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dannyz0ur · 2 months ago

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Daisuke [MW] — Honeymoon

(nsfw! minors dni!!!)

Daisuke x AFAB!Reader

Ok so uhm this is for a friend heheh~ I'm still working on reqs don't worry! rn i just did this for her bday <3

CW: smut, Daisuke is kind of a bottom?, he CRIES when he cums and that's the whole appeal of this, no pronound usd but reader does wear a dress and have a 🐱

Summary: Your boyfriend arrived from his internship in outerspace with all the intention to settle down with you. Now, you're making up for lost time.

— 🩷

It had been months since you last saw Daisuke. That fucking internship in space was something you’d never forgive his mom for. Why’d she come up with that? Seriously? She couldn’t have just get him a job as a secretary or something?

That was in the past, anyway. What mattered was that as soon as those eternal months passed and the Tulpar landed back on Earth, you could see your beloved boyfriend again. After picking him up from the station, you two went to share a nice meal at a fancy restaurant, had a good time, and Daisuke took you off-guard with a marriage proposal. Of course you were surprised, and of course you said yes.

It all happened a little fast after that, maybe because of the excitement for the wedding. A few months after the proposal, you were already exchanging votes at the altar, both dressed in all white, Daisuke’s hair slicked back with gel that made him look more handsome than usual. It was like a dream, one you never knew you had, but you sure as hell were enjoying.

But the best part? The best part was the honeymoon.

After Daisuke came back, you two were still too busy to spend nights together. Whenever you did stay at each other’s place, all you did was cuddle and sleep because of how exhausted you were. You hadn’t touched him in months, and it was taking a toll on you. You hadn’t noticed how much you missed him until you two were alone in the hotel room his mom had booked for you, in Tokyo, as a honeymoon present. It was fancy and there was a thermal pool and everything, but you couldn’t care less about that right now, when you were full-on devouring your husband’s mouth like you never had before.

You were slowly heating things up, your kisses and movements more eager, and this obviously didn’t go unnoticed by Daisuke, who was already panting. Once you gave his lips a break, going down to kiss his neck, he catches his breath and a few moans and whimpers escaped here and there.

“Haah… someone’s needy, aren’t you..?” Daisuke tried to sound smug and tease you, but your assault on his neck was making it hard for him to talk without a moan or two.

You giggled, giving a hickey you left one last teasing nip, making his back arch. "Haven't had you in a while, baby... can't blame me..." you pant against his skin, and he shudders under you.

At this point you're straddling him on the bed, both knees on either side of his body, sitting on his thighs. He's shaking a little bit with anticipation and arousal, you do that to him. You always have that way to get him so horny he's shaking, and even if he doesn't admit it out loud, he's missed you an awful lot too.

His hands give him away, eagerly finding the hem of your dress to slowly drag it up your thighs, his fingers carefully tracing the skin until his hands get to your butt and give a slow, tempting squeeze, coaxing a soft moan out of you. Your little noises always motivate him to go on, and that look you give him when he looks down at you just screams "please continue." And as the good boy he is, he obeys. His hands trail your waist under the dress, caressing you gently a few times, slow and earnest.

You loved his gentlemanliness, but today you were fucking starving for him. So you leave his neck unattented, marked by pretty hickies and lovemarks, but unattended, to sit up on his thighs and pull your dress off yourself. All that covers your body now is matching underwear you obviously are wearing for Daisuke. When his mind was just clear enough to take in the sight before his eyes, his face blushes but his eyes darken, eyeing you up and down before biting his lip with a teasing smirk.

"Aw, for me, babe? You shouldn't have..." he obviously loved it, did he think you didn't feel his cock throb under his pants? So you giggle in response, leaning in for an open-mouthed kiss again, and this time he had no shame in bucking his hips up to get some friction against yours, making you feel the heat that was concentrating on his lower belly. You smirked into the kiss, knowing damn well what you were doing to him, and it just got him more eager. One of your hands wandered down to his crotch, immediatly earning a groan from him. You loved how vocal he was for a guy, never shy to groan or whimper for you. Slowly you unbuckled his belt, only parting from your kiss to concentrate on fully undoing his pants.

Daisuke was breathless, his cheeks blushed a pretty shade of carmine, and all his attention was on you. Fuck, was he a sight. So pretty and so fucked up already, just for you. It was making your mouth water, but what made you gulp with eagerness was the sight of the wet spot on his boxers, evidence that he was just as eager, if not more than you, for what was to come. You hurriedly took his shirt off, ripping it in some places, but none of you could care less. Trailing kisses down his chest and abdomen was quick too, but that doesn't mean you didn't leave some more marks in the way. He'd be proudly flaunting those in the beach tomorrow, you were sure. You spent more time kissing and marking his navel, knowing this was a sensitive spot, which made your husband whine and arch his back under you, his hand shakily tangling in your hair to encourage you to keep going.

Of course you teased him over his underwear, licking along the outline of his cock. He downright moaned at that, hips bucking up eagerly, and his eyes were already watering because of all your teasing.

"Babe... please... too much... need you..." Daisuke panted, making you smirk, but you obviously complied, eventually pulling his boxers down to let his member out.

It was leaking already, much hotter than the rest of his body, and absolutely throbbing for you. As you had many times before, you started by taking the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and sucking slightly now and then. All your husband could do was whine and arch his back, tears already overflowing his eyes, causing him to cover his face with his free hand. His whines only encouraged you, slowly taking more of him in your mouth. By the time you started gently bobbing your head up and down his length, he had recovered his breath just enough to speak in ragged breaths and whimpers.

"I... I missed you so much, love... couldn't stop thinking 'bout you when I was up there... I missed your... your warmth so much... f-fuck..." he trailed off, but what you heard was enough for you to understand what he was saying. You couldn't be patient anymore, and you knew Daisuke couldn't either. Your mouth was only a temporary relief, but he needed to be in you.

"I missed you too, baby... so much..." you answered after llifting your head, now straddling his hips again, sliding your panties to the side. You were too eager, and Daisuke liked to keep your lingerie on whenever you wore it, he said it looked hotter that way. You were dripping wet, so you didn't need much more prep, and with his pre already leaking out his cock it was also much smoother. You slowly lowered yourself on his cock, sighing with relief once he bottomed out. So did he, the feeling of your warm cunt swallowing him and your walls fitting him tightly was never any less good than the first time. You were even tighter today, since it had been a while without the stretch.

"f-fuck... baby... s'tight..." he managed to hiss, hands instinctively moving to hold your hips in an encouraging grip for you to ride him. And yes, you were desperate to feel him ravaging your insides, but you missed the closeness too, so you lay closer to his body, only moving your hips back and forth slowly to start the motion. You two are so close your breaths intertwine, looking lovingly at each other's eyes, reveling in the way your bodies connected again after so long. You pick up the pace slowly once Daisuke starts thrusting up into you, a sign he wants to go faster.

Not even ten minutes pass before you're fully riding his cock, bouncing on him while he desperately meets your hips midway, thrusting into you with whines and moans that sometimes get even louder than yours. He notices how one of your hands goes down your body to stimulate your clit and the way your insides clamp onto his cock greedily, signaling you're close to your climax without even having to tell him. He's your husband, after all. One of his hands quickly pushes yours away, his thumb expertly drawing circles on your clit the way he knows makes you crazy. Slow circles, quick circles, then he spells his name. And right when he finishes doing so, you let out a nice cry of his name he's missed, he hasn't heard you moan like that since before that Tulpar internship. Daisuke let's you slowly come down of your high, holding your hips tenderly. Once you're lucid enough, you look up to his face, and just the sigh of him is enough to make you want to keep going.

He was about to ask how you felt, if you needed any aftercare or a moment before continuing, but you caught him by surprise when you resumed your previous pace, just this time your pussy was much tighter and sensitive after your orgasm. It felt so good, way too good, that it made Daisuke yelp at first--surprised by the unepected action and the unexpected overwhelming pleasure. He was starting to get overstimulated, he was way too close to coming for you to keep bouncing on him like that.

"B-babe! S-Slow down..!" Daisuke whined, yet his hips contradicted his words and betrayed his mind, sloppily thrusting up into you. "I... Imma come inside if... if you keep going like th-that..." his voice cracked, giving away the overstimulation tears that were starting to flow down his face.

"S'okay, love..." you panted, mind way too fucked out and horny to care for how your words were delivered. Needy and desperate. "Why don't you... why don't you fill me up, huh..?" you only slowed down for a moment to get closer to his ear, still grinding your hips down. "Want you to knock me up..." you nipped at his earlobe for good measure, and if you were thinking a little better, you would've sworn that broke something in him.

Daisuke shuddered at your words before letting out one more pathetic whimper, and his hands gripped your thighs so tight you knew there would be bruises. He started a sloppy but fast pace, a desperate and hungry one. Was he getting off at the idea of getting you pregnant? You couldn't possibly think of an answer to that with your brains being fucked out, eyes rolling back as Daisuke's cock hit the deepest part of your cunt over and over. If it could get bruised in there, it definitel was now. You reveled in the way you could feel your whole lower body being slammed by his cock, over and over and over, until you reached your climax unexpectedly again. This time it was weaker, all you could do was choke out a moan, while the way you tightened impossibly more made Daisuke cry. Literally cry. His back arched off the mattress and he full on cried your name out loud as he came.

You'd never heard him do that before. And it didn't get out of your head.

Not when he pulled you off him and laid you down next to him. Not when he put your knees to your chest and told you to keep them there so you'd have better chances at getting knocked up, because you'd reassured him that's what you wanted, after all. Not when you two drifted off to sleep cuddled up against each other, his tear stained face so peaceful and handsome under the dim lightning of the moonlight.

Maybe you'd make him cry again one of these days.

#daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke mw #daisuke my beloved #daisuke x reader #daisuke x you #daisuke x y/n #daisuke smut #mouthwashing smut #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing #HAPPY BIRTHDAY BESTIE!!!!!

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knightjpg · 8 months ago

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Brick by Brick

And like a dog who's learned a new trick Simon rings your bell the next day. Wasn't happy with how he left it, and wasn't that faucet leaking? He's got plenty of spare wood in his shed, don't you worry. What's that about the boiler making a weird noise? He'll take a look at it, might have something for the draft in the hallway too. Pay him? What are you talking about, he does stuff like this for fun. Don't sweat it, love. Just hand him that wrench.

tags: construction worker simon/neighbour reader

part 1 | part 2

Summer is the worst time of year for construction work outside. Up early before the birds are awake to try and beat the heat, arriving on site at six or earlier with bleary eyes and creaky joints from the day before. It means coming home at four or five with lots of day left to get through yet without the will or energy to do anything beside shower, eat, watch some telly, and sleep.

The pay is good and it beats sitting in a cramped office all day, but when Simon gets home with aching knees and the thrum of a headache at the back of his skull it's hard to remember why on Earth he chose the career he's in. He's drenched in sweat, large dark patches adorning his pits and back.

It's one of those days where very little can make him stray from his commute straight to home to collapse into his big falling-apart chair, but today it's not really up to him. A large moving truck blocks his driveway. The faded company logo against dirty white overtakes the entire view of his windshield, though Simon can see the back doors are still swung open. No one to attend to it, though.

Simon noticed the FOR SALE! sign had gone, of course. Remembers feeling vaguely pleased, even, that the home next to his wouldn't be empty anymore, because he of all people knows exactly how quickly places can fall apart without anyone tending to it. But right now all he feels is tired, and hot, and really fucking annoyed. Just when he's clicked his belt loose to get out of the car and see if the dolt belonging to the truck is anywhere to be found, voices carry from the open front door.

“...last. I'm afraid it's a little heavy, though, so maybe we should get the boxes out first?”

And out steps the sweetest little thing he's ever seen. Hair tied up, tight little top, and shorts that give him ample view of your legs.

Maybe summer's not so bad after all.

You're talking to a bloke wearing a uniform that matches the moving truck and who looks flushed in the face from exertion. As soon as you clock Simon's car, though, you stop mid-sentence in surprise, and then quickly walk to him, brows furrowed apologetically.

“Oh, I'm so sorry—you're trying to get past us, aren't you?” Simon gives you a nod, and you turn back to the mover. “Would you mind moving the truck up a little? I don't want it to be in the way.”

There's precious little parking space ahead, so Simon rolls down his window and calls out to you, “Jus’ backing up a few yards s’fine.” He gestures to his driveway so you know that's where he's headed, and you flash him a smile and a thumbs-up in understanding.

The truck is moved, Simon parks his car, and you pull another heavy-looking box from the cube. You never reach your new doorstep with it; Simon steps in and lifts it from your hands. You blink up at him, lashes fluttering sweetly with surprise. “Oh—are you sure? It's heavy...!”

One corner of Simon's mouth tugs up. Tired as he is it weighs next to nothing, and he can't resist holding it with one arm, holding out the other.

“Can take ‘nother if you need.”

You laugh and assure him this is quite enough, then jog back to the truck while Simon pushes past the half-open door to his new neighbour's home.

It's a mess, of course. Piles of boxes, scattered furniture, rolled-up carpets. Simon puts the box down in the living room, then saunters back outside to lift another from your hands. He does the same with the couch; the mover is struggling and Simon doesn't trust him not to let it fall and crash. And you're such a little thing. Just doesn't feel right, watching you rush around and struggle without stepping in.

