#you can send me another ask if you want me to talk more about their actual interactions as teens! i just started talking about the backstor

[kissktten]

crushing on oblivious! bllk guys :p

part one !! (๑>؂•̀๑)

characters: sae, rin, chigiri, yukimiya

this contains: fluff, fluffy fluff fluff, reader described as cute and pretty a lot, gn! reader (please tell me if i made any slip-ups!)

extra: i’ll make more parts with other characters and then another series like this but swifch the rolls! so, oblivious! reader and the characters crushing on u <3

sae doesn’t get why he always seems to see you— you’re just a cute person who lives down the street from him and keeps to yourself. yet somehow, you always manage to catch his attention! maybe it’s because he sometimes sees your cat perched on his fence— watching as you peek out of your window in search of the said feline, wondering where they went. but when your eyes meet, you get all flustered and shut your window quickly. wow, you really are very reserved, sae thinks to himself. the same thought comes to mind when he’s walking down the street, a hand adjusting his scarf when he hears someone stumble— is that.. yeah, it’s you. he watches as you scramble back up, sending him an odd glance that he can only perceive as panicked before you turn around and run from him. is he that bad that you’d literally run away from him instead of speaking?

rin’s very confused when he gets a follow request on instagram. he doesn’t even use the account— did a fan somehow manage to find him? when he clicks on the profile, he’s rather surprised to see such a cute person. why would someone like you request to follow a blank private account with nothing but a first name on it? even then, he can’t lie— your posts are interesting, and you seem familiar… he’s pretty sure he’s seen you talking with isagi or something. he shrugs to himself, accepting your follow request and hesitantly following back. and over the next few months, he really can’t help but wonder who all those notes are dedicated to, or the sweet songs you post with your stories. surely it can’t be him, rin thinks to himself as he presses onto your story. he takes note of the song— “A dream with a baseball player” by Faye webster. he admires your face for a few moments, silently wondering if there’s a meaning behind the lyrics you chose from this song.

chigiri doesn’t get why you’re always looking at him with that strange expression on your cute face. your eyes sparkle and your lips part— almost as if you want to say something. but as soon as he makes full eye contact with you, he can only watch as you turn around and walk away quickly! the next time he sees you, he feels almost compelled to say something— but he can’t, because now you won’t even spare him a glance! when the next time comes around, he’s determined. what’s your deal, anyways? so when he finally manages to corner you, eyes narrowed and hands on his hips, he’s surprised when you speak. “your hair is really pretty— and your skin. what’re your secrets?” you ask, looking back at the man. you’ve got that same weird expression! why are you looking at him like that after saying something so cute?! either way, chigiri finds himself exchanging numbers with you… and calling surprisingly often. do you really like his hair that much? how many tips can someone ask for? it’s almost like you’re looking for an excuse to talk to him..

yukimiya doesn’t know you. well, he knows you— but he doesn’t know you. the two of you first met when his usual makeup artist wasn’t available. they went on and on about how good you are during the brief phone call, and he can’t lie— they really were telling the truth about you. “hi,” you smile— and wow, your makeup is so good that the blush on your cheeks looks almost natural! when you finished his makeup, you smile proudly. your pretty hands lingered on his shoulders for a few moments as he looked back at his reflection, admiring your work. he feels strangely eager to exchange contact info, even smiling to himself as you take a quick picture of him and say how pretty he looks. next time he hears about you, he’s almost shocked when someone tells him that you’re pretty well-known in the makeup business— but not for the reason he expected. did they just say that you rarely accept clients? but you came to him so easily— surely it’s a coincidence. yukimiya repeats that to himself when you send him a message, asking if you can practice a little on his face because he’s just so pretty; and did you call him a bare canvas? you’re really professional, he thinks. you don’t even see him as a man— he’s just a tool for you to practice makeup on! but somehow, he doesn’t feel offended.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Lock and Key

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!shy!pregnant!CSIphotographer!reader

Summary: When Angela and Nyla need someone to go undercover in a women's prison, you seem like the perfect candidate. Inside with Lucy, Tim, and Angela nearby, you find more than a killer.

Warnings: fluff, brief angst, murder case, very quick allusion to past sexual assualt

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“Can you do another establishing shot of the bedroom?” your crime scene unit supervisor requests.

You nod, feel your baby kick, and tread carefully through the home-turned-crime scene to take more photographs. It’s no secret that CSIs can never take too many photos, but now that you’re pregnant, you wonder if there’s a way to collect them faster. You love your job; being a police photographer is wholly rewarding and enjoyable for you, but some scenes and some days are more trying than others. Being near Tim Bradford at work similarly has its pros and cons.

“Hey, mama,” Angela greets as she enters the bedroom. “Is this the primary scene?”

“We think so,” you answer softly, removing the sync cord from your camera to photograph the scene without the light.

“How are you feeling?” Angela asks, looking around the room without altering anything before your photos are complete.

“Pretty good,” you reply.

“Tim still… well, Tim?”

You nod as you move toward the corner, focusing the camera on a bloody screwdriver. Whatever happened here wasn’t quick and was undoubtedly painful. Your supervisor walks through the hall and tells you to pack up, and you nod at Angela with a smile. She hugs you before you leave, and you ready your nerves to see Tim when you return to the station.

“Wait, go back,” Lucy requests as you’re shepherded into the roll call room. “Tim, I’m going to say this slowly and I want you to listen very carefully, okay?”

“Chen,” Tim snaps.

She doesn’t heed his warning tone and begins, “You want to send the mother of your child into a prison to get intel on a murder case. Where in that sentence do you hear a good idea?”

“What?” you inquire with your hands clasped tightly beneath your growing bump.

Lucy turns, her expression guilty. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.”

“We were just brainstorming,” Tim explains, walking toward you. “The woman who was murdered this morning was released from CIW last week.”

“CIW, however, is out of our jurisdiction,” Nyla adds. “So, we reached out to San Bernadino PD and they’ve agreed to let us send in a UC.”

“The problem is that the woman we need to talk to is notoriously picky about who she takes up company with,” Tim adds. “Rumor is, she has a thing for strays, she likes being around people she can protect.”

“Which, to me, sounds like she would be ready to turn on them in an instant,” Lucy interjects. “Hence my reluctance.”

“So, because I’m pregnant, you think she’d watch out for me, let me close?” you clarify.

“More or less,” Nyla answers.

Lucy scoffs and shakes her head. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Would I be alone?” you whisper, looking at Tim.

“Of course not. We’d send in two officers, acting as doctors, who can pull you out any time.”

“Would it do it if Tim and Angela went in with you?” Nyla asks.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you consider everything. You’d be putting yourself and your baby in danger. If Tim and Angela were a call away, the risk would decrease dramatically. Before you can decide, Lucy holds your arms and hugs you.

“Don’t do it,” she says. “There’s too much at risk.”

“We can’t just leave a killer on the street,” you whisper against her.

Lucy sighs as she pulls back, and she nods. “Then I’m going in too. Get San Bernadino on the phone; I want to be closer than a doctor.���

Nyla nods, then looks at you.

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” you state.

“We’re right beside you,” Tim promises, kissing your hairline.

“Technically, I am right beside her, you’ll be in the infirmary,” Lucy corrects. “I better get to be this baby’s godmother.”

Nyla laughs before she says, “In your dreams, single-income, apartment-sharing option.”

“What, just because you’re married and have a house, you’re a better fit?” Lucy questions. Her smile drops as she murmurs, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Alright,” Tim calls, shaking his head. “Let’s go to Chino and get some answers out of convicts.”

“They call her Pitbull,” Angela had explained before you went in. At your wide-eyed expression, she adds, “She’s essentially a guard dog. She chooses who she’ll protect and sics anyone who comes near. If you can get on the right side of Pitbull, she’ll tell you what she knows about Ringer – our victim.”

You sit on your bunk and look around, wondering if you look like a pumpkin in an oversized orange jumpsuit. When you hear footsteps outside, you drop your head and let your shyness run rampant. If it makes you seem weak, this is a better time than ever to embrace it.

Lucy unlocks the cell door, and Pitbull enters. She looks at you, running her eyes up and down your face before noticing the protruding baby bump beneath your new and temporary outfit.

“What are you in for?” Pitbull asks, her voice raspy and low.

