#that which he won’t be able to compromise in

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Calling it now - this episode is going to really play on the buck wanting kids and Eddie and his constant saving children (and his want for more kids) and play on them wanting to give kids what they didn’t get themselves as children - that’s why Eddie is always first in to save kids and why we’re getting a buck and Jee baking scene.

It’s all about parenthood - the desire to be a parent (to have their kid back).

I think the sperm donor arc might be coming back into play for buck - and be part of the issues that arise with tommy - buck wanting kids v Tommy not wanting them etc.

[sturnsstar]

Adore You ✶ Matt Sturniolo (NSFW)

a/n: My first smut ever! Be honest and tell me if this sucks lmao

pairing: Extrovert!Yapper!FemReader x Introvert!Matt

warnings: porn with plot / minor discussion / reader can’t take anything seriously and overthinks a lot / miscommunication / Matt just wants reader to shut up / Matt is a communication king / pet names! / SMUT / fingering / brief jerking off / some dirty talk / p in v / no protection (USE IT) / they banter a lot

requested: no

summary: You and Matt have been together for almost 5 months now. Your lifestyle is pretty different from his, but you manage to find compromises throughout the relationship. One night, you convince him to accompany you to a party, where you start to overthink your relationship. Luckily, Matt is here to prove you wrong. 

P.S. english is not my first language.

It was 11 pm as I finished reapplying my gloss for the third time that night. I finally convinced Matt to come to a party with me. It had been a while since I last went to a big social event, since Matt doesn’t really enjoy them. He never stopped me from going, of course, but he generally declined my invitations to join me.

Tonight though he changed his mind: while I was in the middle of preparations he sent me a text, asking me where and when the party was. I was so excited to go with him: I liked showing him off, he was my best friend and the best thing that ever happened to me. I honestly didn’t understand how he could like me, given the fact our personalities were so different: I’m what could be described as a social butterfly, a yapper, always ready for a new adventure or a new party, the more people the better. Matt was somewhat shy but not really: he enjoyed being with his friends but he never liked loud places, which I, on the contrary, loved.

We somehow worked anyway: he’s the lighthouse I need to calm myself, the part of me that knows how to handle me and my moods. And I like to think I help him too, making him understand that sometimes going out and trying new things is not that bad.

He picks me up twenty minutes later and we drive to the house where the party is taking place. The host is one of my old schoolmates: she’s graduated University and wants to celebrate with her old friends. I begged Matt to come with me, mostly because I want him to know my friends better. The fact he’s here with me tonight means the world to me.

“Thank you for joining me” I say, taking his right hand in mine and squeezing it gently. “It means a lot”.

“Sure, sun” he says not looking at me but squeezing my hand back, his attention on the road. I notice his hand is a bit sweaty. He’s nervous.

“It will be alright. They will like you” I reassure him, confident in my words. There’s nothing not to like about Matt: he’s a kind soul, he just needs to be more open to let the rest of the world see it as well. He hums the tune of the song that’s playing on the radio, and I understand he doesn’t want to continue the conversation. I lay back against the seat and enjoy the rest of the ride with him, knowing he needs silence to relax completely. He doesn’t let go of my hand, though.

We arrive at the right address and he parks the car a bit far away from the house. He kills the engine and doesn’t move to open the car door.

“You don’t have to, if you’re not comfortable” I say calmly, smiling softly at him. He turns his gaze to meet mine, and I can see the anxiety in his eyes. “I won’t force you to do something you don’t want, Matt. We can go home, watch some movie” I suggest, not able to hide the bit of disappointment in my voice. He notices it.

“No, it’s alright. We’re here anyway” and he gets out of the car. I can’t shake off the feeling he’s forcing himself to do this. That’s not what I want. Reluctantly I exit the car and reach his side as we walk towards the house. I take his hand in mine for reassurance, both his and mine, and we enter the already full house together.

Immediately the smell of smoke reaches us. I wrinkle my nose as we make our way through the living room, looking for the host. We find her in the kitchen, two beers in hand.

“You came!” She yells as soon as she sees me, making her way through the multitude of bodies that stand between us. I laugh happily at her outburst and her wobbly walk and immediately greet her with a hug, letting go of Matt’s hand.

“Of course! How could I miss it?” I ask grinning widely. I move back a step to be next to Matt again. “This is my boyfriend, Matt!” I introduce him to my friend, and she screeches about the fact that she’s been dying to meet him. I sense Matt flinching but my friend doesn’t notice. I do, though. He’s uncomfortable.

“We’ll just take something to drink, is that alright? Then we can catch up later” I tell my friend as I grab two cokes from the ice bucket. She voices her agreement before she shrieks again as soon as she sees another girl that played volleyball with us in school. With that she leaves us. I turn to look at Matt. 

“Did you like her?” I ask hopefully. He shrugs. “She yells a lot,” he deadpans. My shoulders sag, knowing this would be his answer but hoping he would say something else.

He senses my disappointment and takes my hand once again. “Sorry, sun. I’m trying” he says, his brows furrowed and his blue eyes sincere. I soften, knowing this is hard for him. He’s doing it for me. I smile and get on my tiptoes to peck his lips softly. “I know,” I whisper. 

Sometime later we make our way to the garden, where a bunch of different seats are spread all around on the grass. We sit down on a sofa where one of my old schoolmates invited us to. He was on the baseball team, if I remember well. We never really connected during school, but we were always at the same social gatherings, somehow. Tonight, he’s as drunk as one can be and suddenly considers me one of his oldest and dearest friends.

“And then, oh, then remember when they dared you to jump into the neighbors pool, and you actually did that?” He asks loudly and I giggle nervously, remembering I was a bit wild in my early teens. “Yeah, well, they called the cops after” I remember bashfully. 

“You never told me this story,” Matt says. I blush. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t one of my best moments” I admit embarrassed. Why do I feel so awkard? He’s my boyfriend, he knows me and he knows this happened years ago. I feel like I’m trying to make a good impression on him.

“This is just one of many, Matt!” Liam laughs. “She was a beast! You couldn’t stop her” I eye him carefully, not liking where this is going.

“You’re exaggerating” I try to joke, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. Liam scoffs. “Exaggerating? Nah. I was there! And if I remember it right, you never gave a fuck about what others thought. What’s changed?” He asks playfully. I feel Matt stiffen. 

“Nothing. I just don’t do this staff anymore” I deadpan, my face set in a stoic expression. I don’t like this conversation, I don’t like this party anymore. 

“Whatever, you’re no fun” Liam scoffs, his attention on me finally over. He turns around to find his next victim and I worriedly turn to look at Matt, but I find his expression extremely calm. 

“Everything ok?” I ask tentatively, and he turns to look at me quizzically.

“Yeah? I’m not a child who’s never interacted with the world” he spits, rather brutally. He’s upset, he doesn’t like my friends. 

“Well, sorry I asked then” I bite back, turning away from him as another one of my old acquaintances calls my name. I chat with her for a long time, forcing myself to laugh at her jokes and smile at the right moments, trying to ignore the gloomy boy next to me.

This is ridiculous. I told him he wasn’t obligated to come with me. Now he’s here and he’s trying to make me feel like shit? I’m not having it. I can’t be ashamed of who I am and was: this is part of me, and if he doesn’t like it, I haven’t chained him so that he can’t leave whenever he likes.

Matt bounces his leg, making the whole sofa tremble, and I grow rapidly irritated. I feel overwhelmed by everything that’s happening: the people that were part of my daily life once felt like strangers now, the stories they’re telling are making me feel self conscious, and the glares I sense from Matt are making me mad. I get up abruptly, Matt follows.

“Something wrong?” He asks, suddenly worried. Oh, so now that he got what he wanted he’s suddenly worried about me?

“I want to leave” I say flatly, making my way to the door. He quickly comes after me, trying to keep up with my pace. Once we’re inside his car and he starts the engine, I feel his gaze on me.

“Were you not having fun?” He asks, and I almost believe he’s oblivious to how he made me feel tonight. 

“No, drive” I mutter, my cheek against the window. He doesn’t say anything as he wordlessly drives towards his house.

“I want to sleep at my house tonight” I say, hearing him take a breath.

“Why?” 

“I just want to”

“Your things are at my place, though”

“I’ll get them tomorrow”

“Sun, can you tell me what I did wrong?” He asks, his voice pleading.

Why do I feel like crying? I should be angry, instead I’m just ashamed. I haven’t felt like tonight in a while.

“Are you serious?” I whisper, turning to look at him. He senses my discomfort and quickly pulls over, killing the engine and turning his head to look at me.

“What’s wrong?” He asks again, his brow raised.

“All night, you acted like I forced you to come with me! You kept puffing and huffing all the time. I was afraid to say the wrong thing and piss you off!” I outburst, my cheeks red and my eyes watery. 

Matt stays silent for a while, waiting to see if I have something else to say. I don't. Once he realizes this, he lets out a breath.

“Can I speak now?” he asks. I nod, my eyes on the road in front of us.

“I’m sorry you felt this way, sun. I tried to enjoy it. It was just too much. I felt overwhelmed by all the people there. And honestly I also felt stupid” he confesses. 

“What? Why?” I ask, furrowing my brows.

“Because I feel like you don’t tell me things? I don’t know, it feels like you're always walking on eggshells around me.” he explains. I widen my eyes at his words. What is he talking about?

“I don’t know what you mean” I say defensively. He scoffs.

“Right. I feel like you don’t tell me things about your past. Why is that?” 

“Because of how you’re acting now” I raise my voice.

“And how am I acting?”

“Like you’re accusing me of something!” I snap, tears in my eyes. This is escalating way too far. And I know it’s my fault: he’s trying to explain himself while I’m being all defensive. I can’t help it. I don’t want him to change his view of me, but I feel like I’m slipping away.

“Hey, kid, calm down” he mumbles.

“Don’t call me kid.” I hate when he does that. He rests his head against the seat and closes his eyes. I watch him, scared he’s had enough of me. 

“Matt…” I whisper to get his attention. I have to explain myself as well. “Sometimes… I’m ashamed. I don’t like some things I did when I was younger, I know they were careless. I didn’t want you to think less of me if you knew” I admit. He tilts his head in that sweet way of his, a small smile on his lips. “What?” I ask, baffled. He shakes his head. 

“C’mere” he murmurs, gesturing to come closer. Slowly, I climb over the console with his help and finally rest my legs on each side of his. He holds me by my waist and pulls me closer. I let him. 

“Sun, you need to stop doing this” he says distractedly, fingers tracing my hip bone. 

“Do what?” I ask, my eyes transfixed on his long fingers. 

“Assuming things about me. Thinking I’ll get tired of you just because you never shut up” I lift my head rapidly, ready to snap at him again that if he doesn’t like my yapping, he can always leave me, but I see him grinning widely as his fingers start to tickle me. 

I snort very unlady-like and try to free myself from his grasp, failing miserably when he stops my futile attempts by kissing me. I mumble something intelligible as his lips press against mine over and over again, effectively shutting me up. I sigh into the kiss as my arms wrap around his neck, my fingers toying with his soft hair. 

His hands never stop touching me: my shoulders, my neck, my back, until they rest again on my hips, his fingertips grazing my butt.

“Sleep with me tonight” He murmurs as he trails kisses down the column of my neck, his voice husky and his warm breath making me shiver.

“You don’t really wanna sleep at yours, right, pretty girl?” he asks, biting down my shoulder gently. I let out a whine at the pet name, shaking my head slowly. 

“I thought you had enough of me for the day” I admit pathetically. He tuts and shakes his head, a smirk on his lips. “You think a lot, don’t you?” he mocks me as one of his hands trails my chest, feather-like touch making me squirm. 

“Shut up” I breathe when he finally cups one of my breasts through my top, his fingers gently tracing my erect nipple. He laughs quietly, seeing the reaction he has on me. Then, after one last kiss to my lips, he lets go of me, leaving me hot and bothered while he seems completely fine and ready to drive back to his place. I try to even my breathing as I watch him, his expression betrays his controlled demeanor. He still has that damn smirk on him, he knows I can’t wait to get home. His hand rests on my thigh, squeezing it gently every once in a while. 

“I don’t think less of you, just so you know” He breaks the silence of the car ride. I don’t say anything, my hand placed over his. “I’m serious, sun. I just wanted to hear about your past from you, not someone else.” he explains. I nod, a big weight lifting from my shoulders. 

“I’m sorry I overreacted” I answer, feeling awful that my fears overpowered me tonight, clouding my sense of judgment.

“‘s fine” he smiles, patting my thigh. He parks the car and waits for me before walking towards his front door. His brothers are probably asleep by now, but we try to be quiet anyway. He opens the door for me and as I pass by him, I feel his hand slapping my ass quickly. I turn around to tell him to stop or else his brothers will wake up but in a second he’s on me: hands on my jaw to turn my face up as his lips slot over mine, his tongue sliding into my mouth. 

He effectively shuts up every protest I had, as I blindly walk back into his house, his sure steps guiding me. If he makes me trip I’ll seriously be pissed. But he doesn’t. I don’t even realize it but we’re in his room, the door locked behind us. 

He walks me towards his bed, trying at the same time to kiss me and to take off my top. He struggles a bit and I laugh, squeaking right after when he spanks me again. “Matthew, I swear if you don’t quit it-” 

“What? I’m curious, what will you do?” he asks as he finally manages to get my top out of the way. As always, his eyes trail down to my exposed chest. It doesn’t matter how many times he sees me, he always acts like it’s the first time. I blush at his serious gaze, my hands trailing on his waist to get rid of his sweater as well. 

“Cat got your tongue?” He laughs teasingly and I scoff, my hand pushing his chest away from me. He doesn’t let me get far though as his arms lift me off the ground making me yelp. A second later, my back meets the softness of his dark sheets, him soon following after me.

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen” he mumbles under his breath, making me squirm under him.

“Come here” I urge him, my arms pulling him down towards me. He lets me, his hot lips peppering my face with kisses making me giggle and turn away from him. “Stop!” my laugh turns into a whine when he presses his hips against mine, making me feel how hard he actually is and effectively changing the mood. I try to breathe normally as I spread my legs to give him room, my skirt rising up on its own accord. Matt pushes it out of the way so that my panties are on full display for his hungry gaze. 

“Let’s see...” He mumbles as his fingers trace the cotton material. He looks up at me in mock surprise. “Who made you this wet?” he asks, voice husky. 

“Bloody Santa Claus” I joke, rolling my eyes. He doesn’t smile, though, just shakes his head.

“Do I have to gag you?” He asks rhetorically. I shake my head, giggling. “Sorry, my love” he smiles softly at the pet name and moves his hand under my panties, making me gasp at the sudden gesture. My breath speeds up as his agile fingers find my clit easily, making small quick circles just the way I like it. 

I moan wantonly as I try to keep my eyes open to watch him, on his knees between my legs with his hair now messy from my fingers. His other hand slowly caresses my face, his thumb on my bottom lip, making me slightly open my mouth. I kiss his digits one by one and take his thumb in my mouth, sucking it gently and hollowing my cheeks a bit, my eyes staring directly at his.

“Fuck” He groans at the sight, one of his fingers probing at my entrance.

“‘Gotta stretch you out a bit, pretty girl” He informs me like I’m not aware of the fact I need some preparation to be able to take him. I nod furiously as his long finger enters me slowly, making me get used to the sensation before starting to move in and out of me. Soon it’s two fingers, all the while his thumb never stopped working on my clit. I grab his biceps as I try to muffle my moans of pleasure.

“Matt, please…” I whimper, eyes screwed shut as I feel the coil on my stomach grow more and more, my legs moving uncontrollably.

“What do you need?” He asks me, his lips next to my ear as he keeps his ministrations going. He’s trying to sound calm but his cock pressing up against my thigh lets me know how excited he actually is.

“You know what I need” I breathe as he pumps his fingers faster.

He furrows his brows and I can sense what he’s thinking. Before I can say anything, he stops his movements, his fingers still inside me. I whine disappointed. “Why did you stop?” I ask, trying to move my hips up to gain some friction. 

“You didn’t answer me, so I just figured I had to stop” he teases me, making me roll my eyes. He wants to hear me beg.

“Come on, my love, please” I say sweetly, lifting my head up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I need you” I pant to his ear. “I was so close” and I end it all biting his lobe, knowing this would send him to another planet. He gasps, his fingers give an involuntary thrust that makes me squeal. 

“Yeah?” He asks gruffly. I hear the sound of a zip as he shimmies his pants down his legs until he kicks them away. My hands immediately go to his hips, still covered by his boxers. One trails to the front, where his dick is hard and aching. He must be uncomfortable, restrained like that: I decide to be kind and help him, taking his cock out of its confines. Matt lets out a breath of relief as I start to steadily stroke his length. 

He slowly lowers his hips to mine and slots his cock between my folds, making me gasp when his tip hits my clit repeatedly as his hips rock back and forth. I raise my legs and interlock them behind his back, pulling him flush against me. 

“Matt, I want it” I moan breathlessly, my hands on his hair.

“Yeah? Want my cock in your pretty pussy?” he asks me, panting slightly from the stimulation. I nod furiously, not wanting to wait anymore.

“See? It was easy to admit” Before I can think of some snarky remark, he aligns his cock with my center and slowly pushes in, effectively making me forget anything I was about to say. 

I feel him stretching me out so good, and I try to relax my muscles to ease his access. Matt’s brows are furrowed in concentration. Even with our banter, he’s always very attentive not to hurt me. I smile fondly at his expression and kiss his forehead, making him halt for a moment, his eyes bright. 