With Simon's help it's quick work. The mover thanks Simon before driving off, but he's not really listening. There's much more important things to pay attention to.

You're pretty. Cheeks flushed from exertion, breathing hard, flyaway hairs from your ponytail sticking up in odd directions. Simon has to suppress the urge to smooth them away.

"Thanks so much for the help,” you tell him earnestly. “I'm sorry we were in the way—we thought we'd have a little more time before people started coming home from work.”

“S’alright,” Simon says. It's nearing evening, now, the sky above you glowing in pale pink and oranges hues. The little smatter of trees across from you rustles with a gust of summer wind.

You introduce yourself and insist on giving Simon your number “in case there's ever anything you need.” Simon's more concerned about a young woman living all on her own but takes your number all the same, watching your pretty little fingers tap it in on his phone.

“I mostly work from home, but I'm very quiet and boring,” you tell him with a smile. “You don't have to worry about noise.”

For some reason that isn't the selling point it should be. When Simon stands inside his hallway, house empty and dark and quiet, he wishes he still lived in a shitty apartment with thin walls on the bad side of Manchester. Maybe then he'd hear your footsteps, or better yet, your voice. Instead the only thing waiting for him at home is silence. Heavy and thick, where he's ripped away from sweet sunshine and plunged underwater.

Simon is halfway to falling asleep on the couch when the bell rings. He groans, drags a hand over his face, and glances up at the TV. The football match is still going. The camera pans over a cheering crowd, their cries distant and quiet.

He mutes the thing entirely and heaves himself up to open the door. Swear to God, if this is the fucking salesman again...

“Hi there.”

You give Simon a little finger wave, your other hand cradling a round oven dish. When you shift on your feet the protective foil on top rustles noisily.

You look a little more put together than you did yesterday—rested, showered, fed. Just as pretty.

Although, speaking of fed...

“Alright?” Simon asks, eyes on the oven pan. He's only catching a faint whiff of something, but whatever it is smells really fucking good. His stomach reminds him that the only thing in his fridge are a couple cans of beer.

You nod and lift the dish with a shy little grin. “Yeah. Um. I wanted to say thanks again, for yesterday. And I wanted to test out my oven, so...”

You hold the dish out for him to take. Simon's fingers brush yours, large meaty paws easily twice the size of your own. When he peels back the foil you add, “Shepherd's pie. I thought about cookies, but I wasn't sure if you'd like those.”

The scent hits him, then, rich and hearty and buttery smooth. The dish is still a little warm.

Fuck. When was the last time he ate something homemade?

“No, I'll eat anything,” he says, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. He hasn't showered yet. Must look a nightmare. Does he stink? “Thanks.”

Your whole face lights up, and Simon's neck feels hot. He averts his eyes to avoid your gaze and pretends to inspect the pie instead. Jesus, what is he, twelve? “I'm glad. I'll leave you to it, then.”

D’you want to come in for a drink?

It's on the tip of his tongue, but he can't get the words out quite right and gives you a brusque nod, watching you walk back to your own home before closing his door all the way.

He eats at his kitchen table and finishes the whole thing in one go. Chases bits of flakey crust with his finger, licks up every leftover crumb. The meat is tender and juicy and for a while after the only things he smells is golden-brown potatoes seasoned with rosemary.

He mourns it when it's gone, of course. Has half a mind to go over right now and ask if your cooking is for hire—Simon can't remember the last time he felt satisfied. When he ate not just for the sake of fuel or convenience but because someone wanted him to have something nice, something special. Is it special? Is he special? Are you going around the neighbourhood handing out cookies and pies to just anyone?

Simon's sigh is loud in the silence and sticks to the kitchen walls.

The pre-made frozen meals are fine, of course. Empty plastic containers fill up the rubbish bin. They're easy and cheap and most days Simon's glad just to have something warm in his stomach.

And yet.

The next day Simon stands at your door at six in the evening sharp, holding the clean dish in his hands. You invite him in for a cup of tea, because unlike him you have good manners, and you sheepishly apologise for the stacks of boxes everywhere.

“S’alright,” Simon says, carefully manoeuvring around a large pile of books. “I don't mind.”

And he doesn't, though he does feel like a bull in a china shop. Large and much too coarse for the little tea cup you hand him while the kettle whistles on the stove.

“I'm afraid I don't have much to go with it,” you say with a flutter of your hands. “Do you like ginger snaps? I think I've got a pack somewhere.”

You don't wait for his answer and pry open one of the cupboards. First come the ginger snaps, then the box of Earl Grey, which you hold up to him with a triumphant smile. “Unpacked the important stuff first.”

Simon frowns and jerks his chin to the cupboard. “S’it stuck?”

“Oh—yeah. They all are.” You give the wood a little knock. “It'll take me some time to get to fixing everything. The house went for a good price, but only ‘cause it needs some love.” You give him a rueful smile and get up, wiping your hands on your thighs. “I'm not all that handy, so I'll have to take it bit by bit.”

Simon rises before you finish your sentence. "Let me see.”

“Oh, no, it's okay. It's not a big deal, really—”

Simon crouches down, slowly, to spare his knees, and tests the hinges. The wood is rotten in certain places, the hinges old and rusted. Rather than fixing it up it should be replaced entirely. You really better had gotten this place for good money, because this will take more than a bit of elbow grease to repair. He prods at the hinges, tuts, and looks up at you.

“Ready to fall apart, this one. You said they're all like this?”

You nod, worry creasing your brow. “I—yes. Well, the kitchen is. The bathroom seems alright. Is it worse than I thought?”

“Might be. You have anyone look at this?”

You shake your head. “I'm starting to feel silly about it now, but I was going to look up how to do it myself.”

Simon straightens. “I'll go get my kit.”

It's not as bad as he feared. Two cabinets need tearing down completely, but the others are worth saving. Simon warns you the repair job will fuck the wood, but you tell him it's no problem; you'll paint over it anyway.

You feed him tea and ginger snaps while he works, asking him several times if he wouldn't like a break, hasn't he done a lot already? You feel terrible about having him work on his day off. Didn't he say he worked construction? He must be so tired, poor man. You insist he stay for dinner. “You've been so helpful—it's the least I could do.”

Simon takes a breather to watch you cook. Chicken, pasta, summer salad. The sun sinks lower and hits you straight on from the kitchen window, painting the edges of you a dazed red-gold. An angel's halo.

“You big on reading, then?”

You turn down the heat and put a lid over the pan to join him at the table. Simon's eyeing the many books strewn about on top of boxes that say “pans” and “kitchen supplies”. Le Morte D’Arthur. Histories of the Kings of Britain. Beowulf. There's even one that prompts a vague, long-forgotten memory from his school days— The Canterbury Tales.

“I am. Always have been.” You nod to the books. “I teach at university—medieval literature. But I'm working on my own research on the side.”

Simon lets out a low whistle. His pretty bird is a clever one. Smarter than him, that's for sure. He might be big and strong but he's got bricks for brains.

That's what his dad always used to say, anyway—that he's stupid. Those always were his kinder moments.

“That explains all the books y’got.”

“There sure are a lot of them, aren't there? I swear moving really makes you realise just how much stuff you own...” You shake your head. “I'll have to get a bigger bookcase.”

“Think it's impressive.”

Your eyes crinkle with a smile. “Not as impressive as knowing how to fix my cabinets! I don't know how I would've managed by myself.” You hop up from your seat to check the food, then ask over your shoulder, “Is that something you do a lot for work, too? Carpentry and the like?”

Simon shakes his head. “We do the heavy lifting. Clearing a place out, laying the foundation. Johnny—my coworker, he's mostly on machinery. Kyle does transport and plumbing. I do the heavier handiwork.”

You hum and start plating the food while asking him more questions. Is the pay good? Is his boss fair? Are his coworkers nice?

Price's fairly strict is what he is, Simon answers, and you laugh again. He likes that. Likes that he gets you to do that.

He wolfs down a plate of his pasta and devours the chicken. It's fragrant, roasted with lemon and thyme, bursts between his teeth. He tells you more about Johnny, that he's a cocky bastard who likes playing with electricity way too much, but that he's also a loyal friend. That he's a hard worker—that all of them are.

When his plate is empty and he's eyeing what's left in the pans you push them closer without saying anything, and prompt him to tell you about that time a plumbing line exploded and Kyle got soaked from tip to toe in disgusting gunk. He smelt like sewage water for weeks.

Simon doesn't even realise how much he's talked until his throat starts feeling rougher than usual. You make it easy somehow. If he'd thought you would look down on him because of your own job he needn't have worried. You're not at all like what he imagines when he thinks of professors, none of the stuffy superiority complex he's used to weathering when people find out all he does all day is chafe his fingers on hard cement.

Maybe you're just good at faking it, but he doubts it. The sparkle in your eyes when you listen to him so intently has to be real.

You send him home with a warm thanks and dessert, and Simon feels something in his chest lurch when you peer up at him through your lashes in the doorway, smiling and sweet. Can't remember the last time he went out for dates. Can't remember having the time or energy for it.

Pay him? What are you talking about, he does stuff like this for fun. Don't sweat it, love. Just hand him that wrench.

There are days when it's hard, of course. Simon is only human, and spending days and days on sizzling hard concrete would wring anyone dry. The project is coming along nicely, but at the height of summer there's plenty of times when even the promise of your smile isn't enough to keep him from falling asleep on his couch—often on an empty stomach.

But during the weekends he rings your bell dutifully. Six o’clock becomes something sacred in his mind, sweet relief after praying on his knees for hours smoothing out cement. It gets to the point where he turns down Friday drinks with the guys more than once because he's got something to go home for now, his pretty little bird that's never once mentioned a boyfriend of any kind.

“You really should let me pay you.”

Simon gives you a look before pushing his large shoulders further into the cabinet under the bathroom sink. “Should be the one payin’ you. I know I'm doubling your grocery bill.”

He eats more at your place than his own these days. It gives him incentive to rush through a shower, dress like something resembling a human, then wait at your doorstep to be let in. Wagging tail and everything.

Your cheeks darken and you duck your head. “No, um... It makes me happy. To see you eat my cooking, I mean,” you confess a little shyly. “I feel like I'm the one getting everything out of this. I hope I'm not keeping you from—from spending time at home, or with your family.”

“S’just me, love.” Simon pauses, pretends to inspect the pipes. “Less you don't want me coming ‘round anymore.”

“No, no,” you say hastily. “No, I like—I like the company. Really.” Your voice softens. “And I'm not just saying that because I appreciate the help.”

Simon exhales, shifts a little to accommodate the strain in his boxers, and holds his hand out for the screwdriver.

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #simon ghost riley x reader #x reader #if you saw me post this to the wrong blog. no you didnt.

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wttcsms · 3 months ago

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sorry but im just thinking about best friend's older brother!character and you. you and your bestie got totally screwed over by your college apartments bc they found black mold in the complex & it's basically uninhabitable. however, this is the second week of the semester + every other viable housing option is taken. luckily enough, her older brother is successful and rich — his luxury apartment is way too big for just himself. he has spare rooms. so now you're living with your best friend's older brother, and you always knew he was cute growing up, but he's older than the two of you; you knew your crush on him was unrealistic. it's like crushing on a celebrity, really. except... people don't normally end up sleeping in the room down the hall from their celeb crush, do they?

he's fun to be around, but when your best friend is gone for periods of time (she'd rather spend her nights at her boyfriend's place), and it's just the two of you alone... things feel tense. like every otherwise innocent action is suddenly charged with some weird electricity. you're messing with the coffee maker and he comes up behind you to open up the cabinet overhead, effectively sandwiching you between the hard counter top and his muscular build (since when did he have the time to get so jacked?) he sleeps shirtless, and when it's nighttime, he'll walk around in just his gray sweats or plaid pj pants, abs on full display, making casual conversation with you like he doesn't look like a greek god coming down to earth. but as much as he's unknowingly taunting you, you're unknowingly taunting him.

since when did his little sister's best friend grow up? why are you walking around in cropped cami tops that are thin enough to wear he can see the buds of your nipples poking through the fabric? why does the scent of your body lotion drive him insane? why does the fact that you're facetiming his sister and interrupting her alone time w her boyfriend just so you can ask for advice on what to wear to a date bother him so much? when you hang up, he conveniently passes by your bedroom door to see what's going on.

you're wearing a tight, black mini dress and you're spraying on perfume — the perfume he gifted you a few chrismas'es ago. he thinks it's cute that you still use it; he finds it less cute when he realizes you'll waste the sweet scent on someone who isn't him.

"you could've asked me for help on deciding what to wear. my sister acts like she knows it all, but she doesn't know how men think."

you're caught off guard, embarrassed that he overheard your conversation. "i- i wouldn't bother you with something stupid like this. i asked her because i don't have any guy friends and-"

he's fully in your room now, a look on his face you've only ever seen in your wet dreams. "i'm a man. do you really not see me that way?"

right now, he's all you can see.

#not his biggest fan but...#kuroo 😔#hear me out hear me out #YUKIMIYA #can u see it #wait... this is an insane line up of people who don't really have anything in common #could have potential to be sakusa #kunigami :O

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nimuraz · 23 days ago

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WORD COUNT — 2.3K

WARNINGS — have you ever tried this one? fingering, pet name usage, sub!jake, hand jobs, cum eating, sex toys (let me know if i missed anything)

NOTES — hii guys thank u for the support on just for now, i will be splitting juno up into 2 parts so stay tuned for the next part! at the end of the fic i did include the pics of the lingerie that u can imagine wearing hehe~

jake was the sweetest man alive. always bringing you flowers, buying you food, being the shoulder you cry on, yes everything about him was so so sweet. even in bed he was so gentle and sweet, you didn’t hate it by any means but you were starting to get bored.