“Stabbed my baby daddy,” you admit, rubbing a hand over your stomach. “He wouldn’t stop,” you add, letting her fill in the blanks.

As you speak, your baby kicks. The farther along you get, the more your voice seems to excite him or her.

“You don’t fit in here, Mommy,” Pitbull sneers.

You nod with your head down, telling the truth when you agree with her.

“People around here don’t like different, don’t like chicas who aren’t the same,” she adds. “What are you going to do about that?”

When you shrug, she surges forward. Her hands land on your shoulders, and you inhale when she pushes you up to make you look at her. She stops, smiles, and brushes her hand against your neck.

“You don’t have to do anything,” she whispers. “Understand?”

“Why?” you inquire.

“Because…” she drops her hand to your bump before she confesses, “I’ve got reasons you won’t understand, and you’ve got a reason to accept the protection.”

“I can’t- I don’t have anything to give you.”

Pitbull laughs as she returns to her cot. “This isn’t a tv-style arrangement; I’m giving you a gift, and I ask for nada in return. Just focus on yourself, and the baby.”

“Thank you.”

As you lay awake in bed the first night, you hear Pitbull whisper a prayer in Spanish. You wonder what she knows when she asks for the eternal protection of Ringer’s soul.

“Dr. Benson is here,” Lucy says, dressed as a corrections officer. “Let’s go.”

“Whoa, hold up,” Pitbull interrupts, moving to block the cell door. “Dr. Benson male or female?”

“None of your concern.” Lucy barks your fake last name and repeats, “Let’s go.”

“She was traumatized by her ex; she probably doesn’t want a male doctor. Right?”

She turns to face you, and you nod sheepishly.

“So, now it is my concern,” Pitbull continues, cracking her neck to the side. “I go with her, or you get another doctor.”

Lucy sighs as she checks her watch. Pulling a radio from her hip, she asks if you can have another inmate accompany you. You recognize Angela’s voice as she begrudgingly allows it just this one time.

“Boy or girl?” Pitbull asks, glaring at the women in the cells you pass.

“I don’t know yet,” you answer honestly. “Doesn’t matter, though, does it?”

“Still your kid. Last chica I shared a cell with, she had a kid on the inside, reached out when he turned 18, and got cartas desagradables from the parents even though he was old enough.”

“Cruel world,” you murmur.

“Crueler people.”

You glance at Pitbull, wondering what she did to get her locked up for nearly half of her life. She’ll come up for parole in a few years. Part of you wants her to get out, but you know better.

“Ringer – that’s what we called her because she rung a guy’s neck for assaulting her niece…”

You know that’s not true. Ringer's niece was assaulted, but Ringer broke a lot of necks looking for the right guy. She was practically a serial attempted murderer.

“Ringer said she was going to find the kid when she got out, just long enough to apologize and let him know she wouldn’t have given him up if she’d had a chance.”

“Noble,” you muse.

“Crueler people,” she repeats as you near the prison infirmary.

Pitbull stands beside Lucy as you move to the examination table. Tim enters a moment later, looking like an angel in a white lab coat. He’s wearing glasses, and his hair is styled differently. His hands on you feel the same, even if he isn’t smiling and keeps his speaking clipped and serious (though you suppose that part isn’t much different than the version of him you see at work).

“How far along are you?” he asks.

“Four months or so,” you answer.

Tim nods, then lays his hands on either side of your bump.

“Have you had a thorough exam by an OBGYN?” he inquires.

You shake your head, and he slides the rolling chair back as his hands fall away.

“She’ll need one now,” he tells Lucy. “I can call in a female colleague if that would be more comfortable.”

“Do that,” Pitbull demands.

Tim stands, nods at Lucy, and exits the room. He returns to hand Lucy a paper robe, then disappears. Lucy takes Pitbull out of the exam room while you change, and you know she will keep her out for the entire 'examination’ so you can tell Tim and Angela what you found. Angela comes in first, her brows rising at the sight of you in a jumpsuit with tight braids framing your face, courtesy of Pitbull.

“She said Ringer was looking for her son – he turned 18 while she was still incarcerated, and she vowed to find him when she got out,” you explain. “His adoptive parents wanted her far away from him.”

“That’s motive,” Angela says, pulling her phone from her pocket. “I’ll get units to the parents’ house now.”

Tim returns to your side, and you pull his hand against your bump. As you tell him everything Pitbull has shared with you, your baby kicks against his hand. Tim smiles as he bends down to kiss you, and you suddenly want to leave this prison. Pitbull’s parole is no longer a thought in your mind.

“We’ll get you out as soon as we can,” Tim promises.

Less than twelve hours later, you’re removed from your shared cell with Pitbull, taken to solitary, and then you walk out of the prison in your own clothes with your hand held tightly in Tim’s. Ringer’s killer, the adoptive father of her son, is behind bars and awaiting trial, and Angela and Nyla have yet another solved case to add to their repertoires.

“Want to grab some dinner?” Lucy asks in the parking lot. “Or breakfast,” she amends, noting the first streaks of sunlight painting the sky.

“We’re going home,” Tim answers for you.

“Thanks for everything, Lucy,” you tell her as Tim opens his passenger door for you.

“I didn’t do much,” she argues. “But anytime.”

In the comfort and safety of your home, you sit beside Tim, brutally aware of his fingers brushing along your bump where his arm is tucked around your waist.

“You did amazing,” he says.

He kisses your forehead and then your lips, and you sigh against him as your baby kicks again.

“We should find out the baby’s gender,” he says. “I know we said we didn’t want to…”

“I agree,” you reply, laying your head on his shoulder. “I’ll make an appointment.”

“You mean you’ll have me make an appointment.”

You turn your face against his shoulder and huff, your ears warming at his teasing. Tim chuckles, holding you like he never wants to let you go, and you feel exactly the same.

[holylulusworld]

Little Guy

Summary: Your boyfriend is…horny … homesick. You can choose.

Warnings: teasing, sexting, light smut, doggy style, dominant Steve

A/N: Words in Italics are their messages.

Another notification makes you roll your eyes. Your boyfriend has been gone for not twenty-four hours, and he won’t stop sending you messages.

Emoticons, one-liners, pictures. It almost seems like he turned into a homesick teenager—a horny one. The last few pictures left nothing to your imagination.

With his throbbing erection in his hand, he sent you the last picture, hoping for a reaction. No such luck. You’re drowning in work and cannot get distracted by his perfect cock, and cocky messages.

“Not now,” you grumble while typing away on your keyboard. “I must finish this project.” You shake your head when the next notification shows an eggplant 🍆 emoticon. “Christ, he’s persistent, and it’s me talking.”

Usually, you’re the needy and horny one clinging to your man. Most of the time, he barely can leave the bed because you’re all over him, day and night. He’s just that good.

Today, you cannot give in to your needs and send him a naughty picture or even a short video to help him get off. It’s important to you to get this project done today.

Your phone vibrates again, and again, and again until you finally unlock the screen to read the latest messages. “Holy fuck, he’s definitely on the edge.” You sigh deeply, reading the last line.

“Did you like what you saw, doll?” Of course, you did like the picture of his perfect cock, but you can’t let your mind wander to filthier things.

“Your dick pic?” You hastily reply to get back to your project.

“YES!!!!” 😏😏😏 He replies without giving you the chance to go back to work. Since you showed Steve how to use emoticons, he’s obsessed. Sometimes you don’t even know what he’s trying to tell you.

Fine. He made it. You will give him another answer to get back to work. You smirk before typing, “Can I talk to him?”

👀👀👀👀👀🍆🍆 “WDYM, doll?” More emoticons follow, showing his excitement.

“Okay, Loverboy. This is it.” You giggle while typing, “Exactly what I said, Stevie. I want to talk to him. Now. Be a good boyfriend and let me talk to him.”

“Oh doll, you’re so naughty. Yes, talk dirty to him,” Steve is quick to reply.

You take your time, giggling as you think about your next answer. While Steve impatiently waits for you to help him get off, you have other plans.

“Hey, little guy,” you reply, and turn off your phone, leaving Steve hanging. He’ll undoubtedly be offended hearing you call his dick little, but you won’t entertain him tonight.

Back to your project, you smile to yourself. You’re a little proud of ignoring Steve and will reward yourself with a little me-time with your newest toy. The one you’re hiding in your secret stash to keep Steve from destroying it.