“I’m so in love with you” I whimper sincerely, taken by sudden emotion. He smiles back and kisses my lips slowly, his hips starting to move. I whine into the kiss, my hips lifting up trying to be at his same pace. His arms cage me and I feel so safe, so happy to be with him, in his bed.

“You have no idea how much I adore you” He moans against my shoulder, his hips going faster and faster, making my head spin. His hand slips down to play with my clit once again, making me see stars. My legs tremble once again around him, a tell tale of the fact I’m about to cum.

“Will you come around my cock, pretty girl?” he pants as he doubles his efforts to get me there. I moan in response and he laughs, kissing my temple.

“Come on, baby, I know you’re there. Wanna feel you” he mutters, and I know he’s close as well. With one last hard thrust I feel my orgasm crash through me, my whines muffled by Matt’s mouth on mine. 

“Shit. Squeezing me so tight” he groans, and I feel his dick twitch inside me as he lets out a long moan. He stills his movements when he comes, his eyes screwed shut as I hug him tightly against my chest, praising him in his ear. He tries to even his breathing as I trace patterns on his back, and we both lay silently on his bed in complete bliss. 

Some time later he slowly pulls out of me, making me shiver slightly. He grabs a glass of water from his bedside table and offers it to me, and I gladly accept it, gulping it down. We set under the covers, his head on my chest and his arms around me. 

He laughs suddenly. “What?” I ask, confused. He smirks, looking up at me. 

“Who would have guessed the only way to shut you up was to fuck you?” He asks proudly.

“Matthew I swear to God-”

a/n: feedback is greatly appreciated! :)

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, cheating

Author’s note: so, i got a request from the lovely @lfdybadgirlsdiw that i wasnt able to let go and now, here we are, the beginning of a new five-parter! enjoy! lmk what you think, thanks! <3

Wordcount: 5.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The first little crack.

“No, that is your side. And this should be mine.” Joe argued, arms flailing, gesturing at both sides of the bed as he stood at the foot of it.

The first little crack of many.

“Joe. I have always slept on this side,” you said, already in bed, tucked up and all cosy, barely able to keep your eyes open still.

If you hadn’t been aware of how much Joe had been pushing to get his way lately, this could have come across as playful banter.

“Listen. If we’re going to establish actual sides, you should be furthest away from the door.”

But given how Joe had been making you feel after compromising, after giving in and meeting you halfway, no one would think this was funny.

“Why?” you closed your eyes and nuzzled into your pillow, not even slightly bothered by Joe’s pleading who desperately wished you’d roll over to what, up until now, had been his side of the bed.

“For… just, because.”

“Hmmno.”

“For danger. What if a burglar gets in?”

You sighed. Deeply. Sank into your pillow more. It was the kind of breath released just before you were about to doze off, and it was meant to signal that you weren’t going to engage in this discussion any longer.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Joe could go and lay on his side of your bed, or he could go and sleep on the sofa, and that was that.

“Babe.” Joe tried to give you a little push, but the way you’d wrapped yourself up proved you needed more than just a slight shove to end up where he wanted you.

“Hmm.”

You were bone-tired, already all sunken into the mattress, ready to go visit another planet for a good few hours.

“Babe.”

You opened a bleary eye to see Joe still look just as awake and ready to win this argument as he was when you’d closed your eyes.

“This flat won’t get burgled.”

“You don’t know that. Might have someone kick in the door tonight, and, then what? Hmm?”

Something cute about this need to protect you, and you knew that’s what he could dress this up as, but the timing of it was so God-awful, you couldn’t see past the fact that you wanted to fall asleep on your own side of the bed already.

“Think of it this way,” you started, holding a stretched hand out that Joe easily took, knees pressing into the mattress as he towered over you for a minute. “In case of a fire, I’ll be the first one out.”

And just like that, Joe let himself fall into the empty spot next to you, seemingly giving up and giving in.

Good.

“A fire is much more likely than a burglar.” You concluded, word slurred and eyes closing again as Joe got his legs underneath the covers.

“That’s not as good but…” Joe thought for a second, then said, “If a fire breaks out here, it’ll be from that old hair thing of yours. That thing you use that smells like it’s melting.”

“See?” you mumbled, disagreeing, but happy to let sleep take you.

“Or because you leave an empty pot on a burner again.”

“Mhm.” Little less happy. You only did that once and it wasn’t even your fault.

“Or because–” 

“Joe.”

A short moment of silence followed.

“Fine,” he whispered, adding, “for now.” on the back-end of a deep breath. 

When you woke up the next morning, you were on Joe’s side of the bed.

“Morning.” Joe smiled, just beyond pleased that he’d gotten his way by moving your unconscious body across the bed in the night.

You gave him the blankest stare you’d ever given someone, which was easy because you’d only just opened your eyes, sleep still causing enough confusion to fully comprehend why Joe seemed to be awaiting a response.

You tutted and rolled your eyes when his expectant smile only grew.

He had rolled your defenseless body over in the night. What the fuck, actually. And this idiot thought he was being all cute. Was reaching over to take your hand into both of his, to pull it to his mouth where he gave it a small kiss.

“You’re such a child.” You pulled your hand from his grasp and turned away from him as you sat up.

“What?” Joe feigned indignancy, his smile too big to sell it to you properly.

“An actual child. This isn’t funny.”

“Oh come on. It’s a little funny.”

You got up and out.

“Babe.”

You ignored him. Walked right past him.

“Baby.”

The first little crack.

“Oh, come on!”

The first little crack of many.

Friday. End of a long day a long week of whirlwind work days and awful nights of sleep. It’s the wrong time of day for this.

“A flat white for…”

Autumn. Rainy, cold weather that your wardrobe’s not caught up to yet. It’s the wrong time of the year for this.

“Joe?���

You can give yourself a stern talking-to later about how most of the day had completely passed you by in a blur, but you hear the words flat white and Joe and are immediately more in tune with the world.

You look up from your phone in the queue to see Joe step forward and take his drink.

“Thanks.”

It takes a slow second for you to realise it’s really him. A slow blinking moment of just looking at him, a tired mind slowly speeding up to real world tempo, before your brain goes, it’s him.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’re too tired for this.

Wrong place, wrong time, entirely wrong headspace.

The second he turns, you make eye contact for the briefest second which prompts him to do a comically exaggerated double take that immediately makes running into each other less awkward. You smile despite your mood.

God, you’d almost forgotten what he’s like.

It’s been a couple of months now, just over half a year, and the hurt has dulled enough that trying to be normal, and civil, and courteous, and polite, and kind shouldn’t be the most difficult thing ever.

That’s your ex-boyfriend.

You hope your face didn’t show how that first millisecond of seeing him struck you, but you saw him before he saw you, so you are probably fine.

That’s your too-kind-to-pretend-to-not-have-seen-you ex-boyfriend. Your somehow-still-really-happy-to-run-into-you ex-boyfriend.

And now you’ve gone and smiled at him, even though pulling up the corners of your mouth feels like exercising at the minute, you need a nap so bad.

You shouldn’t have left work early.

Shouldn’t have decided to go for a large coffee on your way home.

Shouldn’t have looked up.

Shouldn’t have even wanted to check if the flat white was for your Joe.

Correction.

No longer your Joe.

Just Joe.

It’s fine, it’s fine. There’s a whole new person in your life. It’s fine. But it would’ve been lovely if the universe could’ve waited until after you’d drank this large black coffee you are about to order, but of course that’s never how things work.

Stars are against you when it comes to Joe, apparently.

Joe could’ve left it at that. You’d had a moment of oh my god it’s you, what are the odds across a coffee shop and he could have easily waved and left. Have that be the whole interaction. That would have been fine.

But instead, Joe decides to stay, and he communicates with looks for a moment. With facial expressions and gesturing arms.

It’s a wild look around from Joe that tells you, what a weird time and place to see you! and a funny tired shrug from you in reply that tells him, life’s weird, what can I say?

You feel a little proud that you’ve not ignored him. That you’ve not pretended you just didn’t see him only to later contemplate sending him an incredibly lame “was that you getting a flat white this afternoon?” text that you’d regret the very second those ticks would’ve changed colour.

You’re working at 40% brain activity right now, and it’s a little difficult to use your social filter to pretend to feel any other way than you’re actually feeling.

Up until now that meant that your bad mood was everyone else’s problem.

Seeing Joe now, it suddenly means that you can’t pretend that you don’t immediately notice shit like how he isn’t wearing any of his rings. And how he probably wore something that covered his hair earlier today.

Wrong things to focus on, but a tired mind is difficult to keep in its lane.

You see how Joe checks his phone with a thoughtful look before he then nods as he puts it away. He gives you a questioning look as he points down.

You got a minute?

And you do the same; check the time on the phone that’s already in your hand and think of a million excuses to turn him down, but you only have the gym later, and that’s it. When you look back up, you give him a funny nod and a half shrug and you try your best to make your eyes look like you’re properly awake.

Yea why not, go on then.

You’re an adult running into an ex and you said you’d stay friends and you had really truly meant it then, so this is fine.

He looks a little too handsome for his own good, but it’s fine.

Joe waits for you. Hangs around near the bar at the windows and half-sits on one of the stools there, one foot still on the floor, more leaning than actual sitting, with his back towards the windows.

You try not to watch him, but you can’t help but notice the way he lets his eyes scan the room for a minute. The way he looks over his shoulder as his eyes dart across the street.

It occurs to you how quickly the checking you used to do for him stopped after you broke up. After you left his world. It’s a little weird how, here, in the same coffee shop, in the exact same location, you’re in entirely different worlds from each other, and the closer to you get to the end of the counter, the more they overlap.

It’s one of the things you haven’t missed.

When you step into earshot properly, after ordering, you make eye-contact and smile at each other.  

“Hello,” Joe makes his voice go up and down, like he’s just as pleasantly surprised to see you as you do him, but you’re trying to not make it so obvious. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You smile and grab his arm for a second as a hello, rather than going in for a hug. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Joe smiles right back, and takes the touch of his arm as enough of an invite to hug you anyway.

You ignore the flicker of worry you see across his face, the slight twitch in his eyebrows, just before his face disappears from your view and all you can really focus on is how Joe smells.

All right.

Jesus.

Joe smells like that little hidden bottle of his old cologne that you still have, and it’s like being transported back into your old life a little. The life that you tried to hold onto with all ten fingernails until they all chipped and broke and bled.

When you step back, Joe smiles all warm, eyes fully fucking focused on you, like he’s glad he can just look at one thing instead of having his attention with all of his surroundings.

Not a hint of worry there now.

God.

You’ve missed him.

Miss him still.

You know that he can see how tired you are. That the slight concern that flashed across his face was only there because of how you weren’t fully opening your eyes after each blink.

“Nice shirt.” You comment, doing your best to keep the ice broken and not let it freeze back over.

Joe looks down at himself and grins wider. He’s wearing a shirt he only got because you said you liked it. Which, you still do.

“Thanks. You look good too.”

Liar.

What follows after warm smiles is warm small talk by the end of the counter until your coffee’s ready. He asks how you’re doing. What you’re up to. Remembers something specific that you had coming up at work ages ago, something that’s now long passed, and Joe wants to know how it went.

“My God. All right, Mister Memory.”

Charmer. He’s basically interviewing you.

“Oh, sorry. Is that weird? I’m being weird. Sorry.”

“A little. But… um…” you have to really think about that for a second. “Yea, all of that went fine.” you guess before your brain finds the right memory and you give him a slightly more certain, “Great, actually. Yea. It was good.”

Joe smiles. Nods. Looks like he’s really fucking pleased for you which is almost funny because you remember a time where your work hours were mostly an inconvenience to him.

“I should be asking what’s going on with you!” you chirp, and Joe just shrugs. Jokes, “Nothing much. Quiet life. Sort of boring, you remember what it’s like.”

You laugh. It’s out of you before you can stop it.

Fuck.

Joe has no business making you feel the way he is right now. You’re tired and in actual need of comfort. It’s dangerous to be around someone who knows how to give you what you want. What you need.

Your coffee gets placed onto the counter, and there’s this awkward moment where you now have your drink and maybe this is the moment where you go, Okay, was good seeing ya, bye! and dart out the door.

But instead, Joe grabs you by the arm and nods towards a table where someone’s packing up. “Come on, let’s sit.”

And just like that, you’re being lead over to go and sit down with him.

You take the biggest gulp of hot coffee before you sit down, definitely burn your tongue, and are already thinking of ways you can explain this to others. What if someone sees you? If someone gets a sneaky pic in?

You’re not doing anything illegal, obviously.

And it’s not like you went to this coffee shop on purpose.

You hadn’t meant to run into Joe.

But now you’re taking your coat off and so is he and you both have hot drinks to warm your hands and Joe pulls in his chair real close and asks you a bunch more questions about work, and your family, and he says he heard you traveled, which you did, and he’s making you laugh, and yea, you’re tired, and you keep suppressing yawns, but the coffee is helping a little, and it’s nice to sit, your limbs are thanking you for it, and Joe is acting like you meet up for coffee all the time, like this is normal, and you almost start believing it, he’s being so friendly and casual, until he suddenly leans over the table, both elbows on the faux marble surface, ducks his head down a little before he says, “Is this the time we... where we talk? About what happened?”

It catches you off guard, a little.

You don’t want to talk about what happened.

You kind of don’t even want to be talking to him at all if you really think about it. Not because you don’t like it. Despite that, actually. It’s lovely talking to Joe. That’s precisely the problem. You didn’t break up with him because you stopped liking him.

The longer you look at him, the more nice things you’re remembering about him. The more you start thinking about what could have been.

So you don’t respond for a moment, and then you give a half-hearted shrug.

“We don’t have to.” you say quietly, almost absently.

There’s not enough brain space available to you right now. This is the type of conversation to have five years down the line, after a long holiday where you’ve managed to catch up on sleep and… you know… when you look well rested. Tanned. Satisfied with life.

Not now.

You could carry all your essentials in your eyebags right now if you really tried, you think.

Joe just smiles at you. Watches you for a moment, head tilted back a little, chin jutted out.

“I mean, is there anything left to say?” You’ve pretty much said all that needs saying. Everything else is implied and doesn’t need to exist in the world, you think.

The two of you didn’t work out because it simply didn’t work out.

Joe seems to disagree.

He twirls his paper cup, his flat white, and raises his eyebrows a little. Makes you hold your breath at what he’s about to say next.

“Weird if I tell you I miss you?” his voice is all soft as he asks you, almost breathy, like he knows the effect it will likely have on you.

You let your head drop to your shoulder and grimace, eyes squeezing shut. “Oh my God,” you blurt out, and you sound like you’re in actual pain.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. I’m sorry.” Joe immediately back tracks, but this motherfucker is smiling. Blushing. He makes eye-contact with you as he goes for another sip of his coffee and then looks at his hand placing the cup back down as he adds, “You’re right. No need for me to tell you. So I won’t.”

He’s already said it.

You try your best at hiding a smile as you mirror Joe, going for a sip of your own. When you place yours back on the table, Joe can hear from the hollow sound of it that it’s empty.

“I, em…” you start, hand reaching for the back of your neck where you rub at your skin, a little awkward now that Joe’s said that he misses you. “I should probably go. I’m meeting…ugh, it’s– someone.” You cringe inwardly, try to do it so Joe doesn’t see it. You could’ve lied and said you’d be meeting Emily, but it’s a thought that comes to you after you’ve already been weird about it.

And Joe knows you. He sees you cringe inwardly just fine. Sees you rub at your neck the way you always do when you’re tired. Remembers all the times he used to take over and you’d fall asleep within seconds.

Joe knows that if you’re as tired as you look, there’s no thinking before you speak.

Someone.

Joe nods.

So there’s someone.

He bets this someone doesn’t know shit about how you like the back of your neck massaged, fingers in very specific spots, pressing and rubbing into very specific pressure points.

You resist the urge to rub your eyes. Rub your neck instead.

He sees that too and, in turn, tries to hide the sudden, protective wave that washes over him so you don’t see it.

He’s lucky you’re too worn out to catch his twitching hand that wants to reach out and replace yours.

“Sorry for making it weird.” Joe is still smiling, and you don’t want him to think that what he said is the reason why you’re suddenly done talking to him. You really are meeting someone. That’s not something you made up to round up this interaction.

“No, no. I’ve got–” you check the time, and you have so much of it before you have to be somewhere, but Joe doesn’t need to know that. “I’m meeting someone to go work out with.”

Joe raises both eyebrows and widens his eyes, the playful shock there clearly visible.

“At the gym.” You finish, and you scrunch up your whole face in a full grimace, because you know what he’s going to say.

“At the gym?”

“At the gym.” You confirm, finding your coat whilst your eyes remain in contact with Joe’s.

He sits back, a little baffled. A little… proud.

“She goes to the gym. Wow.”

You hate the gym.

You hate working out in general, but doing it in a gym, indoors, on machines? You really fucking despise it. Still. You’re going. Trying to put your best foot forward in this new relationship you’re trying out with this new person in your life.

Joe knows you hate the gym. He remembers the countless times he’d told you to just come with him. Come work out with him at his gym. He also remembers the countless times you’d told him to fuck off and that you’d rather die.

Something something personal development. Whatever. You’re fucking exhausted but, you’re trying, all right? Progress.

“That reminds me, actually,” you say, struggling to make your arms find the sleeves of your coat. “I still have your pumas.”