“jakey… can we talk for a sec?” the hesitation in your voice is unmistakable—how on earth are you supposed to tell your sweet, caring boyfriend that you want to go at it like rabbits?

“yea, pretty. what’s up?” he says enthusiastically. somehow that’s making it harder for you.

both of you are on the couch, your legs pulled up to your chest while he sits normally, his hand resting on your knee. as you call out to him once more, the touch makes it even harder for you to find the words.

“in the most normal way possible… do you have anything you’re into? like… i don’t know… any kinks?” you try saying this sweetly. his eyes widen and a soft chuckle escapes his lips.

“mm… i dunno really…” he trails off into thought and to be honest now that he thinks of it he does wanna try some things out.

“i wouldn’t consider them kinks but probably more of like… things i would be down to try?” he says before laughing again softly. his hand on ur knee trailing down to squeeze your thigh.

“let’s hear it!” you say laughing shortly after. his hand on your thigh ignites a fire beneath your skin. ‘this is gonna be a long night’* you think, before offering him a reassuring smile.

“maybe you on top?” he suggests, biting his bottom lip with a smug grin spreading across his face. “want you to be a little rough with me too… tug on my hair, yank me around here and there.” he squeezes your thigh a bit tighter. your glossy eyes meet his, you nod your head softly, encouraging him to continue.

“make me feel good, but also use me, princess.” he whispered before scooting closer to you, his hand now in your inner thigh.

“use you…?” you whisper back. your breath was caught in your chest.

“mhm… do whatever you need to get yourself off, worry about me after.” his voice barely above a whisper. you look at him and smile before putting your legs back down, your feet hitting the floor.

you thought about what jake had said and ever since then you hate to admit it but you were so so needy and per usual, you texted jake.

you: jakeyyy

jake: yes baby?

you: can you come over? pretty pleaseeee

jake: give me like an hour

is that okay?

‘more than okay…’ you thought to yourself. it felt like a lightbulb went off in your head.

you: yea that’s perf muah see u then

jake: see you my love

you hop in the shower and somehow manage to shave everything. once you’re out, you head to your closet, searching for something to wear. yes you wanted to sleep with him, but you definitely didn’t need him struggling to pull down a pair of blue jeans to make it happen.

you sift through all your clothes until you remember—the baby pink lace lingerie you bought a few days ago, still sitting in its packaging. squatting down, you search through the shoe boxes, hoping to find it, and finally, you do.

you unpackaged it and smile to yourself before putting it on. glancing in the mirror your smile widens. you continue getting ready, doing your usual makeup routine and fluffing out your hair.

after what feels like forever, an hour passes, and you finally hear a knock at the door. you quickly put a robe on and walk over to the front door of your apartment.

“jakey!” you say softly before wrapping your around around his shoulders.

“someone’s in a good mood,” he teases, giving you a gentle squeeze in the hug. of course you were in a good mood. you pepper soft kisses all over his face as he closes the door behind him.

he lets out the cutest giggle you’ve ever heard come out of him.

“just missed you…” you say sweetly before dragging him to the couch with you. the quiet background noise of the tv playing a random channel plays as you focus on jake.

“so what’d you wanna do hm?” he says softly as he wraps his arm around you, pulling you close to his chest. his other hand running slowly up and down your thigh.

“anything… everything…” you mutter before looking up to him sweetly. you shift, draping your legs over his thighs, so close to settling onto his lap.

the bottom of the robe rides up, bunching up on the top of your thighs, of course this doesn’t go unnoticed by your sweet boyfriend who’s trying so hard to not look.

“mm… wanna watch a movie?” he murmurs softly, his breath catching as you move your free hand to untie your robe, letting it fall open without fully taking it off just yet.

“we can… or we can do something else…” you whisper against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his back.

unbeknownst to both of you, the tv starts cycling through various pop star performances. this hour’s feature is sabrina carpenter, her playful voice and melodies perfectly complementing the atmosphere.

jake runs his slender fingers through your fluffed out hair. “yeah?” he whispers, his eyes locked on your glossy gaze. with one swift move, he pulls you onto his lap, you let out a tiny yelp causing the both of you to laugh softly. he thumbs at your outer thigh gently.

“what do you wanna do, pretty girl…?” he whispers before grazing your neck with his lips. he starts kissing so softly the way he always does. a soft huff escapes your lips before you speak again.

“wanna make you feel good…” your voice barely above a whisper. “wanna have fun with you.” you let out a louder moan as he starts sucking on the skin of your neck. his free hand moves to your shoulders, gently sliding the robe off.

you let him remove the article of clothing, it soon falling to the arm of the couch behind you.

“oh…” he gasps lightly as he looks down at you. the pink lace top lingerie covering just above your soft buds. “you look so pretty… not that you don’t always do just-“

you cut him off, kiss harsh and demanding. an unusual feel to what you both usually do with each other. his eyes flutter open at the sensation before he cups your cheek, deepening the kiss. his eyes slowly start closing again. he lets out a soft hum as you bite his bottom lip.

you pull away and peck his lips before shifting over to straddle him.

“better…” you whisper before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and dipping back down to kiss him again. his hands running up and down your sides gently.

“do you like it…?” you mumble against his lips.

“what? the surprise of you in this skimpy little outfit?” his tone playful. you smile against his lips before kissing him again. he takes this opportunity to rub your hips gently, this sparks an idea in your head too.

you start shifting your hips back and forth gently, a quiet groan tries to release from his lips but they were muffled by your sweet kisses. his grip on your hips tightens before he starts moving you himself, grinding you harder against his aching core.

“bed…” he mumbles against your lips before swiftly lifting the both of you up from the couch. he lays you down on the bed gently before putting his hands back on you.

“so pretty… my perfect girl…” he says in between kisses. you clench around nothing. “s’tied on the sides? how cute…” he starts toying with the ribbons on the side of the lace panties before undoing the knots on one side.

“i wanna try what we talked about.” your words come out in soft pants.

“only if you’re comfortable, angel…” here he goes being the sweetest person alive.

“but i want you to be rough with me too.” you pant once again.

“are you sure?” he gazes up at you. fluffy strands of hair framing his face as he dips down to get closer a better look of you. you nod quickly.

“i also have… toys, we can use.” you hesitantly say. his ears perk up. he nods slowly, taking in what you just said. you tug him back down by his neck, eager for more kisses, and fuck, he can feel you everywhere—your lips on his, your hands digging into his chest, clawing at his shirt, your legs pressing against his. a sweet whimper was all he could let out when you pull away from the kiss.

he pulls you closer by the waist, squeezing the skin that laid on your bones so perfectly, he thought to himself. he leans his body down to suck on your neck, his tongue licking stripes up and down the skin earning a soft moan from you.

“more jae…” jae. it’s what you seemed to only call him during times like this or when you’re sobbing after a long day and he’s there to hold you.

“i’ve got you, baby doll.” and that’s what he calls you.

the soft music from the living room tv drifts into your room as the tension rises. what a coincidence—your favorite sabrina carpenter song, juno, is playing.

he continues his kisses down your neck before untying the other side of the lace panties, his kisses get harsher and hotter. his tongue licking softly at your bottom lip. you instinctively open your lips just enough for him to slip his tongue in, all he could think of was inhaling you. your scent, your taste, the feel of you. he needed it all so deep inside of him. he takes the hand he used to undo the knot and slips the lace covering your bare core to the side before rubbing your clit in soft circles.

you moan into the kiss before trailing your hands up to his nape, tugging on the soft strands just like he told you too. he moans, but not like the moans you’re usually used to. he sounded so spent and needy and all you’ve done was kiss.

he starts rubbing your sensitive bud faster before dipping his fingers down to your soaking hole just to play with your arousal, smearing it back up to your clit.

“baby…” he babbles as you keep tugging on the strands, his fingers working faster against you. you buck your hips up seeking more friction, it just wasn’t enough. he chuckles softly against your lips before biting down on your bottom lip.

“just like that jae— mmh…” you moan out.

“you feel so soft… so perfect…” he murmurs into your lips, craving the warmth, the sounds, the touch—desperate to be consumed by it all.

“check- nngh jae- check the box under my bed…” you manage to whisper out. a soft gasp leaves your lips when he stops his motions.

he dips down next to the bed and reaches for the box, sliding the pink plastic box towards him then up onto the bed.

you smile hazily at him. “open it…” so he does.

dildos, vibrators, a cock ring, and… fuzzy pink handcuffs?

“ooo…” jake playfully says, earning a soft giggle from you. he takes the hand cuffs out and dangles them in front of your face. “so who goes first?”

“you’re asking as if you aren’t dying to go first…” you roll your eyes playfully before sitting up on your elbows to get a better view of him.

“you caught me!” he jokes as he puts his hands up in surrender, a stupid smile on both your faces.

‘this feels so fun…’ you thought to yourself before immediately gasping when his lips meet your collarbones. he nips and nips, your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. never has he ever even thought about leaving hickeys on you, god he always treated you like a porcelain doll during your intimate moments.

he sucks, and nips, and licks, all causing you to grip onto his biceps. he pulls back and looking at the small bruises forming. “pretty.”

you smile softly before sitting upright and taking the cuffs from his hands. you slowly guide him down the bed so he’s laying next to you before you kiss his lips again, the taste of mint and was that mango?* lingering on his tongue.

“off. everything.” you mutter, he wastes no time in removing everything but his boxers. “these too.” you say softly. he nods rapidly before taking his boxers off leaving him completely bare in front of you. you look down at his half hard cock and grin. “lay back.” and again he follows, without hesitation.

you loop the hand cuffs around your bed frame, the clanks of the metals clashing arousing jake up even more, his cock twitching.

“arms up.” you speak firmly, deliberately avoiding eye contact with him. he glances up at you with those endearing eyes, knowing full well that you can't resist him when he looks at you that way. you finally lock the hand cuffs and smile sweetly at him. “just hold still jakey…”

it didn’t take long for you to have jake trembling under you. your hand stroking his aching cock as your lips left marks all over his abs.

“s’too much y/n please-“ a strangled moan leaves his mouth, only motivating you more. you wrap your lips around his red tip, leaking precum and twitching while his veins protrude. it almost looked painful. you chuckle softly around his head, earning a loud groan from him.

“think you can keep being a good boy for me…?” you tease before kissing down his shaft. he pathetically nods his head.

“anything for you please i’ll do anything…” he breathes out, his voice cracking in the process. you release his length and move to the side of the bed, leaning over to get something from your nightstand.

“just relax for me jakey… just wanna make you feel good…” you say reassuringly before lubing up your fingers. “deep breaths baby…”

the sweet whimper that leaves his lips at the feel of you in his walls has you shaking. “y/n holy fuck-“

you start pumping your middle finger in and out of him in a more steady pace before using your other hand to stroke his leaking cock again. he squirms and whimpers beneath you, you gaze up to look at his face— it was enough to have you dripping in your own arousal.

you tighten your fist on his dick and start picking up the pace of both hands. he’s shaking and almost yelling at this point. the hand cuffs creating red marks around his delicate wrists.

“you wanted this jakey didn’t you… you wanted me to play with you and be rough right?” you speak in a gentle tone, a harsh contrast to your actions as you add another finger. he can’t form a response, the words lodged in his throat, refusing to come out.

“s’good…” he babbled. “gonna cum… please i’m so close y/n…” and then he breaks, strings of his release landing on his flexed abs and your soft hand.

you gently remove your fingers from inside him and look up at him before licking up his release that dripped down the side of his waist.

yea this was gonna be a long night.

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cosmonauter · 5 months ago

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ahh, i hope you like it @liv-does-stuff !!

bestfriend james who has no boundaries with you!!

james potter thinks you are the best friend he's ever had. normally people tell him that he's too clingy, and they don't like him hanging around them all the time. and it's not a problem for him, but he just wants someone to let him hug and touch without being awkward about it.

so when you two met, he felt like the luckiest person on earth because you don't think it's weird when he hugs you from behind and kisses the top of your head.

you don't judge him for demanding cuddles and sleepovers at least two times a week. you even encourage him to be touchier!

his favourite thing to do with you is bathing together. since he's a headboy, he has unlimited access to the prefect's bathroom, which means that the two of you bathe together as often as possible.

he's especially excited to meet you today because he was informed about a new couple in school, and he really wants to gossip about it with you!

so while he is cleaning his bed of sirius' socks and peter's sweets, because you're sleeping over today, sirius decides to ask him a question, "are you meeting up with them again? don't you think it's a little weird that you guys bath at the same time in the same room, even though you're 'just friends'?"

"why would it be weird? they wash my back and i condition their hair for them. it's logical and they don't mind it aswell. it's actually really nice, and besides, don't act as if remus and you don't shower together!"

remus sighs, "james, sirius and i are in a relationship with eachother. aside from that, i totally agree with pads, it is weird that you take baths together. what's even weirder is you touching while being in said bath!"