It took you four more hours to finish the project on time. You're proud once again for finishing and not thinking of Steve’s dick, or the punishment awaiting you.

You shiver in anticipation, knowing Steve won’t let you get away with your behavior.

Stepping into the bedroom, you sigh. It’s past midnight, and you’re too exhausted to take care of your needs. You’ll just lie down and forget about your new toy.

Steve waits patiently in the shadows, his head dipped as you finally walk into the bedroom. 

Silently, he sneaks behind you, smirking as if you didn’t feel him watching you.

“You've been a very bad girl, haven't you doll?” he growls, his voice dripping with dominance. You whimper, feeling his hand wrap around the back of your neck. “I asked you a question!”  

“So bad,” you barely said the words before he shoved you down onto the bed, face pressed into the sheets. You can feel his erection press against your ass, teasing you through the thin fabric of your panties.

Steve laughs darkly, slowly peeling your panties down, exposing your pussy.

“You wanted me to come here to punish you, huh?  He growls in your ear, teasing your slick folds with the tip of his cock. “I had to ask Bucky to take the lead to come here and fuck obedience into my naughty girl.”

You whimper, desperately pushing back against his crotch. “Have it then,” he slides into you without hesitation, groaning as your heat welcomes him home. “Naughty whore teasing me all day. Ignoring me. Calling him little.”

Biting the sheets, you try not to make a sound. Steve wants to show off dominance, and you will let him have it. At least for tonight.

“Now you’re all silent and obedient with my cock inside your cunt,” he chuckles, hips starting to move. Steve sets a hard pace, pounding into your needy hole relentlessly. You write and moan, taking every deep thrust.

Steve leans forward, his breath fanning over your neck. “Doll, you're such a naughty little slut," he snarls in your ear, "taking my thick cock so well."

Your fingers clutch the sheets, and you cry out, feeling his cock finally touch that spongy spot inside of you.

“Please don’t stop,” you gasp and moan, knowing Steve loves to punish you with edging for being a brat.

“Oh, baby doll,” Steve taunts, stopping to move at all. “This is going to be a long night…brat…”

[kevindavidday]

see, the intriguing thing about kevjean is how insistent they both are that they aren't friends. they don't think anything is salvageable, that their friendship is in ruins because of what riko did and because of his ghost haunting them, but the way they treat each other is so explicitly tender that all their arguments fall flat.

it's about constantly reaching for the others hand.

everytime they are together their hands are reaching out to each other like anchors. in tsc this was such a sharp turn from kevin's behavior with the other characters because it was gentleness the likes of which we've only had glimpses of. in tgr, it was like they couldn't help themselves - immediately kevin took hold of jean's coffee mug, grabbed his wrist when helping him dress, jean teaching him how to cook, kevin taking jean's hand during the interview, jean stopping kevin's hand when he reached for more vodka.

it's about the way they talk to each other like they don't with anyone else.

"you've always known what i am." and "i can still hear him. can you?" and kevin's desperate "even with me?" when jean refused to talk about riko. its "california agrees with you." and "stay with me." and "you like the sound of your own voice too much to give this up." and "did you even read any of them or were you too busy fawning over his phot-" and "i will break it over your head" when kevin reached for more vodka.

it's the things they do for each other.

kevin's protective streak is uncommon enough that the interviewer chose to point it out. and kevin's only response was to put jean on the same level where people had previously been putting riko. "jean is the only brother i have left." that hurt jean because that's not how he feels about kevin, but in the long run that statement could work wonders for his reputation. kevin isn't baseless with the things he says, that was definitely calculated. even the "hannah. that is enough." was a harsher personality than he's ever shown the cameras. he sure kept his promise to jeremy there.

the way kevin fidgeted with the yellow wristband and turned over the postcards he'd given jean once only to see them destroyed. and then not hesitating to send another one so jean can have this at least (even though it was burnt away, he can always send more) he gave jeremy answers but stopped just short of exposing jean's secrets...the foxes see such cutthroat aggression from him because they're his teammates but in front of jeremy and jean it's so wonderful to see how much kevin truly cares.

and from jean's side it's the begrudging but deliberate care he shows kevin. god help him, he can't even hide it for a second because even jeremy noticed. it's like he tries to defy kevin but then all kevin has to do is ask and he shall receive. and the man knows it! but jean (and arguably neil) are the only ones who lash out when kevin self-destructs because "you're supposed to better than this." they want him to act like the pillar they've based their whole life around and seeing him in ruins is unnerving. the anger jean felt when he found out kevin was chugging vodka, the fight that ensued when they were both on edge but more importantly the easy way they moved past it.

it's inevitable that they say and do things that drive the other insane, but when it comes to, as jean put it, "unsubtle and idiotic devotion" they're always there for each other.

but they're not friends, no. and if you call them that they'll deny it till they're blue. but then again, their hands will always reach for each other in their own angered, careful, terrified or concerned manner.

this got super long but i enjoy their dynamic so much. i feel insane because this is how best friends who are deeply familiar treat each other; teasing jean about jeremy, pinching jean to clear his head, fixing his shirt for him and jean elbowing kevin when he wants answers and filling kevin's glass with tap water instead of filtered water out of annoyance. it's reminding me of one part of "using you" by mars argo:

[satsugacafe]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐮 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐢’𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞…

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬��: I saw how somebody requested dating Hisagi as kyoraku’s daughter, so I was wondering if you could do head canons for being kyoraku’s daughter? Or maybe if you want to switch it up you can do head canons about captains and their daughters? ❤️

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: I decided to write for Kyoraku since he’s another fav of mine. Would love to see the old man with a kid of his own. This was an absolute ball to write. I loved this request!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

˚₊‧꒰ა Growing up as Shunsui Kyoraku’s daughter meant an unconventional childhood in the Seireitei. He wasn’t the strictest parent, preferring a laid-back approach, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fiercely protective. He was always keeping an eye on you, even when it didn’t seem like it.

˚₊‧꒰ა Much to Nanao’s chagrin, she would huff, adjusting her glasses, muttering about how you’d grow up too spoiled under his watch. Shunsui only chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. “Balance, Nanao-chan. A bit of leniency keeps the soul light.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Despite being a captain with endless duties, Shunsui made time for you in the most casual, almost accidental ways. You’d often find him lounging under a sakura tree, waiting for you after training with a lazy grin and a jug of sake, even if you weren’t old enough to drink. “Well, there’s my star pupil. How was the gruelling world of swordplay today? Did the dummy survive, or should we send a condolence card?”

˚₊‧꒰ა When you started learning Kido, he gave off the impression he was indifferent. But behind the scenes, he’d ask Nanao or Ukitake to check in on your progress and would act surprisingly impressed whenever you mastered something new. “Oh? You can bind someone with Hainawa now? You’ll have to promise not to use it on me, sweetheart. Your old man still needs his dignity.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Shunsui encouraged independence but secretly loved it when you’d come to him for advice, especially on anything tactical. He’d sit up straighter and explain strategies in the simplest way possible as if teaching you was the most natural thing in the world. “Fighting’s not just about swinging a sword, love. It’s a dance, and you’ve got to let your opponent lead—right up until you trip them.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He absolutely spoiled you when he thought no one was looking. When you were little, it was hairpins, books, or sneaky trips to the markets for sweets. As you got older, it turned into annoyingly perfect timing, like delivering tea just when you’d resigned yourself to going without. “Oh, this? Found it lying around. Lucky, isn’t it?”

˚₊‧꒰ა Protective dad Kyoraku? Absolutely! He knows that you can more than handle yourself and ward off unwanted suitors, but it’s in his nature to look out for his little girl. He does enjoy it when you tell him about encounters you’ve had with pushy individuals, leading to you standing up for yourself.

˚₊‧꒰ა Let’s not mention the trail of admirers you’ve gathered. It’s nice to know that you’re adored by many, but should the numbers become alarming, he’ll step in to keep it under control. He doesn’t need a horde of suitors and eyes trailing behind you.

˚₊‧꒰ა He does tease you should you have a secret admirer, brave enough to approach and send letters or poems and gifts. Of course, under all that teasing, he’s exercising patience and the urge to discover this person before you. He probably already knows who it is, courtesy of Nanao, and gave a talk beforehand.