You say pumas like it’s meant to be a dig at him.

It is a dig, in your opinion. His old faded Speed Cats, these two feminine looking things. Fucking purple too.

The very second Joe learnt that you didn’t like them, still don’t, he started wearing them extra often.

Little shit.

“Oh my God,” Joe says softly as he huffs a laugh through his nose and closes his eyes for a joyous second. “My pumas.”

“I found them on one of the top shelves of the wardrobe.”

“I…” Joe narrows his eyes at you in suspicion, smile unwavering. “What were they doing there? If I remember correctly, that’s not where I left them.”

You know that’s not where Joe left them. That’s where you left them. Hid them. So he’d be forced to buy new shoes. Different shoes. Which he then did, so, it all worked out fine.

You give an innocent shrug as you get up, slow and sluggish, arms still not in the sleeves of your coat properly.

“No,” you sigh, feeling how bad your legs want you to go and sit back down. “But that’s where I found them.”

Joe laughs heartily and then, like you’re not two people who went through a painful break-up, also gets up and helps you into your coat. Holds it and guides your arms where they’re meant to go. Folds the collar so it sits how its meant to. Lets his hands linger there for a fraction of a second too long, but it’s nice.

It’s nice having Joe close.

“If you’re not doing anything right now,” you start, but stop because you’re already regretting where your mind is taking you.

You want to have Joe close so he can rub the back of your neck when you sleep.

No.

There’s someone else.

You can’t.

Shouldn’t.

“Oh, do you mind?” Joe is quick. Easily takes the step you hesitated to take.

“Well, they’re your pumas.”

You’re not sure how he does it. How he keeps this air of normalcy. Like inviting himself over to your flat to come and pick up a pair of shoes is all casual and fine.

It’s not.

And yet somehow, it is.

The familiarity that’s still there added to the amount of time that’s passed somehow makes this not feel like the wildest thing, even though you know that if you tell Emily that Joe came round to pick up his stinky old trainers, that she’d worriedly ask you if you were okay.  

The worry would be misplaced, because you’re actually totally fine.

You’re fine as Joe leads you from the coffee shop, opening his umbrella and offering an arm for you to link yours through, just so you can share the protection from the rain, no other reason.

You’re fine as Joe doesn’t need to be told where to go, obviously knows where you live and the quickest way to get to it.

You’re fine as Joe says something about the bakery near your flat that he used to go to all the time, and when he looks inside he squeezes his arms to his body in a silent moment of celebration, involuntarily squeezing you closer to him.

You’re fine as he makes you laugh when he pretends to be normal about baked goods, shrugging and clearing his throat and softly murmuring that you didn’t just witness him get excited over coffee cake that he’ll definitely get on his way home.

You’re fine as he keeps you from tripping up because you’re not really lifting your feet enough for your shoes to not get caught on the uneven pavers of the wet London streets you’re braving together.

You’re fine as you make your way into your building, where you share the small space of the lift together, and you lean against one of the side panels and can see in the reflective surface of the doors how Joe’s giving you a soft smile.

You’re fine as you let Joe into your flat, where you leave him momentarily to go get his shoes from your bedroom, and when you come back, he’s discarded his coat over one of your dining room table chairs, has already gone and turned down the thermostat, and is looking at one of your bookshelves near the TV.

“Found ‘em.” you say, holding them up before placing them on the table near his coat.

Joe throws you a look over his shoulder, smiles, but then goes straight back to scanning book spines. Like he doesn’t care about his pumas at all.

“You read this?” he picks up a book, turns around so you can see which one he means as he reads the blurb on the back.

You’re too busy staring at the visual of Joe in your messy living room, wearing the shirt you chose for him, to answer the question.

Too busy letting your eyes focus on his hands that you want in a very specific spot on the back of your neck right now, because your body remembers exactly what that feels like and you’re tired.

“Did you like it?”

Joe is in your living room and… it’s actually not fine.

Joe is wearing a shirt he only got because you liked it, and it’s not fine.

Joe is holding a book and you can see how large his hands are and it's not fine.

Joe confessed that he misses you, and you’re not fine.

Fuck trying to mold yourself into someone that goes to the gym for this new person who pales in comparison to your ex-boyfriend who kept you close and walked you home and who just took off his coat like he’s going to stay for at least a minute and who you can just be yourself around. You don’t have to pretend to care about working out, or about an untidy living room, or about your hair that’s frizzed up from the rain and... isn’t that just lovely?

Your lack of answers eventually makes Joe look up at you, and oh… you look like you’ve fallen asleep standing up, eyes slightly distant and unfocused.

“Hey, you okay?” the book Joe’s holding finds a new home on your coffee table as you blink a couple of times to bring yourself back into reality.

It doesn’t really work.

“Yea… yea, fine.” you say softly, your expression unchanged, eyes still just as glassy.

Joe doesn’t buy it.

Knows you.

Sees how you’re watching his hands. His fingers. Knows exactly what you want.

“You sure?” he steps closer, a little hesitant, because what even really is he doing here? He doesn’t want those ratty old shoes back. He thought those had been thrown out ages ago, well before the two of you got even close to considering not being together as an option.

Joe watches you stare into space for a moment, and sees you blink so slowly, you might as well just keep your eyes closed at this point.

There’s not a chance you’re going to be meeting someone at a gym.

Joe walks across the room until he’s right in front of you, and he stays there until your eyes slowly rake up his body and you’re looking each other in the eye.

He knows what he’s doing here.

You know what he’s doing here.

Joe watches you raise a slow arm up to let your own hand touch the back of your neck as you inhale deeply through your nose.

Joe smells nice.

“Can you, um…” you pause and frown, and let your deep breath escape you in a sigh, not finishing your question as you rub your fingers where you want Joe to rub his.

You don’t need to finish your question.

Joe knows you.

Knows he probably shouldn’t do what he’s about to do, but finds he wants to and so, why the fuck not, you know?

He grins, but only slightly, and uses both his hands. One to remove your own hand from your neck, the other to grab hold of it there, where he pushes his thumb right into the dip at the base of your skull and starts to rub in small circles.

It almost works like an off-button.

Joe knows it does, because it always has.

He has to grab hold of one of your arms to make sure you don’t topple over. He ignores how he feels your whole body shiver.

“You’re not going to the gym.” Joe says gently.

“Mhm,” you hum, not even sure if you’re answering a question or not.

Joe smells so nice. Familiar and comforting and just, lovely.

“I think you’re going straight to bed.”

Joe barely has to guide you. The smallest of pushes just makes you turn and walk straight back over to your bedroom where your wardrobe doors are still open from fetching Joe’s old trainers, and you vaguely think how Joe shouldn’t be in your bedroom with you, but… he is, and so what?

You try undressing with heavy limbs, jeans a little clammy and difficult to take off. You do most of it with your eyes closed and wait for Joe’s hands to come help you out. But they don’t come, and it’s a little confronting how that disappoints you.

It’s something to think about later though.

Joe came over for his shoes and is now just making sure you don’t trip and bash your head on something. That makes sense.  

But then, Joe hands you one of your own folded pyjama tops from one of the drawers and you can’t help but let a tired laugh escape you. You sit down on the edge of your bed and take it from him with dropped shoulders, head hanging to the side as you look up at him.

This is so stupid.

“Sorry,” Joe says a little sheepishly. “I just… remember where you keep things.”

“No, no,” you yawn before you add, “It’s fine.”

It’s not fine.

“I’ve missed you too.”

So stupid.

But again, it’s all something for later. Your leading with your wants right now. Not rational thought.

It’s want that reaches for Joe’s hand after you’ve put your pyjama top on.

It’s want that whispers, “Take your shoes off.”

It’s want that sits and stares at Joe with half-lidded eyes as he undresses until he’s in his underwear.

It’s want that asks if Joe can put his hand back on your neck where he had it before.

It’s want that lets you be scooped up and placed into your own bed, on the wrong side, furthest away from the door.

It’s want that doesn’t give a shit about where you are in your bed, because all you care about is that Joe’s there, and he is there when he climbs into bed right next to you and lays behind you on his side, not entirely big-spooning you, but if he just got a little closer...

Then he softly asks, “Is this okay?” and holds you by the back of the neck again which makes you whine into the pillows.

Joe is allowed any spot in the bed he fucking wants.

“There you go,” Joe says softly, and he suppresses a smile as he feels how you relax.

It’s the wrong place, the wrong time and absolutely the wrong person.

You logically know this.

You’re going to have some explaining to do tomorrow.

You know there’ll be missed calls.

There’ll be hurt feelings.

There’ll be guilt.

You know it’s all wrong, but it’s hard to let your rational mind make smarter decisions when it all feels so stupidly right.

You’re not doing anything illegal.

Joe said he misses you, and it took a little time, but you said it back. You miss him too.

Joe decides to stay awake until you fall asleep, and maybe he’ll take a short little nap himself too before he goes to get himself some coffee cake, he’s not sure yet.

He has to stop himself from shaking his head at the fact that he can tell just by the way you’re breathing if you’ve fully dozed off yet or not.

It shouldn’t take long. You’ve barely been able to focus your eyes on anything from the moment Joe saw you in the queue of that coffee shop.

Just before you drift off, Joe feels how you slowly turn around to face him. How you scoot a little closer. Then two smaller hands find his forearm, and Joe lets you wrap both arms around his bicep. Lets you hug it to yourself, which involuntarily makes his hand rest on one of your bare thighs.

Joe’s hand is warm, and his touch his gentle, and it fucking makes your eyes sting.

There’s something about being in bed with a man that makes you feel safe and protected and like you can actually sleep.

It’s not like that yet with who you’re seeing now. These are the things that take time. Hence how fucking tired you currently are.

Have been all day.

All week.

“Yea,” you suddenly whisper, and it’s so soft, Joe wouldn’t have heard it had he not been so close to you. “Miss you.”

You tighten your arms around Joe’s which makes his chest ache, and finally let sleep take you.

Joe smiles.

You said you miss him.

He knows you do.

Thinks that maybe you don’t have to.

What if there’s a way back?

He’ll find a way back. He knows he can.

“Yea,” Joe repeats, and decides taking a nap in your bed on your side is actually the best fucking idea he’s ever had.

“Miss you too.”

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[cyborg-franky]

Could you do a HC about the ideal partner for Law, Zoro and Kid? What kind of person they would fall for and which traits it needs for a long lasting relationship ❤️

Oooh yes, I can do this!

Written for a GN reader!

Law

Law needs someone who can challenge him, and push him out of his comfort zone.

Someone who isn’t scared to argue with him when they think he is in the wrong.

Law also needs someone independent, he can’t handle high-maintenance or clingy people. He needs to know you can make your own mind up and have your own views regardless of what he thinks.

You need to be okay with his family, the heart pirates are alot to handle but he won’t compromise on this. 

Animal lover.

Someone who is okay with limited PDA and knows he has his own way of showing love and affection.

Someone with a wikied sense of humor like his.

Kind, he may not seem it but he needs someone who is soft and kind and tries to bring out his caring side more.

Smart, likes to read, someone who can match him in conversation.

Nerd. If you are also a big nerd into comics he will find common ground with you and feel he can be his true nerdy self around you.

Honest. Law doesn’t like people who lie or try and manipulate him.

If you're loyal to him he’ll be loyal to you.

Alright, so he likes people to be dependent but he also deep down likes being his partners ‘scary dog privilege’ 

Must hate bread. Or eat the bread from his meals for him.

Understanding. Law has some damage and needs someone who gets that.

Zoro

Zoro doesn’t have a very big checklist of the ‘type of person’ he goes for.

Just don't be loud or bossy and he’ll vibe pretty well with you.

If you are a huge sword nerd he will be all over that and if you also like to work out he will be delighted to have a workout buddy. 

Napping is a must. Either snuggle up with him in the sun and take a nap at his side or simply just be okay with him napping as much as he does. He needs someone laid back, and can’t handle a loud or intense personality to date. 

He is happy to spend all his time with his partner he just needs someone who is also happy to enjoy a comfortable silence with him.

You don’t need to be into drinking, again, as long as you don’t tell him what he can and can’t do he’s happy. He would like to have a casual drink with you sometimes though, when he’s a little tipsy he is happy to go on long rants and talk about his thoughts and feelings.

Be his partner and his drinking buddy.

Be his emotional support compass. Be able to stir him in the right direction, and I do mean physically and not emotionally there.

Grab him his arm and just pull him.

You need to be firm with him. Loyal and honest and also have a good sense of humor. He likes to have a chuckle and he does have a silly side.

Kid

You need to keep up with this boy. He can’t handle someone who is easily upset or sensitive. He needs someone to match that same wild spark that runs through him.

Have a passion for adventure and don’t be scared to get your hands dirty.

He wants someone who doesn’t shy away from his loud and boisterous nature. Embrace him for him.

Also needs to be liked by Killer. If you don’t pass Killer’s vibe check there is a huge chance you won't pass Kid’s.

He enjoys picking fights and starting arguments, he lives for some passion and some shouting with the person he’s courting so scream, shout, and give him just as good as he does. Challenge him, don’t be scared of offending him.

Be okay with how rough he is, Kid needs someone who understands that and doesn’t try and change who he is, and doesn’t want to sand down his edges.

Be there for him regardless of his flaws and he will open up to you and you can make each other a better person with time and understanding.

Love the thrill of the fight. Nothing makes his heart sing like fighting a hard battle side by side with the person he loves.

[genderfluid-insomniac]

Can you do Harbinger Headcannons for a reader who has a hard time with being social and recharges by being held? For example: they get overwhelmed after being out and about all day but have a very hard time asking to be held because they don't have the energy to communicate it. (Oddly specific but it's what I deal with)

A/N: I chose these by generating random numbers 1 through 11 and then choosing said harbinger by their rank. It’s purely by luck and I’m happy that Scaramouche and Arlecchino randomly got picked.

Also I had a very hard time finding anything about Pulcinella’s personality or what he’s like since we only saw him in the winter's interlude so if you’re reading this from the future and I’m wrong then I’m sorry. I tried my best.

Harbinger headcanons for a reader who has a hard time with being social and recharges by being held

Scaramouche

- Isn’t thrilled with physical affection but he does understand having your social battery being drained so you both compromised so no one would be uncomfortable and you got to lay your head on his lap while he ran his hands through your hair until you were ready to interact with others. Sometimes he also used your want to escape and get away from social gatherings because he doesn’t like them on a good day.

- Eventually he does come around and grow more relaxed about the whole thing, going as far as to hold you in more ways that you’re both comfortable in and have tea brought for the both of you. You will have to specify if you want a sweeter tea because he’s having his bitter as usual.

Sandrone

- Sandrone completely understands and often has her mechanical puppet use it’s hands to shield her from others so she’s “alone” in a sense. She is debating on making a hollow chamber in it’s chest so a person can rest in there comfortably and safely. You’re treated no different and if you aren’t sitting with her or on some part of the puppet (which almost never happens unless she’s in a harbinger meeting or called to see the Tsaritsa).

- You’ll never hear complaints or declines from her and you quickly taken somewhere else to recharge in her arms like how her mechanical puppet shields her with her arms or simply moving to another room. She’ll take you in her arms and let you rest against her chest, running a hand through your hair and cuddling with you in the hollow warm chamber if you ask.

Childe

- If it were any other person then he’d say pushing your limits is how you should live however this is someone he deeply cares about and knows that when you speak up about needing to be alone and recharge you mean it. You’re always a priority to him and fighting is a second but if he has harbinger work then he’ll do his best to cuddle with you till you’re alright. Childe will bring you along if he has easy missions that he thinks won’t injure you and make sure that you can be comfy but also safe while he balances you and his work.

- He is the best at cuddling and sis very attentive however once he’s has you in his arms you’re staying there for at least an hour or too. So I hope you don’t have anything important soon because even when your social battery is charged he’s going to be very happy with snuggling with his lover and being able to not think about work for once.

Arlecchino

- At first you’re scared to ask her at all since she’s very intimidating but since she’s very observant and perceptive it’s only a matter of time before she’ll talk to you about it. Arlecchino is very loving and soft when it involves you and she’d do anything for you. Pretty much anything that doesn’t break her rules. When you tug on her sleeve and discreetly glance at her with a tired shy expression the knave will excuse herself from the public conversation she’s having. You’ll be lead to an empty room hand in hand and placed on her lap as she runs her fingers through your hair or drawing circles on the top of your hand while you recharge.

- You both made a sign for when you feel like this and she respects it without any question and when she put the pieces together she cupped your face with no judgement at all in her expression. Kissing you softly and resting her forehead on yours. “Try to not be scared of telling me your worries or wishes because I love you no matter what, darling. Now do you want a signal to let me know or would you rather be held now and think about it later?”

Pulcinella

- You don’t need to ask him because he’s going to insist that you never need to ask for permission about anything that’s bothering you or making you uncomfortable and simply guiding you to a small empty room so you can recharge with him. He can also almost know when you’re running low on your social battery if he’s with you and ask you, normally he’s right 99% of the time. If he needs to do harbinger work then he will work on some of it but you’ll be sitting next to him in a hug or leaning your head on his shoulder.

- He’s rarely called for on missions and so you don’t interact much with anyone but him but when you do it’s usually for galas and formal events that makes it hard to sneak away to get away from socializing. He makes it work though, easily slipping out of the conversation he’s in and making an excuse of an agent calling for an urgent message while guiding you to a small isolated part of the room where almost no one can see the both of you. You cozy up to him and he’ll talk you quietly about meaningly topic if you want to be distracted or remain silent if you want it to be quiet.

