight."

Have you brushed your teeth?"

Kento hums as a response when you answer yes.

"Where are you right now?"

"In bed, but I need to clean up and turn off some lights before I sleep."

"Ignore it. I'll do it when I'm home."

"Are you sure?" There was no point in asking that, not when you'd rather not move away from the security of the doona. "You're going to be exhausted by the time you're home."

"Doesn't matter to me." Genuine indifference to the matter displays itself in Kento's tone. "I took a nap earlier, had a coffee or two as well. I'm going to be alright—" Something in the background echoes, though you could barely decipher what you were hearing, the furious tone of the voice concerned you.

"Who was that...? Is your boss mad at you? Wait but it doesn't make sense for a boss to give you a nickname—"

For a moment or two, Kento remained silent. "No, just an enthusiastic intern. He's talkative and sometimes loud but he's a good kid."

Your former worry dissipates, so quick that it almost seemed like it was never there in the first place. "Nanamin, was it?"

He sighs, the two of you know damn well that you'll refuse to forget that one.

"It's cute! Nanamin. I like how it sounds."

Voice softening, he replies with a chuckle. "I feel like you'd get along well."

"You should invite him over then. He must adore you if he's calling out to you that much."

"If that's true then I'd say the feeling is quite mutual." All you have is his voice, yet you can say without a doubt that he's beaming, a subtlety only you'll ever know— one of the many which compose the love between the two of you.

"Keep working." You whisper as a yawn claws out of your throat.

"Are you sure? Are you okay now?"

You nod, though he can't see it. "I am. Just listening to you helps a lot."

"I'm glad."

"Do your best at work, okay? And make sure you stay safe on the way home?" You hold back a grin, even though you're alone in your shared bedroom. "I have a surprise for you when you get home."

Kento piques with curiosity. "Really?"

"Yup, I think you'll love it." You stare at your bedside table, where tickets to Malaysia were stored. "I hope you do, at least."

"If it's coming from you of course I'll love it sweetheart." It's miraculous really, how you've been together for so long yet you have to suppress the urge to squeal over his sweet words. "My boss is going to start making me work again, good night darling. Sweet dreams, love."

You fall asleep with ease that night, this time with welcomed thoughts of spending time with Kento on the shore of Kuantan, running around whilst cherishing the cold, salty water licking at your ankles; rather than the intrusive thoughts from earlier.

"You could've kept talking to them. I wouldn't've told anyone even if it took a lot of time."

Fushiguro Megumi is examining the sharpness of his blade when he reassures his teacher Nanami Kento, not looking up from his weapon, seated by the railing of the bridge.

"I appreciate that, but it'd be wrong of you." He moves his shoulders in circles, loosening his tie to wrap it around his knuckles. "I can teach you other methods."

"Pardon?"

Nanami crouches in front of Megumi. "Your breathing changed when I told them how to." The student doesn't respond. "It varies from person to person, I've tested out a lot."

Megumi still doesn't answer, averting his gaze towards the weapon that he held down.

"Fushiguro - kun. Are you scared?"

The younger finally speaks once more. "... I guess." Hesitation presents itself in his words, barely stable and his reluctance to maintain eye contact. "I won't let that stop me from completing my tasks—"

"It's okay. You're merely sixteen, you're not even old enough to drink, nor get your driver's licence."

Megumi returns to silence.

"Look at me." And so Megumi does. "To be a child is not a sin. I'm perfectly fine with withdrawing you from this operation if it's too much."

"Wouldn't that get you in trouble?"

Indeed he would. He'd tolerate plenty of discipline and anger from the higher ups. But Nanami Kento knows too well what it's like to risk you and your peers for a 'greater good', at nonetheless a ridiculously young age too—an age where you're supposed to go to regular school and be regular, stupid kids figuring themselves out; not witnessing the death of the ones dear to your heart with the sight of their corpses forever imprinted into your mind, nor have the stench of blood memorised meticulously instead of historical dates or mathematical formulas.

If it were up to him, he'd prohibit such exploitation of children. None should be performing such tasks, even if born with an advantageous cursed technique.