˚₊‧꒰ა This man loves to scare your suitors, playfully of course, or not. You’re the only person who’s aware that his smiles and jokes contain underlying threats as he speaks with your admirer, crush or partner. “My only little flower in this scary world. If anything were to happen…well, let’s just say I’ll be using more than my zanpakuto. But hey, you’re looking after her, right?”

˚₊‧꒰ა Shin’­ō Academy years were a mixed bag for him. He tried to act like he wasn’t worried, but he hovered more than you’d ever seen before. You’d catch him watching your sparring sessions, and if anyone dared to push you too hard, they’d be met with his deceptively soft tone. “Careful now, that’s my precious girl you’re swinging at.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Whenever you faced setbacks, his usual laziness disappeared. He didn’t believe in sugar-coating things but had a knack for saying just the right thing to keep you going. “You know, even your old man fell flat on his face more times than I can count. But the trick is to laugh when you get up. Confuses the enemy.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He was surprisingly hands-off when it came to your decisions, even the big ones. If you chose to take on missions that were way out of your depth, he’d just raise an eyebrow and remind you of the risks. But the moment you returned safe, he’d greet you like nothing was out of the ordinary. “I knew you’d come back in one piece. You’re too stubborn to quit.”

˚₊‧꒰ა The one time you were seriously injured, Shunsui didn’t leave your bedside. He might have had his usual lazy smile plastered on, but his hands trembled as he adjusted your blanket. “You gave me quite the scare, sweetheart. Let’s not make that a habit, yeah?”

˚₊‧꒰ა Whenever you challenged him to a sparring match, he never outright refused but made it as playful as possible. He’d dodge most of your strikes with exaggerated movements, tipping his hat like you were duelling in a ballroom. “Ah, you’re too quick for me! Shall we call it a draw before I embarrass myself?”

˚₊‧꒰ა Shunsui’s proudest moments were the ones he didn’t voice outright, but they showed in his actions. Like when he showed up unannounced to watch you receive your promotion or the rare times he subtly bragged about you in front of other captains. “Well, I suppose talent runs in the family, doesn’t it, Ukitake?”

˚₊‧꒰ა He adored teasing you in front of the other captains, especially when it came to matters like sparring. “My daughter could give you a run for your money, Toshiro. She’s a prodigy like her old man,” he’d say, smirking as Hitsugaya glared. “Care to test that theory?” And your father was serious about that bet.

˚₊‧꒰ა If you lost the fight, he’d still cheer you on, lifting your spirits with a positive attitude. “Even though you lost, kiddo, you managed to keep up with Captain Hitsugaya. A feat many can’t achieve. You’re on your way to achieving greatness. Even better than me!”

˚₊‧꒰ა Oh, if you won, Seireitei and even all of Soul Society would never hear the end of your victory. He’s going to brag and boast about how amazing you are and how his teachings paid off. Toshiro is never going to forget it because your father is going to tease him.

˚₊‧꒰ა You might have to tape his mouth shut or have Nanao threaten him. But you can’t blame him—seeing his daughter besting another prodigy makes his heart swell. “You’re definitely a Kyoraku, love. You got your old man’s skills.”

˚₊‧꒰ა The two of you shared an easy banter that could turn into something surprisingly deep when the moment called for it. During quiet evenings, he’d muse about his past, his regrets, and his hopes for your future, all while keeping his tone light. “You’re the best thing in my life, you know. Don’t tell Nanao I said that she might faint.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Speaking of Nanao, you and she have to consistently pester him to do his paperwork and duties. You mostly pick up for Nanao and scold your father because he has her doing all the work while he’s off lazing. “If you don’t do your paperwork, I’ll hide all your favourite sake and shave all your hair off.” He did not like your threat because it wasn’t the first time you hid his sake, nor was it the first time you attempted to shave him.

˚₊‧꒰ა Whenever you butted heads, he’d let you win most of the time, but you’d know when he was serious. His tone would lose its usual playfulness, and he’d look at you with the weight of centuries in his eyes. “I won’t tell you what to do, but I’ll always have your back—whether you like it or not.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He had a habit of draping his haori over your shoulders when you were upset, saying it was a trick Jushiro once used on him. “It’s like an extra layer of armour,” he’d explain, “to keep the bad thoughts at bay.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Shunsui’s softer side showed in the little things, like the way he’d fix your scarf before a mission or leave notes in your quarters with terrible jokes written on them. “Why did the hollow cross the road? To get to the Soul Society, obviously.”

˚₊‧꒰ა When you grew into your role as a Shinigami, he treated you like an equal without losing the warmth of a father. He’d still tease you, but there was genuine respect in his tone whenever he saw you in action. “Look at you, commanding like a pro. Guess I’ll have to retire soon; don’t want to steal your spotlight.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Even as you matured, Shunsui never stopped seeing you as his little girl. During festivals, he’d insist on walking you home, hat tipped low over his face to hide how much he’d enjoyed the evening. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but dancing with you was the highlight of my night.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Shunsui’s advice was always maddeningly cryptic but somehow exactly what you needed. When you faced a difficult decision, he’d sit back with a sigh, swirling his sake. “Sometimes, love, the best choice is the one that makes your heart a little lighter. Just don’t forget to bring a sword.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Although, he was surprisingly perceptive about your personal struggles. Whether it was training frustrations, disagreements with friends, or self-doubt, he’d find subtle ways to address them. “You know,” he’d say casually over tea, “even the strongest oak bends in a storm. Doesn’t make it any less strong.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He was surprisingly sentimental. You once found a small box hidden in his quarters, filled with keepsakes from your childhood—locks of hair, doodles, even a tiny sandal you’d lost years ago. “A father’s treasure trove,” he said sheepishly when you confronted him.

˚₊‧꒰ა You were his anchor as much as he was yours. In his quieter moments, he’d remind you how much you meant to him with his actions rather than words, though he’d let slip the occasional heartfelt sentiment. “You keep me young, sweetheart. Well, younger than Ukitake, anyway.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @edensrose @spellboundsuguru @cactimorada @cookielovesbook-akie @kennys-partner

©satsugacafé: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Hi love could I possibly request an auston matthews x reader? I would absolutely love to see reader and her best friend riding his beautiful thick thighs👀 not quite sure how I want it to go down so I’ll leave that part up to you🫣🤭

like… just look at him waiting for it🤭

Babe, you did me in on this one! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🫦🫦

C|W : 18+; (implied) alcohol usage; girl-on-girl; threesome; thigh riding; mutual masturbation; edging

Cuties to tag : @quinnsbabygirl @ruinix @quinnhughesandqenthusiast

W|C : 2.7k

"You're both making it hard to choose," Auston joked, the roar the music forcing the three of you to stand almost huddled together. You and your best friend had managed to slip into a party somewhere in downtown Toronto and had caught the eye of the Maple Leafs' captain. Since running into Auston, he had found it difficult as to which of you he wanted to give his attention to, which had prompted the statement.

"You can have us both," your bestie said through a giggle, her hands wrapped around his bicep.

The alcohol in your system was giving you both extra courage in the moment, and you were thankful for it. It made flirting with someone like Auston Matthews easier, or the rejection easier to get over. "Yeah, we're a packaged deal."

He smirked, turning his attention to you, "Oh, is that so?" His laugh made your whole body hot, and you involuntarily clenched your legs together. You could tell already, that just by talking to him -coupled with the drinks he had bought- that you wet. God, if you could just have ten minutes with him in a bathroom, you'd be more than happy. "Well, what kind of deal is this exactly?"

Looking at each other, you and your girlfriend giggled again. It seemed like you were the one to decide what it entailed by the look on her face.

"You get twice the fun," you replied, biting your bottom lip.

Auston's golden eyes seemed to darken before he spoke, sending a second rush of arousal threatening to drip down your bare leg. "Twice the fun, or double the trouble?"

Shaking your head, you'd catch him staring, "Double the pleasure, not trouble."

- - -

The drive to Auston's had been a blur. Your girlfriend had nearly pushed you into the front seat of his car while she slipped in behind you in the backseat. All you could remember was him switching between which thighs he rested his hand on while he drove. Within your mind, you were begging him to let his hand trail further and further up your leg until he was knuckle deep in your pussy. You weren't drunk enough to ask for something like that, even if you wanted it as badly as your body was reminding you that you did. Part of you wondered if your partner-in-crime was feeling just as desperate as you were.

"Can I get you girls anything?" Auston asked, showing the both of you inside. "Another couple drinks or something?"