"you guys just don't have the connection that my dove and i have. it's okay though, don't be sad about it! maybe one day you'll reach the same trust we have in each other.", james throws a towel over one shoulder and picks out a shirt for you to wear, and matching pants, so everyone you come across in the halls knows about your superior friendship (and that you're his, but he wouldn't admit that to anyone, not even under torture).

"i'm going to the bath, padfoot don't eat anything on my bed, my dove complained about the crumbs last time, and i promised them to change that! they're sleeping with me today. bye bye!"

he closes the door before any of them can say anything and runs to the bathroom as fast as he can.

as soon as he arrives in the prefect bathroom, he already sees you taking off your clothes.

while you are struggling with unzipping your pants, he comes up behind you and grabs your waist, pulling you into an embrace. your naked back against his broad chest sends electric shocks down his body and he shivers against you and presses your body closer to his.

"jamie, can you help me with my zipper? it isn't moving any further and i can't get out of my pants like that."

james would do anything for you, if you never stopped looking at him with those puppy-eyes, "of course, sweetheart. stay still."

he moves his hand away for a moment to turn your body facing his. while his one hand moves towards your zipper, the other one steadying your body by holding your hip, he grins at you and you smile back up at him.

he tugs a few times, but the pants don't budge. you notice his forehead getting sweatier, so you suggest to "take off your shirt jamie, it's to hot in here for you to be wearing it!" while tugging it up his back a little.

he pulls it off and throws it to the side, giving you a grin, "if you wanted me naked, darling, you just had to ask."

you scrunch your brows together, "if i wanted you naked, you would already be.". he snorts, and keeps tugging at your jeans.

suddenly an idea blossoms in his head. what if your zipper got stuck on something from the inside of your pants. so, of course, he sticks his hand down your pants to find a little string, connected to your underwear, being held hostage by said zipper.

"darling, you just have to pull your trousers down together with your panties. see, just like that..", he slowly eases your trousers over your butt, enjoying the feeling of your body under his hands.

you shiver against him and moan out," thank you, jamie. i should've thought about that." you blush and hide your head in his chest.

"don't worry about it, my love. i'm happy to help you as much as you need.", he smiles down at you, while you start tugging down his zipper to take of his trousers.

as soon as they fall to the floor, james picks you up by your waist and throws you into the water.

" james, you idiot!!", you scream at him while trying to splash him with the water. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry angel! i'll jump in okay? will that make you happy?"

"they are definitely fucking, i'm telling you!"

"sirius, calm down! what if they hear you, huh?"

"oh come on remus, they wear matching pajamas and use silencing charms every single time they have a 'sleepover', they won't hear a thing, trust me!"

"you're right, love, but still."

"wormy, what do you think?"

"i think they're both idiots, who really don't get why it's so weird."

please tell me if i need to change something, or if you have some tips on getting better. i hope you enjoyed it :))

#best friend james potter #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter smut #james potter #marauder era #marauders #marauders x reader

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lixie-phoria · 1 year ago

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ੈ✩‧ ➛ lee know thinks he's subtle as he pines over you

pairing : lee know x gn reader ; genre : fluff | warnings : none ; word count : 0.7k words

summary : a good way to confess to someone? tell them about it! but does lee know ever do anything conventionally? of course not. so here he was, trying to see you anytime he gets, and what better excuse than saying his cats miss you? you would never find he was the one missing you, right?

"hey, the cats miss you. you mind if i bring them over?"

lee know's tone is soft as he speaks over the phone with you, but his cold warning gaze settled upon hyunjin and changbin, who were trying their best to hold in their laughter, told a different story.

it does help, however, when he hears you eagerly agree and immediately relaxes, promising to be there soon. but of course he should've been more careful about where he was making the call because he certainly would not have picked a place where any of the other 7 could hear him. they would never let him rest in peace.

"so."

changbin valued his life slightly lesser than hyunjin did, so the first remark came from him.

"the cats miss y/n that much, huh?" hyunjin picked up from where changbin left.

"both of you, drop it."

"no no, do you plan on telling y/n that the cats have been asleep for the past two hours?"

lee know wished there was a box of tissues somewhere close by so he could shove it right down the younger members throats because he could not stand being teased over his crush on you anymore.

"the cats do miss y/n. that's why they were so irritable when they went to sleep."

"so that had nothing to do with you forgetting to give them water because you'd been talking to y/n for an hour?"

lee know was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it. he could deny all he wanted, but even he was aware that he really wasn't subtle about the not-so-small crush he harbored for you. his members knew about it, your members knew about it. heck, even his manager could see his feelings. it was that obvious. lee know could only hope you hadn't caught on because he'd be damned if you realized his way of spending time with you was making excuses that his cats wanted to see you.

lee know, the supposedly cool and nonchalant lee know his fans are so used to seeing on camera, was reduced to a nervous blushing mess whenever you were involved. how on earth was he supposed to confess to you when he could barely ask you to hang out with him?

"wear that green hoodie y/n really likes when you go." hyunjin adds, way too invested in whatever was unfolding.

"why does that matter?"

"because it gives them an excuse to compliment you, obviously."

the older boy huffed, hoping the other two could not see the red creeping up the tips of his years.

"and make sure to not mention that the cats were too busy sleeping to miss them."

"yah! i'm not stupid, i know."

"maybe mention that you were the one missing them."

changbin and hyunjin cackled as lee know's eye twitched in annoyance. they really were testing his patience today.

"just because the air fryer isn't in this room doesn't mean you're both safe."

this line was usually effective under normal circumstances. but not today.

"hyung, do you really thing you can threaten us? when you're the one in the vulnerable position?"

"i am not."

"oh so i can text y/n about all the times you've lied just to meet them?"

"he has an entire list, by the way," changbin manages in between his laughter.

"you're both jobless."

"says the one who's about to make a 30 minutes drive just so he can see his crush."

the two dissolved into another fit of laughter as the older member stormed out of the room and to where his three cats were resting in a peaceful slumber.

he felt guilty shaking them awake, but it would be worth it, right? he would get to meet you and you hopefully wouldn't even realize that they were just an excuse for him to see you, to hear your voice, to make you smile, to stare into your eyes just a little bit longer. hopefully you wouldn't catch on despite him using this very same excuse for what seemed like the thousandth time.

minho couldn't believe himself as he reluctantly put on the green hoodie hyunjin had advised him to wear.

he really wished the two would not see him in it. he would never make it out of the dorms if they found out he had listened to them. it was a pain, really, but for you lee know would do anything.

©lixie-phoria, 2023

tags : @lethallyprotected @dreamingaboutjisung @selcayuri @bangchansbae @aak2 @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba (send an ask to be added/removed!)

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esamastation · 1 month ago

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wvyld: Desmond wakes up in Angelgard — to find a guy in chains who feels Very Evil (daemons) to the Eagle Sense, but also. uhhhh. you know. it's just — the chains are going through his flesh it's. yeaah he may have to go against his intuition with this one, this is no way to treat an eldritch abomination....

Guess what I didn't write? Any of that. I did however write Desmond in FFXV. :D

He sleeps the deep, deep sleep of the Earth. He dreams of mountains, of ravines, of endless pressure and crushing weight. He sleeps, and dreams, and his dreams have the weight of gravity, the drag of continental plates, the churning of magma and rattling of earthquakes. They're slow dreams but they're not peaceful.

They're also never enough to distract him from the weight still resting on his shoulders. The weight he can never put down. The heat of it pounds down on him, burning him, crushing him. Weight and heat are the same, when you really think about it. Mass makes gravity makes pressure makes fire makes explosion. Gravity makes stars. Makes planets. Makes earth. It's all the same.

There's always some weight upon him. That is his task and nature, as an Astral. A shitty gig, if there ever was one.

He breathes in deep and then falls deeper into slumber. Deep into memories of other worlds and other planets and man that once was and doesn't really matter anymore. The Meteor is heavy, heavy, heavy, burning, burning, burning. He sleeps and dreams deep, deep, deep.

And then someone Sings with the Voice of Stars and drags him from Beneath - and for the first time in eons, Awakens him.

It's not a pleasant feeling, to become aware once more under all the weight of the Cosmos' Rage.

"God of the Earth I beseech you!" A small voice calls out from somewhere below. "Enter into a covenant with the Chosen King so that he may reclaim the Stone and purge the Darkness from our Star!"

It takes a moment - a stretch and press of time dilation under weight of infinite gravity - to remember what speech is. What the little voice is saying makes no sense, even then. "WHAT," he says, with the Meteor roaring like hellfire in his ear, deafening him.

There's a little human somewhere near his feet, tiny, tiny thing, blond and pale and wearing white. She reminds him of something from eons ago.

"The Time of the Prophecy is at hand!" the human says, grand and commanding and barely audible. "The Darkness Eternal threatens our Star and only the King of Light may defeat it! To do that, he will have your power - you must enter into this covenant!"

The words make no sense. "WHAT KING?" he asks. "WHAT COVENANT? WHAT DARKNESS? THERE'S ONLY THIS DAMNED THING," he shifts under the weight of the Meteor. "AND THE ASSURED DESTRUCTION SHOULD I EVER PUT IT DOWN."

The little human wavers and he realises - his voice is too loud. He's shouting at her. His quietest voice is deafening to her. Even so, she keeps shouting back. "There are worse dangers now! Even now the Darkness grows stronger - every day, it claims more of our Star's Light. Without that Light, there is no Life, without Life, there is no future! The Meteor doesn't matter now - "

"THEN WHY THE FUCK AM I STILL HOLDING IT?" he asks sarcastically, and the little human is thrown back, faltering under his power. Oops. Poor thing. "WHAT IS THIS DARKNESS YOU FEAR SO MUCH, THEN? WHAT IS SO BAD THAT YOU'VE AWOKEN ME FROM DEEP SLEEP?"

The human struggles to her feet, using her little staff to prop herself up, and faces him with a stern look on her face. "It is the Scourge of Stars!" she says and lifts her staff. "I will Show you!"

And she does. She shows him a Disease. A plague that causes transformations and shadows, that infects flora and fauna and twists them into living ash. It makes monsters they call Daemons, and it has been coming up again and again for the last two thousand years. No one knows where it came from, but people have a Prophecy about it.

The Draconian made a Prophecy about it. Apparently that's what they call that guy now. And the little human - the Oracle? The Oracle tells it to him like he's supposed to know it. Like he's already part of it.

"I DON'T KNOW YOUR PROPHECY," the Archaean - that's what they call him now, apparently - answers. "I'VE NO PART IN IT. I WAS UNDER BURDEN BEFORE YOUR STARSCOURGE EVEN APPEARED. THE DRACONIAN'S WORDS, SPOKEN EONS HENCE, HOLD NO SWAY OVER ME."

The little human falters. "But - but the Cosmogony - the Prophecy says - "

The Archaean strains under the weight of the Meteor. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT A PROPHECY IS, LITTLE ONE? IT'S SOMEONE VOLUNTEERING SOMEONE ELSE FOR A TASK THEY THEMSELVES WILL NOT DO. THAT'S ALL."

The little human shakes her head. "No, no, it has to be the Chosen King, the Draconian said - "

"IF THE DRACONIAN REALLY WANTED THIS DARKNESS GONE, HE'D DO IT HIMSELF," the Archaean says, unamused. "HE CERTAINLY HAS THE POWER. JUST LOOK AT ME." He shrugs his shoulders and the Meteor upon them, sending tremors through the earth beneath his feet. "WHO DO YOU THINK CAST THIS THING UPON ME?"

The Oracle clutches on her staff, her eyes wide. "The Draconian sent the Meteor down upon us?" she asks, horrified, and falls to her knees. "W-what? No, that's not possible. I don't - that can't be."

Well. That seems rather telling and alarming.

The little Oracle can't take this conversation for long, it seems like - his voice is too much for her, as it tends to be for most humans. There's no way around it, though. He can't do much for her. The Archaean simply cannot put down his burdens, not for a long, long time, not until the half life of the damned thing runs its course. Until then, it's just him between the Meteor and Eos - and an explosion that would rock the whole solar system, if the two ever met.

He can, however, detach a small portion of himself to act as his avatar.

"Well, don't you look far less tiny from this angle, huh," the Messenger says, cracking his neck and getting used to being human sized again. "Hello, Oracle."

The Oracle stares at him, wide eyed. "You - you're the Archaean?"

"Small part of him. It's a bit of a long term gig, holding up the Meteor," the Messenger says and peers up at himself, standing tall as a mountain under the Meteor. Already his larger self is going back to slumber - much easier to bear the weight like that. "Six thousand years down," the Messenger says, shooting finger guns at himself. "Six million more to go."

"Y-you -" the Oracle stammers and then goes down into a bow. "My Lord, I am your humble servant - I beseech you to listen to me, for our blight is true and dire."

"I believe you believe that, and it probably is pretty bad," the Messenger says and motions to the Meteor. "But if that thing goes down, it will destroy this whole planet. Into itty bitty space dust," he adds, just to drive the point across. "So, no. There will be no Covenant. The Archaean will not move. Not for a long, long time."

The Oracle looks at him, stricken - her lips actually quiver. "B-but I foresaw - this is meant to happen - all the writings -" she trails away, staring at him. "Is it really impossible?"

"It really is. If it was possible to put down the Meteor, the Meteor would be down, trust me, and I'd not be here," the Messenger says and shakes his head. "I'm sorry - whatever the Draconian has been telling people, the Archaean has no part in it. Our hands are tied."