If the higher ups adopted the same philosophy as him, Haibara would be alive and well, and Nanami wouldn't feel his stomach lurch whenever he sees a bowl of rice, nor flinch whenever he hears the mention of Geto Suguru. 

'I don't mind if it means you'll be at ease. Gojo can protect me, and if I'm unable to extract you from this operation then I'll handle everything."

Megumi takes a deep breath. "I shouldn't run away. I'll do my best. I have Tsumiki I need to return to. We should go find Itadori now."

“If you say so then, but it’s still my duty to protect you.” With a final, strong tug he tightens his tie around his knuckles. “I can't guarantee any results, not in this instable world and career. What I can promise, is that I will protect you with my life."

A determined nod from Megumi is all he needs.

Quick and efficient; that's the plan. Shibuya was already a mess, and all he wanted was the security of your arms within the four walls he calls 'home'.

"Thank you for having us."

Megumi, the one with the messy, black hair speaks coldly, though very politely, his manners were courteous and so was Yuuji. They'd come to your door and introduced themselves as interns at Kento's company. Now, they were seated in your living room, on your couch.

"Don't mention it, Ken's always been fond of the interns." You already miss him, he must've stayed overnight at the company again. "Are you okay with first names?"

Both nod.

You smile. "So, Yuuji, Megumi, what have you come here for?"

Yuuji speaks first. "It's about Nanamin, I mean Nanami—"

Without malicious attempt you cut him off. "Nanamin is fine, I overheard you calling him that last night. He was fond of it, it was quite cute after all." You chuckle to yourself at it. 

The boy swallows, appearing apprehensive. He sounded so enthusiastic last night, perhaps he was the type who needed to warm up towards people first.

"Well, um."

You don't say anything, giving him time to respond comfortably.

"Nanami sensei passed away last night." Megumi finishes what Yuuji couldn't.

Your heart drops.

Temptation to make an accusation of a prank attempts to claw out of your throat, but with how their expressions scream nausea and discomfort, it'd be rude to do so.

That explained why he never kept his promise of finishing up on chores, knowing Kento he would’ve done everything to make sure he made it home to do as he said he would. 

"What happened?" It doesn't feel right— and it isn't at all, but you have to figure out the truth, even if this all doesn't seem real.

"There was a fire." Yuuji whispers, barely loud enough and coherent with the tremble of his voice. "And he didn't make it out in time."

You remain silent, so does Megumi. Yuuji bites his lip, suppressing what seemed to be a sob.

"I see."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. If only—" It drowns out in his bawling. "It was my fault. He—"

He completely lacked incoherency now, hiccuping as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"He helped us first." Megumi once again continues Yuuji's words. "But they recovered his body, we brought you his ashes."

He pulls out a package from his shoulder bag, wrapping it to reveal a pale blue funerary urn. Megumi places it onto the table.

"I'm sorry. If I had been capable of protecting myself he wouldn't've died saving me."

Your gaze meets Megumi’s, you're too afraid to properly acknowledge the urn, where your boyfriend was supposedly resting.

Silence permeates the air, Yuuji bites his sleeve to suppress his crying and Megumi breathes shakily.

"Don't apologise. You have no reason to. Neither of you." You've barely known the two, but the way Yuuji was sobbing broke your heart, and how both seemed to genuinely believe they caused Kento's passing. "It's not your fault. I don't think it is, and he would agree with him. He made the choice to help you, because he cared deeply for both of you. You can cry freely, I won't stop you." You muster a smile, hoping it'll be comforting in some sort of way. They're only kids, they can't be blaming themselves for the death of another they didn't cause.

Yuuji's teeth release the sleeve of his hoodie, hiccuping out what sounded like a thank you. You push a tissue box towards him, to which he accepts the offer.

"You idiot…” Megumi sniffles a bit.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be fine.” You pat him on the back, rubbing it too. You give him your phone, opening a new contact. “I’d like to invite you two to the funeral, can I have your contact details? In the meantime I’ll make some tea.”

You earn a nod, and are quick to retreat into the kitchen, hand holding your mouth shut as you slowly cry, pleading for Yuuji and Megumi to be unable to hear. 

"Kento! We're here, at Kuantan!"