The lights were low and the air was cool against your skin, but it felt so good. Your racing thoughts -filled with desperate fantasies- still had your mind clouded, so you had to be careful of your words any time you had to open your mouth, lest some dark desire just fell out.

"Oh, I'm down for another," you confessed, pulling a hand through your hair, feeling free and completely uninhibited. You could still feel it: feel how aroused you were, as you walked about his living room. How long had it been since you had been so flirty, so empowered to let your body feel good? By now you were all but begging him to rail you against the counter, it had been a while...

"Anything specific," Auston asked, giving you another sly smile before asking your bestie. "What about you, sweetheart?"

"Vodka-cran, or whatever is easy? We don't...want to be a problem."

Her comment about being problems brought a fit of laughter between the two of you. You'd catch Auston smiling to himself before he turned away to find some glasses. Was this a dream, or had he actually brought both of you home for a bit of a private show?

"Oh my god!" you whispered, taking her hands; you could barely contain yourself, "What are we doing?"

"We're going to have a little fun," she hushed, gazing at your lips. She made the first move and pushed against you. Returning the deep kiss, her hands would find your waist as you held her face with yours. It was your moan that pulled Auston's attention away from the vodka he had been pouring. You wouldn't notice him staring at the two of you, seeing her hands roaming your body in that backless, silk dress.

Again, and again, you wanted someone --something-- you brush against your clit; give it the attention it was craving, but she'd make you wait as well. Her fingers trailed down the curve of your hips, catching the short hem of your dress before being pulled back upwards, taking with the fabric with them, revealing you hadn't been wearing any underwear beneath it. The silken fabric would slip back over your curves as the two of you continued nipping at each other's lips, before Auston made it across the room. Upon hearing his soft footsteps, the two of you would part ways, blushing at having been caught despite being out in the open.

He smirked, bringing the two of you your requested drinks, "Don't let me stop you."

Your friend would be the first to speak, "We were just waiting for you."

"Oh, well if that was the case, I appreciate it."

Words couldn't describe how beautiful Auston's smile was as he sat down in the middle of the sofa that was behind you. There he was, looking up at the two of you like he had won some type of lottery. He was sitting deep, legs wide apart like he was just asking to be straddled, and when he motioned for the two of you to have a seat, you knew right where you were going to go. You'd take a sip of the cocktail before setting it down on the coffee table. Your place wouldn't be beside him on the available cushion, but instead, you straddled his left thigh. His smile widened, feeling your weight drape over his leg.

"Plenty of room for two," he teased, giving his right thigh an affectionate tap for your girlfriend your follow suit.

Oh god -- finally feeling some kind of pressure against your throbbing bud felt amazing, but you had to remain somewhat proper -- for the time being anyway. Your girlfriend did the same as you: putting her drink down to find herself with knees bent on the sofa, feeling his muscular leg fill the void between her legs.

Auston kissed you first; breath sweet from whatever had been the mixer of his previous drinks. Your fingers dragged down his jawline; the coarse hairs tickling your fingertips as they went. His full lips didn't disappoint, and each time you had to take a breath you gasped.

Selfishly, you let him return his attention to your friend. Watching him kiss her made you both jealous and turned on. Her fingers were clawing at his broad chest while you let your right hand rest atop his shoulder for balance. When he shifted slightly, beneath the weight of both of you on him, the friction of his pants against your aching lips made you gasp. That slight bit of movement set you off, and now you couldn't help the fact that you were pushing your clit against his thigh for selfish reasons. Finally, all of your abundant arousal was making itself known as it began to soak Auston's pants as you grinded.

"Does that feel good?" He asked, bringing attention to your pleasure. He was grinning, as his left hand cupped your ass, aiding in your rhythm.

"Uh-huh," you mumbled, returning the smile. The way his eyes were looking over your body was delicious; feeling him on you was incredible.

Auston let himself fall back into the cushions of the sofa, simply admiring the view, "Don't stop then."

"O--okay," you drunkenly moaned, eyes fluttering closed against the bliss.

Your friend on the other hand, found herself watching you, and waited for the permission she craved. It wouldn't take long, as Auston was being quite attentive to both of you girls. While, you were busy quietly moaning each time your clit grazed the soft fabric, he coaxed her to match your pace, which she did so happily.

She was much louder than you; moaning like a well-seasoned porn star, and obviously had been just as needy as you had been some moments before. Auston was in heaven, though he remained reserved and restrained. He merely smiled, letting his hands and eyes admire the views before him, absolutely in awe at how his evening was developing. This was one that would replay in his mind for months to come while on the road. While he was praising your companion, you had pulled the thin straps of your dress, over your shoulders, exposing your breasts as the dress fell to your waist.

Your eyes were still closed, hips rocking steadily with his guiding hand to support you, as it had now slipped beneath the dress to have his skin on yours. He knew how wet you were -- he could feel it, but welcomed all of it happily as, it too, was making him hard.

"Aren't you glad you brought us both," she asked, wanting his eyes on her for a little longer, pace slowing so she could regain the ability to speak.

His laugh was deep and throaty which both of you could feel through your bodies, "Oh, absolutely. You haven't disappointed me for a second." She'd pull him into another set of kisses, but his hand gripped tighter on your body in return. The feeling of him on your skin was so warm and it was hard to think about anything else.

"Make those pretty noises for me," he told her, as she tightened up against his thigh. Instantly, she was lost to her pleasures and forgot you were even there.

When Auston turned back to you, however, the sight of your breasts gently bouncing against your movements had him wanting more. He leaned forward and caught your left nipple with his tongue, making your eyes snap open has you let loose a sharp moan from the incredible feeling. His hot tongue against your skin made your whole body shiver.

"More-- pl-ease," you found yourself able to beg now, inhibitions fully down and without care. He'd roll your taut nipple over his tongue like a candy, noticing how it made your hips buck each time he applied pressure. When your hand found his cock, however, Auston's moan rippled through your body. Your palm pressed against his erection, making him melt slightly against your touch.

"There will be time for that later, sweetheart. Just worry about yourself right now," he cooed, catching your fleeting gaze while he could.

"Yes, Papi," you whispered, returning the brilliant smile to his lips.

That had been the magic word. You knew exactly what to call him without him having to say or hint at anything.

"I want you to call me that when you come."

You nodded, feeling another wave of pleasure wash over you, making an absolute mess of his pants but he couldn't have cared less.

"Good girl," he whispered, releasing from you a deep moan he hadn't yet heard. "Ah, there she is. You like that, huh?"

You couldn't answer him, just pushed harder your clit into his soaked leg. He turned back to your friend, who had quickened her pace once more. She was panting, playing with her own nipples as she rode his thigh with slower passes that you had been.

"Why don't you touch her, hm? Tell me how wet she is."

After a couple seconds, you let your left hand find her leg beside you, grabbing at her thigh before sliding your fingers towards her clothed pussy. She moaned against the feeling of your touch to her clit. It throbbed against your fingertips, as you flicked it gently from your position.

"She's soaked through her lace panties," you giggled, amazed at what you were doing. She felt so good beneath your fingers and soon, Auston was asking her to return the favour. You, however, had no cloth to be separated from. Her skin against yours, your wetness coating her fingers could have had you screaming if you had less control. Your moans in his ears told him everything he needed to know. His cock throbbed against the zipper of his pants, seeing both of you touching one another.

"That's it, get each other off."

What a collection of feelings you both were experiencing at the same time. You looked at one another, having heard him tell you to masterbate each other in front of him, while still riding his thick thigs. Her eyes rolled backwards, her left hand still rolling her thumb across her nipple. The quicker her finger coaxed your clit for a release, the quicker your hips met Auston's leg and the more you moaned.

"Careful, I want you both to come at the same time. Slow down." He cooed,

"I've never been this wet," you mumbled, feeling your friends wet fingers tease your swelled bud in a circular motion. "Are you close?"

You were careful not to get her to a climax before you were ready, but the way she was pushing into your hand said she was nearing an orgasm.

"Just-- just a little more. Uh, right there. Right there!"

Just then, her thumb found your clit, teasing you with a rapid back-and-forth fluttering. Your legs widened as much as they could in the space given. Your moans and gasps grew quicker and quicker; you wanted to come so badly but you had to wait.

"Shhhhh, slow down. Not yet."