[roseykat]

TITLE: SKZ members as submissives

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: An OT8 blurb of how each of the members are as subs.

TAGS: sub!skz members, implied dom!reader not necessarily gender specific, mentions of sex, orgasms, humiliation, edging, collars, leashes, spitting, nipple play, implied brat behaviour, praise, choking, gagging.

MASTERLIST

A/N: my next work that will be uploaded after this is Venom Eater! Also trying out a new layout for when I do OT8 blurbs…

This man is 50/50. He can be so good for you by letting you use him in the ways that you want and then be a devious, disobedient little upstart if you look away for one second. If he’s in that type of state, expect him to whine to you about what it is that he wants; ‘make me cum~’, ‘but I need you to use me,’ ‘need to get off on you, please.’

Denying him is always so fun because he gets so teary eyed and agitated. At that point, he’ll cave. He is strong, but when his needs are being compromised, Chan will see your instructions through to the end. Whether it’s to use his mouth for your own pleasure, his cock, fingers, whatever part of his body you see fit to seek an orgasm out of, he will make it happen as reparation.

A sub that can be a full on stubborn brat who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Trying to get him to listen is like pulling teeth and it can take a lot to strip Minho back into a conforming, incoherent mess. Overstimulation usually does the trick, bc he gets what he wants at first then realises he’s bitten off too much that he can chew and finds himself running into multiple orgasms bc you keep getting him hard enough to make him cum.

You like showing him how much cum he’s dribbled out of his stiff yet sore cock just by lifting up your hand, forcing him to see your palm glisten in white. Seeing it is like a slap of humiliation to him which paints a nice deep red blush across his cheeks.

A very sensitive sub that can only handle being touched so much. Edging works so well that it’s almost always part of the bedroom routine. You try to utilise it in order to see his strong, taut body writhing, and to hear him moan out ‘please, wanna cum so bad. Can’t take it anymore.’ Just hearing him say that invites you to cuff his hands to the bedpost so that he doesn’t try touching himself when you refuse him from orgasming.

The one thing that he absolutely cannot take is watching you get yourself off. Therefore, in the instance where you do attach him to the headboard, you peel yourself right off of his body and get into a position where he can see you make yourself cum. Whether it’s by your fingers, a vibrator, a dildo, whatever it takes to make him see what he’s missing out on, is a form of torture to him.

Obedient when he wants to be, but for the most part, he will let you use him whenever you want because Hyunjin is too in love with you not to. He likes having a collar fixed around his throat with a leash attached while you get him to fuck you in positions where he may appear ‘on top’ but you still have every degree of control over him.

He’s a relatively messy sub as well but adorns it with pride. Sometimes he cries from overstimulation, drools when you gag him with your fingers, chin and nose wet from you using his face, and will leak a decent amount of precum when you edge him. All in all, he’s versatile to use especially when he wants you to.

Is a sub that requires a lot more attention than most. He is very needy and reactive to the things he allows you to do to him. However, Jisung does explore when it comes to new kinks but to him, nothing beats just getting absolutely fucked. That being said, this man is a pillow prince. You have to put in all the effort - which you don’t mind, but there comes a time where you make Jisung work for it.

If that’s the case, he gets all whiny, mopey, and annoyed because he doesn’t want to ride you - he wants you to fuck him. He gets so stubborn that sometimes he’ll prep himself, fingering his hole even though it’s not nearly as satisfying as when you’re involved. In the end, he will end up riding you, but either very lazily or angrily.

Is everyone’s darling, innocent, and placid submissive that they just want to ruin. Whatever it is that you want to try, Felix is for it. He wants to please you and make you happy. He’s a sub who needs a lot of praise and boy does he deserve it because he’ll let you fuck him, let you clamp his nipples, spit in his mouth, edge him, a combination of all if not more of these activities - you name it.

Sometimes you have to remind Felix that he doesn’t have to do the things you suggest to him, that there are alternatives also or that he just doesn’t have to do it at all. But he always, always assures you that he does. He likes to experiment with you in bed but also wants to test his own limits while achieving pleasure.

Seungmin can be a very hard sub to work with at times. He has the ability to use his words as a weapon, yet sadly, it’s a double edged sword because it does come back and bite him in the ass when you clock him for his behaviour. So if he tries to trip you up with his words when you’re in full dom mode, saying things such as, ‘are you sure about that?’ ‘What makes you think I can’t take it?’ etc, you know how to handle him - with a ball gag.

It limits his supply of verbal daggers and plea bargains that you never bother considering bc he stepped on your last nerve. Another way to get him to shut up is if you use his face. But, his reset button - something that forces him to switch up is by telling him that he’s a ‘good boy’. He gets all flustered and embarrassed but he loves hearing that type of praise from you.

Jeongin starts off as a seemingly disobedient sub, almost leaning towards being a brat, then will slot right into his place of being submissive when you ramp things up in bed. Therefore, it’s easy to snap him out of that phase by threatening that he’s not going to get what he wants - no head, you won’t fuck him or you won’t let him fuck you. When those stakes are on the line, he straightens his act out and behaves.

As a sub, Jeongin is into many things but has a particular interest for shibari. He likes the intricacy of the many different ways in which you can bind his body, the tight feeling of the rope around his muscles, and how it shapes his body well. That’s only if he’s behaved himself well.

[driftingvoid-155]

I think a time travel au where William and Mike both go back with all their memories and also knowing that the other knows would be very interesting. Like they both want things to be different and they both understand the other wants that as well but neither trust the other to not compromise their plans. William who claims to only want to see his family stay whole this time and Mike who wants the same but doesn’t believe William to not seek remnant and ghosts out and William who doesn’t trust Mike to not kill him in his sleep the first instant he slips up so it’s this awkward tip toe game they have around the other of trying not to look to suspicious around the other members of their family but also keeping a close eye on each other. A mutual agreement of ‘you don’t try anything and neither will I’ but both aware how fragile that truce is.

Cue something else happening that instantly has them at each other’s throats before realizing ‘I didn’t do this’ and ‘you didn’t do this’ so wtf is going on. Then them having to come to an arrangement bc they maybe back in the past but that doesn’t mean the timeline won’t try and ‘fix’ itself by having other problems occur. Ones that might actually force them to have to work together.

Also I do like the thought of William genuinely not wanting to be a murderer this time around (he’s seen where going down that road lead him). But also not able to let the idea of immortality go.

I also like the thought of him slightly trying to be a better parent. Like Mike still constantly feels like he’s dead & rotting resulting in him forgetting to eat and do other human things which leads to William reminding him to do and the first time he does it catches Mike completely off guard and it makes him suspicious that it might be William trying to get him to lower his guard by pretending to care but he eventually grows used to the reminders though he’s still reluctant to trust his dad or think that’s he’s actually changed.

[lightlycareless]

Another oneshot (?) we've been all waiting for. The sequel to this piece over here :> Ah, you don't know how long I've been waiting for this. I hope you enjoy it!!!

Warnings: mentions of unaliving you. (explained in the first part) Naoya is insecure about himself, but loves you greatly. mentions of pregnancy. yep, you're pregnant and happily married :) slight mentions of nsfw activities. minimal proofreading I think?

Happy reading!!

Why did it have to be him?

Of all people that could’ve been chosen from to follow through with this lead, of all willing candidates who were more than ready to seize the glory the completion of this mission would provide…

Why did they choose him?

Was it because he was the one that discovered said lead? Or how deep it actually ran? Just enough to affect not only his fellow sorcerers, but civilians as well?

It sounded like an excuse, not even a good one at that, to keep him promptly occupied and away from his true, and only priority; the reason why he started this sting operation in the first place.

Yet, as much as he wanted to escape, he remained behind because there was some truth to be found behind their words: no one else knew the gravity of the situation better than him. There was no other that experienced so closely what it was to almost lose someone dear to him, and such, the importance to put an end to all of this.

Working every single day and night, Naoya was eventually able to catch the head of this whole mafia and bring them to justice—only then, was he able to return home to you, his pregnant and inconsolable wife which could barely express her feelings outside of a tight hug, fearing he’ll disappear if she let’s go, and quiet sobs, wishing he’d never leave again.

“Naoya” you breathe, taking in his scent, his warmth, his everything you’ve been cruelly deprived of for months. “Naoya, ple—please, don’t leave me again…”

“I won’t—” And your husband was eager to promise you so, having long decided that missions are temporarily suspended until he decides otherwise—

But the moment his arms embrace you back, the first time in what felt like eons for him… he’s welcomed by a horrifying revelation, a sensation he perhaps wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t disappeared.

Your stomach was bigger, more prominent; he had to stretch his arms a little more in order to completely fit you—

Undermining the length of his absence, earnestly reassuring himself on his way back that he hadn’t been away from you for long, that he hadn’t missed much of your kisses or giggles… or his child’s growth.

But obviously, he had. It was plain to see.

And he had missed all of it because of that stupid mission that didn’t even pay him that well...

Naoya began to distance himself from you soon after.

You didn’t think much of it at first, naively believing he was just… trying to readjust back into his previous home life, break away from being constantly on his toes and simply relax. It was only a matter of time before Naoya returned to the same loving, albeit teasing, husband you knew and loved!

God knows you went through the same thing when returning to the Zen’in estate, which you never believed would happen considering how everything transpired after your supposed allergy.

In fact, everything about it was… confusing, for a lack of better wording. From the swiftness in which you were transferred to your clan’s home, to how you were received back by an entirely different staff…

A part of you swore it wasn’t a simple allergy—

Nonetheless, you trusted Naoya, knew how he was too. Prone to overreacting at the smallest mention of danger, a side of him that only worsened upon learning of your pregnancy.

In these matters, sometimes silence was the best path to take. More so if it meant a happy marriage, a happier life, in return.

At least that’s what you wished to believe, because no amount of compromise seemed to put things back in place, not even after days of his return, nor how much you desired it to.

Something just… didn’t sit right with him. The short answers, his quick glances, to even keeping distance between the two when sharing the same bed…!

There was something undeniably wrong with your husband, but you were not to give up anytime soon. Even when these little things began to chip away at your poor dismayed heart, you still found it in yourself to give him the benefit of the doubt.

«He just needs a little push» you conclude. «A reminder of what he missed, and he’ll be back on track»

And thankfully, you knew exactly what to do.

With a light robe that left nothing to the imagination, you’d wait for him in your shared chambers, patiently sitting by the futon to when he eventually crosses the door, eyes wide as Naoya took in your form, breath hitching to his throat the moment the garment fell to your sides, enough provocation for him to move closer, finally within your hands grasp.

“Naoya.” You softly cooed, fingers carefully tracing the edges of his hakama, which you soon began to undo. “My love.”

He’s always found it amusing how easily he succumbed to your charms: just two words while batting your eyes and he was putty in your hands.

“I missed you.” You cooed, pouring honey into his ears as you continued to undress him; Naoya did nothing to stop his robes from falling beside him—too entranced to care about anything else but you, and the heat settling underneath your touch. “You don’t know how lonely I’ve been without you…”

You’d then place a trail of kisses, beginning from his ear down to his cheek and then, his lips, where he’d cautiously return the gestures, almost as if he were afraid of hurting you.

But as much as you wished he’d be a bit more assertive; you do not press him—if anything, his reaction makes your heart tighten, urging you to spoil him even further, which you do by softly intertwining your hands with his, pulling them up to your sensitive breasts and resting them there.

“Without your touch… without your warmth” You murmur, gently squeezing him against you before sliding his hands down your sides… “No matter how much I tried… nothing compares to you.”

Onto your rounded stomach, to the soft skin protecting his unborn child—a son or daughter made from your overflowing love, fated to represent such union by either resembling their father or you; Naoya secretly hopes they take after you, both physically and in personality.

And you… well, a little prince that looked just like your husband simply made the wait unbearable.

But regardless of the outcome, both knew they’d love them either way.

“Please.” You breathe against his lips, palm gently rubbing against his growing desire. “I need you.”

But even your longing couldn’t contend against Naoya’s uncertainty, for the moment his fingers graced your belly, he was sourly reminded of the revelation that has haunted him since his return, fated to haunt you too when he immediately retracted.

And way he looked at you, at your child, almost as if he were frightened, if not disgusted… is one that permanently imprints on the back of your mind; destroying any last hope you had for this sweet moment, and subsequently, your heart with the following questioning.

“Did I… Did I do something?” you quietly ponder, hands trembling as you struggled whether to keep looking at Naoya, or glance away. You didn’t know anymore…

Only that it hurt.

“No, it’s… it’s not you.” He responds, probably the largest sentence you’ve gotten out of him since his return; and the answer that made your assumptions worsen.

“Then is—is it—is it the baby?” you fret, feeling whatever remained of your heart break. “Do you—Do you not want the baby anymore?”

“What?” Naoya’s eyes widen, perplexed by the accusation. “What did you just say?”

It was outrageous, uncalled for considering all what he did and for who did it.

But to you, who was kept in the dark throughout the entirety of his absence, alongside his shockingly different behavior, your mind could only point you onto one direction:

In his time away, back on the field and for a long time just like he did before the two married… did he suddenly realize how restricting a baby would be on his life? On his career? Perhaps acknowledge that this is not something he was willing to sacrifice?

Or did he—

Did he conclude you were not the right person to share this experience with? Someone out there far more suitable than you?

Naoya didn’t need to read minds to know exactly what was going on through your thoughts, nor to be reminded of what he must to ensure your happiness, which he had selfishly stripped you away from—once again…

“I would put down my life just to keep you and our child safe.” Naoya says, moving to take your hands with his as a gesture to put all this behind, but when you flinch away in return, he’s given a taste of what you’ve silently endured since his return. “Y/N—”

“Your—your words don’t go with what you—with what you’ve done.” You quietly retort, struggling with the cluster of emotions his actions provided: from embarrassment, to sadness, ending in anger… and yet, you still loved him. “How can you say that when you’ve—when you’ve done nothing but reject me?”

Once again Naoya wishes to immediately refute your worries, but he knew well it would prove your claim, do the very same thing he swore to prevent.

Seems that all this time he spent trying to protect you was for naught, for he’d come straight home to hurt you instead.

“Have I… Have I become… undesirable to you, because of this?” Given the way he glanced away whenever coming near him, what else were you supposed to think?

“Y/N.” Naoya persists, cupping your face and forcing you to look at him—your eyes reflecting straight back at him how consistently stupid he had been with you.

Yes, the pain he felt for not being there with you through this very important time of their marriage is very valid—no one said otherwise.

But had he even considered how infinitely worse it had been for you? You were the one carrying his child, dealing with all that pertained to a pregnancy: hormones, pains, fears and insecurities… with the addition of just what you needed: his second thoughts.

Could anyone blame you for assuming such things?

“Wh—what?” you respond, frowning.

“I haven’t been truthful to you.” Naoya begins. “In fact, I don’t think I have been at all.”

“You think?” you accuse, he swallows.

“I know.” Naoya corrects. “I know I haven’t been honest with anything. From my absence to my behavior towards you, the least you deserve is the truth.”

“…Is there someone else?” you quickly interrupt. “Just tell me if—”

“No, never. I love you too much to ever look at someone else and you know that.”

You look away, afflicted to have even considered such a horrible thing, as if he hadn’t proved so countless times.

“Then… what is it?” you murmur. “What have I done to make you act this way?”

“Nothing.” He responds. “You didn’t do nothing at all.”

It was only the passage of time that earned you such reckless reaction, marking you responsible for something you had no influence over.

His baby was to continue grow inside you regardless of if he was there to see it or not. And in a way, he should be happy this was the way things were occurring: It meant that your pregnancy was a healthy one, the only thing he desired for you and the baby at the end of the day!

But he allowed his emotions to get the best of him and now, made you victim of his consequences.

He could see it in the way you didn’t believe his words, your eyes looking at him but void of the adoration and devotion you always blessed him with.

Naoya feels undoubtedly foolish. The only one undeserving here was him.

“You never had an allergy reaction. Not even close. The reason why I asked you to stay with your dad was because...” Naoya stops. “Was because there was an—an attempt on your life. Someone thought they’d be able to hurt you and walk away without consequences. I made sure he knew otherwise.

And… I kept it a secret because I thought it would be best for you. I thought that by doing so I’d be protecting you… but it seems I only ended up hurting you instead.

I wasn’t supposed to keep this long away from you either. But what I once thought a quick mission turned out to be a whole operation; and since I was the one who found out everything, I was also responsible to seeing the end of it.”

Naoya hopes that by explaining this you’d be able to… well, maybe not forgive him at the moment, but at least look at him with that glint in your eye that made his heart quicken every time. A step closer to his redemption…

And not be shocked by your following words!

“I already knew all that! But it still doesn’t explain why you’re acting this way with me.”

“You—you knew? How?” Naoya thought he ordered all those around you to keep this situation under complete secrecy, even threatened to retaliate if not.

But what surprised him the most wasn’t the breach of his trust, but rather… your knowledge and composure of the matter, as if you hadn’t been the target all along.

“My staff told me.” You confessed. More precisely, Haruko, whom at the sight of your disheartened façade at your husband’s prolonged absence just had to tell you the truth.

With Mariya’s subsequent scolding giving you enough leverage to ensure its veracity.

“They tend to be very attentive about all that happens around the estate, and if necessary, they also tell me about it.” You continue. “…But please don’t punish them because of this. They mean nothing but good for me.”