The Oracle looks at him like she's going to cry. "I - all my life I've been preparing - training for this moment - I was supposed to awaken all the Artrals for Noctis - I -" she stops, drawing a hitching breath. "It's all been for naught - the Darkness will win? Our star will be destroyed?"

"Okay, okay, let's back up a bit," the Messenger says with some alarm, lifting his hands soothingly to calm her. "Why don't you tell me about this terrible fate about to befall all of us, and we'll figure it out?"

So, she tells him. Faltering and stuttering, she tells him everything she knows.

It's a lot.

So maybe sleeping away the eons under the Meteor's weight wasn't the smartest idea. Turns out, he's missed a lot. Like, apparently, the Fall of Solheim? Which, in the human time frame, happened eons ago, of course - six thousand years is ancient time for humans. Since then, there's been other nations, empires, kingdoms - like the one they're currently in, the Kingdom of Lucis, the one the Draconian chose. Which has since fallen into ruin, because of war.

"So," the Messenger says. "There was a Chosen One who was supposed to be the first king of Lucis, but he got sick with this Starscourge and was betrayed, so he was made the Accursed instead and the Kings of Lucis descend from his brother, the usurper. And now the current last heir to the throne is supposed to kill his many, many times grand uncle to defeat the Scourge once and for all. With Astral's power and the Crystal."

The Oracle, now sitting down on a rocky ledge looking small and sad and hopeless, nods.

The Messenger rubs at his forehead. "And that didn't clue you in to the fact that Draconian is making this shit up as he goes along?"

The Oracle's shoulders slump. "Gods are fallible, I know," she says. "But I thought the Revelation of Bahamut was true. Everyone always said it was. Even the Kings of Lucis believe in it, and they're the closest to him."

"Sounds to me like nothing is true, really," the Messenger muses. "But okay. I have a question - what, exactly, is the Crystal you keep mentioning?"

The Oracle looks up, and sort of sputters at him. "It - what - how can you not - " she chokes out. "It's the Heart of our Star - "

"The heart of a Star is mostly hydrogen and helium and thermonuclear fusion under pressure," the Messenger says and folds his arms. "I've never heard of this Crystal of yours. Is it something the Draconian made, maybe?"

"I-it was gifted to mankind so that we may know lasting prosperity -" the Oracle says before faltering and frowning at her own knees, confused. "It gives powers to the Kings of Lucis. It has protected the Kingdom for centuries, and they have protected it. I don't…"

The Messenger scratches at his neck, not sure what to tell her. It sounds like a lot of stuff the Astrals can do. The Archaean could probably whip up a magical rock too, if he wasn't under a bit of pressure at the moment. Well, he could probably still do it.

Under pressure is how gems were made.

Bit beside the point, though.

The Oracle looks up at him, actual tears in her eyes. "Everything I have been told my whole life is a lie, isn't it?" she asks as the tears spill out. "The Revelation of Bahamut is a lie. The Draconian dwells in the Crystal, it's his chamber, his fortress and for two thousand years the Kings of Lucis have bled for its upkeep."

Ouch. "Don't know what to tell you, Lady, this is all news to me," the Messenger says awkwardly. "Maybe we should set the whole… existential horror aside for a moment. Tell me more about this Accursed."

Six thousand years he bore the weight of the Meteor just fine. Now that he's stepped away from it, this is what he gets from it - a tension headache.

"So this guy was a healer fighting this Scourge, he was the Chosen One, supposed to be the king, the First King of Lucis, this great magical nation to be…" the Messenger says, just to clarify, while rubbing at his temple. "And then he was betrayed, usurped, and kept prisoner and tortured by the Kings of Lucis for two thousand years."

The Oracle nods slowly.

The Messenger hums in understanding. "Yeah, I kind of see where he's coming from."

The Oracle winces. "Yes, same," she admits with a sigh and then continues her increasingly depressing explanation of all the things he'd missed.

It's getting late by the time he has the full picture. Time is relative when you're Ancient Astral Being, or whatever, but as a Messenger he experiences daylight the same as your regular humans and the sun is going down below the horizon. Which apparently means the Daemons of the Star Scourge are going to come out.

"Alrighty, I want to see these Daemons and the Scourge for myself," the Messenger says, stretching his arms. "I'm guessing the radiation from the Meteor is keeping them away from here?"

"The light, yes," the Oracle says, lifting her staff. "I have the power to keep them at bay. I can also create Havens, sacred ground that will repel them."

"Neat - don't do that just yet, though, I want to see them," the Messenger says. "After that we can hopefully figure out something that won't involve the Archaean's power."

"Right," the Oracle says, taking a slow breath to steel herself, preparing to lever herself back to her feet with her staff. "I will do all I can, even - even if I cannot fulfil my original duty. I will do everything I can to cure our star."

"That's the spirit," the Messenger says and holds out a hand to her. "By the way, never caught your name."

"Lunafreya - Lunafreya Nox Fleuret," the Oracle says and takes his hand. "And you, my lord - what can I call you?"

"Not your lord, for a start," the Messenger says and pulls her up and to her feet, thinking of a name. Oh, well, why fix what's not broken. "Call me Desmond. Now, what say you we get out of here Lunafreya?"

Lunafreya nods and follows him away from the crater. Behind them the Archaean stands still, steadfastly shouldering his stellar burden, like he always did. Desmond casts him a last look, shaking his head - the last six thousand years had not been kind to him. The Meteor's radiation really brought out the Isu in him too, it looks like. Awkward.

One of these days he would stop being such a sucker about world ending disasters. One of these days.

Not today though.

Lol. Lmao even.

Here you can see in real time my daily word limit coming at me as I pass it somewhere in the middle of this and the writing starts getting increasingly nonsensical as it goes on. Anyway. Desmond as the Archaean, just because the white streaks on Titan made me go 👀

Also we're just ignoring Gentiana's existence here entirely. And pretty much all sense and logic.

It's 2 a.m. I'm tired.

#prompted #fanfiction #crossover #ffxv #assassin's creed #desmond miles #lunafreya nox fleuret #the archaean

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izvmimi · 5 months ago

Text

Senku exhales deeply and releases the small screwdriver he’s holding in his right hand, and as the metal clatters quietly on his work surface, he admits to himself that for the first time possibly in his entire life, he’s having issues with concentration.

Taking a swig of long-cooled coffee in his left and smoothing out a blueprint that he’d normally have committed to memory on the desk before him, he pores over the details of his newest invention again, but as the acrid taste of double shot espresso, taken black, hits his tongue, a flash of your wide smile comes to mind instead. The vision of you practically sweetens the aftertaste. He sighs, downs the rest of his coffee, then rubs his face with both his hands. Tilting back in his chair, he crosses his arms over his chest, jittery hands that now yearn to hold something soft and warm instead of being made to work.

Love is the most irrational thing on Earth, really.

Glancing at the digital clock just above his work desk, he finds that it’s late, close to 1 am, and you’re probably long since snoozing with far better sleep hygiene than he can ever afford (although he knows better, he always does). Perhaps if he just spoke to you, he’d be able to get that natural, primitive urge for companionship out of his system, that evolutionary shackle that keeps people fitting the mold rather than breaking through for societal advancement, but he only knows that feeding that desire is akin to throwing fresh meat to an endlessly hungry horde of dogs - never satisfied, always wanting more… a loud and wanting demand in his chest that doesn’t wane.

His curious nature finally proves to be a detriment because rather than uncover the laws of the natural and advanced world, he wonders if he could know you to the very atomic level. What your likes are, your dislikes… how your heart stays tender and pliable even at the worst of times… how kindness is communicated from your thoughts to words spoken sweetly through soft lips… how you decide what to wear, what gives you comfort… if you think you’re as pleasing to the eyes and soul as he finds you…

He shakes his head as he contemplates himself wasting precious time thinking about a woman, but you’re not just any woman, are you? You’re that person who generates that specific neurochemical cocktail that keeps him preoccupied, distracted - sitting in a chair in the middle of the night wondering if you’ve slept well and if you’d be interested in him picking your brain.

He looks at his phone, then looks away. He picks up his wrench, then places it back down.

His heart races for a moment, and he looks upset at the coffee cup, now consumed to the dregs. If he could make another cup, perhaps he could regain his focus, perhaps…

He rises for a moment, sits back down, and in a split, uncalculated decision picks up his phone and calls.

And you pick up on the second ring.

“... Senku?”

Your voice lacks the grogginess that would engender guilt for waking you up in the middle of the night. His mouth opens then closes for a moment, pulse quickening faster than any stimulant could hope to accomplish, and he quickly comes up with something to say. Anything, before you lose interest and question him just as badly as he questions himself.

“I need to run something by you. Do you mind?”

He can practically sense your smile on the other end of the line and it warms him from inside out.

Whether you understand his newest contraption is moot because you listen enthusiastically and you ask the right questions and he’s delighted just by the sound of your breathing on the other end of the phone -

Appetite for you whetted, satiated, and yet never truly full.

#senku x reader #senku ishigami x reader #senku x reader fluff #daydreams: dr. stone #dr. stone fluff #mimi's notes #senken

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always-just-red · 18 days ago

Note

Hello! Y'know that one line of Sylus talking about his muscles saying "They're not real. But they move." The way he casually admits to not being entirely human

Could I request something angsty where Sylus has an uncanny valley aura about him where you just FELL something's not right and Sylus is all :( cause he can't make the MC feel comfortable around him but it's not like he can fix it either

Just a quick little fic for this whilst I work on a longer fic! Realised like two paragraphs in that I had the opportunity to do the most evil thing ever, so I did!! 😇 I'm really proud of this one guys pls show it some love! And thanks for the prompt, anon! You are my co-conspirator in all this evilness, mwa ha ha DISCLAIMER: This work does not reflect the feelings of the author, who would die for Sylus! Wants to hold Sylus's face in her hands and tell him he is everything good and pure in this dark, cynical chess game we call life! 😎✨

Monster

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: A Deepspace Hunter's instincts never lie...

Genre: angst oh my GOSH so much angst

Warnings/Additional tags: f!reader, AU I guess as this is a different spin on an existing scene, *passes you some tissues* here you might need these! 🥰

| Word count: 800 | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

You know monsters.

Earth-shattering. Sky-shearing. Teeth, reckless: always striving for something soft to sink into. To make a home in and to eviscerate. You’ve been grazed by it— kissed by that violence more times than you can count— and you are not soft anymore; there isn’t space for it. There are scars and then there’s armour, the kind you carry with you, the kind you couldn’t shed if you tried, and you haven’t tried, because why would you?

Horror isn’t loud and cataclysmic, it’s quiet. It’s those few seconds before your Hunter’s watch signals a fluctuation of Metaflux. A premonition, trained, or maybe just human instinct, raw and vulnerable: something is wrong, here. That prickle on your skin— the tip of that claw, raked, snaked down your spine. You feel it whenever a Wanderer lurks in the shadows, or beneath a stretch of water that’s unfathomably deep and far, far too still.

Sometimes, you feel it when you look at Sylus.

I know monsters.

Before you, a fragment of a mural tells a very old story, and beside you, a red-eyed man is thinking of flowers. It’s late, and the museum is quiet. You look at the fragment’s centre, where a female warrior is plunging a blade through a dragon’s heart. “Look,” you say, nodding at the figure with a half-smile. “My predecessor.”

Sylus hums thoughtfully. “What makes you say that?”

“Because that looks like a standard Tuesday to me. Some things never change, huh?”

But other things do. With a chuckle, Sylus draws closer to you. The rumble of his laughter is warm and familiar, and his hand is near yours as he bends to examine the mural. He wants you to take it, to thread your fingers through his like you do when you resonate, when you need his power and he needs yours, except neither of you need it now. Why, then?

You know. Of course you know.

The man is all softness, voice and gaze like an afternoon sun in late summer that lulls you to sleep with thick, golden light. Always trying to evoke a dream. It’s weakness, it’s the dragon on the mural with a split heart, bleeding, and you’ll never understand why Sylus wears his on his sleeve.

It’ll be the death of him, one day. It’s set in stone. Right here.

When Sylus touches you— when the tip of his finger catches yours and makes an honest, desperate request— you don’t pull away. Something inside tugs at you, warns you, tells you a monster without a sword in its chest is one that can bite. What colour of blood would your hands prefer? His? Your own?

Your veins are cold and something is wrong, but no, you don’t pull away, because Sylus knows monsters too. Some declare themselves with twisted horns, razorlike wings and a long, barbed tail. Others declare themselves with something as subtle as a touch, withdrawn.

When Sylus steps away from you, that gash of dread closes up inside you. Heals like his wounds: no mess, no scar, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

He’s had a long time to look at the mural, and he smiles wistfully at the woman at its centre. “Some things never change,” he echoes, and it sounds as though there’s blood in his lungs, his throat, and that he has to swallow it down to say anything at all. It must sting.

“All in a day’s work for a Deepspace Hunter,” you joke flatly. You’re not even sure Sylus hears it.

Both of you stare at your fragment of history: an execution, a liberation. A matter of perspective. “Maybe…” Sylus begins, but then thinks better of it.

“Maybe what?”

He’s seeing something you don’t.

“Maybe what, Sylus?”