His voice felt like velvet between your ears. He could have talked you to an orgasm if he had tried.

"You mentioned double the pleasure earlier, hm? Which one of you is going to ride my cock while the other rides my face?"

Both of you smiled and looked at the other for a quick second.

"Who gets what," you struggled to ask, mouth dry from gasping for air through the pleasure.

"You decide," he smirked.

Without hesitation, you asked her, "What do you... what do you want?"

"Oh, I wanna ride his cock," she replied desperately, voice shaky from your teasing fingers.

You found the strength to look Auston in the face and grinned. He seemed pleased with the immediate answer.

"Perfect," he said, voice breathy as his mind anticipated the later. "You two are so beautiful."

You almost didn't hear his compliment. Everything was coming at you so fast: fighting off your want to finish, concentrating on your left hand, the feeling of Auston's hand still pushing you forward, and just the desire to breathe. It was so much to take in that your ears were almost turned off.

There was that feeling again: the swirling torrent of pleasure demanding to break through.

"I wanna come!" You cried out. "I wanna come, please. I can't-- I can't--"

"Okay-- Okay!"

Auston's face showed his approval of the two of you both doing as he had asked, and together, you both reached your shared orgasms.

"Oh-- Oh-- Papi!" You yelled, finding yourself struggling to keep control of your limbs. "Papi!"

His hand remained where it had been on your body, and braced against your friend's waist, fearing she was going to collapse against the sensations. You both were breathless, panting as wave after wave of enjoyment washed over your senses and sensitive regions. Fingers slowly retracted from their ordered positions and returned to your own bodies. You couldn't remember the last time you had come so hard, or so many times in a row.

"Good girls," he praised. "Both of you."

Eventually, both of you would lean forward, and lay your heads over his shoulders as he held you in his arms. You were exhausted, having lost track of time though it didn't matter. The night wasn't over yet. There would be numerous more to be shared and dawn was still many hours away.

Who was keeping count?

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊

I love this story ❤️

Thank you!

108 for 🥊:

---

So Eddie is happy to oblige. Hell, at this point, if Christopher asked to spend the day at a garbage dump, Eddie would oblige. He’s just happy they’re moving forward.  

It’s not a fantastic day for the beach. It’s February. A little chilly and windy. Not as sunny as he’d have hoped, all things considered. But they’re here. They’re together. What more could he ask for?

Eddie lays out a blanket. The same one from that day all those years ago, but he doesn’t say that. That feels eerie. He just doesn’t have another great beach blanket. Chris brings a book. He tells Eddie to bring a book. Eddie, who isn’t usually a big reader, texts Buck asking for a recommendation. Something about… You know. To help me figure it out. Buck sends him a list with no further questions. He’s a good man. 

Point is, Eddie is sitting on a beach blanket beside his only recently not estranged son, in the exact spot where he once sat with his now dead wife, reading a book that tells the world he is struggling to come to terms with his sexuality. Try convincing him that that was an option a few months back. He wouldn’t have believed it. 

Not that he gets very far. He’s maybe five pages in when Chris interrupts him.

“Can I ask you some questions?”

“You can ask me anything,” Eddie answers. “Always.”

Chris nods.

“You said you don’t have it all figured out yet,” Chris says, looking at the book. 

“I don’t, that’s true,” Eddie says.

“Um, so are you like Buck, maybe?” Chris asks. 

“Do you mean, do I think I’m bisexual?” Eddie asks. “Or do I memorize nature documentaries for fun?”

Chris laughs. “Well I know the answer to the second question.”

“Fair enough,” Eddie smiles. “Okay, uh… No. I don’t think I’m bisexual, Chris.”

Chris nods. “So, gay?”

Eddie swallows. “Uh… I mean. There are other options. But… Yeah. Yeah, I’m… I think it’s that.”

“Cool,” Chris says.

“Cool?” Eddie echoes. 

“Well, yeah,” Chris shrugs, like it’s nothing. “I mean, we can go to Pride.”

Eddie laughs. “We could have always gone to Pride, Chris. I would have taken you.”

“Good,” Chris says. “We should.”

Eddie’s heart sort of stutters. Not at the thought of Pride. Just… At the thought of plans.

“Then we will do that,” Eddie says. “And we’ll make Buck plan it.”

Chris smiles. “Okay.”

“Anything else?” Eddie asks. Not that he’s eager to return to reading. He likes talking to Chris more.

“Yeah,” Chris nods. “If you’re gay, or probably gay, what does that mean for…”

He trails off.

“For your mom?” Eddie fills in. 

“Not just Mom,” Chris says. “Ana. Marisol. That lady.” 

“Kim,” Eddie supplies. “Yeah, uh, fair question.”

“Did you not really like being with them?” Chris asks.

Eddie shakes his head. “I loved your mom. So much. I adored her. And I had a lot of fun with Marisol. I wish… I wish I hadn’t hurt her. I think we could’ve been friends.”

“Not Ana?” Chris asks.

“Honestly?”

Chris nods.

“I thought she was good for you. Like you needed a mother. And she was a good fit,” Eddie says. “And she’s gorgeous. So I thought I’d love her eventually. Want her eventually.”

[jcksonfields]

"It is indeed Ms. Ayodele," he insisted with a wide grin, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment at her touch. Her fingers sending tingles up and down his spine, the way she intertwined them in his hair. He searched her gaze, her eyes, her smile, every intricate detail on her face. With every breath he could feel himself falling down that rabbit hole of feelings for her. "Be careful with what you wish for," he leaned forward, their foreheads touching, "though I'm not sure I can ever satisfy that craving of you." Then with a shaking of his head, he smiled softly, "I like your voice, and I like hearing what you have to say." And he would never grow tired of hearing her talk about anything, especially about something she was passionate about. He watched her, in awe of how comfortable she was around cutlery and baking, smiling at it all. "Good thing I enjoy chocolate, though whenever I'm around you, I don't need anything. Just you, and your smile, your eyes." He reached out to rest his hands on her waist, before bringing her closer to him.

In that moment he could only think of two things, kissing her and telling her how he truly felt. And before he could figure out what to do first, she mentioned something about how they weren't actually together. So he settled I what to do first, "you never have to worry about being too forward with me." He shook his head to reassure her, before bringing his face closer to hers, "and I want to be yours. Like I want you to be mine. I don't want it to just happen anymore. I want to make it happen, I want to be with you." His voice was even and barely above a whisper at this point, "I can't stop thinking about you and that kiss. You've been running marathons in my mind for days and I can't just be your friend. I want to be so much more than that." He had only taken a bite of the brownie they were sharing and for the first time in his life, he wasn't only thinking about the food. He was thinking about Naomi and all they can experience together, "you're not crazy. This between us is real, I can feel it." He gestured between them, the short distance making it easy to feel the warmth eminating from her. Watching as she went on about her feelings, he couldn't help but smile and chuckle along. "If you keep rambling like this, you're not gonna give me a chance to ask you to be with me you know." He laughed before her finger traced his lips, "you better start kissing me then." He leaned in as their lips pressed against one another, but in between kissed he replied "be mine. And not just for today. But for the other three hundred and sixty four days a year." He asked, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him.

"Is that so, Mr. Fields?" Naomi draped her arms around him, her fingers lingering in his hair at the nape of his neck. It was hard to keep her eyes on his, she was positive she was going to drown in his eyes. She pressed her lips together. "I think you should satisfy the craving." So much so, she was doing her best to not act on impulse. "I tend to never shut up sometimes but thank you." Naomi cut a piece with the knife, taking it and held it up to him. "I want a glowing five star review too." She dusted off her hands of crumbs. Her arms wrapped around him as she stared at him for a moment taking everything in. "Chocolate is considered an aphrodisiac so they say. It has an amino acid in it that gives you serotonin to boost your energy." Naomi's eyes trailed his face stopping at his lips. "Cacao has something in it called tryptophan a building serotonin that releases when you are attracted to someone. Some serotonins are higher than others that invoke a sense of happiness , closeness and contentment." It could even be considered a myth, "I don't think I need to eat chocolate for a serotonin boost. You are the serotonin boost."