“I know, and I won’t do so.” Naoya promises, far more intrigued in knowing just how far their knowledge of their surroundings extended: if they were aware of all his surprises and told you about them, if your reactions to them had been planned too…

Or if your staff still gave him a chance, understanding how special these gestures were for the two and letting everything play out by itself.

Naoya knew your ladies were ones to be trusted even with your own life, which is why he moves on to worry about your seeming indifference to this scandalous revelation.

“And you weren’t… frightened when they told you?” He breathes, his heart tightening at notion of your anguish, how he wasn’t there to comfort you.

“I was, and for the longest time I didn’t want to eat anything even if it was handed to me by my most trusted…” you continue, those days are ones you still struggle to forget. “But… I guess that after a while, my worries eventually extended over to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, first because you are my husband and I always worry for you, and secondly, because you were out there dealing with the people that tried to harm us… and were close to succeeding.”

“Please don’t say that.” Naoya begs; the thought of you and his baby— he doesn’t even want to think about it.

“… I tried my best to know of your whereabouts, what you were truly doing, but since this was a secret to begin with, I could barely find anything.” You responded. “Or why you wanted to keep this hidden from me.”

“I wanted to protect you. I didn’t want to give you another scare that might hurt the baby...”

“I know.” You sigh. “Which is why I ultimately decided to not push the subject when you came back; believing that once you were here, with us, everything would go back to normal…”

“Except it didn’t.” Naoya concludes, you tearfully look away.

“I looked back on all the things that happened in hopes of finding an answer. To what I knew, what I’ve done, if maybe there was something I said over the phone that you didn’t like, but… nothing seemed to click for me. So, I guess that after all that happened alongside how lonely I felt, my mind simply assumed you’ve—”

“—found someone else.”

“…Have you?”

“No; you know I don’t entertain others since the moment I met you.” He repeats.

“Then why… this?”

Shall he tell you that the way he’s chosen to deal with his prolonged absence… was by continuously rejecting you? Keeping away from you and his unborn child, missing even more of the growth he swore to witness and protect?

If he wants a slap across the face, he ought to.

But even then, he’d much rather take your anger than the pain of you mistrusting him enough to believe he’d ever love anybody else that wasn’t you.

His heart was yours, from the very moment he set his eyes on you. Naoya swore so when marrying you—

No—since the moment he was born Naoya already knew he was destined to spend the rest of his life with you, and the next one, and the next one. He just needed to find you…

And make amends in this one if he planned to achieve that too.

“…Because when I saw you again, I thought everything would go right back to how it was. That I’d find you just how I left you, happy, well fed, and with that adorable belly of yours I couldn’t wait to see grow…

But once I held you in my arms… when I felt how big our child had truly grown, how much time I’d ended up spending away from you—

I couldn’t stand to be near you. I felt repulsed by myself, like I had failed you—”

Like I didn’t deserve you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I love you and our little mochi so, so much, I don’t know what came over me to hurt you.”

“I don’t like it when you keep secrets from me… I thought we agreed to never do that when we got married.”

“I know, I know.” He sighs, looking away. It was now your time to cup his face and return his heartbroken gaze to you. “I just wanted to protect you.”

“And you can do that… by our side.” You then grab his hands, carefully placing them over your stomach and caressing it. “…Please don’t leave us again, I don’t think my heart could take that again…”

“I won’t, I swear.” Naoya says. “I never want to leave your side ever again or miss our baby’s growth. I want to be there when she gives her first kick.”

“Why are you so adamant in believing our baby is a girl?” you giggle, he smiles.

“I don’t know, father’s intuition, I guess. Though it all started the moment I had that dream of her. Ever since, all I can see is a little girl that looks just like you running across the estate” He confesses, your breath hitches. “With your big, bright eyes and rosy chubby cheeks I cannot wait to pinch, demanding she’d be given taro mochi before dinner—and you naturally sneaking some for her, of course.”

“You dream of our baby?” you swoon.

“Every night.” Naoya admits, and the thought of your husband being so eager to welcome his baby that he dreams of her… it warms you up with unprecedented happiness.

“Don’t curse our daughter like that…” you pout, referencing how Naoya already plans to tease her. He laughs.

“Finally accepted the truth, huh? That she’s a girl?”

“You’re not off the hook yet—” but just when you were on way to refute him, a sudden shiver down your spine stops you, making Naoya quickly reach out for your robe and wrap you with it, placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head before hugging you.

Being so close to you after so long it made it physically impossible for him to stray away, especially with the tight way you hugged him back, finally giving him all the love itched to share—and taking in his warmth, his scent; the smell you missed oh so much, but was only able to enjoy through the covers on the bed or his clothes.

Neither wanted this moment to end.

“Are you still cold?” Naoya asks, gently rubbing your back.

“No, not anymore…” you whisper, leaning deeper into his chest before trembling once more. “Oh, well, a little bit.”

“Come on, let’s get you back on the futon.” He proposes. “Unless you still want to…”

You shake your head, for as endearing as that sounded, there was much to catch up to.

“I just want to be like this with you.” You add, looking up to him. “If… that’s ok with you.”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

Making haste, Naoya helps you down onto the bed with such tenderness you could only giggle at, reminding him that you were only pregnant, and subsequently, still capable of doing many things.

“No, we’re not doing that.” He says, firmly set on pampering you; let it be known that he greatly loved you and missed being with you like this.

And once you were comfortably set on the bed, underneath the warm cotton covers and safe within his arms, he rested his hands over your stomach, no longer flinching at it’s feeling and instead, relishing your scent —roses, his favorite—and what this felt like to him, what you always represented:

Home.

“Have you eaten well? After that, I mean.” He wonders; Naoya doesn’t doubt you have, between your family and staff, there was never a moment they would allow you to lack what you so much desired. Yet, he still wishes to know directly from you.

“Contrary from what this may seem, I’ve only gotten this big because of the baby, not because I’ve been eating that much…”

“I wasn’t implying anything.” He laughs, still caressing your stomach. “Though I have to admit that I find you quite adorable like this.”

You blush.

“You must’ve been huge as a baby.” You continue on, enjoying the warmth eradiating from his hand onto your growing belly. And something tells you your adorable baby does too.

“Me? What makes you think that? Could’ve been your side of the family.” Naoya snickers.

“Um, no it isn’t. I’ve seen pictures of me and my dad tells me I wasn’t this big. Besides, it’s not fair that I haven’t been able to find pictures of you when you were a baby to corroborate that.”

“Ah, so that’s what you’ve been doing all this time?” He asks, inwardly glad that Ranta had managed to hide them. Though after this he supposes he could give you a preview…

“Besides eating odd cravings…” you giggle, intertwining your fingers with his, admiring the sensation of his wedding band underneath your touch. “Like Cheetos and strawberry yogurt…”

“Don’t tell me you actually ate that.”

“Our baby wanted it, what was I supposed to do? Deny her? That would only make me a bad mother.”

“Or a spoiling one.” He smiles. “But I can’t be too harsh on you, I’d be the same.”

“If not worse…” you say, recounting all the gifts he sent you while away. You haven’t even gone through all of them yet—and something tells you you might never, somehow more on the way…

“Definitely worse.” Naoya repeats, squeezing your cheeks into a pout before kissing the side of your face. “I love you, and I’m sorry.”

“I have long forgiven you, Naoya.” You respond, turning around to see him. “But… promise to never do that again. We swore not to keep secrets between us. And if we are to make this family work, we have to be a team.”

“I know; us against the world.” Naoya murmurs, pulling you closer to him and giving you one last tight hug. “I promise, and I swear I’ll do everything within my reach to make up for all my mistakes.”

“You don’t need to do that, just your love will be enough for the two of us.”

He gives you a breathy chuckle, that he knows will not be an issue, he has more than enough love to share with you and his unborn baby, perhaps even more than he’s comfortable disclosing, which could easily be mended with another baby—

But all in due time, for he does not intend to rush this special moment with you. He simply desires to live the rest of his life with you, one day at a time.

Just… you and his baby.

What a lovely thought to fall asleep to.

I cannot believe they had this discussion naked LMAO I can't be the only one that thought so 🙈 anyways, there you have it. a regretful Naoya that lamented being away from you :( he's really excited to be a dad but hated not being there for you!! I'm 100% sure he cried about feeling your stomach be slightly bigger.

Oh, I love domestic au's. Anyways...

I hope this was to your enjoyment :> Thank you so much for your support!!

Take care and hope to see y'all soon!!

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 15

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

The plot thickens…

Content Warnings - Boggs kills the mood

“Do you really want me to?” he purrs, stepping closer to you. You were sitting on the edge of his bed, looking up at him mischievously.

“Well that depends,” you hum. “Do you love me?”

His lips are on yours before you know it. Despite being in love for years, this was the first time you’d had physical contact of this sort, and damn, you should have done this sooner. Why hadn’t you done this sooner?

He finally pulls away after a few moments, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Always,” he replied.

“Do you love me?” he asks, kissing along your neck.

“Yes idiot!” you exclaim. “Are you that oblivious?”

“You’ve been spending too much time around Johanna,” he laughs, giddy at your confession.

“Shut up,” you state, pulling his lips back onto yours.

His hands roam your waist as yours toy with the buttons on his jumpsuit. The moment heats up and you can tell where this is headed, but his watch buzzes, killing the mood.

“We’ll have to finish this later,” he sighs, checking his watch. “I’m needed in command before dinner and you are needed back in your room.”

“Ugh, fine,” you reply. “But we will be finishing this later.”

And finish it you did, spending the next afternoon making out on Finnick’s bed. He seemed hesitant, however, to take it any further with you.

“Why don’t you want to have sex with me?” you ask him as he pulls away again. He’s a bit shocked by your question.

“I just think it’s not something to rush into,” he explains. “And I didn’t think you wanted to because of what happened before.” You see him wince at the mention of this previous event which only confuses you more.

“What happened before?” you ask, sitting up.

“Your victory tour…” he replies. “The night in the capital.”

“We never had sex in the capital,” you tell him, still confused as to what he’s talking about.

“No we did not,” he confirms. “Do you seriously not remember?”

“I cannot think of anything you could be referring to,” you respond. You had no clue what he was talking about.

“Forget it then,” he says, trying to drop the subject. “I just don’t think we’re at that point yet.”

“Fine,” you pout. “What were you referring to though?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, shaking his head as he avoids eye contact. “It’s probably best not to remind you.”

He was jealous that you could forget the worst night of your life, while he had to constantly relive all of his.

“Finnick and I had the best idea!” you announce as you waltz into command, Finnick following behind you. The two of you had come to a sort of compromise last night that may fix your living situation.

“And what might that be?” Plutarch asks.

“So you won’t let us live together because we aren’t married, right?” you state. Coin mutters a quick “yes” before you continue. “And you guys need more stuff for your propos…”

The two adults just stare at you, unsure of what’s going to be suggested.

“So… we thought of a compromise,” you explain. “We will let you film a fake wedding of us here in 13 if you let us live together. It will not be legally binding but it can appear real enough on camera so people who see it outside of this bunker believe it.”

“What do you think?” Plutarch asks Coin.

“You two still wouldn’t be able to live together as you are not legally married in 13,” she states.

“Oh my god it’s not like we’re going to make any babies!” you exclaim, causing Finnick to cringe. “We literally just want to be roommates, like we have been for nearly 6 years.”

“I like the idea,” Plutarch shrugs, looking over at Coin. “It would definitely be good footage.”

“Fine but I have some caveats to the arrangement,” Coin relents. “Firstly, Miss Y/L/N must still attend regular checkups with our doctors as well as follow an assigned daily schedule like the rest of the district. Mr. Odair must actually follow his schedule and will commence combat training with the other victors.”

“Deal,” you smile.

The district is a buzz with the news of a wedding. You receive congratulations from many people, most of whom you’ve never met, and confused faces from the victors. They knew you two liked each other but what changed?

“You’re engaged?” Johanna asks, nearly choking on her water.

“Fake engaged,” you clarify. “We made a deal with Plutarch that he can film our fake wedding for a propo if Coin lets us be roommates.”

“I see,” Johanna sighs.

“Why don’t you guys just actually get married?” she asks. “It’s gonna happen with you two eventually.”

“Finnick doesn’t want to,” you reply. “He says marriage is something you do because you love someone, not because you want to be roommates.”

“Ugh men,” she groans. “You mean to tell me he doesn’t realize that the two of you are in love?”

“No we’ve established that already,” you explain. “He just doesn’t want to rush into anything.”

“What do you want?” she asks.

“Him,” you respond. “He’s being weird though. The other day I asked him why he didn’t want to do anything past making out with me and he said it’s cause of my victory tour but literally nothing out of the ordinary happened on my victory tour so I’m super confused and he wouldn’t explain it to me and told me to drop the subject.”

Johanna looks at you in shock and you can’t help but get the feeling that everyone knows something you don’t.

“Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?” you ask her.

“Uh if you don’t remember then I don’t think I should remind you,” she responds. Before you can ask her what the hell everyone was hiding from you she suddenly turns serious.

“What did they do to you in the capital?” she asks. “Like what did your treatment include?”

You are a bit taken aback by her change in subject but respond anyways.

“They, um, would take me to a room down the hall and make me sit down in a chair while they gave me some medications,” you respond. “They said they had been recently approved by the capital to treat ptsd and other illnesses I was suffering from. The medicine would make me super sleepy but outside of that I felt fine. I can’t exactly pinpoint when it started working but I know that once it did I felt so much better that I had ever have before.”

“Did they tell you what was in the medicine?” Johanna asks, concerned. “Or what it was called?”

“Nope,” you shrug. “I questioned it at first but after a few dosages I stopped questioning what I was taking because it made me feel better.”

“I think you should tell your doctor about the medicine and treatment,” Johanna tells you. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

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[seeker-of-stories19]

Jaime & Khaji Da Headcannons

- Khaji makes a habit of naturally and even subconsciously adjusting Jaime’s body to make it more adaptive, it takes a lot of arguments and reminders for Khaji to stop giving him extra limbs and eventually they compromise on night vision and sometimes fangs/claws

- Khaji still secretly does it at night to pull Jamie’s blankets back up when he insists on sleeping in bed because he will kick them off if he gets hot

- Jaime only wears his Gotham law hoodie at home because he’s worried Khaji will destroy it and it’s his biggest comfort item

- There’s definitely an element of horror in having his body invaded in such a traumatic way, but oftentimes the thing that freaks Jaime out more is that it feels so right. He can’t remember and doesn’t want to imagine what his life would be like without Khaji Da

- Jaime routinely spaces out while talking to Khaji and literally won’t respond to his family. It freaks Bianca out a bit but Milagro and Rudy love messing with Jaime and totally take advantage of it to scare him

- Although one time Rudy jumps on him from behind and scares him so bad he gets electrocuted again, even though Khaji knows he’s not a threat they think Rudy deserves it for making Jaime scared

- After that they stick to hiding his stuff when he’s spaced out communicating with Khaji

- Jaime goes to ridiculously extreme lengths to hide the extent of his trauma because he’s terrified of having to explain what Victoria and Carapax did to him

- Eventually his family starts picking up on it and accommodating him without him asking about it, not coming up behind him, letting sit closest to the exits, not making him wear ties or anything tight around his neck

- It gets to the point where Jaime slowly starts venturing out of his room after panic attacks and nightmares, so he isn’t alone and his family learns that the best way to support him is just looking out for him and not asking about it

- Although there are definitely moments when weird things trigger Jaime and it makes them wonder why having stuff touch his neck causes him to lock himself in his room for hours or blast off to sit on top of a building somewhere

- Khaji is the only one who knows what really happened to Jaime on the island and they’re very protective as a result

- Jaime will absolutely have a breakdown if Khaji takes more than two seconds to answer him because he’s terrified of losing that connection again

- The longer they’re bonded the more Khaji learns about human emotions and experiences, eventually they’re able to contextualize the horror Jaime feels over their bonding and feel guilt for causing him pain. They still don’t understand it in truly human way but they know they hurt him a lot physically and mentally which goes against their purpose

- Jaime spends so much time and energy looking for clothes that won’t show off the bumps along his spine, definitely has to wear stiffer fabric than he likes so it lays somewhat normally

- There’s definitely a period where he tries sticking kinesiology tape over Khaji to try and make the shape less obvious because it’s too hot to wear long sleeves and they burn it off immediately

- Finally after months Milagro points out that if people ask he can just tell them it’s a back brace or some type of medical equipment which makes him feel very stupid for not thinking of it sooner

- He has a lot of scar tissue around where Khaji latched onto his spine even with the advanced healing because of the trauma it put on his body. He also has jagged scars all over his back and shoulders with some stretching down his arms and legs from the electricity since Khaji didn’t have enough resources at the time to heal him fully

- Definitely at least one occurrence where he scares a stranger half to death walking to his car at night because his eyes are glowing yellow

- Jaime saying we instead of I when talking about things, “We’re so tired” and “Gracias we appreciate it”

- Khaji is incredibly attached to Jaime as well, having bonded more intensely to him than any previous host and like Jaime they’re also terrified of being separated, although they know it is an inevitable part of their reality

- Jaime’s family being so confused by what a symbiotic relationship is and definitely asking some invasive questions on accident

- Jaime is sort of permanently torn between horror and affection toward Khaji, a constant tug of war between the violation of being forced to share his body and not truly have control over his body and choices and the fact that their connection feels undeniably right, the understanding on a level he doubts any other human being can comprehend experiencing

- But even on the bad days he doesn’t blame Khaji, they were simply doing what they were programmed to without any understanding of the pain or trauma it would cause

- And he knows they understand it better now and regret ever causing Jaime damage

- Clothes never stop being a problem, he ends up putting all the basics in an Amazon list and reordering a cheap wardrobe every couple months

- On nights he goes to events with Jenny or other nicer things he just prays he won’t transform and accidentally destroy his one suit

- Even though he can never convince Khaji to stop burning his clothes they always protect the necklace he wears of his fathers

- No matter how long they’re bonded Jaime still answers Khaji out loud sometimes, when he’s at home it just leads to some confusion and teasing but he gets some nasty looks in public for mumbling nonsense to himself or talking over people in conversations

- Clicking/chirping sounds when he’s happy

A/N I totally didn’t expect to get this many likes so thank you, maybe I need to do headcannons more often! Anyways please feel free to add to these in reblogs if you have any more ideas and use any of these that inspire you in your own stories! But if you do tag me or send me AO3 links so I can see!!!!!