He spares you a glance. “The pose,” he says, indicating the warrior. “It’s ambiguous. Perhaps she isn’t slaying the beast, she could be—”

“Saving it?”

You’re considering a new perspective. Tapping a finger against your cheek as you lock eyes with your history— that elusive dream— ever oblivious to what’s behind you:

There’s a look of sheer, infinite longing— a gaze that’s been empty of you for too long, so sick of starvation, and determined to have its fill in the few, fleeting moments it can. It’s ravenous: dangerous, sharp, and irrevocably yours, if you would only turn around.

There are teeth and claws, but they’re all of them tame, and that makes them soft, doesn’t it? You could trust them on your skin. Turn around.

You do, and you are not the girl from the mural who tucked wildflowers into his hair and who sung him a song he still hears in his sleep. Sylus’s heart aches.

You are the girl from the mural who’s slaying a dragon, because it’s the oldest story, the only story.

Your eyes harden.

“Who would pull out a sword to save a monster?”

#🖋rach is actually writing #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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lymtw · 7 months ago

Text

A continuation of You'll Be Waiting A While

Description: It doesn't matter that you're in love with Toji's son. He can still take care of you in ways that you can only dream Megumi will ever be able to.

(Part one does not need to be read to read on)

"Ugh, I can't see," you reach for the blindfold that is veiled snuggly over your eyes, only to receive a less than soft smack on the back of your hand, ending any attempt to remove it.

"Quit messing with it," Toji's deep voice intrudes.

"Why do you want me to wear this? I can't see your stupid face." You sigh, aiming your face to the ceiling in frustration.

"You can't see me, so follow the sound of my voice, kid. Come on, you're smarter than that." Toji lays on his stomach beside you, watching the way you idly move your head in an attempt to see through the blindfold. He likes the way you look kind of scared and lost.

"I miss Megumi," you mumble, licking your lips afterward. "Just wanted to see his handsome face one last time before the world went dark," you say, dramatically, as if you didn't study with him just yesterday.

Toji snickers, his hand coming up to rest on your stomach. "You really can't go a day without talking about my kid, huh? You know, each time we've met up, you've mentioned him."

You smile, the gesture progressing to a chuckle. Something about it makes Toji's dick twitch. "You jealous, Mr. Fushiguro?"

"Pfft, what of? The kid's got the personality of a wet towel."

"Yeah, I wonder who he got that from..." Your lips curl into a grin. You enjoy the playful banter that comes with being around Toji.

"Whatever you say." He chuckles. His hand slowly starts moving up towards your chest, going under the cup of your bra to palm at your breast.

"So, what's with the getup? You don't want to see my eyes?" You grin, slyly, anticipating his answer. "You wanna picture someone else, don't you?" You ask, enthusiastically.

"Calm down, brat, it's for you." He scoots over until he's laying between your legs and kisses just below your stomach, where the elastic band of your shorts roll down. "Want you to fantasize for a bit."

"About who?" You say, patting around in search of Toji's head.

He grabs your wrist, placing your hand on top of his head. "Anybody." He releases your hand, and rolls your shorts down, allowing you to kick them off once they meet your ankles. "Just don't be surprised when you actually get in bed with them and it's not as good as you imagined. It's my only warning," he murmurs, massaging circles into your hip with his thumb.

It goes quiet for a little, only the sound of your quiet breaths and gasps as he touches you like no one before him. He's not meticulous at all with the places he touches you because he knows that your senses are heightened, and any touch will manage to overwhelm you.

Toji hates to admit that the preference he has to you over other women has to do with your age. You're just so bright and enthusiastic over everything, open to anything because you haven't roamed the earth as long as he has. Yeah, you're not a Mary, but after every session with Toji, it seems like he was the first to deflower you. In your defense, you don't go sleeping around with the first man to call you 'pretty girl'. Strangely, that's exactly how Mr. Fushiguro got you...

"T-Toji?" You call, gasping sharply at the feeling of his tongue lapping between your thighs. You pull lightly at his hair, a response that doesn't faze him.

"Mm?" He hums in response, his mouth very much busy between your thighs, teasing your panty-clad cunt with his warm tongue.

"Do you do the same?" You ask, squirming beneath his touch.

"Gotta give me more, sweetheart. Do the same in what aspect?" He looks up at you, his forearms resting on your thighs.

"Do you close your eyes to fantasize about other women while you fuck me?"

He laughs. It's a strange question given how many times you've expressed disinterest in his private life, but he sees no need to tread around you. You're not his girlfriend. He hasn't cuffed you, nor you him.

"Rarely. It never lasts longer than a few seconds when I do." His lips press against your inner thigh, creating a trail of kisses until he reaches the crease between your pelvis and thigh.

"Why is that?" You ask, running your hand through his locks.

He pauses again. "Is this doing anything for you? Is it getting you off, asking me this?" You can hear the teasing lilt in his tone. "It's like you're trying to get to know me."

"Not really. Just wanna empathize with you, sir." You pull your hand away from his head and allow it to roam along with your other hand over your stomach, gradually raising them towards your chest. He likes the feeling of you pulling his hair when he eats you out so he brings one of your hands back to his head before he continues playing with your panties.

"You're a pretty girl," Toji murmurs, planting kisses on your clothed slit as he massages your thighs with his palms. "There's no need to think about someone else while I fuck you. You're enough of a visual," he assures. Maybe returning the question to you would be crossing the line, but whatever you and Toji do when nobody else is home is way past the line, anyway. "And you?"

"Gotta give me more than that, Mr. Fushiguro," you respond. Your sassiness lures a grin onto Toji's face. He loves that you can take what he dishes out and you can also return it in your own special way.

"Alright, then. Who runs through your mind when we fuck?"

Your lips curl upwards before you let out a bubbly giggle. You don't even have to say anything for Toji to take the hint.

"Don't," he says, in a deadpan tone.

"Don't what?" you ask, your lips twitching with more stifled laughter.

"You know what. Don't play dumb with me, little girl." He bites your thigh as punishment, which lures out a squeal from you.

"Hey, you didn't even let me answer. You just said 'don't', like you were disciplining a dog instead of talking to me."

"So answer," he says. You can hear the smirk in his tone, something that brings an unnecessary load of awareness to what is going on. You lost the timidness towards Toji long ago—the moment you started addressing each other by first names, to be exact, but his voice was really starting to bring back some of those nerves you felt at the start.

"Who do you fantasize about when I touch you?" As if he wants you to say him, he starts playing with you again, thumbing at your slit through your panties. He watches you from between your legs, adding more marks to your thighs as he awaits your unformed response. He can see the way your chest rises and falls with deeper breaths. Your hand goes up towards your face, aiming for the velvety texture that veils your eyes. You want to see him as he touches you, but that thought is swept away when you feel another dash of pain. Toji pinched your outer thigh, which made your body jolt at the sudden sting. It hurt, but it put a halt to your hand's movement.

"What did I tell you about the blindfold, huh?" He rubs the slightly reddened area on your leg with his warm palm.

"Don't... touch it," you respond, your nose slightly scrunched in pain.

"So, don't touch it. What do you need to see, right now? 'Cause I promise there's not much for you to look at here."

"Yeah, sorry. I'll leave it alone." Would he understand if you told him you wanted to see his face? It's not romantic at all. At least that's what you think.

"Good girl. Now, answer the question." He pulls down your panties, having lost the patience to continue teasing you through the spit dampened garment. "Who do you think about when I fuck you?" He asks, again, before running his tongue through your folds. You're as sweet as the sound of your moans.

"N-No one." A breathy moan is ripped from your throat at the feeling of the tip of his tongue focusing on your clit. He lets out a breath before latching his lips onto it, sucking while his middle and index fingers tease your already drooling hole. With a wet pop of his lips, he releases your needy bundle of nerves and looks up, just in time to catch the way your mouth gapes to release the softest moans and how your free hand paws at your chest. It's definitely a sight to behold.

"You're telling me you start off with static in your head and that I'm not the one who brings it on?"

"Yup." You giggle, sweetly, at the tsk that comes from Toji. "I'm joking. I guess..." you start, your tone making it sound like it's a burden to admit what you're about to say. "...my answer would be the same as yours."

"Which is?" He hums, diving right back in to your cunt. The sight of your drooling arousal makes him feel confident that you can handle one of his fingers. He times it perfectly, too. Just as you begin to answer, he starts easing the digit in, the act making you abruptly stop talking. He's in a trance, watching in complete awe as his finger disappears into you. "You were saying, doll face?"

"F-Fuck you," you say, through a broken moan.

"Oh, I plan to, pretty. I'm just getting you all nice and ready for me." He nearly groans at the sight of your slick clinging to his finger, the glossiness further amounting as he glides the digit in and out of you, smoothly. "Shit... look at that. Oh, wait. You can't."

"You're not..." you whimper, feeling the curl of his finger, deep within your walls. "You're... not funny."

"Damn, you're really struggling with just a finger today, huh? Has it been that long?" He smirks, knowing it's only been a few days.

"I can stay away for longer." You laugh at the brief pause in his movement. "Much longer."

"And you say i'm not funny," he says, low, as he leans down to coat his tongue with more of your taste. "You're not funny."

"Fuck, Toji..." you moan, at the low vibration of him humming around your clit.

"Mmm... love it when you say my name like that. None of that 'Mr. Fushiguro' bullshit, like when you acknowledge me after showing up here with my kid."

"M-Makes you feel as old as you are, huh?" You laugh, breathily.

"As if you wanting to jump my old man bones doesn't heal that jab to my ego, silly girl. Now, be a doll and lay still for me, yeah?" He says, taking his own jab at you and your composure. He gives you one more good curl of his finger before pulling it out.

"Toji..." you whine, frustrated by the vacancy in your cunt and loss of stimulation.

"Oh, quit fussing. This isn't just for you," he chides, bringing the digit up to his mouth and sucking it clean of your nectar. "God... I gotta hand it to you, doll. You're the sweetest."

"The sweetest?" You repeat, obliviously, waiting for him to elaborate.

"You can't be serious. You don't really think i'm talking about your attitude when my face is buried between your thighs, do you?"

"Who knows? Maybe i'm growing on you." You smirk, knowing he probably has the most perplexed look on his face.

"Heh, that's cute," he says, eyeing the strings of arousal that connect your sticky folds as he spreads them with his fingers. It wasn't a highly unlikely possibility. He wasn't seeing anyone, and you devoured each other often enough for his sexual needs to be satisfied by you alone. He can't lie and say he doesn't look forward to your illicit meetings. Those bright eyes of yours express so much, even when his view of them blurs with his hastiness as he pulls you into the house and drags you to his room. What he can admit is that this little dynamic you and him have built is tragic. You want his son, and based on the very brief and misleading conversation they had about you, Megumi wants you, too. Even so, he doesn't regret any of the things that have gone on between you two, and clearly he doesn't feel bad enough to stop seeing you.

You're falling apart on two of his fingers, now. Your chest heaves as he collects more and more of your slick with every plunge of his fingers into your walls. "Fuck, doll," he hums, amazed by the way your juices drool out when he drags his fingers out even slightly.

"T-Toji, fuck. Fuck..." you whimper, tugging harder on his hair. Toji knows you're about to cum. He can see the quiver in your stomach, and he can hear the way your breaths double, so he pulls out the soaked digits and allows his mouth to take over.

His tongue quickly catches onto the pace necessary to bring you over the edge. The muscle laps rapidly through your slit, luring more of those pretty sounds from you until they come out sharp and flow nonstop. When you cum, your cries are airy and your voice occasionally breaks from the frequency. Toji groans at the rush of your essence on his tongue and continues eating you out to his heart's content as you ride out the pleasure. He looks up to see your head pushed back into the pillow, your jaw hanging as moans continue to spill from your chewed up lips. You look like hell in all of the best ways. He loves the way your hips lift before rolling against the mattress, like you're trying to grind against his face.

You look and sound adorable when you ask him to stop. Your trembling thighs clamp around his head, and you're letting out the smallest whimpers. His tongue runs through you one last time to coat it with your taste before he lets up on the borderline overstimulation. "There, there. I'm done." He pats your cunt three times, relishing in the small whines and the twitching and jerking of your legs when his fingers make contact with your over sensitive clit.

"I almost kicked you," you say, through a laugh. Your breathing still isn't entirely steadied, but within seconds of hearing you talk again, Toji's hands are on you.

"Wouldn't be the first time. I thought you knew that I can handle your kicking, by now," he says, feeling up your thighs, while pressing kisses to your hips. You wish you could see him.

"That doesn't mean I want to kick you."

He laughs. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Looks like i'm growing on you, too, huh?"

"Stop..." you groan.

"You really are the sweetest altogether, aren't you?" He teases on when he spots the pout on your lips.

"You don't actually mean that, so the words sound annoying coming from you."

"Aw, does that hurt? Well, stop overthinking it, 'cause no one said anything about me not meaning what I said." He kisses his way up your body until he's face to face with you. "You're a nice..." He kisses your neck, sucking yet another mark onto your sensitive skin. "... and very sweet girl." His tongue comes out to lick the side of your neck, the gesture transitioning to a kiss beneath your ear. He cracks a grin at the sound of you gasping. "Oh? You never told me you got a thing for being praised."

"Everyone likes being told nice things," you respond.

"Don't redirect this. I'm talking about you," he murmurs into your jaw. "You like when I call you a good girl and tell you that you're perfect for my cock?"