She already felt a sense of happiness , contentment and closeness with him without the chocolate. "It's easy to forget to that we aren't actually together. You aren't mine and I shouldn't act like you are or be too forward with you." She turned her attention back to the brownie and ice cream. "I know we said whatever happens, happens but I want to respect your boundaries and your personal space. " Naomi admitted, biting into the brownie. "To be honest, I crave you but I want to make sure you are ready for whatever the next step is. I don't think we can just be friends, Jackson. Friends don't consume each other thoughts the way you have consumed mine or maybe I am just crazy." She laughed a little before making a joke. "I am starting to think you are the one tempting me. I am suppose to be listening to the angel on my shoulder, sir not the devil that is screaming just make out with him." Maybe she needed to listen to the devil. "I would say the chocolate is working but I been missing your lips." She was internally screaming on the inside that she dropped the brownie, missing the plate completely. "Seee I just keep rambling, I can't focus on the brownie when you keep giving me a brain rot. " She closed the space between them , tracing her thumb across his bottom lip. "Not to be even more dramatic but I may just die if I don't kiss you." She whispered in between kisses.

[ptr-sqloint]

also can i hear about your ocs and world building and take on angels because i love them

Thank you so much for asking :D! i have a LOT to say:

so!

angels in my world building : basically angels are an tools with a single specific purpose built into them, and not sentient in the same way people are.

That purpose can go from something simple and 'mundane' to more impressive / elaborate tasks. Some transmit information, some are there to protect people/places, some are basically the rules of the world/nature, some are cataclysms.

The form they take depends on the job they have, and there are a few angels that have a physical body.

there's no god in the sense of a guy or a higher will/power, but you could say that the machine that is all the angels together functioning as a system is a sort of god.

there's also different categorizations of angels depending on the scope and magnitude of their influence. kind of like the difference between the weather and climate.

in descending order of magnitude:

there's the laws, the phenomenons, the cataclysms, the guards, and the instances. a law would be gravity or light and and an instance is the kind of angel that would appear and relay a message.

now! there are also man-made angels. Sort of. to make an angel first you need a preexisting physical angel that you are going to deface and destroy in part to take the building parts of your own angel. While the rates of success are not very encouraging, it is possible to make something mostly functional. But watch out!

for example, radio as a means of communication would be a functioning man-made angel.

now for the rest of the world building:

the world is very slowly deteriorating just through sheer age and entropy

angels can't really die or be destroyed but they can be wounded gravely to the point of being unrecognizable , this is how you get fallen angels

some of that resulted in a form of magic: making an image of something makes it more likely for that thing to be true. The effect is basically negligible if you make , say, a painting; but it can be amplified by repetition ( so lots of duplicates of the same image ) and using certain materials for the images. the effect lasts as long as the image does.

i have three special little guys: Galahad, Camille, and Alice

Galahad is nobility and was brought up to be The Knight Of The Prophecy TM since he was very young and so is very learned about lore and magic and that sort of stuff. He's also trans but doesn't know it yet , and he's not actually The Knight(also doesn't know that). He wants very much to fulfill that role tho, and a lot of his conception of himself as well as his self esteem hinges on being able to play that role well. He has quite a short temper and gets easily frustrated.

(the Prophecy TM is something vague about someone doing something that would permanently halt the deterioration of the word. It's vague because it's One Very Old image with a massive amount of repetition all engraved at the same place so it's Very Much up to interpretation)

Camille is the actual Knight. He's also a trans guy. Him being The Knight means that he has a physical angel inside of him. In his body growing around his organs like a dendrogaster parasite (not a fun time for him) it talks to him and sometimes influences his actions/perception of the world. Camille thinks that sucks immensely and wants nothing more than to be rid of it and of his 'destiny'. Especially considering it's pushing him to do some bad stuff. Otherwise he's a pretty cool guy, a bit clumsy and incompetent at a lot of things, but he's sweet .and he works as a courier.

Lastly there's Alice , she is a robot who was constructed using the brain and nervous system of a criminal, that was then linked up and put in a machine made for fighting. After a while , it was deemed unusable because of various issues, and was decommissioned. The organic materials were disposed of and the machine left in a scrapyard. A while after ( like a few decades ) it was woken up without any memory of her previous life / time as a robot. Mostly. She gets brief impressions and scraps of her memory as time goes on. Basically It is a robot and/or the woman haunting it 👍

i wrote more stuff about her in the replies of this post

[mars-ipan]

Hi, it's me again. I decided to follow your advice and try to seek out your 'actually serious' analysis, which led me to your komahina bible, the most easy to find compilation of this supposed analysis. Here are my thoughts-

1) Overview

- Most of this 'analysis' isn't analysis but a summary/overview of the game. It's not so much a 'bible' as a children's book summary of the bible, which at that point it would be better to play the actual game itself. It's clear it was made for a presentation on the 'uninitiated' if you will, but if that's the case, you shouldn't be advertising it as the literal bible on the subject.

- When you are not regurgitating points from the game beat by beat, the screen is halfway filled with either manga panels or fanart. My gripes with manga panels are, that even though they do depict the events of the game, the way they can be depicted by the artist can be pretty subjective due to the freedom of the medium in comparison to sprites, and that the role of one character can differ depending on whose pov manga it is (chiaki vs nagito). Fan art therefore should be scrutinized even more since it fully depicts abstracted and even the fandomified version of events, leading to situations where it's either unclear what is actually happening or betrays your more shallow view of the characters (i talk abt this later.)

- When you do use pictures directly from the game it's either a possible screenshot from a memorable moment or dialog from the wiki, limited almost exclusively to the freetime events. This leads me to believe that you haven't actually played the game(there are other factors hinting towards this) or watched a Let's Play of it, but going off of merely information that's already widely known and circulating within the fandom, and easy to search on the wiki.

2) Incorrect/Questionable information

Here I'll compile a lot of information that's either plainly wrong or baffling to having come to that conclusion , leading more credence to the theory that you either haven't actually played the game or your memory of it isnt as good as you think.

-"if Nagito's plan went off of without a hitch, he would have killed anyone that was closes to him at the time" plainly wrong. Komaeda's goal from the start was to make himself the victim, so by dying this way his death could have meaning and help the others. For somebody that keeps talking about Komaeda's "Martyr complex" this is truly a weird take to have.

-"Nagito...got the nurse for sure sick" is there any proof that specifically points to Komaeda for this? I believe the takeaway should've been that Mikan got sick because she was around all of them AND she overworked herself trying to take care of them. Is this just an awkwardly phrased attempt to make more of a connection between Tsumiki and Komaeda? I don't think you needed more than the ones that already existed.

- "he helps Junko brainwash a bunch of students" Kamukura at neither point in the anime or Danganronpa 0 was ever specifically implicated in the brainwashing. He never 'helps' Junko, especially in that way. If you meant, participates in the student council killing game, you should've said that, but even then his agency and influence is limited.

-"they found the Remnants and captured them!"...no, they didn't. The Remnants presented themselves as survivors and the Foundation took them in. They handed themselves over willingly. It was a pretty big piece of the final part of the game...

3) Komaeda and Komahina

- "Nagito's habit of putting people on pedestals" Where. Sure, he certainly parrots the belief that the "Ultimates" as a unit are at the top of the food chain and should be prioritised, but its clear that doesn't exactly carry over to his classmates like teruteru, Kuzuryu and even Souda sometimes. Just because of a few positive comments refering to them as Ultimates and the trial which he literally breaks down in, this is a hard position to support.

-"Nagito manipulates Hajime into playing the game" How. He literally just told him to play it. How is that manipulation. Also, isn't it a bit unfair to put the blame on Koizumi's death to him as well? I think they were multiple factors playing into this, but sure, how else are you gonna convince people that Komaeda is a twisted fucking cyclepath that loves leading people to their deaths.

-The way that you say the Kuzuryu/Pekoyama relationship mirrors Komahina as 'I will give up my agency for you/ I just want you' is also confusing. Unless of course you mirror Peko's struggle with her agency and harmful beliefs the clan enforced on her with Komaeda's own belief system, in which case, idk man, i feel like you are giving a bit too much credit to the supposed severity of Komaeda's views and trying too hard to make Hinata the 'rational' and 'grounding' one in the relationship.

- Again, the amount of times you refer to Komaeda as a freak for doing something 'weird' or even being drawn weirdly doing it , mostly in the manga, makes me belief this isn't just an affectionate tongue in cheek joke as you claim, but an actual way in which your interpretation of Komaeda is colored.