[concentrateandpush]

I wouldn’t have left the house past 39 weeks if I didn’t need to, but my Grandfathers funeral wasn’t one I was willing to compromise on. We have the hospital bag in the car, but have agreed to get in the funeral car with my family to ride over to the parlour. Which I’m already uneasy about.

It’s a rough day already, but Mom is fussing over the flowers and my Grandma is worrying that family members from overseas won’t make it, my aunt, as usual is just sat there and there’s so many things to get ready.

“I’ve got that” I sigh as I go and help my Grandma with all of her things to take “it’ll be okay, you know, I know it’s not what you want to hear but he was 98 and is resting happily now” I say as I take her into my arms, rubbing her back “I’ve got you” I whisper. “You shouldn’t even be here, you’ve got enough happening.. I don’t want to rely on you to do anything” she tears up. “I want to do whatever I can” I assure her before heading off with her bag.

“Ready?” I sigh as we head out to the car. Luckily, my wife and I have a whole area on the back row and I look at her with a sigh “I don’t know why I agreed to the obituary” I say as I rub my bump in small circles. “You’ll be amazing, you always are” she smiles.

The journey is short and sweet but as we get to the roundabout, there’s a fuss from up front. “Wo-woahhh!” The driver shouts before we all get jolted back, jerking our bodies forward as the seatbelts pull us back. My heart jumps into my throat as I feel my body being tugged and thrown. “Baby!” My wife shouts as she turns to me, checking straight away on my facial expression. “I-I’m fine, I’m fine, are you?” I ask and she nods “I’m okay.. baby okay?” She asks and I rub softly feeling a little kick and I nod “baby’s fine”.

“Everyone okay?” The driver asks and everyone is fine, but when he gets out, he sees that all of the bonnet is crushed. “Okay, I need to order a taxi for all of you, on us obviously” he sighs heading off to call them and I look at my phone checking the time “we have twenty minutes”. “It’s a ten minute walk, can we just get there? Madge?” My wife asks my Nan and she nods but I feel the heaviness in my body grow. “Baby, I don’t know” I say quietly and she nods “okay, let’s see the taxi times”.

“They won’t be here for another twenty” he explains. I just get out of the car and start walking, knowing we have no choice. “Lena!” my wife, Blair calls and I look back “come on” I sigh.

The walk is quick but painful and I feel movements in places I haven’t felt them before. We get there with a few minutes spare and I find the nearest bench, sitting straight away and putting my hair up. “I like your hair down” Gran sighs and I shake my head “too hot” I mutter. “Baby, do you need water? Anything?” Blair asks and I just shake my head. “Back rubs” I say softly letting her give me some love.

“Family?” The director addresses and I look to Blair “I need a minute, you go in..” I sigh and know I have to go in. “Come on I’ve got you” she says holding her hand out. I stand up and as I do I feel my inner thighs warm up under my dress. “My waters” I mutter, grabbing the bench “My waters just broke” I whisper and they are met with so much pain in my back, I find myself bent over the bench taking long deep breaths.

“Not now baby, not now” I whisper. “Lena! Blair! Come on” Gran demands and I look to Blair pleading for help. “Right, let’s get you in there, I know you’d kill me if I let you leave” she sighs as she supports my back, guiding me in.

We are the champions by queen plays on the speakers as I walk towards the front row, passing people who notice the flushed colour of my skin and sweat droplets on my forehead. “Let me help” Blair whispers as we get to the seats and it’s a good thing she helps because I couldn’t have got down on my own.

The service is nice and luckily, the contractions are slow and I’m able to breathe quietly through them, but one hits so hard that all I feel I can do is open my legs a little and cry so I can let some frustration out, normal in a funeral I guess. “And Lena has some words to say..” the director announces. Shit.

I fumble up to the top, standing in front of the room filled with hundreds of friends, family and acquaintances of my Grandfather. Clearing my throat as I open the paper I start to talk. “My Grandfather would be over the moon with the turn out, he always said that-“ I start well but the pain comes over me like a wave. “He said that-“ I start and find my hands gripping the stand. “He-“ I mutter before I just buckle, my knees give out and I find myself being caught by the director as he lowers me to the ground.

“I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here” my wife announces as she gets to the front. The pain is making me pant uncontrollably and I’m not keeping it a secret anymore. “Do the speech” I mutter to her and she shakes her head “do it, please” I cry as I lean against a wall, panting and shaking.

She stands and delivers, better than I probably would have. Everyone is distracted anyway, by me, legs parted, sweating and panting, slightly covered by the coffin. The final music starts and I look up, seeing people leave, trying to catch a glance of what I’m doing. “I’m here, I’m here” she states as she comes to my attention. “I’ve called an ambulance” a member of staff announces and I just shake my head “there’s no time”.

“It’s okay, I’ve had 3, she’s had 2” the staff member says as she comes over. “Towels, water and scissors” she demands of the director and I look to my wife, tears in my eyes “thank you for doing that” I smile and she laughs, rubbing my belly and taking my underwear off. “Come on, let’s have a baby” she smiles.

“Shit, you’re.. like, open” she whispers as she gazes between my legs. “I know” I say as I grab my thigh, panting in and out. “Can I push?” I ask softly and she looks to the women “yes, you absolutely can” one of them laughs. “O-okay” I mumble as I scrunch my face up, taking a breath and baring down for the first time ever. “Nnnnggg” I groan quietly, feeling movement but no spreading.

“Okay, like you’re doing a poo” the woman smiles and I look to Blair grabbing her hand and squeezing “nngaahahh!” I cry out, taking some quick rounded breaths after letting it out. “Pick her leg up” one of the women demand to my wife and I shake my head “I need her” I moan and the other woman takes a leg, pushing back.

“Mmmphhh” I cry out “I can’t fucking do it” I cry and my wife smiles “You! Are Lena fucking Lovell, you can do anything” she laughs.

“Gaaaaah!” I cry, feeling myself split. “Am I tearing?” I ask and the woman between my legs shakes her head “I’m Mel” she laughs and I nod “thank you Mel” I smile before baring down again “ccccaaaaah!” I screech “that’s it, harder sweetheart, you’re doing it” she smiles and I shake my head before pulling my other leg back and giving everything I’ve got “GAAAHHH!” I cry out feeling a pop “fuck” I moan, trying to catch my breath.

“Heads here” she smiles “again” she demands and I shake my head “I need a break”. “You’re doing amazingly baby, you’re so beautiful” Blair smiles lovingly and I laugh, wiping my head. “I love you” I whisper and she smiles “I love you too”.

I find myself getting up onto my knees, leaning forward “sorry” I mumble and the woman smiles “you’re in control” she says softly.

“Fuck.. fu-UUHHH” I cry out, feeling the shoulders stretch me out “ohhhh, oh god” I moan, reading down “come on baby, come out” I whisper as I tug a little. “Come on, work with mommy” I whisper. “Baby, you catch” I instruct Blair as I hold on to the stand. “Ready?” I whisper before letting out a huge scream “aahhhhhhh!” I howl as I feel the baby leave my body and splash into my loves arms, followed by the sweetest cries.

“Oh my god..” she whispers “you did it” I hear her sob before the two women help me on to my back a little propped up. “It’s a boy” Blair grins, handing him to me “a boy” I grin, taking him into my arms “oh your great grandfather would love you” I smile. “Trevor?” My wife smiles, my grandfathers name. “Trevor?” I whisper to baby as I kiss Blair softly.

[seoulmatez]

୨♡୧ TAKE TWO — miya osamu x reader. sfw. fluff. reader and osamu are exes. best friend!atsumu.

“do we really have to eat here?” you cross your arms, hesitantly lingering outside of onigiri miya. you spare the sign a quick, apprehensive glance before turning your gaze back to atsumu who looks uncharacteristically annoyed.

“yes.” he nods, pointing at himself. “it’s my turn to pick lunch.”

that much is true but you thought your best friend would be a little more considerate of your circumstances and choose not to force you through an awkward meal at your ex's restaurant. maybe it was silly of you to think so; atsumu hasn’t been necessarily accommodating since your break up. he always invites both of you to his games and takes you back to hyogo to have dinner and celebrate holidays with his family. you suppose these are all things the two of you did before you started dating osamu, but you can’t help but feel guilty for continuing to be so present in the man’s life even after ending things with him.

you sigh and throw your hands out in exasperation. “please just pick somewhere else. he probably thinks i’m haunting him with how often i’m around.”

“no,” atsumu tells you with the shake of his head as he comes to stand behind you. his hands come to rest on your shoulders, firmly guiding you toward the front entrance. “i’m hungry and we’re already here. you’ll both just have to deal with it.”

there’s no use in fighting him on the matter any longer and while you won’t admit it, you’ve been craving some of osamu’s rice balls ever since the two of you split up. so, with a shaky hand, you pull the door open, the bell above it ringing to announce your arrival.

it’s just your luck that osamu is stationed at the host stand when you enter. his gray eyes are shielded by his cap when he looks up but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like his gaze is piercing you. it isn’t cold or dismissive but the intensity is still there.

you’re not sure if atsumu wants to save you the embarrassment of the uncomfortable interaction or if he’s really just starving—regardless of which it is, he speaks up from behind you, one of his hands lifting from your shoulder to hold up two fingers. “table for two, brother.”

osamu hums in confirmation, picking up two laminated menu sheets from behind the podium and nodding his head in a gesture for you to follow. you do, hanging back and falling behind atsumu to keep a healthy distance between yourself and osamu. he settles the two of you at a small booth, setting the menus on the table and telling you both that he’ll give you some time to look over them before he returns to take your orders.

your eyes scan over the selection offered but even without looking at the index of food items, you’d be able to list off almost everything printed on the menu. you had helped osamu draft it, after all.

you remember it like it was yesterday; his experimenting with recipes and your taste testing of each one of them. you’d sit down and help him go through interior design catalogs, compromising on a mix of functionality and trendy. it was an exciting experience, a time when the both of you were happy. but as joyful as the both of you were, it was also hectic and opened your eyes to how you each had priorities and commitments outside of your relationship.

you still aren’t sure if it was the right call, but you and osamu came to terms with that fact and decided to end things on a good note. right person, wrong time or something like that.

with a sigh, you push your menu to the center of the table. it’s a reminder of what once was and you already know what you want anyway. your melancholy aura must reach atsumu on the other side of the table because he levels you with another miffed stare. his lips move as though he’s about to scold you but before he can, his cell phone rings.

the blonde pulls the device from his pocket and reads to contact name lit up on his screen. his golden eyes flit up to you as he stands up from the cushion. “i gotta take this. order my usual if i’m not back when samu stops by.”

you’re tempted to grab his arm as he goes and beg him to stay so you won’t be alone when his brother comes back around but you scoff at yourself instead, saddened by how you’re uneasy at the mere thought of being alone with osamu. you were in love with him once. for all you know, you still might be.

you anxiously wait for atsumu’s return, leg unconsciously bouncing up and down as you do so. osamu beats his brother to the table, though, notepad in hand and a casual smile pulling at his lips. “hey. ready to order?”

you nod, reciting atsumu’s menu choice and then yours, which hasn’t changed since osamu first made it for you. silently, you wonder if he already knew that’s what you’d get.

“anything else?” he asks.

you should just say no and let him be on his way but before you know what’s happening, the words are spilling out past your lips. “i’m sorry.”

“for what?” osamu laughs—the genuine kind with no bitterness laced in it. “getting food?”

“no.” you shake your head, the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips before it falls only a second later. “well, kind of… i know you’re probably tired of seeing me around all the time. it must be pretty awkward for you.”

osamu’s silence pulls your eyes away from your hands and up to his face. you expect him to stiffly chuckle and agree but, to your surprise, he doesn’t. his lazy smile persists as he clips his pen to the waist apron tied around him and stuffs the pad of paper in its pocket.

“i’m not tired of seeing you.” his declaration makes your heart jump from your chest to your throat and your lips part in disbelief. it’s good to hear, though you’d be lying if you said it didn’t catch you off guard. you don’t have time to think about it too much before osamu continues. “and… maybe it’s a little awkward, but it doesn’t have to be that way.”

you press your lips together, puffing out your cheeks with air as you ponder over his words. a stream of cool air pushes past your lips as you deflate your cheeks and turn to look at osamu again. “i don’t know. it seems like an awkward situation by default.”

“yeah, it does. but i don’t want either of us acting cagey just because the other is around.” you don’t want that either. even if things can’t go back to the way they were before, you’re sure that anything osamu has in mind is preferable over strained smiles and forced laughs. “what do you say? no more walking on eggshells?”

it doesn’t sound like a simple solution on the surface but the more you think it over, the more doable it sounds. if you start seeing osamu as your best friend’s brother instead of an ex-lover, all the clumsy interactions you’ve been dealing with for the past few weeks will be traded in for something less delicate, more civil. and although it may not be in your cards at the moment, maybe this could be the start of the path back to the way it once was between you and osamu.

you meet his flint eyes and recognize the hopeful glint swimming in them. it makes you smile, not tense or tight like they have been for almost a month now, but a real one—the kind that meets your eyes. “sounds good.”

“good.” osamu nods, wearing a pleasant smile of his own.

you’ve only just agreed to this new, civil, friendly, non-awkward relationship, but you have to hold back the urge to bombard him with everything that’s happened since the two of you broke up. you want to tell him that you finally got that promotion you were up for and that you were able to adopt that puppy you were always visiting. and you want to ask him all about how his restaurant has been doing and if he ended up moving into that apartment with the nice kitchen that he’d been eyeing up.

“you guys have been talking for a while now.” atsumu’s voice drifts through the air, making you jump. you had almost forgotten about him. he looks between you and osamu as he sits down, taking in your shared smiles and the tranquil air around you. “are you getting back together or what?”

“jesus, atsumu.” you reach over the table to smack his arm. the awkwardness had just dissipated and he single-handedly made this encounter weird again.

osamu holds back a laugh, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. “i’m gonna go start on your food.”

he walks away but that doesn’t stop atsumu from pestering you for more details. “are you? that slap wasn’t much of an answer.”

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

[cyborg-franky]

Prompt: can I ask for some hand holding headcannons or drabbles please of holding hands with the Roger pirates, Strawhats and Whitebeard pirates (whoever you pick is fine)? make if fluffyyyyy OKAY GOODBYE thanks also 🤍

SFW - GN Reader

Repost of mine from libary of ohara

Ace

- The first time you hold hands he’s very awkward about it, stammering and flexing his fingers.

- It’s such a soft intimacy that he’s not used to, it’s hard for him to accept he’s loved and wanted for more than his body.

- “Ace, we’ve literally… ya know.” You say with a chuckle but stop when you see the embarrassed look on his face like he’s annoyed and ashamed of himself for not being able to do something that others find so easy.

- “Ace, it’s alright, I love you.” You smile as you offer him your hand.

- He reaches out, taking your hand, his breath hitches when you lace your fingers together with his, just holding it tightly.

- This felt nice, warm, soft, he felt more connected with you than any time you…. Yeah.

- Ace decides he likes it a lot, he still has issues initiating the contact.

- He’ll link his pinky with yours when he’s uncertain of the moment, of himself.

- Always glad when you take the hint and hold his hand.

--

Marco

- He likes holding hands, like, a lot.

- You guys are just going to breakfast? He’ll hold your hand on the way.

- When you’re cuddled up in bed, he likes to have his arms around you, you close to his chest and a hand holding yours as he buries his face against your neck making happy sounds.

- If you are working across from him he’ll wordlessly stretch out his arm and wait for you to take the hint before holding his hand.

- He doesn’t let you shake him off, once your fingers are intertwined that’s it, you’re his.

- He finds a lot of comfort in the gesture.

- Sometimes Marco can be a little too clingy and you have to shake him loose sometimes which causes the phoenix to pout slightly.

- You have to promise him he can have your hand back once you’ve finished dinner.

--

Thatch

- Thatch loves holding your hand.

- You will be standing there, and he’ll just appear and say something cheesy like “You dropped something, let me help you, Pumpkin.” He says as he lifts your hand in his own, a wide grin on his face as you roll your hands.

- Thatch will watch you work, see how busy you are and be upset he doesn’t get to hold your hand, so he slips it into your pocket as a compromise.

- He loves your hands are smaller than his, he enjoys placing both of yours in just one of his, feeling how soft and small they are.

- Thatch loves to bring your hand to his lips, laying kisses all over them.

--

Izou

- It’s not like he’s against holding hands.