After a long flight and travel, you finally arrived at your destination, you had dropped your luggage off at the accommodation, the urn Megumi had given you was held up against your chest.

I've always wanted to go to Kuantan, in Malaysia. One day I'd like to build a house on a secluded beach and live there. Of course with you, if you were okay with it.

You take off your sandals, tossing them away as you approach the shoreline, the coolness of the water catching you off guard. You continue walking, until it reaches halfway up your calves.

Off goes the lid of the urn, and you toss the ashes into the beach, watching the waves swallow Kento whole. It's not long before the urn is empty, you've never had to scatter someone's ashes, yet it felt like something was missing.

In all honesty, you have no idea if Kento wanted to be cremated, you've never touched on the subject of death, probably because the two of you were so young.

But something tells you this is the right decision. Kuantan's beautiful, and he wanted to go when work and money permitted him to do so. He'd loved to read a book under the shade of that large tree over there, and would've wanted to try fishing at the rock ledge nearby. It was just the two of you here, even better.

Fuck.

As you watch him swim into the ocean, you notice the tears threatening to spill. You don't bother trying to avoid it, not that you would've been able to.

"It's not fair!" You yell, out into the ocean. You don't blame Yuuji, or Megumi, or anyone, but you're still livid. "I miss you, I miss you so much that it gets hard to breathe."

The ring box feels heavy in your pocket.

"If you had to leave this world early you could've done it later." Your cry becomes a sob. "Just one month, then I could've fucking proposed. I don't need a honeymoon or marriage, I just want your fucking answer."

In an ideal world, you'd like to think that he would've accepted without hesitation, but that fantasy doesn't compare to the pain of remaining oblivious to his answer forever.

"Who's going to comfort me now? Who am I going to spend the rest of my life with? Who am I going to cook dinner with? What about Yuuji and Megumi? They had to finish their internships without you. Do you know how hard Yuuji cried when he came to tell me you passed away?"

By no means are you mad at Kento, you could never. But anger that slowly accumulated in your heart for the past few months, and had erupted. The empty coldness of your bed stings, and the amount of cutlery required being halved overwhelms you with misery. You can’t even laugh at his high school photos anymore, the amusement from his ridiculous haircut can’t triumph over the fact that he had passed away a mere ten years later. 

You’d much rather store it all away, each and every possession and photo of the man. The sight of his favourite mug serves as a harsh reminder that morning coffee with him will never happen. Listening to old voice mails seemed reassuring and almost lulled you to sleep, until you had to come to terms that he was truly gone once more. 

But at least sound can be captured.

What about his scent? Eventually his clothes would lose their scent, they probably were already on that course, even with your refusal to wash them. Touch can’t be preserved, you can cling onto the memory of your skin against his for as long as you want, but you’ll never truly experience it again.

“Goodbye Kento!” Despite your miserable state you pull yourself together just enough so you can see him off with a smile. “I love you, so so much. More than anything in the world, I always will! Thank you, for being there. Th-thank you for loving me.”

You've lost the energy to yell, throat now hoarse. You venture deeper into the shore, not caring about your clothes getting wet, as your face gets soaked with your own tears.

Who's fault is it? Was it the culprit of the fire (if there was one)? Or perhaps yours, for not proposing earlier. Maybe then he would've been safe and sound in Kuantan, after taking leave. Perchance it was the heavens deciding they’d rather just not authorise him to spend the rest of his name.

Whoever it was, it doesn't matter. Nothing could bring back the warmth of Nanami Kento. 

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© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[mvrtaiswriting]

So excited for the writing event!!! Can I please request drunk prompt #7 with Zoro or Kid? I think it would be super funny for either of them to be really awkward the next morning after drunkenly kissing someone. Or maybe the reader drunkenly kissed *them* and now they don't know if she actually likes them or not.

Eustass Kid x prompt 7 (drunk prompts) - “did i… did we kiss last night?"

HELLO HELLO! thanks for requesting this i love this psycho bitch so much. hope this meets your expectations eheh this was slightly longer than others cause you know i love my characters to overthink everything just like me <333 enjoy!!

gender neutral reader | 913 words.

reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated ♡ if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee. -> from this event.