You sigh, not able to stand behind your denial when you can feel yourself getting wetter with every word he says.

"If only you could see the way you're blushing, right now." He chuckles when you tilt your head, as if you're debating on whether you should turn away from him or not. "It's all good, pretty girl. There's no room for judgement between us." His hands go beneath your back and reach for the clasps of your bra. He swiftly unclips them and pulls the straps down your arms, smoothly removing the garment. It's tossed aside and forgotten about when he sees your bare chest. He wastes no time in taking one of your breasts into his hand, rolling the bud between his fingers while the other one gets sucked and mouthed on.

You run your fingers through his hair, soft moans and airy sighs leaving you as he licks and sucks on your nipples. You gasp when you feel the unmistakable sensation of him sucking marks onto your chest. You can feel him grinding against you, groans that he doesn't even bother trying to hide, vibrating against your skin. "You wet enough to take me?" He hums, concealing his own desire to be inside you.

"Y-Yeah, I think so."

He finishes off your other breast, latching onto and covering the sensitive bud with spit as he sucks on it. He releases the hardened peak and sits back to work his boxers off. He hisses as his painfully hard, leaking cock springs out and taps against his abdomen a couple times. "It'll be as good as the times before," he utters, spreading the beads of precum over his length to act as more lubricant. "Just relax for me, pretty girl."

Those were his final words before he started gliding his blunt tip between your folds. The contact made your heart beat a little faster, mainly because normally, you would be faced away from him. You're still wearing the blindfold so you can't see him, anyway, but this was off.

He taps your clit a couple times with the tip, smirking at the way you squirm. "What did I just say?"

"R-Relax? I'm relaxed. Just like always."

"Mhm," he hums, spotting the way your fists clench around his sheets. He disregards your sudden awkwardness and begins working his throbbing length into you. "Fuck, doll..." he groans, going really slow for his own sake. "How is it that you're still so tight, even after all the times i've gotten into your guts?" It's a rhetorical question, one that he knows that even if it wasn't, you wouldn't be able to answer. The stretch was as intense as ever, a sensation that you needed a quiet second to yourself for.

Soon enough, his cock is completely buried inside you. "Holy shit." He sighs, and smoothly rides his hands over your waist. He watches your chest rise and fall steadily, quiet labored breaths leaving you as you adjust to him. On the outside it seems like you're taking this better than he is, but on the inside, you're all over the place. You're way too focused on how his fingers, his palms—his hands— dig into your sides when he starts thrusting. You're all too aware of his skin against yours and his body heat and the sounds he makes.

"You like that? This is what you come back for, huh?" He grunts, picking up the pace of his thrusts when he notices your chest losing its calm and collected rhythm. He loves how small you appear in comparison to him and his hands and that all of you is so reactive to him. Despite him not being able to see those expressive eyes of yours, your mouth does plenty to communicate how you feel. From the weightless panting released from your quivering lips and the melodic sound of your moans, to the manner in which you verbally confess to the crime of your recurring return to him.

"Mhm... love how you fuck me, Toji," you babble, twisting the sheets in your hands. They're already messed up and splayed in every direction, so you have the liberty to pull them around.

"Yeah? Nobody satisfies you the same way, huh?"

You shake your head. "Mm-mm, nope."

He leans forward, and plants his forearms beside your head. You can feel his body pressed against yours as he picks up his pace again with this new position. "You know why you're not satisfied by anyone else?" He mutters into your ear. He doesn't even wait for you to respond. "It's 'cause you're a greedy girl, and they can't keep up because you need someone who is just as greedy. Maybe even more." He dons the most wicked smirk, like he's proud of himself for being the one who set the bar so high and ruined you for the rest of them.

He had to see the defeated look on your face. It's got to be priceless. He pulled the blindfold off, and was immediately met with your shut eyes and a small crease between your brows at the sudden brightness behind your eyelids. You didn't expect to be so turned on when you finally opened your eyes. You were met with bright green eyes staring hungrily at you. You looked far from defeated, and he looked like he wasn't going to leave you alive.

"What?" You, emptily, question the sudden lack of darkness.

"What?" He returns, groaning at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him.

You just shake your head and try to stop getting in your head about the situation. Something about it seemed intimate. Very much so with how he wouldn't break eye contact with you as he continued to rail you. Those eyes conveyed desire that was amplified by the pace of his hips and the vulgar sounds that radiated from the moment.

Toji couldn't stop thinking about what was going on. This isn't how it normally went. Normally, there was a lot more dirty talk and ass slapping and marking, but this wasn't that, at all. Did it become strange the minute he decided to keep you in this position? Was he in the wrong for furthering the damage by uncovering your eyes so he could look into them? He had no regrets about what you and him got up to when left alone together, but maybe this was going past the makeshift line designated for people who fuck outside of relationships.

Regardless of those mind plaguing thoughts, he couldn't stop. It was unbelievably good. His eye contact was unwavering, and you looked right back at him. Whether the twinkling in your eyes was on brought on by him or you were just getting teary eyed from how close you were to your climax, didn't matter. He had only done it in this position with you once before, and it was a game. He just wanted to get you back in his bed and you just wanted your bra back.

This was not that.

You had the prettiest look on your face and the sweetest voice as you told him you were about to cum. Normally, he would be an asshole about it and kill your orgasm, but this time it would be at his expense as well, because he was right there with you.

His heart was racing and he felt so, so foolish, but none of it stopped him from leaning down to kiss you. He swallowed your moans and whimpers, and fed you his share of pleasured sounds through the intensity. You don't know what compelled you to pull him in closer, but in the mix of all the heavy breathing and the lewdness and messiness of your combined releases, you found yourself cupping his jaw and kissing him back. He slowed down the movement of his hips until they were steady against yours, but the kissing went on. You were stealing each other's oxygen, going back in for more every time it seemed like the kiss was going to break. With one last brush of your lips, the moment came to a standstill. Neither of you knew what to do or say as you just breathlessly stared at each other with slightly reddened lips and warm cheeks.

"Sorry," you both say at the same time, which made you chuckle. The sound made some of the tension disappear, which allowed Toji to breathe a little and grin at the way you laughed at the sound of your layered voices. Your hands haven't moved away from his jaw, and he hasn't leaned back to where he started.

Your laughter stopped and once again it went silent, save for the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. He doesn't know what's the matter with him, but within seconds of resolving the tension, his lips are back on yours again. Softer and slower, but equally as good as the first time around. You're the devil for not pushing him off of you and being the voice of reason in this situation. You could be yelling at him, telling him that it's wrong and reminding him that you're in love with Megumi, but no, that's not what you're doing. You're keeping him close with your fingers threaded through his hair and your other hand is on his shoulder blade, and you're kissing him back.

He's moving his hips again, rolling them languidly into yours and eliciting the quietest moans from you until the kissing is one sided.

"T-Toji, Toji- fuck, fuck..." Your nails dig into his shoulder blade, bright red strikes decorating the surface of the top right half of his back.

He groans, his warm breath fanning over your chin as he trails his kisses lower and lower down your face, until he reaches the column of your neck. "Yeah? Gonna cum, already? Gonna make a mess on me, again?"

All you can do is give him a small nod and a needy hum in confirmation, before he's picking up the pace and rocking into you with more force behind his thrusts. He's prodding at that sensitive spot within you with so much precision that your toes are curling and you're positive you've torn the skin on his back from how much you've clawed at it.

"F-Fuck, fuck... come on," he grunts. "You're gonna be a good girl and cum for me, right?"

"Mhm, y-yes! Yes, Toji!"

Within a couple more thrusts, you're trembling as you gush all over his cock, again, arching off the bed as the pleasure courses through every sinew of your being. "Yeah, give it to me, sweetheart," he groans, voice somewhat strained as your cunt violently spasms around him, effectively working to lure another load out of him. His hands go to your hips, pulling them in time to meet his thrusts. You can see the sweat beading on his forehead and his temples, the pinch in his brow as he teeters closer and closer until his cum spurts into you. "Shit..." he pants, as he spills everything inside. "Oh fuck."

He released the iron grip he had on your hips and pulled out of you. He sat back and watched as your chest inflated and deflated through your heavy breathing as he himself also worked to level out his own breathing. You were glowing, a light sheen of sweat layered over your chest and neck and forehead. You were downright ethereal in his eyes and he said this to you. It was coded, but he said it.

"God, you're a mess." He chuckles, breathily, as he stares at his cum oozing out of you. He runs two fingers between your slit and collects enough to show you how it drips down his fingers and onto his knuckles.

"That's mostly your mess," you say, chuckling at the look of disbelief on his face.

"I think it's a fifty-fifty," he counters.

"Mhm, whatever you say." You stretch your arms above your head, getting a good stretch in for your back at that same time. You sit up and start looking for your scattered clothes.

"Megumi won't be home until tomorrow," Toji says, watching as you sit on the edge of the bed and start picking up your clothes. This is how your time together always ended.

"Yeah, he texted me about it yesterday. I figured i'd go home and take a bath since i'm such a mess." You grin at the annoyed click of his tongue.

"I've got a bathtub and all the essentials for a bath."

"That's nice. You should put them to use, you're looking pretty messy yourself."

He's trying to get you to stay longer. Maybe you aren't thinking about those kisses, but he can't get them out of his head, regardless of how juvenile it may seem for a man of his age.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," he tries, again, watching as you search for one last garment—your bra. It's on the opposite side of the bed where Toji tossed it aside earlier.

"I don't wanna overstay my welcome. Where the hell is..." you trail off, frustratedly rummaging around through places you've already searched for your forgotten bra.

Your focus is redirected when you feel him tracing your spine, from the bottom to the top. "Do it. Overstay your welcome."

You smirk when his hand slides its way up from your shoulder, to your neck, before caressing your cheek. "Don't tell me you're feeling lonely, Toji."

He brushes his knuckles over your cheek, as if the gesture is a method of softening you up. Luckily for him, it was working.

"I'll keep you fed and clean."

You snicker and gently push his hand away. "Once again, you're talking to me like i'm some dog."

"You know that's not how I meant it. Don't twist my intentions, brat."

"Well, is it so hard to say, 'I'll buy you dinner' and 'You can wash up here'?" You smile at him, showing that there is no bite to your words.

He takes in the sweetness of your smile and drops the edge to his words. "I'll buy you dinner and you can wash up here."

You grin and playfully pat his chest, before standing and wrapping yourself up in the sheets so that you can migrate to the bathroom with more modesty. "Yeah, I got it the first time," you say, and Toji swears you'll be the death of him with these little jokes of yours. You drop the sheets when your body gets between the door frame and the door. You peek your head out and watch as Toji organizes your clothes for when you get out. "Hey, uh... do you mind helping me find my bra? It's gone missing. Again."

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thegnomelord · 7 months ago

Note

Nobody can convince me otherwise that Price wouldn't cry if he was proposed to/proposing

He gives off similar vibes to my dad and he cried at his wedding cause he was so happy

Okay, 1) Ur dad sounds super sweet lol. 2) Price so would and have a surprise ficlet.

Would you?

CW: SFW, Price X GN reader fluff, proposals, crying

The thought of marriage strikes him as you two lay in bed one night. It's not a particularly special night; he's not fresh from the battlefield or hardening his heart to go back to it. It's just a regular Tuesday night — your arms around him, your legs a tangle of limbs in the sheets, your head resting over his chest so you can be lulled to sleep by the sound of his heart — when he thinks. . . Wouldn't it be nice to be buried under your name?

That maybe, just maybe, he'll have you to keep him from a pauper's grave. That your and his bones will be able to mix when time erodes flesh, wood, and earth between you two. That the only thing that will remain will be those gold rings.

He starts planning that morning, approaching the proposal like he would a suicide mission; he calculates every variable, scours his brilliantly sharp mind for every little detail he's catalogued about you, making plans upon plans for how it could go both wrong and right. Writing sessions of what he wants to say to you stretch long into sleepless nights, he cracks open that old dusty book of family recipes and scribbles little exclamation marks next to the dishes you enjoy, secretly taking your ring measurement so he can confidently go ring shopping.

His wallet is fat from his work, yet he picks up side jobs in the private security sector on his off time — He's happy to babysit overgrown brats if it means he can buy you a ring without blood money. He wants this to be something pure and free of the violence shrouding his life. He doesn't do it often, but some times he fantasizes of what will come next; he'd hate to wear a stuffy suit like he does his military blues to those posh military dinners, but for you, it wouldn't feel like a labour nor a penance. He's sure it wouldn't take much for Kate to get her officient license, and whenever he starts thinking of that Price finds himself smiling like a loon at the thought of you on your wedding day, bright eyed and with a big smile with his ring on your finger.

A simple question — what if you refuse? — always brings him back down to the ground and drags his heart to the pit of his stomach. He tries not to think about it (he thinks too much about it, the bloody fool)

He decides to propose on your anniversary.

He wakes up long before you, having barely slept a wink the night before with last minute thoughts running through his head. Breakfast is ready for you by the time you stumble out of bed, his beard scratching your chin as he gives you a goodbye kiss before you set out to work. He spends the rest of the day making sure the house is spotless, getting you flowers, picking out the nicest clothes you two have and then goes to make dinner.

And of course, the things out of his control go wrong on the one day he needs it to be perfect. He only notices the oven is busted when the roast he's making in it starts smoking enough to set off the fire alarm. He scrambles to salvage it but it's too late and he's left scurrying around the kitchen trying to figure out something else.