- No, he likes it, but his pride doesn’t allow for him to be the one to seek it out.

- If you make the first move? If you reach for his? He’ll tut and act like it’s an inconvenience for him but really? He likes to hold your hand in his.

- He’s not as into PDA as other people but he will hold your hand.

- You need to read his mood though, sometimes he’s too busy and wants to have both his hands free at a moment’s notice.

- He won’t ever be rude about it though.

- When it’s just you and him, sitting in his room and just relaxing?

- He might… just might reach over… and take your hand in his.

[junosmindpalace]

hiya could i please request boyfriend headcanons with ryusui nanami please 🫶🏼

hi there! thank you for your request!

RYUSUI NANAMI BF HEADCANONS || SFW

He’s absolutely enamored with everything about you. Your mind, your beauty, your speech; a combination of those things have him completely smitten. 

Spoils and shares everything with you. Anything you want, he’s on it; and that goes both for pre and post petrification. Pre-petrification is admittedly a little easier for him to obtain it, but he isn’t any less determined. Even if it takes him longer or faces more difficulty and backlash, he does everything in his power to make it come to fruition; anything to see you light up. No desire is too trivial or too fantastical. 

Loud and unapologetic in his love for you; he’s singing your praises all the time to anyone and everyone in the vicinity. He’s always talking up your talents and strengths and always wants to be right beside you while you do your thing, or at the very least, support you in the ways that he can. And when you’re being recognized by your peers, whether it be for your accomplishments or skills or as a person, Ryusui is the very loudest and very proudest in his adoration for you. 

He’s completely confident in all of your abilities, but he can’t help sometimes worry for you regardless. It’s normal, especially if you’re needed to do something dangerous, and especially if you’re forced to do it alone, but even so, he’s there reassuring you with a comforting hold of your face that you’re okay, he’s always there and looking out for you, and that you won’t go down so easy, am I wrong?

And this isn’t exclusive to life-threatening, high stake situations, of course. He’s often reassuring you in the same way when you find yourself caught up in your pessimistic thoughts, grounding you with two firm hands on your shoulders and a gentle smile. Trust that in one way or another, he’ll manage to sweep you up in a pamper session when he sees you visibly stressed over something.

But he’s also insanely helpful! He doesn’t bullshit and offers honest advice and constructive feedback whenever you ask for it (and even sometimes when you don’t, which is a different story, but you know he means well…). And of course, he’s more than happy to get involved himself! No matter what it is. 

You’re able to more easily reason with him than other people might be. Of course, that doesn’t mean he’ll up and abandon all of his thoughts and feelings toward something simply because you told him so, but he’s more willing to compromise and hear other people out on ideas he initially disagrees with when they go through you. He trusts your judgment, and he just hates seeing the pained look of inner conflict on your face.

Similarly, you can get other people to reason with him more easily, to consider his ideas and understand his perspectives when he's too stubborn to effectively communicate himself. You often act as a mediator between Ryusui and his brother Sai, and as you more quickly acknowledge Sai’s own feelings, he respects and trusts your own judgment enough to go with Ryusui if you say he should. 

Ryusui isn’t over the top with PDA, but that doesn’t mean he shies away from it; not in the slightest. One of his favorite things to do is to drape himself over you. Whether he’s tired or irritated or depressed about something, you can often find him slumped over your back, face buried in the crevice of your neck, or resting his head in your lap. Or he’ll nudge you or bump your side with his when he teases you about something, or he’ll grab your shoulders and guide you toward something he wants you to see. It doesn’t even need to be a kiss or hug of sorts; Ryusui’s PDA is more so just him simply touching you in some way.

In general, it is so very evident that Ryusui cares, loves, you so immensely. From the soft, starstruck looks he sends your way--whether you're aware of them or not--, to the amount of effort he pours into taking care of you.

[darklyndivinely]

I punctured the abscess through abandonment

Fandom - Obey Me!

Pairing - Lucifer x Diavolo

Summary - "Diavolo raises his hand, hesitates, and then cups Lucifer’s jaw. Lucifer allows himself to lean into the touch, for his eyes to slip close; to savour it, this last time."

Warnings - SEXUAL CONTENT, ANGST, fluff, copious amounts of random shit.

Wordcount - 5k+

A/N - title from the english translation of this song. I've been working on this for ages. Dialuci is so exciting to me, the angst potential is endless. I hope it comes through here, because it's important to remember: for Lucifer, his family is above all, even his own happiness. Please do comment and tell me what y'all thought!!

Here's a beautiful rendition of the last scene done by @pseudonymphomania.

Read on AO3 • OM!Masterlist • Leave a tip! • Lucifer! Masterlist

It’s one of those days.

Black rain pours over Devildom. The sky, a churning thing of anger, had cracked open yesterday as he had succumbed to sleep. Some fourteen hours later, it was still in mourning.

Lucifer doesn’t mind.

Such forceful displays of nature, he’s found, cast a film of translucent languor over everything. His mind which is usually stretched thin with a million worries folds upon itself, over and over, until it occupies but a little square of space. All that exists then is the stubborn rain, the wailing of trees as they bow to the angry winds, and the soft ticks of his table clock.

Lucifer presses his forehead to the chilled glass of one of the windows. In and out, he breathes, his eyes shut and mind blank. A repose of quietude. He savours it, trying to document all the ridges of the calmness in his body, knowing that when it leaves, its departure will be long and hard to bear.

There’s a council meeting scheduled at four. He departs for it slowly, knowing that it won’t start till four twenty because tardiness is a vicious illness that his brothers have never been able to defeat. True to form, the last to arrive, Satan and Asmo, twelve minutes late, cite some ineludible mishap in the library. For a second Lucifer considers chiding them, becoming caught up in old habits, before reason returns and he puts halt to the achingly familiar words halfway up his throat. He knows if they escape today the sanctity of this beautiful day would become lost to him. So he gulps down a glass of cold water instead and lets it go.

“Where’s Mammon?” asks Asmo as he settles, eyes drawn to the only vacant seat now.

Mammon hadn’t been present for breakfast either. Lucifer had assumed he’d been summoned by his witches again. “He’ll be caught up. Let us begin now.”

For the next two hours, they discuss the many matters of importance around RAD. Vacant staff positions, complaints against faculty members, how to budget the million year-round events without compromising quality, and ideas for new events as well. Around the ninety-minute mark, the agenda gets lost somewhere within the frothing depths of the river Styx.

Between “A food contest where the winner cooks for me for the rest of their life,” and, “A fashion show where everyone writes a five-hundred word essay about my beauty and throws bouquets of pretty—” and Leviathan’s separate ongoing detailed verbal presentation about the cultural significance of some film adaptation of a novel that he believes all of RAD should come together and watch, Lucifer finds himself feeling some deep, ancient rot taking hold of his brain.

Diavolo’s well of patience, as it turns out, is infinite. His countenance is kind and sympathetic. 

Lucifer’s is not. 

He ends the meeting, his fist bunched around an eraser, barely holding himself back from lobbing it straight down Leviathan’s throat, and sends them all packing.

“Back by 11,” he says, easing back in his chair, “or Cerberus has free reign of your room.”

Diavolo chuckles beside him, refreshing their glasses with water. An easy smile slides onto his lips as the room empties. “Barbatos called,” he says, waving the doors shut with a flick of the wrist.

Lucifer hums, wiping the condensation off his glass and presses it to his temple, some of this morning’s calmness returning to him. “Contracts?”

“No, not yet. He’s happened upon Mammon’s witches. They run a bar in a nearby town that daylights as their hideout. Wonderful spot apparently; excellent mingling of the ley lines.”

“Was he there?”

Diavolo takes a sip of his water, shaking his head. “At a bar, five blocks over. Drunk as a fiddle.”

“Naturally.” Lucifer sighs, feeling the sudden urge to bang his head against a solid surface, preferably the sturdy pine table beneath him. “I apologise for his behaviour. Is Barbatos to return then?”

Diavolo’s lips quirk in a half-smirk, one Lucifer has learned follows a particularly amusing thought. “No. He insisted on staying to keep an eye out. He’ll ring in when Mammon departs for home.”

“Good,” he replies. “I will look over today’s notes and we’ll discuss them tomorrow.”

Diavolo nods, a sudden shine to his supermoon eyes. “Tomorrow then. Have a good night, Lucifer.”

Lucifer tips his head and says, “Goodnight, Diavolo.”

Mammon returns at half-past three that night, slipping through the garage doors straight into his room. Lucifer snaps his novel shut, does a last check on the barrier, and clocks out.

He’s awoken the next morning by a great racket of noise. He’s barely pulled his other pillow over his ears, the fear that the lot may have started a fire in the stove again being swept under the heaviness of slipping dreams, before there is a strong panicked rapping against his door and his sleep takes departure like a startled flock of ravens. He presses a prolonged expletive into his pillowcase and gets up.

Turns out, he’d missed breakfast. And when Asmo had gone to store the leftovers he’d discovered that the fridge wasn’t cooling anymore. Of course, in true menace behaviour, he’d complained about it loudly first before waking Lucifer up. So now Lucifer’s got a panicked Beel on his hands who is now worried for his recently bought cupcakes.

“They’re Madam Scream’s’, Lucifer! Poisoned hellberries and roasted creme! They won’t last two hours in this humidity. You have to do something!”

Lucifer pinches the bridge of his nose and sends the younger to heat all the leftovers in the oven. Is that working or does that also need a mass panic? Then he heads to his room for his phone and makes a call to Electric Demon, scheduling a home visit within the next hour. A shower sounds tempting but the food would go cold again, and Lucifer is a firm believer that heating leftovers more than once is a crime against one’s taste buds. He does his morning routine sans a shower and changes into a plain blue t-shirt and track pants.

Beel doesn’t seem sufficiently satisfied when Lucifer tells him that a technician is on his way. He stands awkwardly by the fridge in the kitchen, a cupcake box in hand and a frown on his face. Lucifer watches him from the dining table for a while, then, fed up, says, “Just open it already!”

Beel startles, turning to look at him. “Are you sure—”

“Yes! Open it or I’ll open it for you!”

Beel’s frown deepens. But he comes to sit at the dining table and begins to bite into his cupcakes with a focus that is perhaps a bit too much than the task demands. It’s all kind of adorable though and it eases a bit of Lucifer’s annoyance at the day’s bad start.

“Did Mammon come down for breakfast today?”

Beel shakes his head. He looks up suddenly, mouth full, his tangerine eyes fixing on Lucifer’s as if he’d been caught doing something naughty. Then looking as if in extreme pain, he slides the cupcake box towards Lucifer.

Lucifer chuckles and considers pretending to pluck one just for the fun of it all. He would have any other day, but he doesn’t. Not today. He slides the box back with a polite decline. Beel passes him a smile and digs into his food with more fervour. Lucifer resists the urge to ruffle his hair and leaves him to his sweets.

In the kitchen, Lucifer plates all the leftover food and casts a mild heating spell upon it. He takes it upstairs to Mammon’s room. It’s messy as always: clothes flung around, shoes discarded at the bottom of the staircase. Lucifer leaves the plate on the centre table. Mammon is sprawled on the bed in his briefs, his jeans a dark tangle on the floor. Beside it, there’s a half-empty pack of cigarettes. Lucifer toes at it, grimacing, knowing without a look that it’s one of those cheap, low-quality soft-packs. Standards were truly becoming non-existent nowadays.

The doorbell rings downstairs.

“Lucifer!” Beel shouts.

He sighs. I’ll check in later, he vows, heading off.

Later, however, doesn’t roll around until late that evening. Diavolo calls him up after the technician leaves.

“When are you coming over?” the prince says, straight to the point.

Lucifer considers his options. He could postpone, spend a lazy Sunday in the library and practise a tune or two at the piano. There’d be stacks of papers on his table tomorrow anyway, they’ll stay late at RAD and squeezing in their discussion wouldn’t be too big a hassle. However, it’s a nice day off and the prospect of being holed up in the library doesn’t seem so appealing anymore. He would much rather chase a pair of golden eyes.

“Soon,” Lucifer says.

“I just got a great idea for Barbatos’ gift,” Diavolo says the second Lucifer is within his sight. The prince is clad in a tight black t-shirt and loose grey pyjama with a pot of tea in his hands. Lucifer hums and takes a seat at the dining table, setting the file he’d brought over at the corner. Diavolo pours the tea into two cups. A subtle earthy smell wafts up in the steam. Fireweed, Lucifer recognizes. One of Barbatos’ own creations. He’d probably left a bunch of it behind for Diavolo to peruse.

“How many cups of this are you drinking a day?” Lucifer asks, taking a sip.

Diavolo’s forehead scrunches with a whine and he slumps into his seat. “Too much! I’m afraid I might be addicted at this point.”

Lucifer smiles around his cup. Trust Diavolo to become addicted to tea. “What is this idea then?”

The prince perks up and sets his cup down neatly. He takes out a small, brown drawstring pouch from his pocket. “Do you remember Ring 3’s Great Purge?”

Lucifer nods. “Yes. Nearly a million casualties.”

“Yes, that. There was a witch then, injured and hanging onto life in the Abyss by a single tree branch. I saved her and in return she gave me this pouch. Rare seeds of a flower that grows beneath the deep depths of the seas, she’d said.”

Diavolo spills the seeds onto his palms. Brown and dry. Entirely unremarkable.

“They might grow here,” he says, rifling the seeds gently with a finger. “And if not then perhaps they might blossom in the greenhouse, in a more controlled environment.”

“The Abyss is quite far away from the stadium. What was she doing there?”

“She wasn’t there for the tournament. She’d snuck in.” Diavolo pours the seeds back into the pouch and draws it shut. “Her niece had married a vampire from Ring 3 and was being abused. She wanted to rescue her. A very messy business, really.”

“Did she succeed?”

“He was rich, she was not. But yes. After a long court case. I delivered the judgement myself.”

Lucifer watches him, sipping at his tea. “It is a good gift, indeed.”

Diavolo smiles at him, a soft steady thing that makes Lucifer’s chest tighten. “What about you? What are you giving him?”

“I do not know.” Lucifer hadn’t even thought of it yet. “Any suggestions?”

Diavolo looks thoughtful, sipping solemnly at his tea. “Music, perhaps. He’s been in a slump lately. I haven’t seen him with headphones in a while.”

Lucifer hums. “Has he found the man yet?”

“Yesterday. But he’s demanded a day to think it over.”

“I highly doubt he’d be willing to forfeit his life when the alternative is so beneficial.”

“Beneficial!” Diavolo laughs sharply. “I plan to wring him dry to the bones.”

Lucifer smirks. “I would hope so.”

Diavolo eyes the file Lucifer had brought over. He stretches a hand to slide it closer and flips it open. “What have you decided?”

“Art and Psychology clubs,” Lucifer says. “Negligible dent in the budget.”

“A new hire?” Diavolo reads off the file.

“Part-time, but someone passionate and willing. I was hoping the Art club might focus more on polishing rather than teaching.”

“Hmm.” Diavolo closes the file and stands. “I will read it later. Are you perhaps done with that?” he asks, eyeing Lucifer’s cup. “I’m all stiff from sitting here.”

Lucifer gulps down the last of his cold tea and follows suit. He collects their cups and the pot, sets them in the sink and washes his hands. When he turns Diavolo is halfway across the kitchen, and he gestures at Lucifer to follow.

Diavolo’s room is halfway across the castle, obscured by the many turns into many indistinguishable hallways leading to it. The prince walks five steps ahead of him. Lucifer doesn’t bother to catch up. The length of the journey seems entirely too short for the view his position grants him. Then another turn and the sight of the familiar room.

The moment Lucifer has crossed the threshold, Diavolo is on him. There are two soft clicks behind him. A sudden arm around his waist and a pair of beautiful golden eyes. Diavolo presses him backwards into the now-closed door and melds their mouths together.

“I missed you,” Diavolo whispers against his lips.

Lucifer tightens his grip around Diavolo’s nape, the tightness in his chest dissolving in a sudden surge, and pulls the man into a feverish, bruising kiss. Diavolo moans into his mouth, a soft, needy sound, and presses even closer. He rucks up the back of Lucifer’s shirt. His fingers as they press into the small of Lucifer’s back are warm from the tea. The shape of his hand, his arm, his hips as they grind against Lucifer’s, their lips pressed together and Diavolo’s tongue licking into his mouth. It all seems so deliberate, so calculated—as if Lucifer’s body had been given shape with Diavolo in mind. It leaves him breathless and gasping, unmoored and full of want.

He pushes off of the door, sweeping his tongue over the roof of Diavolo’s mouth exactly the way he likes, and manoeuvres their entangled figures backwards. When he pushes him onto the bed the prince goes easily, pliable with desire, heaving, golden laser eyes set upon him. Lucifer climbs on top of him. He traces a light touch up the side of Diavolo’s hips, over his pants, along the hem of the shirt, closer, closer. Diavolo’s breath quickens, his fingers digging into the mattress. Lucifer presses the heel of his hand against Diavolo’s crotch. The prince arches off the bed. Lucifer smirks.

He leaves late that evening. There’s a burn to his body that leaves a delicate trilling in his chest. He hugs Diavolo goodbye at the gate, presses his nose into his hair and breathes. Dangerous, a grainy echo in the back of his mind says. But his brain is addled, his body loose, with moonshine sheltering them from reality under her silver cape. Diavolo cradles his face between his hands and kisses him softly. Neither of them says anything.