-"it doesn't excuse his nonchalance towards tragedy and murder but explains it" what needs to be excused here exactly? Komaeda doesn't need to immediately bawl his eyes out when someone gets killed or else he's suspicious and...bad? I am confused with what you mean by this. If you mean that Komeada shouldn't be so nonchalant about murder because he's constantly trying to kill someone else, that is plainly incorrect and i explained above why.

-Posturing about Komaeda's 'black and white thinking' while in the next exact slide you show fanart of him smugly explaining he has Borderline. First, i want you to explain to me the black and white thinking in a way that isn't "oh, the friends and classmates i previously liked turned out to be fucking terrorists". I think that's a pretty justifiable situation for your thinking to go from white to black. Also, if that is enough credence to assign Komaeda BPD, you really don't know how BPD works, especially since you assigned it to the one character you constantly talk about being a freak (and also lust...pseudo lust? after).

- The insistence with Hinata not really understanding Komaeda and running away, even if he wants to understands him is pretty suspect, especially when compared to the game. Hinata is confused and overwhelmed yes, but it's not just that he wants to understand Komaeda but that he still feels fondness for him, he still follows his advice and puts his faith in him and the way he mourns him in Chapter 5 is also pretty indicative of this. It's just another part in the pattern in you making Hinata the confused, rational, 'morally pure' man that's 'tempted' by 'corrupted' manic pixie mentally ill demon Komaeda. Something tells me your priest AU isn't so much playing with dolls as much as...what you actually believe these characters dynamic is.

- The whole page where Servant is basically made into a joke about how hot and sexy and freaky he is doesn't help your point either.

-The most damning evidence of course is a drawing in the second to last slide, wherein Komaeda is supposed to be analogous to 'guy who has something wrong with him' (distorted, freak, mentally ill) and Hinata is analogous to the guy that 'is the only one that understands them' (the rational one, the relationship of understanding doesn't go both ways).

- Your slide with sources is pretty vague and unclear. Also the way that you credit "Your superior mind" before the game itself when all you've been doing is repeating and misinterpreting the plot of the game is ...ironic

So yeah, that's all I got. Feel free to 'debunk' my observations as much as you please, I just want to know if there's actual basis behind everything you just said or I should go digging for 'the actual serious analysis' yet again.

i think you forgot that fandom is meant to be fun

[corviiids]

wben i finally get more than 0.2 microns of energy and make one of the multiple video essays i desperately want to make so i can yap out loud as god (never) intended

[danggirlronpa]

If it's not too much trouble, do you have headcanons for Kotoko/Monaka? I like to imagine post-canon they work out their issues with each other and get to a much healthier place, like, when they're teenagers. I related a lot to Kokoto's toxic relationship with Monaka, I definitely had relationships like that when I was in elementary school too. It's kind of nice to imagine a world where - whether romantically or platonically - they work out their issues and work out, even if that might not be exactly realistic, aha...

Oh MAN do I have post-canon Warriors of Hope headcanons. I really do love imagining these kids and the lives they lead when they come of age.

I try not to use read mores, but this one got way longer than the usual headcanon posts, and it very much is less "Kotoko/Monaca headcanons" and more "elaborate set-up for how Kotoko and Monaca feel about their crimes as teenagers." So more under the cut I guess!

Firstly, some setup. I love adoptive family relationships, and especially mother/child adoptive relationships. So of course I love daydreaming about Aoi "Bleeding Heart" Asahina adopting Kotoko, and it becoming a Kyoko (or Miaya!)/Hina-parenting-Kotoko, friends-to-moms slowburn. SOMEONE'S adopting these children, and it's not Komaru "I Just Spent A Full Year In Solitary Isolation (:" or the "We Taser Ourselves To Decide Whether The Serial Killer Fronts (:" Fukawas. Hina's upbeat, she keeps it light, and unlike Makoto "Spotless" Naegi, she understands the guilt of attempting/committing mass murder. Kyoko isn't quite any of that but deep in my heart. Through The Power Of Love And Elaborate Metaphors About Her Relationship To Her Father

And I mean. I'm going to be honest. Monaca's, like, 10. She spends three days in space before she goes 1. Wow this sucks 2. I did not in fact prepare enough materials to live like this indefinitely. I'm like 10. I packed enough for about 13 hours and thought I was good Forever. I need more marshmallows.

So it takes Monaca all of half a week to admit her failures and crash land somewhere on earth. The island with the Remnants? Misaki and Takumi? In-universe versions of the V3 students as adults? Personally I'm a fan of Yasuhiro and Kanon adopting her in the world's absolute weirdest fantasy. What matters is SOMEONE finds her. And we get Mod Loves Sappy Adoptive Relationships V2: Now With The Green One.

Because listen. Listen. These are kids. They have committed heinous, unforgivable crimes of extreme ethical concern, and they are also ten years old. Their only frame of ethical reference is a manipulator and abuser so good at what she does that she ended the world. People generally remember this with the other Warriors, but they almost always set it aside for Monaca, so I want to be clear: Monaca Towa is redeemable. Because she was 10 years old, and the moment she was out from under the thumb of the people who taught her how to do these cruel and unusual things, her first plan was Run Away To Space To Escape The Things That Have Happened Here. They're children.

THAT MEANS A LOT OF GUILT. NO ONE HAS EVER NOT BECOME A PUDDLE OF REGRET ABOUT SOMETHING THEY DID IN MIDDLE SCHOOL.

In general, I actually think Kotoko struggles with guilt the least amongst the Warriors. Firstly, I think having a parent who understands and can help her come to grips with what she's done from a very personal place really helps her work through it. But I also think Kotoko is low-empathy in general. I think eventually, she comes to understand intellectually what she's done wrong, but I don't think she ever struggles with the idea that she shouldn't have done it. I think she would be very practical about the circumstances that she was in, and in her mind, well. What else was she supposed to do? She'd been abused all her life. She was up against Junko Enoshima. Obviously what she did was wrong, but any other kid in that situation would've, in Kotoko's mind, done the same.

On the other hand, I believe Monaca would get hit with guilt very intensely once she finally processed everything she'd been through at high-school age, but that she would absolutely keep that under wraps and act as though it was meaningless to her.

Monaca is, in my opinion, a compulsive liar. You can see that in a lot of canonical ways, but I choose to extend it a bit to headcanons - it's not that she Doesn't need a wheelchair, it's that she has days when she needs it and days when she doesn't, and pretending she never needed it at all gives people a huge shock. She didn't plan to not kill herself with the rest of the Warriors as a prank; she really planned to do it, but people look at her when she says that. It's a defensive mechanism, and a method of feeling in control. At least I can choose for them to hate me by lying and being terrible, instead of being hated when I haven't done anything.

So I think, when she is finally faced with the enormity of what she has done, Monaca does what her first instinct is always to do: runs away from it and lies herself into culpability. Of course I killed all those terrible adults, and now that I'm almost their age, I'll just die instead of becoming one of them! That sort of thing. I think she traps herself into her own persona, no matter how hard she tries to improve, because Monaca is a child who internalizes until she breaks.

So when Kotoko and Monaca meet coincidentally at high-school age. Ho boy. Kotoko who still sort-of blames Monaca who blames herself, and neither of them completely aware of how to comfort a person or how to hate a person in a way that isn't lethal...oh the GROWTH. The Strawberry Wine by Deana Carter of it all

[tardis--dreams]

Me panicking because i have 9 missed calls and 5 emails talking about my absence and how "a colleague could take over for me" vs. Me knowing it's really not that important no matter how pushy a client is and that on top of it I'm underpaid and have way to much overtime so i shouldn't even care

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

what if there were more involved music ask games that requires a bit more effort, something like reblog and put one band/artist in the tags and then your followers will look them up, learn some basic info or a couple of funfacts, listen to a couple of songs and then send you an ask(anon or not) of what they learned/listened to and their thoughts(preferably of what they LIKE about it, not to hate on it), favorite lyrics, maybe some band pictures or anything they feel like including and then they add their own band/artist name at the end for you to do the same with theirs in the answer

would anybody do this to make their beloved mutuals in different fandoms feel more seen

[virtualbeetle]

Hello there! I saw your pen sketch post, and I do love low-effort $5 crazy sketches. Are you still offering them?

Yep! I'm about to head for bed for the night but feel free to go ahead and send details for me to do them tomorrow :>

[inkskinned]

you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push the heel of my palm into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.