Price doesn't notice when you get home, the locking of the door and your tired footsteps betting lost in the sound of clattering pots and pans. He nearly tosses the pan he's holding when you sneak up and wrap your arms around him, pulling him back from the roaring fire of the stove to press your chest to his back.

You rest your head on his shoulder, lips brushing his neck. "Relax," You say, both an admonishment and a suggestion.

"Bloody git". Price grumbles to himself under his breath but relaxes into you, nuzzling his head against yours. "M' sorry love, the bloody oven broke and-" he clams up just as he's starting to explain, already rethinking the proposal as a whole because Christ, how can he be a good husband when he can't even make you dinner properly?

"Hey," You begin and kiss his temple, rubbing soothing circles into his side. "How about we dress up and I'll order take out huh?" You say, letting go of him and taking charge by calling both of your favourite takeout place before he even has a chance to refuse.

Price knows this proposal is dead in the water. He's seen far too many proposal videos on that TokTik app — the ones with extravagant locations and massive diamond rings gifted to the brides to be via doves — to know such a simple proposal would fly.

But he still goes along with your plan; At the very least he can enjoy the sight of you done up in nice clothes, in the knowledge you do it for him. And he's sure you love how he looks in his suit too, his beard can't hide how pink his cheeks get when you call him dashing or handsome as you fix his tie. He gets you back though, cupping your cheek when you're done with his tie so he can pull you in for a long and slow kiss. He wants to press further, proposal plans already at the back of his mind, but he's interrupted by the delivery guy. He's especially not pleased when you stick your tongue out at him like a child and scamper away to get your takeout.

After plating the food, you sit down to eat, and Price remembers to light the special candles he'd bought. The food is good even if it's not what he'd wanted, but it's easy to forget about this shortcoming of his when you're laughing and telling him about some thing that happened to you today. He listens intently, remembering why he loves you when you speak so passionately about your hobby.

Price decides this is it.

He had a speech prepared, written and rewritten a dozen times until it was perfect, the one he'd practiced all day until his throat was raw. But the words dissapear like a mirage in his mind, and even if he did remember them, it would feel too out of place. So he simply stands up, cutting your talk short. His back aches as he gets to one knee, hands shaking a bit and fumbling with the box before he presents the golden ring to you. "Do you. . ." He hesitates, takes a deep breath, "Do you want to spend the rest of our lives together?"

Your eyes flicker between him and the ring, staring, bewildered. The pit in his stomach grows with every passing second, only to swallow up his heart when you open your mouth and say "Are you serious?"

This is it, Price thinks, he's mistaken what you two had together for something it was not. He's already thinking of ways to backtrack, fat tears building at the corners of his eyes that he desperately tries to blink away.

He's caught unaware when you kneel down in front of him. There's a sheepish look on your face as you bring out your own little box. Inside is a simple golden ring, your and his initials carved into it.

You give him a wry little smile, "Surprise."

Price stares at the ring. A second passes. Then another. A third one is well on it's way before his mind finally realises what this is and a childish laugh bubbles from his chest. "You-" He reaches out and pulls you into a bear hug. "-bloody Muppet almost made my heart give out." He grouches but absolutely melts into your body as you return the hug. You feel his mighty shoulders shake and chest rumble as his laughter gets out of control, pulling you into laughing with him.

He buries his face into your neck, trying to say something but his hiccups turn the words into meaningless happy noise. He doesn't even notice when he starts to cry, but it's a good type of crying — the one where you just don't know how to express the light airy feeling gripping your chest. Price feels like his ribcage is stuffed with dandelion fluff, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I love you." He says into your skin, low and quiet, voice still raw as he nuzzles his beard into your neck. His hands grip you tightly, afraid to let go.

"I love you too." You say, kissing him with nothing but love and care and tenderness in your actions.

Price is running high on the buzz of getting engaged when you two settle on the couch, back in comfortable pyjamas and wrapped up in blankets and each others arms, your takeout on the table as you settle to watch a movie. Your hand finds his, two golden rings clicking together beneath the sheets, and Price feels fresh tears roll down his cheeks before you kiss them away.

Being buried under your name would be nice, but living under your name is much better.

#gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #trinckets of the hoard #gnome writes #captain john price #john price cod #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price #x gn reader #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 x reader #call of duty x reader #gn reader #cod fluff #fluff

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wannaeatramyeon · 8 months ago

Text

Lookism Guys: I'm disappointed in you

G/N. (Jakey, Sammy, Goo, Gun, Vin, Ryuhei, DG, Johan, Vasco). Masterlists

You're not pissed off. You're much worse, disappointed.

Hands on your hips, finger dangerously close to wagging and lecturing them.

His intimidating presence does nothing to deter how you feel-

Jake's face drops and his eyes fall to the ground.

Whether he thinks he did anything wrong is one thing, but disappointing you is more than enough for him to feel bad.

He bows, bending at the waist a full 90 degrees and then some, and asks for your forgiveness. Face sincere and of utmost seriousness no matter how petty the crime.

Samuel scoffs and leaves. He doesn't need this.

But he tosses and turns that night, daddy and mommy issues playing up. The need for approval and validation from someone he respects gnaws at him, and he doesn't sleep a wink.

The next day he returns to you, bags under his eyes, pretending to be unaffected by your previous disagreement yet trying to get back into your good graces with expensive gifts.

"Disappointed?" Goo echoes, blinking owlishly, as if he couldn't fathom that he could be disappointing to anyone.

He whines and pouts, and is close to throwing a tantrum. Obviously your words having an effect on him.

In the end he does mutter an apology though you doubt the sincerity, especially if the look in his eyes are anything to go by.

Gun ignores you though you see the defiant twitch in his jaw from your words.

He doesn't care, why should he.

Except you catch him staring at you the rest of the day or week or until whenever your ire ebbs away. There's a strange awkwardness to his being, like he doesn't know how he should act around you.

The apology doesn't come if he thinks it's undeserved and unneeded, but he also doesn't want to see that look in your eyes again.

Vin scoffs, pretends he doesn't care. Calls you a nag, a wet blanket, all sorts of frustrating names.

Yet the guilt eats away at him. Your eyes, the playful expression you usually wear is now just replaced with disappointment.

He tries to involve Mary to worm his way back into your good books, she tells him to piss off and eventually he comes to you, tail between his legs and a poorly formed apology (likely as a rap).

Ryuhei's eyes are suspiciously wet. You think he's sniffling, the tip of his nose turned pink and he's trying to keep a brave face but god, he feels like a complete failure.

He drops to his knees and immediately offers to commit seppuku. When you roll your eyes and tell him to stop being ridiculous, he says he will do anything to make this right. That he would rather die than ever disappoint you again.

DG, usually ruled by logic but too often bratty and arrogant, considers whether this is a hill worth dying on. It's not.

Considers whether it warrants an apology, and it does. But does he deliver? Not always. Lets you simmer until he presents you with a grand gesture and a winning K-Pop smile he reserves for award shows.

His charm works on you less than he'd like, but more than you'd prefer.

Johan looks as if he's been slapped, before turning on his heels and leaving.

It takes him a surprisingly short amount of time to come back, feeling contrite. He doesn't say sorry but the unspoken apology runs round and round his mind.

Instead he drifts to your side constantly like a shadow, trying to catch your eye, seek out some of your warmth and hoping for your forgiveness.

Regardless of what it is you're disappointed with, Vasco Tabasco thinks you are the best. A literal angel descended to Earth that has graced his life.

So if you're disappointed then whatever he is doing must be wrong and is worth apologising for.

He does just that. Offers to make up for it however you see fit. Completely heartfelt even if he doesn't know entirely why.

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marvelstan0905 · 8 months ago

Text

"Hello"

Kenji Sato X Interviewer!Readers [afab] (Oneshot)

Strangers to Lovers AU!

TW : flirting/crude comments/ fluffy/ blushing/petnames/persistence/skepticism/stuttering

Another interview. Kenji was getting sick of them. They're a waste of time and he's already answered these questions five thousand times. This interview he couldn't pass up, his manager was quite strict about it. Kenji just finished putting Emi to sleep which meant he had three hours for this dumb interview and hopefully he could spare a nap. Kenji was quick to ride to the location of his interview, considering he was 30 minutes late.

Kenji ran into the private room of the restaurant where he'd be having his interview, he stepped in and his whole world froze. Those dazzling eyes..those plum lips..the contours of her face. The glow of her soft skin, the contours of her beautiful, earth shaking figure. Her scent, even from where he stood, Kenji could smell the sweet decadent scent that surrounded her body. She was gorgeous. Kenji didn't believe in love at first sight but God..she was perfect. From head to toe. The man hadn't even spoken to her yet.

"Hello" Kenji cleared his throat with a hint of flirtation in his tone. I rose a brow and looked at my watch. I sighed and gestured for him to sit. I really needed the interview pay.

"You're late, Mr Sato but let's graze over that,hmm?" I smiled a small smile. Kenji sat down. I slid over a menu and I sipped on my virgin cocktail. "Are you ready to begin?"

Kenji didn't even notice he was staring at this woman for so long, he was practically a deer in headlights. I waved my hand in front of his face. "Are you okay, Mr Sato?"

"Y-Yeah..I'm sorry..please continue!" Kenji said a little startled as he looked to his menu and pushed up his sunglasses. I blinked and tilted my head.

"OK..are you sure you wanna wear sunglasses indoors?" I asked confused whiles looking at him. Kenji nodded and cleared his throat. I shrugged considering this is the Ken Sato were talking about. He does whatever he wants. "OK. Let's start. Can I have your consent to record and publish this interview later?"

"Yeah,yeah, sure" Kenji nodded dismissively. We quickly ordered our food before I started my recorder.

"Great..so Mr Sato-"

"Ken. You can call me Ken. Mr Sato is too formal." Kenji cut me off and smirked smugly. I nodded a little flustered but this should be expected.

"Okay uhmm...Ken. Is there a reason you left America and came back to Japan?" I asked. The interview was pretty mainstream and tedious from there. We finished up quicker than I thought. Kenji was pretty straightforward with his answers. We continued eating from there considering neither of us wanted to leave and waste food.

"So..um..off the record..how..how are you?" Kenji asked with a light pink dusting his cheeks. I stopped eating and raised a brow.

"I'm o-okay..how are you?" I say..unsure of where the hell this was going. Kenji removed his glasses and looked at me. I was confused by the look he gave me. Consider me dense and blind or am I seeing..interest and desire in his eyes?

"I'm good. So I never properly got your name, you know?" Kenji started eating his Ramen. I blinked in confusion.

"Y/N L/N." I answered skeptically. We just had an interview and the whole time he didn't know my name. That is..wow..and ouch.

"Nice to meet you..I'm Ken Sato" Kenji smiled offered his hand. I hesitantly shook his head and tilted my head.

"I'm sorry. Did we not just have a whole interview just now? I'm sure I know your name" I blinked in confusion with all these introductions.

"Yeah but it's kinda like a fresh start, kinda..we're off the record right?" Kenji smirked and cooked his head to the side whiles taking a long, tantalizing sip of his whiskey.

"I guess, you could say so. So what are your intentions,hmm?" I questioned skeptically as I propped my elbow on the table and laid my hand on my palm. "What's this all about?"

"I can't simply want to have conversation with a beautiful woman? I'm a little offended." Kenji mocked a dramatic gasp as he placed a hand on his chest. I blushed at the compliment and turned away

"I..I never said that..I'm just a little skeptical.." I shrugged flustered. Kenji leaned in slightly.

"You know..if you let me I can make you even more flustered." Kenji whispered suggestively whiles keeping hard eye contact. A smug, seductive smirk painted his lips."I want you and when I want something I get it...how about a date?"

My breath hitched and I blinked a few times in complete confusion. I thought about it..I mean I'm lonely, single and God this man was FINE..but then again his reputation and ego are far too douche bag like for me..it could be a front though..if I turn the other cheek, he's kinda my type.

"So? A date? Dinner..maybe we can catch a movie and a late night stroll? Yes?" Kenji suggested being quite persistent.

"Before I give you my response...are you playing some game? Or is this a dare or prank? Like I'll just be another girl to fall for your charms and then when you win you'll leave?" I rambled worried and skeptical. Kenji's smug look fell and it was replaced with sincerity.

"N-No..I-Im being really genuine. I promise! I-I know I don't exactly have the most humble reputation..but uh if you get to know the real me..you know, Kenji Sato. I promise you won't regret it" Kenji, spoke softly and sincerely almost pleading. I looked at him with widened eyes. I chewed on my lips and observed him skeptically. I sighed at the 'kicked puppy look' he gave me.

"Fine..fine. I'll go on a date with you." I sighed with a sheepish smile. Kenji smiled in triumph and grabbed a hold of my left hand giving my knuckles, a soft but firm kiss. I flushed once again as he was so quick to show affection.

"You WON'T regret it..God I promise I'll treat you like a queen. You won't know what hit you. I swear it." Kenji promised sternly. I blinked slowly in shock by his forwardness but it was refreshing from his arrogant persona. I nodded.

"O-Okay. You seem pretty determined, huh?"

"Yeah I am. I want you. I will make you mine. You're the finest specimen I've seen on this Earth. I'll move mountains to win you. I promise-no, I ultra promise"

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