The whole family is sprawled around the TV when he gets back. Mammon sits on the floor with a blushing Beel, teasing him about some tasty flying burger. He looks up as Lucifer walks in.

“Do you have a headache?” Lucifer pulls out the painkiller he’d picked up at the castle. “Take this.”

“Wha—I don’t have a headache.”

“Take it. Now.” On the table, there is a half-empty bottle of cola and several glasses. Lucifer picks up the closest to Mammon’s. “Is this yours?” 

Mammon nods, looking fed-up, and takes the glass from his hands. Lucifer watches him swallow the pill then nods. “Who’s making dinner?”

“I am,” Satan says, cracking his neck and getting up. “Levi, you have this downloaded, right? Send it to me, I’ll finish it later.”

“Do you need any help?” Lucifer asks.

“No!” Satan shoots him a disgusted look and hurries away to the kitchen, muttering under his breath.

Lucifer smothers a smile. The film playing on the tv is strange. A donut-shaped black hole and googly eyes to the rescue. A little intrigued, Lucifer watches for a while, unable to let go of his want for a shower to properly take a seat. Nobody asks him where he’s been. It’s not like he ever answers when it’s those days with Diavolo. 

Then, naturally, Asmo walks in. His hair is wet, there’s a sheen to his skin, and he brings in the scent of strawberry body wash with himself. Appearing a little distracted with his mildly uncooperating hair he’s halfway into the room before he catches sight of Lucifer. He stops short then, his champagne eyes connecting with Lucifer’s. He tracks a slow look over the length of Lucifer’s form. A queer leer overcomes his eyes. Lucifer’s mood plummets.

“Hello, Lucifer…” Asmo coos, uncooperating hair forgotten now. “What naughty things have you been upto today, hmm?”

Acid froths in Lucifer’s stomach. Scorpions. Lucifer will have scorpions dig out all of Asmo’s hair, strand by strand by strand. And then he will set that fucking strawberry body wash on fire. Recognising a losing battle when he sees one, though, Lucifer shoulders past the younger to his room, even though the action almost brings him physical pain. His ears ring and there’s a stubborn itch to his hands. It’s only the thought of a familiar pair of lips on his neck that placates his more murderous desires. Still, scorpions and the death of many fruit-flavoured body washes.

The rain dries up. Time resumes its steady pace. Three weeks pass. Lucifer spends his days at RAD; most nights in his room on video calls with Diavolo doing paperwork. Asmo doesn’t do more than trail conspicuous looks over him on Sunday evenings after Lucifer had pulled him aside the first week and growled his serious scorpion-related threat into his face.

On Saturdays, he coerces the whole family into an outing together. First week it’s a museum (Satan), second it’s a Starlets Heart concert (Levi), third it’s a new Sushi restaurant downtown (Beel). Two days before the fourth Saturday, the house bill arrives, falling a wide margin below the budget. In a good mood, he takes them to a flea market and lets them loose. They come back heaving bags of books, two dozen DVDs and cassettes, a carefully wrapped artisan table lamp, and many small plastic bags of poison noodles that Lucifer swears he wouldn’t touch if House of Lamentation’s roof itself were crashing down upon him.

On his part, he buys a shimmering golden keychain of a cat for Mammon. He spots another in green and buys that for Satan. Most of his time, however, is spent at the vinyl shop thumbing through their metal collection. 

“Something less known,” he tells the shopkeeper, “and heavy, if you will.” 

The man plucks forth many, first from the newer section then older, but none feel right. The gut feeling that he gets, that tilting sensation in his stomach at the precise pick remains absent. He pays for a collection of classical sitar pieces and a pop one that Asmo swears an oath for on his “beautiful and lustrous hair that demons kill for”.

“If I end up disliking it, I’ll cut two centimetres off of them then.”

Asmo gasps. He touches his hand to his chest in faux outrage and scurries off. Lucifer laughs and follows. On the way back, they stop the car at AkuDonald’s and get takeout. Then ditch the plan to eat at home when Beel breaks and starts breezing through his dozen burgers with big bites. He tells Mammon to park beside a decent food truck. They order more food for Beel, open the doors, switch on the light and eat in the car. Like a big chaotic family. Levi drops a couple drops of his drink on the seat. Mammon complains his head off. It’s nice. He hopes they do this again sometime.

Later at night, after he’s sure all of them have fallen asleep, he sneaks out to meet Diavolo at the castle. For a second he freezes, puzzled at his own actions. Sneaking out of his own house in the middle of the night like some lowly thief, is that what he’d come to now? But then he drops down onto the castle grounds, Diavolo catches sight of him through the kitchen window, and his eyes light up with sunshine. He presses a long kiss to Lucifer’s lips when they meet. All the embarrassment in the world then seems worth it in the face of such beauty.

They set up the record player in the living room and sprawl on the sofa with glasses of ice-cold hellberry Demonus. Asmo’s album ends up being a hit. Diavolo laughs when Lucifer pretends to pout about his missed opportunity at playing barber. For the last song, a gentle and sombre tune, Diavolo pulls him upright and insists they dance.

“Are you mad?” Lucifer asks rhetorically. Drunk and mobile was not a good combination, not even in the face of such good music.

“Come on,” Dia pleads. “For me?” 

His eyes are pools of drunken affection, his lips flushed from the Demonus. Lucifer melts. He pulls him closer and spins their entwined figures around the furniture. Diavolo presses a kiss to the side of his jugular and rests his forehead on his shoulder.

I love you.

The thought is soft, akin to the whisper of rain that mists the winds at the dawn of monsoon. A tide—lapping, curling, rising, sinking. It flows over him, instilling a slow, deep shock onto him. Love? But—

Diavolo raises his head. His eyes are kaleidoscopes of black and gold. His carmine hair, a riot on his head. He nudges their foreheads together, a loose smile on his lips. They continue to sway to the music.

The long notes of the violin, the delicate tinkling of the ganzá, the shrill and strong vocals of the choir. The music soothes the anxiety that Lucifer might have experienced if the revelation had come to him in private. Here, with candlelight casting darkness into the slopes of Diavolo’s face, their bodies pressed together, hearts and feet in sync, the thrum of Demonus in his veins loosening the bolts of the closed doors of his heart, Lucifer could almost give name to the feeling that scented the air around them.

Like home had inhabited a body and become a person.

Like he might have fallen in love.

Lucifer’s eyesight blurs. He tightens his hold around Diavolo’s waist.

Stupid, stupid, stupid—

Black moon Halloween, Diavolo’s birthday, some couple hundred years ago now, he’d gotten drunk. The alcohol had always flowed without inhibitions, but that day Lucifer had indulged without restraint. Why he had done so he struggled to remember now. The prince had booked the whole club for a more private celebration. That was the first time they’d danced together, to some pop-rock song that had come up and Lucifer had been too intoxicated to remember to keep his personal interests to himself. 

“I like this,” he remembered saying.

Diavolo had immediately suggested dancing, perhaps excited to see him excited, and Lucifer had agreed without hesitation, already up and moving. The lights had been dim, navy blue and familiar. There was a moment, a still of the night in his mind, of Diavolo with flashing blue on his skin, eyes bright with joy, smile so wide and toothed Lucifer had been left utterly mesmerised. Golden.

You absolute fucki—

Diavolo presses a kiss to his lips. His thumb rubs indiscernible circles over the exposed skin of his forearm. Lucifer’s thoughts trip. The music has stopped. Silence reigns. The low crackle of the fire is barely audible. They are still wrapped up together. Reality is starting to loom over Lucifer, his heartbeat rising in his chest. Diavolo stares at him with hooded eyes, more smart than anyone ever gives him credit for. Seeking, searching, asking.

He should have known that this beautiful man who loved waking up at pretentious hours to go jogging and got excited at the prospect of paintball would be the one Lucifer would end up surrendering his heart to. He should have fucking known.

Lucifer tilts his chin and kisses him, gentle and unhurried. He pours into it all his emotions, nameless and gargantuan, trying to spell all the words that never make it past his throat. There’s always so many of them.

Diavolo smiles against his lips. He whispers something but Lucifer doesn’t catch it. He’s busy tracing the incline of the other’s cheekbones with his fingers, the flesh of his cheek, the curve of his ears, the sharp of his jawline. There’s an urgent need budding inside him, to savour, to consume, to take and perhaps, perhaps keep as well. It slithers through his body, golden and ablaze, and takes root somewhere deep, deep within him. Dia kisses him greedily, reflecting and reciprocating tenfold. His hands, looped around Lucifer’s waist, slide lower to cup his arse and grind their hips together. 

“Fuck,” Lucifer gasps against Diavolo’s grinning mouth.

They stumble over the little side table and fall onto the sofa. There are strings of saliva between their lips, teeth clacking, nails scraping against scalps.

Lucifer tears his hands through Diavolo’s tight shirt and presses his lips to the feverish skin. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. Lucifer wants to fuse into him; crack his skin and bathe in him; meld their souls and mouths together for eternity. He wants to reach out, beyond skin and sinew, and press his lips straight to his heart.

He pulls him closer then; infinitely, impossibly closer. If he didn’t, he might disappear, his prince, his home. Like Lilith did, for forever.

Hold him, the deep grief in his body sings, tender and mournful like moonlight as he makes love to his prince, as long as your touch doesn’t scar him. Like it has everything else.

It is late morning when Lucifer awakes. The air is scented with hell jasmine and grapefruit. Diavolo lays asleep beside him on his stomach, a curved elbow obscuring half his face. Lucifer watches him, the red of his hair against the dark covers, the folds of skin at his neck, the gold-tipped horns, and the folded-back wings.

They’d never fucked through the night before. Even on days when they lost track of time, Lucifer would always leave. But last night something tangible had been shattered. A thread that he had been holding onto so desperately had slipped from his grip. The thought of leaving had never occurred to him during the entirety of yesternight. All he’d wanted was to touch Diavolo and employ his mouth over every dip and rise of his body. He’d wanted to feel him and breathe him and hear his own name slip from his swollen lips like fog in winters. He had scooped himself hollow and poured it over the other’s body.

Diavolo’s eyes flutter once, twice, then peel open, golden and hazy, a thousand miles away yet so near.

They hadn’t just fucked last night. They had made love.

Now as Lucifer watches the sleep desert Diavolo’s eyes slowly, a sour, putrid feeling corrugates in his gut. What had he done? He knew better than this; knew better than to hope for a happy ending. The arrows of grief hope hid underneath its veil, he knew them intimately. What could he say?

Today as you look at me with eyes warm and gentle, all I can give thought to is the control you possess over me. My sister was murdered and I’m bound to you for eternity. I feel infinitely more myself with you. Do you love me because you can control me or is this connection between us real? Your presence stabilises my being. I’ve known you for so long now but my wounds have never healed. I love you. I fear the power you possess over my family.

Lucifer stumbles out of bed. His vision swims. His heart beats deafeningly in his ears. The air tastes like torn-up soil and rotten feathers. There’s a moon over his head and his sister’s blood is on his hands. He reaches out to grasp the armrest of the sofa, steadies himself. Chesterfield. Striped. His hands will leave behind a bloody imprint on it. One more thing he’s ruined now. One more apology to make. One more guilt to carry. Breathe. His eyes open. He’s naked. Disgust makes his knees shake.

A warm hand settles over his spine. Lucifer flinches away. Diavolo freezes. “Don’t!” Lucifer growls out, his throat aching. Hollow eyes. Beautiful; dying. She’s choking on blood. What have you done? He has to save her, he has to protect—

“Lucifer, what’s wrong? Where are you—”

He stomps his way out. Every step makes his body quiver; a barbed knot in his sternum that paints his insides charcoal. It is only his memory and sense of direction that leads him to the living room. Their clothes are strewn around from last night. Lucifer switches into his human form and dons his. After a moment, Diavolo pads in behind him, dressed in plain white briefs. 

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Home,” Lucifer says, slipping into his shoes and zipping up his pants.

Diavolo clasps onto his arm. “What is it? Was it something I did? Or said? Tell me, Lucifer!”

Lucifer looks at him. There is puffiness beneath the other’s eyes that he hadn’t seen before. By the bridge of his nose, there is a tiny spot, a budding pimple. On his jaw, Lucifer can see the traces of slight stubble. All he wants at that moment is to kiss him.

“We won’t be seeing each other again,” he says, holding eyes with the prince.

A crack appears across Diavolo’s face. He’s so clever, so magnificent. Better than the most soothing symphonies and stronger than the hardest of rains. Diavolo raises his hand, hesitates, and then cups Lucifer’s jaw. Lucifer allows himself to lean into the touch, for his eyes to slip close; to savour it, this last time. Diavolo searches his face, his beautiful eyes fraught with despair, glistening. “I thought you wanted this,” he says.

Lucifer pulls away, his heart breaking. “I thought so too.”

Diavolo doesn’t stop him again.

Lucifer leaves.

[lillyspeakz]

…maybe how some burs would react to locktober… or chastity in general…

Oooooooo….. I have so many thoughts.

L’manbur: he doesn’t have an opinion on it at first, knowing when he has a challenge presented to him, he won’t back down. He’s super cocky at first, saying how it’ll be so easy and he’ll last. But once he gets hard after your relentless teasing one night, he’s begging you to take it off and let him cum. To let him fuck you or for you to ride him so good. He’d do anything. But you’re the only one that can take it off, so of course you make him wait the whole month, which makes him an even whiney bitch.

Pogtopiabur: he hates it. He doesn’t not like being in control of himself so the idea of doing it sounds terrible. But the promise of absolutely ruining you at the end of the month and letting him do whatever he wants, whenever, made the whole thing a bit better. So when he feels his dick straining against the cage, bucking into the air for anything, his sensitive cock rubbing against him, he remembers the promise you made him and deals with it all. Because sooner or later he’d have you in his position. (He would definitely make you do no nut November)

Ghostbur: guys he’s my sweet boy I would never do that to him. I’d give him anything he wants.

Revivebur: oh this man takes it like a champ! He’s a masochist for a reason. Every time he gets hard, he taunts you with it. Manspreads and presses his hips in the air to show off his hard cock when you look at him, smirking at you as he sees you rubbing your thighs together and face turning red. He reversed the roles, making you complain about his actions while he was the one being restrained from even fucking his hand, barely doing anything to make you whine about this all.

“Well this was your idea love… no stopping now. I’ve already started…”

Simpbur: whines the whole time, doesn’t even last a whole week. Why would you do that to him?! You know he can’t not fuck you, The second you put it on, his hips are desperately chasing your hand and his voice whining for you to take it off. I’m not lying, he’s most likely hard the whole fucking time. He’s a pathetic slut. When you finally take it off, it’s because your annoyed of his whines and complains on how he needs to cum and how much he needs to fuck you. So you decide to fuck him. Let’s just say- peg than ride. He deserves to be treated like a toy after that.

Incelbur: takes it all for you. If it makes you happy seeing him in pain and suffering for the whole month, especially when you look so fucking good, he’ll take it. He wants to show you he can be what you need, a strong man who can obey whatever you ask. A man that can trust you and he’ll take everything you give him. He does complain here and there, just wanting to fuck you and claim you as his. But he knows at the end of all of this he’ll be able to hold you close and fuck up into you all night, hearing your whines and moans that are all because of him.

Phantombur: he’s lowkey 50/50, he doesn’t hate the idea of it, but he isn’t sure if he wants to do it. So you compromise with him, if he leaves it on and wants to take it off for a few days or just be done, you’ll still count it as winning for him since he was such a good boy for you and tried. Oh and he tries. He goes for a solid week and a half before asking you to take it off, quickly grabbing you and grinding against you as you took it off.

“Never again, didn’t like it. Please, please let me fuck you!”

Argbur: doesn’t mind it until it strains against his cock. He lowkey forgets about it until he moves a certain way or you do something to turn him on. He doesn’t like the strain of it against his cock, the restrain making him whine and groan as the throbbing pain that shot through his lower abdomen made itself apparent. But other than that, he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t complain, even when he’s hard because he knows he can do this back to you, and he will and he will make it hell.

c!wilbur: (Wilbur soot but Minecraft) secretly loves it yet complains any given moment. He likes annoying you with the fact that he has to be locked up for the rest of the month, unable to fuck you like he knows you need it. He also likes being restrained, being tested for long it takes him to finally give in and admit his lose. There is times where he gets really desperate whiney and he will not give you a break about it.

“Baby please, I bet you need a good dick down and fuck I need to feel you around me so-“

ghost!wilbur: fucking despises it! They never really had that when he was alive, still coming up with better condoms and ways to have safe sex. And now you tell him there’s a device where his cock can be in a sort of jail? For a month? Fuck no. It takes a lot of convincing from the man, once again the promise of getting to use you in any way he wants hanging in the air. He does in fact complain. He doesn’t whine, tho, just bitches about how uncomfortable he is and how anyone would like this. Does in fact tease you though, since he can go invisible….

“Ok fine, but I get out of this on Halloween so I can fuck you on the back porch”

vampirebur: this man is kinky…. Of course he likes it. He’s lived for centuries upon centuries trying new things with different people, yet what you want intrigued him. He’s never heard of it and frankly he’s pleasantly surprised, a device where he’s locked up and unable to do anything? Sign him up! He also incorporates you into it as well- if he doesn’t get to cum at all this month, well…. You have to cum everyday for him and he won’t stop until he’s satisfied with how many you’ve had. And if you tell him you don’t want to cum one day, you lost and he wins, vise versa.

“C’mon dear, I have to make it fair! Now take your pants off and lie on your back.”