The softness of the blankets was gentle against your skin as you woke up from one of the best nights of sleep you ever had. That, if only the terrible headache that held you hostage in your bed would disappear. Even the tiniest glimpse of light filtering through the curtains was too much to bear - it only made your headache worst. Yet, there wasn't the tiniest residue of energy in your body for you to get up and block out the sun - so you laid in bed, throwing your blanket over your head and waiting for the pain to go away.

Enjoying the quietness of the ship, you closed your eyes trying to remember what had happened the night before - memories of the party came to you in a blur. They flashed before your eyes in a confusing sequences, making it hard to distinguish what really happened from what might have been just a dream. You didn't even remember how you made it to bed - the last thing you remembered was laying against your captain's shoulder, probably too drunk to sit still in your own place.

Yet there was something more to it, a memory that you couldn't quite grasp - a memory that felt more like a feeling, a phantom sensation still washing all over your body. It wasn't the nausea, nor the terrible headache; it was different, it was better.

Grazing your fingers against your lips, memories from the night before became clearer - did you dream it like all those times before? Was it all on your head? Or did you really kiss Eustass Kidd? These questions pounded your head as a subtle anxiety settles into your heart - the room around you starts to spin again, but this time not because of the alcohol. The idea of confessing your feelings to Kidd, to your captain, sent you spiralling - it was only a crush, after all.

Right?

Wrong. It wasn't only a crush - it was shivers down your spine every time his strong hands laid on your shoulders, it was your heart running faster every time he'd fight against an enemy, it was you melting into a stupid puddle every time he'd call you brat or some other stupid nicknames that you really should have minded but never did.

Forcing yourself out of bed, you dragged your body to the kitchen. The insufferable headache you woke up to was now gone, and you definitely needed a good meal and some water. You almost forgot about the whole kiss thing when you heard familiar footsteps made their way to the kitchen. Your fight or flight response was activated immediately, quickly slamming the door of the fridge and ready to leave the room before he could catch you.

"Took your sweet time to get up, uh?"

Kid roared from behind you, making you jump, a small laugh leaving his mouth making him less intimidating. Yet, you could feel his body almost pressed against yours, his taller figure towering you and making you feel ridiculously small even without having to look at him. Nodding in response, you were quick to move away from his trap, taking a few steps back.

"Yes, I.." you stumbled on your words, scratching the back of your head, panic quickly settling into your chest as you try to come up with something.

"Drank too much. I know."

Kidd cut you off, an unusual reassuring smile forming on his lips as he took a bottle of water from the fridge, throwing it at you.

"Don't even know how I made it to bed."

"Anything else you don't remember?"

Kidd asked. What you heard, however, was more similar to the sound of a ticking bomb about to explode.

"Don't think so." You chuckled, praying you were right - that there was nothing else to remember from the night before, that you didn't stupidly spread on top of him and slurred god knows what to him. Kidd only nodded in response, looking somewhat disappointed - there were no jokes, no sarcastic remarks, no angsty comment. Just an uncomfortable silence and an expression that you couldn't quite decipher.

"Kidd?" you called, causing him to turn towards you once again. He only raised an eyebrow in response, waiting for you to continue

"Did I.. did we kiss last night?"

You finally blurted out, your words rolling off your tongue before you could think it all through. Kidd's features immediately softened, his usual cockiness coming back to surface.

"What if we did?", he barked back, staring up and down at you.

Crossing his arms across his chest, he laid against the doorframe of the kitchen as the most annoying smirk appeared on his face - this was fun, seeing you blushing like a teenager without being able to look at him.

"I don't know. Sorry, stupid question."

You tried to brush it off, faking a smile and waving him goodbye - you just wanted to run, wash off the horrible wave of embarrassment and just forget about the whole thing. Kidd, however, was not really thinking about letting you go. His hands were quick to grab your wrist, pulling you closer to him. In a fraction of seconds he had you trapped in his embrace, your body pressed against his muscular chest.

"Want to give it another try?" he whispered, one of his hands already cupping your cheek whilst the one lazily slid down to the small of your back.

"If it wasn't that memorable, I must make up for it."